All language subtitles for This.Is.Not.A.Murder.Mystery.S01E05.The.Gift.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DUAL.DDP2.0.H.264-YAGAMi_Subtítulos01.ENG

Hello?

Something odd happened a few weeks ago.
He took pictures in your atelier.

Who? ELT?
- Yes.

When did you take these pictures?

She'll sell them
to the high rollers at the exhibition.

And we'll take 25%.

Why did Sheila Legge
leave everything to Dalí

instead of her only living relative,
Lord James?

Are you sure?

Poor Sheila had to go
and leave him all her money.

This scandal will multiply
the value of the artwork exponentially.

It's such a lot of work for one person.

George?

Mrs Magritte came face to face
with our clearly deranged murderer.

Stay out of my life!

Did you notice something strange with him?

Sal did us right.

Sir?

You called, DC Quant?

Yes. Do you know The Organ Inn,
Constable Sutcliffe?

It's the only pub in the village.
- Right, uhm...

Go knock down there
and check for the DCI, please.

Yes, sir... ma'am.

Oh, and... constable?

Be discreet. Use the backroads.

DC Quant?
- Superintendent Coney.

Sir?
- Pass me on to your DCI.

We can't seem to find him, sir.
- What do you mean, DC?

He told me last night that he was going
to the pub, but he hasn't returned yet.

Doesn't sound like him.

Sir, two people have been killed here
in very theatrical ways.

This killer craves attention.
And now the DCI has gone missing.

I have a bad feeling, sir.

Right... I'm sending reinforcements.

Make sure the estate stays firmly locked
and keep the press out.

We don't need bad publicity.

A good result here, DC, will put
your position at the Yard in good stead.

I just want to find him.
- Then do exactly that, alright?

I will, sir.
- I'll be supervising, DC.

We'll talk later.

Come on. Hurry up.

Zone 1: Manor House, including
servants' quarters and terrace.

Zone 2: lawns and park.

Zone 3: woods and perimeter. Zone 4: lake.

I'll take 1. Peterson, 2.

3, Davis. Henderson, 4.

Okay?
- Yes.

Debrief at noon. Anything comes up,
talk to me at once. Understood?

Yes.
- There's a killer on the loose.

So eyes peeled at all times. Okay?

Let's go, men!

Let's go.
- Thank you, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Come on. Give me your hand.

Alright.

What's going on?

I don't know, but I don't like it.

Hang on. Is everyone here?

All the important ones are. Big day.

What do you mean, girl?
- Well...

Two people got killed, right?
And now there is police everywhere.

All set.

Another death, you mean?
- My God, I cannot take it anymore.

Who's missing then?

Where's Lee?

Relax, I'm not going anywhere.

That's the problem.

They're looking for something? Or someone?

Who?

You do know this is the big day, detective?

Yes, My Lord, but...

Some of the richest
and most influential people

are on their way at this very moment.

Do you understand how important this is?
- Yes, but...

I asked your boss to get this over with
by this morning at the latest.

And now I watch on
as a small army invades my estate.

We can't find him.
- That's the problem exactly.

Not the killer. Not just yet. I mean...

My superior.

It seems the DCI can't be found, My Lord.

Oh good Lord.
- We're looking for him.

This thing needs to be sorted
by 4 PM sharp. Got it?

I'll do my best, My Lord.
- Forget your best. Do what's necessary.

Good luck, detective.

Let's stay calm. Be strong together.

Well said. We're all just
excited for the big night.

By sunrise,
we'll probably all be rich. Exciting.

Not now, man.
Please, have a sense of decorum.

Quant?

DC Quant? Sorry, do you have a minute?

Is it important, Magritte?

I went through my agent's suitcase.

I found an English phone number
on the brochure

of one of my first paintings, The Lovers.

The one that was
at the first murder scene.

Did you ring the number?
- So I did.

Somebody picked up but didn't answer.

I identified the number.
It's the lobster phone in Monkton House.

So?
- So I'm thinking...

If ELT had contact with someone over here,

this might be a connection
to the killer. Right?

Wait, you're saying
that your agent is the killer's assistant?

Unintentionally, maybe, yeah.

I'll deal with it.

But I have to deal with this first.
I have a lot to deal with.

DC Quant?
- What?

Am I right in saying
the DCI has gone missing?

Is it that obvious?

Don't tell anyone, Magritte, please.
My nerves are stretched as it is.

Over here!

What is it, chaps?
- Here.

Coming, coming.

We've found something.

Easy.

It's a body.

Terrible state.

Well, this is definitely not the DCI.
- No.

So then, who is this?
- I don't know.

It's been in the water for a while.

Bring the remains back down to the cellar

and ask Doctor Fine
to check the dental records.

Continue the search. Search harder!
- Yes, ma'am.

Shouldn't we...

I mean you, tell the group?

Yeah. Come on then.

You might have noticed
some activity around the estate.

Are you kidding me?
- Let her speak, Man.

I just wanted to let you know
that we have everything under control.

Who's missing then?

We can't locate DCI Thistlethwaite.

What?
- No way.

So the man who's solving
these killings got killed?

No, I didn't say he got killed.
We just can't locate him right now.

But you don't know he hasn't been killed?
- Okay, let's not panic.

DCI Thistlethwaite is
not a young man anymore.

He probably just had a fall, okay?
We will find him.

René Magritte, Belgian detective.
Just what we need right now.

She's right.

Shouldn't we leave detective work
to the actual detectives?

There are still enough of them about.

Scotland Yard is still
the only authority on site.

And you're still being watched.
Remember that.

Do you still think
that we're the murderers?

I don't... Not necessarily, I just
don't want you to become the victims.

I understand you've all been
very afraid during this time.

You're right.

I'm afraid.

Mortally.

I'm petrified.

I see burning stones.
There, at the window!

Salva, are you okay?

Hey, look at me. Take a deep breath.

I don't feel well.
- Sit down, Salva.

I need space. I need space.

Whoa.

That was a lot of melodrama. Even for him.

It's easy to panic if you've got something
to hide and the walls are closing in.

I don't trust anyone anymore.

Except for you.

Hold on, my friend.

I am not your friend, Magritte.

And they're right. You are not the police.

Yeah?
- Yes, of course.

Why don't you go talk to your wife?

She seems like the only normal one
out of the lot of you.

What are you doing, my love?
- First of all, don't call me my love.

Second of all,
I am leaving, that's what I'm doing.

But you can't.

There is police everywhere,
and the gates are locked.

I don't care. I don't care, Gala.

The man who is supposed
to sort out this mess went missing.

This is no place
for a reasonable person to stay.

There is not a single
reasonable person here. Let alone you.

I've had enough.
I'm not staying here one more minute.

Let me come with you.

Don't you get it?

I never want to see you again.

Why can't you act normal for once?

Sir, sir.
- No, no, no.

The press are out there, sir.

What can you tell us
about what's going on inside?

Is it true there've been several murders?

Look here. Look here.
- Get down from there, sir.

Look down, come on.

Who are you?

What's your name?

Sir, what's your name anyway?

Salvador Dalí!

Are you supposed to be famous?

Why do you even ask?

Is it true that Lord James
hired a private army...

Shut up! All of you.

My friends are dying.

And you're here like vultures.

Dying?
- Shame on you. You have no respect.

How many corpses? Who?
Give us a bit of gory detail!

Look at him go! Salvatore!

That's a true performer.
A brilliant artist.

I promise you I can sell that gate
and make a killing.

Lee, take a picture. We can all be rich.
- Nutbag.

Where's Gala? Someone go get her.

My love? Come down, please.

Let me be!

All of you.

Let him be. All of you.

I can't take it anymore.

Get him the hell down, Manny. Now.

Hey, Sal. It's okay.

Mr Dalí,
are you ready for a full statement?

There are police everywhere on the estate.

The main detective went missing.

Two of my friends...

are dead.

I feel bad, René.
- Why?

Going through
our friend's personal things.

My love? Look at me.

This man is not our friend. Okay?

Yes, he is.
- No.

Not until we're sure he's not involved.

As far as I can tell, he's a suspect,
and a seasoned con artist.

I've always known it.

Calm down. It's ELT.
- Your naivety is endearing, my love.

Excuse me?
- Your naivety is endearing.

No, no. Just because I don't share
your murderous ambitions

doesn't mean I'm simple.

And I'm not naive!
I know what you say behind my back.

'Georgette,
the cookie-baking bourgeois girl.'

My love, that's not fair.

I know who I am. That's how it is.
And I like baking cookies.

But I have principles. I won't
condemn a friend based on a hunch.

A hunch?
- Yes, a hunch, yes.

He broke into my atelier. You saw him.

He leaked pictures of my painting,
used to create a theatrical murder scene

with me as the protagonist.
So it's a bit more than a hunch.

Then prove it.

What's in that suitcase, Mr Detective?

Sweets...

Toiletries...

Not nearly enough underpants.

And they're dirty too.

You see?

So much for friendship.

Are you done now?

Let's go.

Yes. I'm coming.

Yes?

May I have a moment, My Lord?

Is this about the Dalí situation?
The gatekeeper called me. It's sorted.

Right. It just seems to me that Mr Dalí
has made quite a spectacle of himself.

Perhaps it's best I make a statement?

Well, Dalí is who he is.

You don't want me to handle it, My Lord?

There are a lot of police on my estate.
They can handle whatever needs handling.

Actually, I think
we can use the free promo.

You know what promo is?

It's a thing that makes people buy stuff.

I'm sure My Lord thinks differently, sir.

It's alright, Jukes.

Of course it is.

You can go now, Jukes.

Thank you, Jukes.

Now...

Let's talk...

proper business.

This is insane.
I'm being treated like a criminal.

Take your hands off me!

I hate cops. I'm allergic to cops.

Welcome home, my love.

Please, not her.

But she's your wife, sir.

Can you lock me up in the basement?
- No, I'm under strict orders, sir.

Don't worry. He'll survive.
- Trust me, I won't.

Question is, will I?

Sorry, ma'am?
- Don't worry, boy, I'm only joking.

You've enough on. Go find your boss.

Or the killer.

And be a dear. Lock us up.

Sure, ma'am.

Great.

I'm stuck in here with a monster.
My own private hell.

Meet your Satan, darling.

Oh Lord.

Say it's not so.
- Are you alright, doctor?

My apologies.

You know who this is?

This body has clearly been
in the water for years now.

Do you have a name for us?

If his teeth match his dental records,
this would be Tobias George James.

The 12th Lord Denver.

May he rest in peace, finally.

Lord James' older brother?

The gold teeth, he definitely had.

Too fond of good Belgian chocolate
was our Lord Denver.

Didn't he kill himself years ago?

That was indeed
the conclusion of the case, yes.

There is some confusion about that night.

Excessive alcohol.

Some simple souls in the village believe
he lives on as a ghost.

You get that kind of hogwash
around here, I'm afraid.

But suicide was... uhm, is plausible?

Oh yes.
It was a tragedy waiting to happen.

Not if, but when.

We all agreed on that score.

What was his story?

Tobias came back from the Great War.
Couldn't cope with the peace.

Shell-shocked.

Then he lost a lot of the family fortune
in the Wall Street crash.

We'll wait for the lab results,
but it looks like him, you'd say?

Not as I knew him.

But yes, I'd say so.
- Okay.

Could you...

Could you tell Lord James, please?
- Of course.

His sister should know.
- Thank you.

I hope Thistle is alright.

Thank you.

Yeah. Me too.

Do you think
the inspector believed us yesterday?

I think he did.
- Then why hold off the search?

For the sake of protection.
- To protect who?

Us, you and me,

Detective Quant,
his constables, the guests.

But he didn't seem the type
to let something slide.

That's right.

My guess is he came back
to investigate in the evening.

And he got attacked?
- I don't know.

But we know for a fact
that the killer was here.

Maybe they wanted to cover their tracks
and bumped into the DCI?

I don't know.
- I'll have a look.

Do you still love me?

Yes. Why do you ask?

I don't know, sorry. The past few days
have been weird and intense.

I saw you're not wearing
my bracelet anymore.

Oh no, it's just...

The clasp broke,
so I took it to the jeweller in Brussels.

Is that why you look upset?

You know I love you.

I love you too.

Come on.

So...

I'll have a look.

What kind of clue are we looking for?
- I don't know.

I've always liked those earrings.

Where'd you go?

I was working.
- Death and despair inspire you?

It's funny how women are
always attracted to the dark side.

And they act all surprised
when they see the actual darkness.

What do you think this is? A joke?

You think I'm a freak?
- Calm down, Manny.

I am calm and I need you calm.
How many of those have you had?

Just the two, I think.
- You're not yourself.

Am I not, my man?

I need you now. Please cut the crap.
Look at me, it's me. I need you.

Do you?
- Yeah.

And this is important.
- What is it that you need?

There's uh...
something I need to tell you and uh...

It might come as a shock.

Okay.

René?

This could be a clue, no?

Is this your painting?
- Yes.

I brought it back with me from Brussels
for the big show on Friday.

Where was this?
- You know that clearing in the woods?

It means he was there last night.
- Maybe he dropped it to mark the spot?

Good work, Magritte.
- Oh no, no. Georgette found it.

Thank you. I'll go have a look now.

Are you coming?

So this is how it's going to be?

Yes.

Today?

The day we have been waiting for
for years and years?

The day of our final breakthrough?
- Yes.

Fine.

What are you doing?

Line. Border.

Cross it and you'll see.

Childish.
- You are a child.

This is not working.
- You're damn right it isn't.

I have one last proposal.

You hate me.
I can't do anything about that.

But we do have a shared interest:
Salvador Dalí, the product.

Our goal is to make you
the greatest artist in the world.

You make the art.

I find money, inspire you
and manage the image and sales.

It's always been like this,
and it works perfectly.

Behind the scenes, you can hate me
all you want, and vice versa.

But once outside the room,
we are the Golden Dalís.

We sell love.
- Exactly.

It's a stupid idea.

Think about it.

People love us. Want to be with us.

We sell.

Take your time...

partner.

And in the meantime,
we won't cross the red line.

And no fucking.

Deal?

Deal.

Can we fuck other people?

Sorry, I don't know the rules.
Gala, I'm just asking.

I'm just asking.

This is my brother, you say?

Chances are, it is.

Are you sure?

Well...

Not 100% certain, but...

Alright. I'll have Jukes
prepare the family crypt.

Should we await confirmation?

More autopsies?

Why?

His life ended in despair.

Whatever the specifics of it...

I'd prefer not to know.

Let him rest.

I've had this weird feeling all day.

What do you sense?

That we might never see him again.

Quant!

Quant, where are you?

Oh my God!

Quant!

Sir?

Sir?

Sir?

Quant.

Are you there?

Sir, what happened?

The killer...

No, my friend.

Not you too.

Detective Chief Inspector
John Thistlethwaite.

Deceased in the line of duty.

Bad things come in three.

I liked him. A lot.

If even the DCI didn't make it...

What are we going to do?

We pray to unknown gods.

Jesus Christ.

Eleven deep cuts in a straight line.

Not exactly cuts, are they?

More like deep holes
hammered into his spine.

What kind of sick person does this?

It looks ritualistic.
- Or some sort of... sick art.

I mean, it's definitely
in the style of the other two murders.

This was the 365th case of his career.

Can you imagine investigating
your own death last?

God...

It was under my nose the whole time.

Sorry, detective?
- He was planning all of it.

He wasn't even hiding it.

Fucking bastard.

You three, sweep the surroundings.
You four, follow me.

Look out for an iron with 11 nine-inch
nails soldered to the bottom.

I've seen it in his workshop and
it's very likely it's our murder weapon.

The man we are looking for is Man Ray.

Do not make a move.

No, no, no. Those nails?
They're not even mine.

Put your tool down
and get your hands behind your back.

Are you insane, detective? I'm at work.

Man Ray, I am placing you under arrest
for the kidnapping and murder

of Detective Chief Inspector
John Thistlethwaite.

No.
- The murder of Ms Sheila Legge.

As well as the torture
and murder of Nash Wesley.

Take him to London, please. Straight away.
- No.

No, I... I'm innocent.

This is nonsense, detective. I'm innocent.

Get your hands off of me.

Are you sure about this?
- Yes.

Alright!

There's one more person
I need to speak to.

I know.

Want to come with me?

Are you sure?

I thought you didn't need my help.
- I don't. But you've got a good eye.

Does that mean that we're friends now?

Don't push it.

I guess Man won't be back for dinner?

For the murder of the DCI alone...

he'll never get out of jail.

What about the other murders?

We suspect him of all three.

Is there anything
you'd like to share with us?

What is there left to say
when the detective has made up her mind?

I'm just trying to help, Lee.

Man did tell me a secret earlier today.

It felt more like a confession.

Lee, what do you think about...

spiders?
- Oh...

Sit down.

I couldn't, sir.
- Sit down.

Do uh...

you know Sheila... Ms Legge well, Jukes?

I know Ms Legge all too well.
She's been a guest here so often.

Right here in this house, assisted
by Doctor Fine, she delivered her baby.

So sad what happened
to little Sebastian last summer in Spain.

Seb was a nightmare birth.

All that could go wrong, did,
but she was braver than a lioness.

Yeah, she was that,
and a single mom and all.

I'm sorry, what do you mean, sir?

Of course the father was present.

Who... are you talking about?

Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure, sir.

Have I said something I shouldn't?

No, I...

I'm just kidding.

I'd best get on.

Can I offer you some wine, sir?
- He realised that Sheila was using him,

whether for attention or something else.

Nash too, probably.

Bloodsuckers.

He wanted to be sure before telling me.

It felt like he needed
to get it off his chest.

Badly.

Alright. Well, thank you.

Thank you.

So, how are you going to present the case?

Murder three, DCI Thistlethwaite.

Man got caught with the murder weapon.
Motive: the DCI got too close.

Murder two, Nash.

Shot with a salt bullet
from Lee Miller's gun.

He had access
to the murder weapon at all times.

Motive: Man wanted Nash dead
because Nash was the father of Seb.

And Man always thought that was him.

Murder one, Sheila Legge.

Strangulation.

Motive: jealousy.

He was angry for the same reason.

She made him believe he was the father,
he couldn't handle it.

All of this, plus a tendency
towards violence

and an obsession
with death and gore in his work...

Yeah. I mean, it's plausible.

I sense you have doubt.
- No, no doubt. It does make sense.

But, as a surrealist, maybe
it's the sense that bothers me.

Well, you've helped me quite a lot,
for a surrealist.

Trust me. You crushed this case.

Now go get your reward.

I don't really care about rewards.

That's good. Only fools care for rewards.

Just get it over with.

Thank you, detective.
- Thank you...

my friend.

There she is.

Superintendent Coney. My Lord.

Man Ray. American artist.

Well... American killer, as it turns out.

Fine work, DC Quant.

Such a dreadful pity about Thistlethwaite.

One of our finest.
Slain in the line of duty.

That poor man.

What a bastard this case has been.

I wish the DCI never
came close to this madman.

Man Ray will rot
in prison for life, Quant.

If that's any consolation.

Yes, sir.

We can lift the lockdown
whilst we're at it.

At last. This estate
needs a breath of fresh air.

We send the men home.

You stay here to tidy everything up,
write up reports and the like.

Make everything textbook
for our American cousins.

Yes, sir.

And you can tell everyone
to address you as DCI Quant.

Congratulations, DCI.

A fast promotion.

Sir.

You don't sound too pleased.

No, very. Thank you, sir.

The case is closed, DCI Quant. Full stop.

Congrats and all that.

Rejoice. We will.

Thank you for stopping by, Michael.
- Any time, My Lord.

How is Virginia these days?
- Fabulous. She sends...

We're finally celebrating.
- Aren't we?

Plenty of reasons to.

Everything is ready for the exhibition.

This might turn out to be one...

of the biggest moments
in modern art history.

Cheers. To you, My Lord.
- To art.

And the fortune it's about to make us.

May I have your attention, please?

My dear friends...

After all that has happened
in the last few days,

tonight we become... world famous.

Let it all happen.

What else is life
but a strange, chaotic game?

But let us, this fine group,

never forget what happened here.

Who we are...

and what we were.

For all the rest of time,

never less than the day of yesterday.

A collection of friends.

I give my love to all of you.

And now...

raise your glass with me, please.

Let's go out there.

Let's go out there...

and let's grab the world...

by the goddamn balls.

Say it with me, come on.

Let's grab the world by the goddamn balls!

Thank you.

I love him so much, I could die.
- I know.

Mr Picasso, welcome.

Could I have a glass of Vichy water?
Hold the ice, two slices of lemon.

Mr Picasso.
- Doctor.

I hope we're having good fortune tonight.

A lot of wealthy people around here,
interested in the works.

Some ladies I'm interested in too.

Oh, Sally, my boy,
come here and give me a hug.

My sweet Peggy Guggenheim.

Now, you tell me before you tell them:
what should I buy?

Peggy, you are
the richest woman in the world.

You think so?
- You are.

You can buy anything you want, surely.

Nancy?
- Darling.

My friend Salvador here thinks
I'm the highest roller in the building.

How cute of him.

Meet Nancy Cunard, the heir
and co-owner of Cunard-White Star Line.

Now she's the real deal.

Peggy, you're so bourgeois.

Who cares?
- My pleasure.

Either way, my ladies.
I think you should buy all of it.

You know what they say.

Oh, you don't know?

Buy more Dalí...

make more money.

Oh, he is such a cutie.
- He is.

Stephen, please. Wait, listen to me.

You'll get your little sums of money
on Monday, I swear.

I don't think so, mate.

It's a very important night for us.
Come on. Don't do this to me, my friend.

Sorry, mate. Take it up with the boss.

Frogs cracking jokes.
Only the Germans can be more crude.

MJ, you can really be a banker.

Hey, René? René? Come.

May I present to you René Magritte,
the painter's painter.

Nice to meet you.

Not to mention, the collector's pet.

And his beautiful wife,
Georgette Magritte.

Nice to meet you.

Word is Your Lord
ain't paying anyone around here.

Might be time for you
to look for a new job.

You are on the estate of Lord James
and you will obey me!

I'd hire you...

but you've got
a stinking attitude, my friend.

You get into that van
and you will never work here again!

Stephen!

Please...

Bastard!

Christ.

The caterer brought
the wrong vintage of Bollinger.

What a complete idiot.

We'll have to go into the champagne cellar
and take some of our own stock.

Get the rest of the staff
to follow me downstairs immediately.

These look pretty darkened, sir.

It looks like
they've been here at least a decade.

If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it.

Sir?
- What is it now?

You might want to see this.

Stay away from there.
That room is off limits.

The door was open, sir.

Keep it closed.
I need to speak to DC Quant immediately.

Get the rest of the stuff upstairs. Now!
- Yes, sir.

Oh my God.

How is that even possible?

What the hell?