Original subtitles

SHOT PATTERN

in memory of

Essence of Rose, 1949.

White Narcissus, 1923.

-If you like, I'd be glad to gift-wrap it for you. -No, no, dear. It's for me.

I see.

Voila...our newest scent:"Nocturne."

-And of course, my free samples? -Why, yes, of course. We won't forget your free sample.

There.

-Thank you so much. -Thank you for coming.

-Bye. -Bye. And have a good trip back.

Sure will.

-I've got to be running or I'll be late. -ls Antoine waiting?

That's right. Antoine's waiting.

When'

I meet this treasure of yours?

Never. I want to keep him!

Then it's serious?

Could be.

-How do I look? -Too good to be true.

-Good night, sweetie. -Good night.

See you tomorrow. And be good, eh, above all!

Are you listening?

Why sure, sure I'm listening to you. And looking at the way you drink, you eat, the way you...

...you look when you look at me.

The way I looked at you, when? You're welcome.

When you're not too busy with your lighter. So we'll get rid of it, okay?

Now, come here...

Stay with me tonight, please...

Pretty please.

Antoine, you know I can't do that.

My father'

be there to meet the train.

Okay then, run off on me. Run to mom and pop like a good girl.

-The bill! -Antoine...

...stop it.

Okay. There.

What are you doing?

You'll see.

He's got a present for you.

What do you call that?

He's our baby....

He's brought you a present even though you don't deserve it.

-But you must be crazy! -Why, sure I am...crazy about you.

To prove it, voila.

Since you won't let me spoil you as often as I'd like, I figured that today...

...I'll just go ahead and spoil you anyhow. Voila, just right. Super.

It's a real cameo.

A museum piece.

Sometimes it's worth working at the flea-market, huh?

It's beautiful! Just beautiful!

I'm glad you like it.

That's the last time you give a light to a stranger. Do you hear?

Oh, Antoine!

Oh look, isn't she a pretty bride!

- Here's Leon. Hi Leon, how are you? - Hi, Leon.

-This one, here. -Voila.

Antoine, don't be that way.

D'you love me?

No.

You don't love me?

No, I want you to stay and you leave. So, I don't love you.

I don't love you tonight.

You'll love me tomorrow, though...?

When you're with me, then I'll love you.

Stop acting like a child.

I love you...

. . .infinitely.

The hat.

Are you getting married, Michou?

Keep your mouth shut. Eh?

Oh. Oohhh.

You oughta be great, eh? Eh?

Jeez, you oughta be great.

The whole works...nice tits...nice legs...a nice ass. You're real hot stuff!

She's gonna be great!

Oooh. Won't she be great?

Bitch like that makes me hot.

Yeah, you said it! Eh? You turn me on.

You know you turn me on, don't you, baby?

You know it, don't you?

Huh?!

Hey! How about getting in the sack with me?

Stop dreaming, will you? She wouldn't sniff at you.

They travel first-class here.

-Yeah, the kid's right, man. -I didn't know that...

Hey...

What if...what if I...what if l asked you real nice...

what if I asked you real nice and...and polite?!

You see what you did? Huh? Look here...

You see that? You want it, eh?

Sexy bitch...you sexy bitch....

You want me to give it back to you? I'll give it back.

I'll give it back.

Yeah, sure...Yeah, but then you... you owe me a reward...

A blow job!

Yeah, yeah!

A blow job!

No, you don't! Cool down! Cool down, I said. Hold it.

Shut up!

Gimme a blow job!

You sit down, smart-ass, you hear?

-Bitch, sit down here! Shut up! -No!

No! No! Let go of me!

Shut the fuck up!

Oh, Jesus, the cops! Split, you guys, split!

No!

Open it, for chrissake!

No!

I told you to beat it, asshole! Now beat it, you hear?

And you just let it happen.

It's easy for you to say, but not if you're in the situation.

-Yeah, yeah. -We did try but a revolver would scare anybody.

Not a revolver, an automatic.

Oh, yeah? What model?

I don't know, but it looked heavy, with the clip in the grip.

-A Colt .45? -No, I know what a Colt .45 looks like.

We'll show you our collection.

Look, do you think this will take much longer? Because I've got to be up for work.

Michel?

-Do you have all their particulars? -Yeah, I got it all.

You'll be hearing from us. Thank you.

-Any fingerprints? -Yeah, we got plenty.

The seats alone are covered with prints, not that that will help you.

-What'd you find? -Gone without a trace. Your killers have disappeared.

He's here. He was told the minimum.

I know what you mean. Go and get him.

Excuse me.

Mister Beranger? I'm Inspector Gagnon, Homicide Division.

Miss Ferrand was killed in an armed attack. I'm in charge of the investigation.

Mr. Ferrand is the one who furnished us with your address.

He also told us that you spent the evening with his daughter.

Nothing happened at the station before she left?

Like maybe an obscene gesture or...

a lewd remark?

No.

But, what happened to her brooch? She was wearing a brooch, the one I gave her.

We've been over every inch of that car. Didn't find a thing.

But give us a description. It could be helpful.

Do you want us to drive you back?

Felix?

Felix...

Felix...

Carine...

She's dead...

Why'd they have to kill her, Felix?

She was all that mattered.

I really loved her.

And I never told her.

-I never told her. -Told her what?

That I loved her.

I don't want your goddamn coffee.

-Drink it, come on. -No! You heard what I said.

Carine knew what you thought. She knew the way you felt inside.

For God's sake, don't you understand, she's dead!

You don't understand a thing!

In a shitty, goddamn train, too!

Think of her, Antoine.

But not like that.

But I can't!

So you've still got him around, huh?

Why, sure. He gets a fresh coat of paint now and then.

And, what'd the police say?

I don't know about them, but I say those bastards don't deserve to live, that's all.

Police...

It took me thirty years to find Carine.

They shouldn't have touched her.

Windowpanes! Glazing! Glazing!

Windowpanes! Windowpanes! Glazing!

Windowpanes! Glazing!

Ladies and gentlemen...

You should've seen us yesterday: if we sold flippers, we'd be rich!

-I never saw such a downpour. -No fooling?

A complete waste of time. I didn't sell one thing.

That's the rag trade. Today, we'll hit the jackpot.

Hey, your wholesaler's screwing you.

These jeans are made out of Swiss cheese, look...

So full of holes that we'll never sell ‘em! He's a wholesale hole-seller!

You know who invented blue jeans?

No.

An Austrian who sailed to the New World with bolts of tent cloth to sell to the gold miners.

And when he got there, he found out the gold rush was all over and done with.

The poor jerk was stuck in the wilderness with two tons of tent cloth and no takers.

Two wagonloads full of crap he couldn't possibly peddle.

What'd he do?

What do you think? He cut it up into pieces...

...which he made pants out of.

Clever guy, eh?

A genius!

You need more space.

-Can you please help me? -Yes.

-Yes, yes. -Does this model come in a darker shade?

Same model, darker shade...let's have a look.

With fringes?

-Well, I'd prefer it. -No, Ma'am. That's the only one I've got.

-May I try it on? -Certainly. Voila.

Allow me.

Pardon.

-It's not bad, though. -A beauty.

It's very pretty but the only problem is, it seems to me that the fringe is too long.

The fringe? No problem at all. No problem.

Attention!

No, wait, don't do that. I haven't decided if I want it. Don't bother cutting them off 'ti

then.

If I were to buy it, though, would you be able to have it ready for me a week from now?

What d'you mean, a week? I'll have it for you this evening. What's your address?

-There's no address. -A gypsy, eh? Well...

Just to see you is to love you... so, if I love you, where do I see you?

I do come here often, and my "eyes are like limpid pools." That one's as old as the hills. You need a new line.

Yeah, sure. A jacket's all you want, eh? Okay. Good.

Okay, look, with a bit of luck, it'll be ready by three.

-Three o'clock? -Yeah.

-That means I have time to go and get lunch. -Exactly.

Okay, that's what I'll do. I'll pick it up when I've had lunch, okay?

Unless...

-What? -If we do a top speed job for you, since, well, it's you...

...you might tell me where you have lunch and I'll deliver it myself.

Well... I suppose I'll eat at Louisette's, in back of the stalls, you know where it is?

-Okay, fine. You're on. -Okay.

Gertrude.

What's the Gertrude bit?

Gertrude...You forgot to ask what my name was.

I'd polish up my act if I were you.

-See you later. Goodbye. -Bye.

Gotta play her cool, eh? Difficult.

Thank you, jacket. My name's Antoine.

She barely has finished her meal, and her jacket appears. How ‘bout that?

Gertrude...?

Cunégonde...during the week.

Ah, you must admit, that's more like it.

Yeah, we had to trim it there, around the pocket, because they kind of hung over.

Super. Thank you very much.

It's was nothing at all, Madame.

-Why don't you join me for coffee? -I can't refuse that.

-You want lunch, Antoine?

-I don't know. How far are you? Beginning, middle, the end? -No, I've finished. I would like dessert, though.

-Well then, I'll have dessert with you. -I'll be back in a second.

Thank you.

Wow. Whew.

Would you care to translate?

What I mean is, a lot of guys go for blue eyes, but glasses are what turn me on.

Are you always that way?

You'd get much further if you just wouldn’t over do it...Antoine.

Oh yeah?

-What're you having for dessert? -I don't know, what're you having?

Angel food cake and coffee.

Angel food. I'm not surprised.

Well, I'll have some Devil's food cake, then. The angel, the devil: how's that for a couple?

Are you amused by that?

No.

You want to deflate me now, or do I have to wait?

Let's quit the clowning. What do I owe you for the jacket?

A real name, a real address and a real telephone number. Okay?

My name is Carine.

If God be for us, who can be against us?

God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.

And he that believeth in Him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.

Who is man to question that which God has ordained?

For God is all-knowing and all-merciful.

Who is man to sit in judgement?

For our Lord, Jesus Christ, who suffered death, was raised from the dead...

...and sits at the right hand of God the Father, there to intercede for us.

This I know for a certainty...

...that neither death, nor life...

nor the powers of Evil, nor any living thing

nothing can ever separate us from the love of God...

which is in Jesus Christ, Our Saviour.

Voila.

-Will it get in the papers? -That's out. We don't want to scare them off.

Don't want to scare'em? What have you found?

Well, we already have the witnesses's testimony...

....a certain number of leads to go on, various tips...

...your sketch...

...and, most important of all, the report of the coroner.

The blow which had fractured the temple was produced by a tetsui.

A tetsui? What's that?

It means an iron hammer in Japanese. It's a karate term.

In my day, we worked off steam playing soccer. But it is a good lead.

Well, you follow it, Inspector.

Because all Carine is now, is ashes in a wall.

And somewhere out there are three bastards who murdered her...who have no right to live.

We'll find them, don't worry.

-That's what we're paid for. -When?! How?!

Rounding up beggars and drunks in Beauborg? That's all you cops are good for.

Well, that's a lot of bullshit.

Don't be like that, Antoine. I've been a cop for thirty years.

-We'

find them for you. -Well, you better! Very fast!

-How is he? -He's upset. I know how he feels: it hurts.

He's mad at the whole world.

At us , too?

Why, sure he is. He thinks of us as clowns.

It's nothing new.

Ready when you are.

-Your dough, where is it? -I don't have any.

And this? This is nothing? This?

-This nothing? This? -I never take it off!

Oh yeah? You'll see...

Sixty-three caliber.

A ninety-six, modified for use as a rapid repeater.

A twenty-round clip.

You on the run?

-You have a gun permit? -No.

Then don't ever show it on a firing range.

Anyhow, that's your look out. But you don't know me, I don't know you...okay?

-Okay.

Eric's vouched for him: what more d'you want?

He's okay.

It's six thousand, cash.

It went out of production in 1939.

Same sight as on a Westinger.

Deadly accurate up to a thousand feet.

A classic.

It's up to you.

But what's the wooden butt for?

No. This is a wooden case...that doubles as a butt.

because you've got an automatic, a repeater...

...that's convertible to a rifle.

Okay?

That's it. The M ninety-six, the case, the butt, the clip...

...the ammo.

-Hey, man... -Oh, hi! Cold out this morning, eh?

-We missed you yesterday, you know that? -Yeah, well I couldn't make it.

-How you doing? -Okay.

-Got everything you need? -Yes.

Hello.

Say, how much space do you want today?

Twenty feet. I'm selling shoes. I want to be by the sidewalk, if that's okay.

Twenty feet, sure, that's okay by me.

Hey, hold it. You say you sell shoes? So do I.

So, you can just beat it 'cause I'm a regular here.

And just because you sell shoes you want me to starve, is that it?

I'll be damned if I let you push me around, you old fart!

-Now wait! -Shove your shoes.

I hope you don't mind, Felix...

I'm so screwed up I don't know where I'm at.

Yeah, but the deliveries, you can always count on Matthew. You work it out with him, huh?

Yeah. Don't worry. I'll let you know, okay?

You're a pal.

So long.

-Yeah, you see that fruit? A real fruit, man! -Go scare the shit out of him. Go on!

Yeah!

The first one who moves is dead. Do you hear me?

You goddamn chicken shit son of a bitch!

Fuck off!

Fuck off!

-Good morning. How are you? -Fine, and you?

Fine, thanks.

Watch your head.

Voila.

Home, meet Carine. Carine, my home.

Voila. This is where I live, and where I dreamt about you for three months.

As soon as I walk in... shut the door, and boom! Carine, Carine, Carine.

You don't know how lucky we are, because Madame Gilles tidied it up.

Never looked so good.

-Super. -Who's Madame Gilles?

Madame Gilles is like a mother to me. The truth is, she's my landlady...

...but she also picks up after me, does the laundry, and mends my socks.

...and fixes dinner now and then, when I work late.

And that's my seaplane.

And that's my girl.

Woo, woo.

You know, you look great.

Even the beads look good on you.

You stop?

I do.

I want you so much.

It was one like this...

...or more like this one.

A Walther P. thirty-eight, or a Luger Parabellum.

They're both classed antiques.

Could be a lead.

-What is it? -The attempted burglary the other day of that jewelry shop downtown...

But the job was botched. They ran off when the alarm rang.

Take a good look.

-Oh, shit. -Yes, you see? Three of them.

A big bruiser and two punks. Earlier the same night. In time for the train.

It's possible.

The nerve of those guys. They screw up a heist and to plant an alibi, they terrorize a train.

Not very professional, no?

The pros don't run the street, not the way they used to.

We're dealing with amateurs and punks.

Anything 909$

That was clearer in the days of Pierrot le Fou.

And my foot up your ass, that's clear too.

Alex, excuse me, but we're ready.

Come along with us, Lieutenant.

We're going to find him. There's no doubt, he's definitely an XYY-type.

Unusually low hair-line...

...pronounced antitragus...

...slightly protruding lower jaw...

Anyway, here's what it looks like.

I spent my whole morning on it.

Any resemblance?

That's the man.

Balestra. He was a student of mine.

Fine athlete, well-built, disciplined and talented. He eventually switched to boxing.

-You wouldn't know where we could find him? -I lost track of him.

But we must have his certificate on record, with his old address.

Get a photocopy.

Gotta keep after'em all the time. Those damn moths can ruin the stock within a week!

Everything that passes through the flea market--clothes, glassware, trinkets, even moths--ends up here!

And now and then, I see the exact same thing come through here twice.

Like this trinket.

-How did you come by this? -A fence. He brings a good piece in, now and then.

I want the name of your fence.

And the police, you won't tip them off?

I got no truck with the fuzz.

Voila. His name and address.

His name is Colletin.

He moved out three months ago. Left what you see.

No word since?

You know what tenants are like. They come and they go.

He's never been booked, either. So, we're out of luck.

He must've had contacts with the locals.

And so we check out the hotels, the stores, the neighbors, everyone.

That may take a long time.

It will take as long as it takes.

Yes?

Colletin?

Francis Colletin?

What do you mean? Stuff like that's not my line.

I just want to know the name of the guy who peddled it to you, that's all.

Now, look here...even we have certain rules.

Well, I don't give a shit about your rules!

You goddamn bastard, I want to know his name, do you hear?

-You tell me! -But... just saw the guy once. I don't know who he is!

Bastard! You either tell me his name or...

...I'll shove this thing in your eye all the way to your brain!

Poubennec, the name's Poubennec!

-What Poubennec?! -Poubennec, his name. In the book.

-The little black leather book. -What book?!

On the bookshelf, the little black one, on the third shelf.

-It better be there. -Yes, yes!

-Who did you say? -Poubennec. Poubennec.

Poubennec...

Now, you're gonna forget that you saw me, eh?

-Otherwise you're going to wind up dead. -Stop. Stop. Stop.

You hear me? Eh? Did you hear me?

Hey, come here a minute...

Tell me, do you know a man named Poubennec? Lives near here.

Thank you, sweetheart.

Marco, you're a damn good stoolie, but your memory's bad. Nothing more to tell us?

In Pigalle, a sports bar: Chez Milou.

The stuff was stashed in the cellar.

Voila. That's more like it.

-Can I go now? -You can.

Hang on a sec.

ls this face familiar to you?

I never saw the guy.

Okay. Now, get out.

What a drag. Not even the stoolies know him.

No. But for a cop, patience always pays off in the end.

Remember that.

Once, I was on a stake-out for seven months.

-You get your man? -You bet.

A flasher, a dirty old man who unzipped in front of little girls.

Makes you throw up, eh?

Alex, did you see the game last night?

Rugby is a sport for thugs.

Chief, we got a tip.

Villa Danré in St Denis. Who is it?

Balestra.

He was seeing a girl in Quai de la Marne.

He beat the crap out of her, so she came in to squeal on him.

Briefing at 5:00 PM. Every available man.

We'll rouse him out of bed.

Close off the streets to all traffic, around the sixth lock.

You space your detail out along the canal.

-The third unit arrived yet? -They're being positioned.

Third brigade, move into position!

Mister Béranger...what are you doing here?

Open up, you shits! It's Michou!

The street's crawling with cops. We gotta get outta here!

Are you sure it's for us?

No, you asshole, it's for the Pope! First we grab the hardware, then we split.

Come on, hurry!

Here, here, man.

Instruct all units to stand by.

What gives you the right to butt in?

-Who tipped you off? -No one. I tracked down the guy who grabbed the brooch.

I followed him, and this is where he led me to, that's all.

The brooch?

And you never thought that that might interest me? Where is he, anyway?

He disappeared over there, somewhere. I don't know where he went.

Bravo.

We may as well forget the surprise. We'll have to move in now.

I want to talk to you, though... afterward. Don't let him out of your sight.

Shit!

Run for it! Run for it!

That's him?

Balestra. Samson Balestra.

Tried and sentenced to 7 years‘ imprisonment...

Antoine Béranger was granted parole

after serving three years in Poissy prison.

He returned to the outdoor marketplace.

Once again, working with Félix at Puces de Clignancourt.

He still lives in Montmartre with Madame Gilles, alone in the little house on Rue Cortot.

The case file is archived at the Department of Justice, serial number 20280.