Original subtitles

24th December 1904.

White male, 20 to 25 years of age.

Clothes made of canvas, middle-class, but...

of mediocre quality.

His pockets are empty, no money, no keys, no documents.

Lebel revolver, 1892 model. Common.

Quality gun, made in France.

The pride of our soldiers.

This one is in the right hand of the deceased.

An apparent suicide.

But...

Bullet wounds.

One. To the temple. Off course.

Tore through the scalp.

Two. Crosses the mouth from right to left.

He loses a tooth.

Three. In the left eye socket.

Four.

Enters through the mouth.

And... and...

And exits through the back of the head.

The fatal shot.

Four bullets, gentlemen.

Four.

And he wants us to think it was a suicide.

He doesn't know Bertillon.

So, our verdict is...

murder.

Obvious motive: theft.

The killer is clumsy...

and thinks we're fools.

You'll introduce him to me, I hope.

Don't forget the tooth.

Don't forget the tooth... I'll show you teeth!

Dear me! Step back, gentlemen!

Step back.

You can look as much as you like, but don't touch.

Gentlemen.

There's a tram stop on Avenue du Bois de Boulogne.

As it takes about two hours to reach I'Île de la Cité...

and runs every 15 minutes...

I'll see you in my lab in two hours.

The crank handle, Bournazel.

Your letters.

Requests and complaints.

The Assistance and Public Hygiene Council's Christmas ceremony...

is this afternoon.

You're making a speech.

Republican unity, Christian Charity...

Should I write a draft?

I'll improvise, I'm used to it.

Private.

Monsieur Louis Lépine Paris Police Prefecture.

Chief Superintendent Fondari.

Commissioner.

The vice squad's weekly report, sir.

Brothels and such. It's been quite a week.

Some interesting names have come up.

The city council is harassing me.

Paris, city of depravity, lenient police...

People don't want to see prostitutes in the street on Christmas Eve.

We've been asked to organise a raid.

Excuse me.

As we were saying, a raid on Christmas Eve.

It will be done.

Hector.

Put this filth with the rest, would you?

Do you have something to say?

When your wife was alive, that door was kept locked, sir.

And with my daughter, it's not.

That's progress.

Dear Monsieur Lépine.

My thoughts are with you and your family...

at this time when Christians convene.

My husband's latest works...

will please you, I hope, if you come to see them.

I am at your disposal for a visit at your convenience.

Marguerite Steinheil.

I've lanced the abscess.

Here.

Oh Lord.

It's you, madame.

That taste, that smell...

Part of you is rotting.

We must pull it out.

Clove oil. For the pain.

Don't you have anything stronger?

That'll be 200 francs.

We're holding a private view on Wednesday...

for Adolphe's latest collection.

Friends can stay behind.

We have dice...

a deck of cards...

Your private views and games are the talk of the town, Mme Steinheil.

It's a bit of fun.

I don't know if I have the means.

You're too modest.

I'll deduct your fees.

Next Wednesday.

Yes?

Is everything ok?

I've sent out the invitations for the private view.

Will you be ready?

What choice do I have?

- What is it? Don't you like it? - Well...

I didn't say a word.

That son-in-law of mine takes everything the wrong way.

Marthe! Marthe, my darling!

Where are you?

You'll be late for your piano lesson!

Every morning at six, I do the rounds.

I start off in the Jardin d'Acclimatation...

and take Allée de la Reine Marguerite.

It takes about an hour in all.

Did you see the body from the alley?

It's an infamous spot. We find all the bodies there.

You see?

The hangman's tree.

Five last year.

Yes.

Some places just attract death.

Where do you think he came from?

Depends what he liked.

To the north is the Pré-Catelan.

They're going to build a restaurant there.

Further on is the Chateau de Bagatelle...

but that's private, for the rich folk.

To the west...

you have the girls, working evenings when the factories close.

And to the east, more girls, but they're the old hands.

And to the south?

We don't go south much. That's where the freaks are.

The inverts. The pederasts.

Lord...

I really can't deal with that lot. I was told it's contagious.

It is.

Quemener, go back to the Prefecture.

Bert ill on age, dactyloscopy of the gun...

and ask Dr Socquet if he can determine the time of death.

Good morning.

Chilly today.

Indeed.

Out for a walk?

Behind the waterfall is a pretty spot.

Do you like caves?

I love them.

Shall I show you?

It's very tempting, but...

I'd prefer a cell in the Prefecture.

Antoine Jouin, research brigade.

No. Not that. I'm married.

So am I. Move.

ID.

What do you do, Félicien?

When you're not out walking.

I work in a bank. Crédit Lyonnais.

I've never been in any trouble with the police.

Listen...

I have a bit of money. We can make a deal.

I heard that...

You could make a deal with the police?

No, no. I'll...

Do you ever come here at night, Félicien?

Sometimes, when my wife is at her parents'

A young man died here last night. Shots were fired:

Someone must have heard them.

I don't know. I wasn't here yesterday. I...

- I'm just... - Out for a walk.

I have your name and address.

Soliciting a sworn officer. Cottaging.

Sodomy.

- Will you make me visit your family? - No.

I'll help you.

I often come this way.

It's on my way to work.

I know people who work in the woods,

I'll ask around.

You have three days.

If I don't hear from you, I'll pay you a visit.

At your house.

Ok.

You're early.

The nativity scene isn't ready.

I prefer to pray in an empty church. Stops me feeling like a sheep.

Bitterness doesn't lend itself to prayer, my son.

You like your churches full. We're in different lines of business.

Blasphemy.

Poor sinner.

Your troubles could be eased by two Catholic traditions.

Firstly...

- a good confession. - And secondly?

Bread and wine.

I've been the Paris Commissioner for six years.

I make speeches...

I write circulars, I negotiate budgets...

I keep the Prefecture running.

It would do just as well without me.

Working in the police is a noble career.

I should introduce you to some of my men.

If you don't enjoy it, resign.

I do think about it.

Often.

Do you know Father Valette? The priest at Saint Médard?

Not personally, no.

Fond of communion wine.

He dozes off at the altar, falls asleep in the confessional...

You get the gist.

The Saint Médard sacristan has an idea...

let's dilute Father Valette's communion wine...

With grape juice.

The priest can tell the difference...

so he starts spying on the sacristan...

and catches him red-handed.

Tampering with communion wine is a serious breach of canon law.

The sacristan is dismissed but the drunkard keeps giving mass.

It applies to the police and the Church.

The institution has neither faith nor intelligence.

Only men do.

Hey! Just a minute!

- Sorry. - Where are you going, love?

- To the chemist. - Give me your full name.

- Please, I'm in a hurry. - Give me your full name.

Rosalie Dantremont.

You see? She's number six.

- I'm not sure. - Why not? Of course she is.

If I asked a middle-class lady her name...

would she answer me? No.

She'd say, "How dare you! Who do you think you are?"

Not "Rosalie Dantremont".

She knows.

Don't you?

Are you from the vice squad?

Show us your card.

I'm not working, I'm going to the chemist.

- It's for my son. - Your card.

It's all in order.

- Come on, please. It's Christmas. - Don't we know it.

On the Commissioner's orders, no soliciting on the holy night.

- Come on. - No, it's all in order.

You see...

Leave her. We'll find another one.

You see that church?

It's less than 20 metres away.

You can't be within 20 metres of a church, because you're a whore.

Those are the rules.

I'm not working.

I'm going to the chemist for my son. He's six months old!

Be nice, and we'll send someone to get him.

Ok.

Yes, I can be nice,

I can be very nice.

I'll take care of the three of you, and...

you let me go, ok?

I'll do a good job. You won't regret it.

What do you say?

Unlucky. There's the van.

Too late.

No!

Let me go!

Let me go!

Calm yourself!

Let me go!

I have a child! I have a child!

Let me go!

Come on.

Let me go!

Hup!

Just a moment... There.

Perfect.

Not everyone can wear that one.

It needs character.

But it's still classic.

So, darling, what do you think?

I don't know.

I'd like to try that one.

Of course.

Hello, this is Elegance and Tradition.

Joseph!

I don't want her ringing here.

Fiersi.

In our little enterprise, isn't debt collection your speciality?

Monsieur Portalis, from Comptoir d'Escompte...

is very bad at paying up.

Will you see him before Christmas?

- Dactyloscopy of the gun? - Ongoing.

Morgue?

Dr Socquet is giving evidence in court.

The bertillonage has been pushed back until after Christmas.

Mme Jouin called. Twice.

43, Rue Daviau. Mme Antoine Jouin, please.

It's me. Are you ok?

I can hear crying.

I'm not complaining. I know she's fine.

I have one more thing to deal with before coming home, ok?

I love you both.

Ever carried out a bertillonage, Quemener?

No.

You're about to. The case, on the trolley.

The cards are in the box.

Inkwell.

Inkwell. He's not contagious.

Card.

The large compass.

Width of the skull...

14 centimetres.

Length of the ear...

six centimetres.

Jaw...

11 centimetres.

Thermometer.

What on Earth are you doing?

Dactyloscopy, bertillonage, temperature.

I'd like to determine the time of death.

You're not allowed to take these measurements.

He was found at 7 am in the Bois de Boulogne.

Body temperature...

is 17 degrees.

Give me two hours.

I'll call you.

Of course, driving an automobile...

requires dexterity...

reflexes...

and of course, sharp eyesight.

I happen to be naturally gifted with these qualities.

The body's fingerprints.

But for average Joe...

Well, take Bournazel, for example.

He's a good boy, but he's a bit slow.

You won't see him driving a race car.

Inspector?

Yes, Sister?

You may be able to help me. A prisoner is worried about her son.

- Is she registered? - Yes.

- I'm not on the vice squad. Sorry. - It'll only take a minute.

Don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid, I'm here. That's right.

- She gave me her address. - Look at me.

8, Rue Greneta.

You'd just need to check that the child is ok.

He's six months old.

Come with me.

- Rosalie Dantremont. She's in a cell. - And?

Her baby is home alone. Fetch him from Rue Greneta.

Who do you think we are, your errand boys?

We rounded up 80 whores today, I'm sorry, Sister...

and we're expecting another 60.

They all say they have a kid, a little brother, or a poorly grandma.

Why should we worry about one cry-baby more than another?

Merry Christmas.

I've seen this child.

She always brings him to her check-ups.

Rosalie Dantremont is one of Cochefert's informers.

He's very fond of her.

- What was the address? - 8, Rue Greneta.

I can ring Sébastopol police station. It's just round the corner.

They'll send someone. Is that ok?

- Thank you. - Lying is a sin, Sister.

Monsieur Portalis.

Who are you, sir?

Monsieur Portalis knows me.

We both attend the Impasse Ronsin private views. Remember?

Fellow art lovers.

Ladies.

Monsieur...

Fiersi.

Sorry to bother you.

Monsieur Fiersi is just leaving. I'll be in my office.

You did order this?

You and Mme Steinheil agreed on the price, I believe.

I have a signed document.

I know what I signed.

30,000 francs, sir.

That bitch.

Deadly Lips,

I do her the honour of gambling in her den and this is how she repays me.

By sending a...

A henchmen after me, in my own home.

She'll hear about this.

Don't shout.

If you shout, Madame will come running...

and if she does, she'll be in just as much pain as you.

There you go.

Quite a shock, huh?

Of course it was.

Breathe slowly.

There you go.

You scared me.

Want more?

80 pay your debts.

You played, you lost, so cough up.

Now.

What?

You.

- Don't have... - Don't have...

Money...

I don't understand.

Money.

- Money. - Here...

Money here?

You don't have any here?

Of course not.

You don't have any here.

I know.

Vallotton.

That's worth more than a Steinheil, isn't it?

Right.

And to finish off...

you can show me Madame's jewellery.

My father asked me to give you that.

There was a time when he came himself.

- What's your name? - Julien, madame.

How old are you...

- Julien? - I'm 14.

He also said you had to give me some money.

He wrote down how much.

12,000 Merry Christmas.

Did he ask you to count it?

No, madame. He trusts you.

Merry Christmas, Mme Steinheil.

On this day of celebration...

the city of Paris...

under the patronage of the city council...

and Monseigneur Richard...

is helping the children that need it most.

This year once again, donations were generous.

Republican brotherhood and Christian Charity walk hand in hand.

May this tradition, and so many more that unite us...

last forever.

Enough talking.

It's time for doing.

Bring in the children.

- What's your name? - Baptiste.

Are you Father Christmas, sir?

Oh no. He has a long white beard and a green suit.

But he gave me something for you.

I don't like dolls.

Me neither.

Here you go, son.

Mme Jouin just called back.

- She's expecting you. - For dinner. I know.

Berthier...

Do we have a suspect for the strangling?

Young Haunet, sir. Unemployed, known to our men.

Visiting his mother for Christmas.

He arrived the previous day, and hasn't been seen since.

Good work.

And the body in the woods? Was it a murder?

Maybe. We're checking.

We're waiting for Dr Socquet's results.

You're the only one not making progress. Merry Christmas.

You can go home, if you like.

If Dr Socquet calls, I...

I can take care of it.

I'll stay a bit longer.

- Wonderful. - It's lovely.

Vallotton.

Va-llo-tton.

Who is Marguerite Steinheil?

She's a woman I vaguely know.

Her husband's a painter.

He painted my portrait a few years ago.

And this woman, sends you perfumed letters?

Marguerite Steinheil is a courtesan.

But the gossip she spreads is useful at times.

We'd like to have dessert and arrive on time for midnight mass.

Yes, sir.

Pardon?

Your daughter is talking to you.

It's been a while since we saw Aunt Nelly.

How is she?

Well...

Didn't we tell you, my darling?

She's dead.

Last winter, from pleurisy.

I think that's right.

No, madame.

He's not back yet.

He's on a... major case.

I'll tell him as soon as I see him.

Ok, then.

Thank you.

Lord...

You give us life, you give us bread, and for that we thank you.

Grant us wisdom and grace.

As for those who weren't able to join our table...

grant them your forgiveness.

Amen.

Doctor?

Dr Socquet?

It's you.

Don't scare me like that.

The doctor left you a note.

"Time of death between midnight and I am."

He wrote "pederast"...

and "suicide".

There you are.

Yes.

Yes.

One moment.

We have a body.

I can take it, if you like.

8, Rue Greneta.

Walk on!