Original subtitles

-Bonjour. -Good morning.

-Want some? -Yes, thanks.

Listen...

What got into us last night?

Well, must've been the champagne.

We didn't even open it.

Now all I have to do is look at the bottle and I screw up.

So last night was just a screw-up?

I don't know.

What do you think?

You know, I don't know either.

Well, then...

when I come back we'll do it again...

and figure it out.

What's the matter?

-Am I being too direct? -No way.

You always have been.

Why does the coffee in this café keep getting worse?

Because before you took it with sugar,

so you didn't know.

You've always had yours black. What are you, a masochist?

Would I have come to live in Milan if I wasn't?

Sarge.

Finally, I was about to call you.

We said 8:00. Aren't we on time?

Yeah, but there was another murder.

-When'd they find him? -Half hour ago, in Piazza Giulio Cesare.

Where's that?

Viale Buonarroti. Where the new skyscrapers are.

Oh...

There's a stone on the body.

MONTEROSSI: THE SERIES

DEAD WRONG: EPISODE TWO

This time, just one shot.

To the head. Like Gotti, a 9mm Parabellum.

Again, whoever shot him had old, badly maintained guns.

And then the stone...

Lying on the victim's body like always.

Who knows about the stones?

Us, the deputy prosecutor and his assistant.

Which means half the court.

Then the guys in forensics and whoever found the bodies, obviously.

This guy Crisanti...

He was pretty visible.

He had business all over Milan.

Building speculation.

A real shark.

Each step of the way, authorizations, urbanization. Made tons of money.

I know all this stuff. The mayor already called me.

The secretary called to say the minister would call.

Then the minister called threatening death and damnation

unless we find the killer of such a fine gentleman.

Some good news

and some bad news.

The bad news is if we start looking into Crisanti's enemies,

we'll never finish.

Every time a real-estate developer seals a deal, ten come out swearing to get even.

-Not to mention Crisanti's family issues. -What do you mean?

What do you mean?

An ex-wife who's still pissed off.

Two grown-up kids.

A new wife.

Younger, obviously.

A two-year-old son and a host of relatives who'll be fighting over his will.

Did he have a lot of assets?

The whole gamut.

Penthouse, villa in Cortina and Sardinia, a boat.

Even a vintage Ferrari.

Perfect.

I love it.

-Now tell me the good news, Carella. -The stone. Obviously.

We got nothing on it, but it's a lead.

There's got to be a link between Gotti and Crisanti.

We either find it or find a motive.

It doesn't look like they had any contact, though.

At least not recently.

Two distant worlds.

-The alien from the black hole. -Exactly.

We asked for his bank statements and called in his accountant.

The lawyer called us right away.

He humbly said he'd be willing to help the investigation.

He just wants to find out what we know.

What can you tell me about the wives?

She's the owner. About 35 years old.

Nice-looking woman, classy, crying.

Says her husband was really antsy the last few days.

But she thought it was because of a business deal.

What deal?

Some office towers that popped up out of nowhere in Roserio.

They were supposed to generate bank credit,

but they pulled out of the deal and were fighting about it.

Not things you resolve with guns, at least not in Milan.

Right.

-But she couldn't justify the trolley. -What trolley?

With his bag and ID, the dead guy had a trolley.

With everything he needed to be away a few days.

Seems he packed in a hurry, just threw all his stuff in there.

-Maybe he was just disorganized. -Maybe.

But his phone shows he booked a three-star hotel in the canal district.

Not the kind of hotel guys like him usually stay in.

Looks to me like this guy didn't want to sleep at home.

But his wife denies they even had an argument.

Yeah, she was shocked.

Says he was very tense, very worried.

Starting from Tuesday.

Monday night they killed Gotti,

and Tuesday it was all over the news.

-Something must've clicked. -Lucky him.

Because we haven't got a fucking clue.

Instead, his other wife isn't beautiful or classy.

But more than anything, she isn't sorry.

She immediately asked me if they'd found a will.

Always the same story.

Cash.

The family's pride and joy.

Carlo, prep Gotti's daughter for me, will you?

Piero says she was a little hesitant.

-Then work on the two wives. -Flora.

Since she's kind of hesitant, let me just focus on Greta for now.

That way I can prepare a plan B with her brother if we need it.

Okay, you're right.

Then you can work on the two wives, Marta.

Our best friend.

He had to shoot Gotti twice. But once was enough for Crisanti.

Point-blank, from behind.

They have another thing in common besides the stones.

Crisanti was killed in an area that's filthy rich.

Every gate and courtyard has a surveillance camera.

I'll take a better look at it, but from what I understand,

they killed the guy in the shaded area between one camera and another.

Ten meters of space without surveillance.

That's where they got him.

Come on, it can't be luck.

Once is okay, but twice...

Well.

Now the press will be yapping at our heels like little dogs.

If we separate the two cases,

they'll write that it's a crime wave. What's the world coming to?

Or worse.

We admit the two homicides are connected and cause a panic.

If people find out about the stones, we're fucked.

Come in.

Officer Favieri.

We found this at the murder site.

-Where? -In the fountain in Piazza Giulio Cesare.

A guy walking his dog showed us.

If we monitored the area like the dog walkers, we'd be ahead.

Nine millimeter Parabellum. Nice gun.

German-made.

Out of production for more than 50 years.

Seven bullets.

I bet one ended up in Crisanti's head.

-Did you touch it? -No.

Take it to forensics, then to ballistics. Tell them it's for today's homicide

and to give it precedence and not be jackasses.

-If you'll excuse me. -Yeah?

-Good morning. -'Morning.

They came out this morning.

I knew it.

Holy fucking shit.

SIGNED IN STONE: MAFIA OR SERIAL KILLER?

So, this is one newspaper...

and this is another.

SERIAL KILLER IN MILAN?

I knew we needed to focus on this.

Piero, tell the press office

and call Zambelli at the network. We'll do a promo.

And tell our guys on the TV news to hype it up.

Are these the right ones?

Now, remember...

Don't say anything to Mom.

Does it really hurt?

No, honey, don't worry. Go have breakfast.

Raya?

[in Arabic] Aren't you eating?

[in Arabic] What's wrong?

[in Arabic] What happened, Raya?

Something's wrong with Nadir.

Don't tell him I told you.

-[in Arabic] What happened to you? -Nothing, just a motorcycle accident.

-[in Arabic] You should go to hospital! -No way!

[in Arabic] What did you do now?

Even you gotta bust my balls?

[in Arabic] Don't talk that way to your dad!

What are you doing? That's mine!

[in Arabic] What's got into you two? Stop!

[in Arabic] What are you doing?

[in Arabic] Get out of this house!

Get out!

Nadir...

Nadir!

-Sorry, Nadir. -Forget it.

-What the fuck happened? -Shit!

Fra.

Francesco!

Fuck.

What happened?

-I got shot yesterday at the jeweler's. -I knew it. I told you!

-That doesn't help me. -Fuck you!

We're going to the hospital.

-Want me to get arrested? -Better than bleeding to death!

We'll make something up, say a gun accidentally went off.

-What gun? Are you crazy! -You wanna just leave him like this?

-We need a doctor who's a friend. -Yeah, right, where will you find that?

-Mafuz is the only one we can go to. -Not Mafuz.

I've had it with you!

Either him or I'll drop you at the hospital. Choose!

Dickhead.

Let me see that.

Be fucking gentle.

You do it then!

How'd it go yesterday?

Honestly...

I don't know.

Don't tell me she fled midway through like last time.

Actually, she spent the night. Go figure.

No way. And you don't even tell me?

What am I supposed to say? Let me keep at least a shred of dignity.

You cried on my shoulder for months.

Lucia this, Lucia that...

Now, you sleep together and you're pouting.

It's been on my mind since yesterday.

It's complicated, you know?

-For me, it's so simple, it's obvious. -You say that because you're young.

No, it's because I have a sound mind.

What's the problem? The English boyfriend?

What boyfriend? No, in general.

What is it?

It's just...

We've been through this many times already, Nadia.

Too many times, I think.

Doing it for old time's sake is one thing.

Rehashing the same thing over and over again is another.

And what for?

Just to repeat the same scene?

Oh well.

Anyway, now let's just try and focus on this girl Greta.

Hi, Greta.

Hi.

How's it going?

How should it be going?

I got a lot on my mind.

Your dad?

Yeah.

Words.

Memories.

That story I told you.

You think it was something important, right?

I don't know how to explain it, but it was a really strange moment.

Listen...

Do you remember what you guys were doing when he told you?

He was choosing some old photographs.

To hang in his new shops.

He found one of him and his dad in front of the old slaughterhouse.

Then he stopped.

And started talking all weird.

Now out of the blue, he's been murdered.

So, do you think it has something to do with your grandpa?

No, no.

It seemed much more personal.

As if something was weighing on his conscience.

But now he's dead.

And I can't ask him anything anymore.

And...

Have you thought whether it's a good idea to go on the show right now?

Yeah.

I thought about it, and maybe you two were right.

Good.

-'Morning. -Good morning.

My account number is 18712.

I want to empty it.

This is my ID if you need it.

There should be about 20,000 euros.

Twenty thousand three hundred, precisely.

Exactly. I want it all in cash.

Well, for cash withdrawals over 10,000 euros,

there's a special procedure, Mr. Bellini.

-It's my money. -Of course it's your money,

but there are more forms to fill in than in just a withdrawal.

For the finance police, the rules against money laundering.

Let me talk to the director a minute.

-Fine, but be quick. -I'll ask right away.

So, Ghezzi. Any feelings? Insights?

At this point, anything's fine.

Feelings aren't worth shit. I always tell Sannucci that.

But maybe this thing with the stones is different.

So, talk.

The two stiffs.

Either they knew about it or they have a past that goes way back.

Gotti was 60. How old was Crisanti, 59?

Their paths must've crossed somewhere.

Keep going.

Crisanti reads about Gotti's murder and shits himself.

He's got too much at stake to skip town,

so he books a hotel far away from his house.

He's scared, but he's not terrified yet.

Keep going.

Nobody knew about the stone on Gotti's body yet.

So, we have to think that, for Crisanti...

it wasn't the news about the stone that scared him,

it was that someone shot Gotti.

-You follow me? -Yeah, I do. Keep going.

The same goes if there's someone else to kill.

If he was connected to the other two stiffs, he's running.

So, the stones are for someone else.

Or the killer needs the stone.

It's not a signature, because someone would've claimed it.

The stone is something a little...

naive.

I get what you're saying but...

-it sounds a little weak. -Are you kidding? It's weak as hell.

It's probably total bullshit.

But if you think about it...

it fits with Gotti's two shots.

And the idea that the killer's an amateur...

Come on, a professional isn't actually gonna put a stone on the victim's body.

I'll tell you another thing.

We don't need to look for contact between two people,

we need three.

At least.

Of course.

If these are two homicides,

it means even the killer is in on it.

And that's three.

Two guys paid and one guy made them pay.

That's if he stops there.

All right. Thank you.

I'm going back to the station for the press conference.

I got something to do, then I'll head home.

[in Arabic] There, got it.

[in Arabic] Here it is. Son of a bitch.

-[in Arabic] Am I okay now? -"Okay"?

I still have to sew you up.

Then you have to take Amoxicillin for ten days.

You have to put this ointment on the wound. I'll write you a script.

I can't help if it gets infected.

So, be careful and don't pull any bullshit.

[in Arabic] Then you gotta get out.

-[in Arabic] Why? -Not out of this house.

Out of these buildings.

I told you.

I even told your friends.

I don't want any trouble in here.

So, even this stuff here...

-I'm taking it. -Hey, that's fucking mine!

It belongs to the shop you sell it to.

Maybe he's a snitch and leads the cops in here.

What are you talking about?

Keep your mouth shut.

Tomorrow, take your stuff, go by your parents' house

and disappear.

[in Arabic] Son of a bitch!

Mafuz, wait.

He can't leave tomorrow. They cut him open. He limps.

Come on, let him stay a few more days.

Three. No more.

GOTTI: MEAT IS MEAT

MEAT IS MEAT

'Evening. What can I get you?

A Florentine steak, about a kilo, kilo and a half.

-I just don't fucking get it. -Relax.

We're going to see a guy who wants us to meet him in a camper

in a lot with a million other campers.

-He said 17C. -I know, but they're not in any order.

36B, 9F. How are we gonna find it? It makes no sense.

-This is all just a big charade. -No, it's not. I'll call him back...

I'm over here!

Will you look at what we gotta do just to make a few fucking bucks?

Want some Sardinian lemon liqueur? I make it myself.

-We never drink on the job. -What, we're on the job?

It's good. I made it.

Sorry, but...

I'm not sure what to do.

-Begin by cutting the crap. -For starters.

There's this guy.

He wants to kill me.

He could be at my house now. Or maybe he was already there.

But luckily, I took some time off. I went to the mountains and he didn't find me.

And we have to find him before he finds you.

Exactly.

Why does this guy want to kill you?

This job makes you curious.

I can't tell you that.

There's no reason to anyway.

All I can tell you is that this guy's name is Nicola Laganà.

Seems he lives in Reggio Calabria and is 42 years old.

Remember when you said you don't know how this works?

-You were right. -This isn't how it works.

I got money, though.

There's 9,900 euros cash in there.

As an advance.

I've got just as much in the bank.

But the bank raised a stink when I tried to take it all out.

Maybe the lawyer who gave you our number didn't explain our rates well enough.

Totally different figures.

Well, you could try to buy a Porsche with a used Fiat Panda.

But it might not work.

I also have a nice three-room apartment in Biella. Really nice.

It's worth around 200,000 euros at least.

I could sell it.

Or put it in whatever name you want.

Are you out of your mind?

You bought a steak that cost 92 euros!

It's special meat. A 1.5 kilo Florentine steak.

How much is a steak anyway?

Fourteen euros for three tomatoes!

-They're from Spain. -Tarcisio.

They came from Spain by taxi if they cost that much!

I sometimes walk three kilometers just to get the deals.

-I could cut it up and freeze it. -I think that'd be a real crime.

But do whatever you want.

-Hello? -Ghezzi.

Any news?

We gotta talk, face-to-face.

-Will you come over here? -No, wait, I got an idea. You come here.

We'll have dinner together and talk.

All right.

Rosa!

We'll fight later. We got people coming for dinner.

You set the table and I'll prepare the steak.

-People for dinner here? -Yeah.

Then I need to give the bathroom a good cleaning.

Then do it.

Yeah, I will.

There he is. Come on in.

-'Evening. -Good evening.

-I brought some wine. -Thank you. I'll take it.

-Anyway, you shouldn't have. -Yes, he should've. Don't make a fuss.

-What a beautiful home. -Thanks.

You got a guardian angel here looking after you, Ghezzi.

-Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back. -Thank you.

Come here.

-You can sit over there. -Thanks.

Here we are.

So, what did you want to tell me?

They took us off the case.

-Are you kidding? -Don't get pissed off yet. I'll explain.

Go ahead.

At the press conference, it was like they'd all lost their minds.

Two big murders, the stones,

the police chief and deputy prosecutor ready for questions.

Gregori discussed the investigation's progress,

the open leads, the strength of the team. The usual stuff.

But then the prosecutor started talking,

saying he just met with the prefect and the interior ministry.

Now, the special ops division in Rome will be coordinating the investigation.

An interagency effort

with a pool of terrorism experts

and Mr. Samuel Schaerf as a consultant.

-Who? -An Israeli profiler.

Apparently, the spearhead of the Mossad.

But to be honest, the man looked like a fish out of water.

Poor guy.

He was on vacation with his kids to see the Colosseum and they snapped him up.

You gotta be shitting me.

I shit you not.

Crisanti was tied up with big shots in local and state government,

so things inevitably got political.

What about Gregori?

You can imagine. She was seething.

Those guys from Rome were acting like they owned the place.

They asked for two rooms, ordered new computers.

A circus.

So, once the press conference was over,

Gregori called me into the john for a top-secret meeting.

Those guys think the two murders are some harebrained conspiracy plot.

But I don't believe it for a second.

So, now you hand over everything you've collected to those wiseasses

and go take a vacation.

-"A vacation"? -Yeah.

People are dying with a sign saying, "You're all clueless"

-and we go on vacation? -Don't you piss me off too.

Take some time off and do your own, secret investigation.

And only report to me!

Get a load of Gregori!

-I hadn't pegged her as a subversive. -Me neither.

But it's easy to understand.

The inquiry gets started and they take over.

Like saying, "Get out of the way, little girl, we got this."

She obviously wants to give it to them in the ass.

Excuse me, ma'am.

So, me, you and Sannucci?

Exactly. For two weeks.

Not much time.

But think how great it'll be.

Working without having to do all the fucking paperwork, the reports...

-Fucking hell. -We'll need structure.

Forensics, the guys from financial crimes...

Gregori said she'll handle that.

We'll manage somehow.

This steak is excellent.

-With what I paid for it... -Tarcisio!

-What did I say? -Don't you know what manners are?

But...

We do need a place to meet and bring materials.

What about here?

What?

Why not?

I'm alone all day. There's some space to talk if you need it.

Then if you get hungry, you'll always find a sandwich and a beer.

They'll take over your house.

We have a budget.

We can pay for your trouble.

-Only if you're sure, ma'am. -Sure I'm sure.

-There's even a fax machine. -A telegraph.

Come on, we're not in the Middle Ages.

Francesco, salam aleikum.

-Not now, Ahmed, I'm in a hurry. -Francesco.

I'm in a hurry.

How is he? His mother spends all day crying.

She's anxious, worried he's bleeding.

He's fine, really.

Where? At your house?

Look, maybe I made lots of mistakes in my life,

but I always made sacrifices for him.

-I ate shit just so he could study. -Listen, I don't need a lecture right now.

We all eat shit here.

-Surely, you have a father too. -No, I never had a father.

I'm sorry. But, listen...

All right.

I'll see what I can do, okay?

Thanks.

Thanks, Francesco.

Hey, what the fuck are you doing?

-Call your dad. -My dad?

-Last I checked, I don't have a dad. -Don't be a dick.

Call your mom, then.

Say you're fine and you'll be home once this mess is sorted.

-Move it! -Fine. Shit.

Good boy.

-What's wrong? -Nothing, it's solved. I got stuff to do.

-What stuff? -Nothing, Chiara. Come on.

What do you mean "nothing", but you gotta go? Don't go then!

Flora told me that Greta finally let that big-shot lawyer convince her.

And he pocketed his nice, fat percentage.

That's for sure.

-Want some? -Thanks.

What about Crisanti's first wife?

Even worse. We finished at 18:00.

Only because she can talk shit about his new wife.

Flora thinks, after that, she'll come on the show free just to clear her name.

Anyway...

She's a real bitch.

She even offered us the whole deal.

She'll come on with both kids to multiply the tears.

Why didn't Flora agree?

Well, she says we've already got the daughter,

and she'd rather be in the spotlight

-between the two grieving woman. -Right.

-Like the two thieves. -And she's Jesus Christ, right?

One more thing.

Lucia came by yesterday, to tell you goodbye. She's leaving.

She said to tell you goodbye.

And give you a kiss.

Bye.

I'm outa here.

-I'm off to work and fight the good fight! -You go on and fight.

-Nice and early, huh! -Meet me out front at 17:00.

No, actually, at 17:30.

To go where, if you don't mind?

-Be on time. Okay? -Hold on...

Sannucci, put it over there. On the couch, the chair, wherever.

So...

I photocopied everything

before Rome, special ops, the profiler and the ministry could get to it.

I spent the morning in penthouse offices.

I talked to Crisanti's secretary before those guys thought of doing it.

What, there's a million of them

and they haven't talked to the stiff's secretary yet?

And you're surprised?

I stopped by this morning to get my things from my locker,

even to show them I was really going on vacation.

They're all there, setting up screens, whiteboards...

-Like electricians, not investigators. -Here we are.

-Pasta and red sauce. -Oh, wonderful!

It's not great. I spent all morning moving furniture around.

Thanks, thanks a lot.

-Are you hungry, officer? -No, really.

-Sure she wants some, Rosa. -Eat. You're still growing!

Yes, thanks.

So...

What'd the secretary say?

This guy Crisanti does a big balancing act.

The big shots he did business with had no interest in knocking him off.

Gotti doesn't fit into his business beat.

If this were a matter of millions of square meters,

you'd at least call a professional hitman with a silencer, right?

I'm more and more convinced that these two guys crossed paths before.

So, we need to look for a guy their same age?

More or less.

Sannucci, know what you can do?

Go to Bocconi University.

-Search the lists of Gotti's classmates. -Okay.

-When did he enroll? -In 1982, I think.

No, '81.

When you get the list, crosscheck it.

See who's been to prison.

Especially, if anybody recently got out.

Maybe some guy did 20 years because of them,

then gets out and wants to even the score.

Ghezzi.

How's it possible you're still just a sergeant?

-Because he's pig-headed, that's why. -Rosa, please.

-Then there's that thing about... -Right, the surveillance cameras.

Exactly. If the guy's an expert on video cameras,

he must've scouted the areas.

Especially there in Piazza Tommaseo, the shady area is really narrow.

Sure.

-You'll look into, right? -Okay.

Then, I'd better hop to it.

-Thanks. -You're welcome.

That hit the spot.

Don't come back for dinner, this isn't a soup kitchen!

-Tarcisio, watch your manners. -They're young. They need limits.

I better get going too.

Gregori wants to be informed every step of the way.

-Goodbye. -See you, Rosa. Thanks.

-Bye, Tarcisio. -Bye.

You like playing the cop, huh?

Come on, Tarcisio. For a few plates of pasta!

But yeah, I like it.

It's...

"Fun" isn't the right word.

But yeah, it's fun.

Sometimes it's a big pain in the ass, though.

For example.

You can help me out on this.

Well?

Are you going to explain or what?

-Let's wait till sundown. -Right, fine.

Fine. What'll we do then, make out?

-You wish! -Yeah.

Just so you won't be disappointed, I'm gonna show you Gotti's secret.

-Which is? -Well.

First, I went to a storage room he kept in his first apartment building in Loreto.

Didn't find jack.

Then to a cabin in Cassiglio, in the mountains near Bergamo.

-And I didn't find jack there either. -Okay, and so?

So, I thought about what you said.

About how Gotti had talked about this secret to his daughter

as he was choosing old photos for his butcher shops.

So, did you go check them out?

Yeah.

And the most interesting one is in the shop on Corso Italia,

which Greta also posted on her profile.

Which should be this slaughterhouse here.

You're very observant.

So...

-All good? -Perfect. Thanks.

-What's the damage? -It'll be 12 euros.

-Each? -No, total.

-Then we'll have another round. -Right away.

-I appreciate it. -Thank you.

In Milan, for 12 euros you get a spritz warm as piss and paleolithic peanuts.

So what.

We came 1,000 kilometers for happy hour.

Real convenient.

Relax, for once we can just chill out on the sea front.

Let's enjoy ourselves a bit.

We've been waiting three hours. Is this contact gonna show?

No, he wrote me that he couldn't make it tonight.

Better.

We'll get dinner, check out Reggio Calabria, which, I gotta admit...

Sure, why not.

After all...

We're here.

We can put up a nice sign that says,

"Hitmen on standby."

Here he comes.

Oh, here we are.

-This white is good. -Yes.

It's a Cirò white wine, from Crotone.

-From Crotone. -Right.

-Over here. -All right.

It took me a while to find it the other night.

What is this stuff?

Traffic cop uniforms?

Vintage, though. From around the '70s.

I don't think Gotti was much for masquerade parties.

Nope.

What is that thing? It's empty.

Now. Before there were some pistols.

You definitely don't use Ballistol to clean your ears.

Oh, I get it.

Shit.

My hair looks like shit.

Why is it that whenever I go on live,

our guests' hair is done better than mine?

-Sorry, Flora, it looked... -It shouldn't look, it should be.

I think you need to take a break.

You should take a vacation.

Go, go, quickly.

Who does the guests' hair? Call her. Fast.

-Remind me I never want to see her again. -All right, Flora.

But...

How about this.

Why don't you put her with the guests?

-Maybe she was just a bit tense. -If she's tense, she can't do this job.

I say that for her own good.

Good evening.

Come.

-Did you call me, Ms. De Pisis? -Yes. First, call me Flora.

Then, please sort out this rat's nest. Thank you.

-Well? -So...

You have a very nice forehead. Broad.

Yeah, like a helicopter landing pad.

But if we move this a little to the side...

and let two small locks of hair fall, it's more harmonious.

A little sassier too.

Sassy.

Let's lighten things up.

This show's full of stiffs.

But hurry up, I'm on in seven minutes. Come on.

After the commercial, Crazy Love,

where Flora De Pisis will dig into the mystery

of the stone murders that has shaken Italy.

-Didn't you say that show sucked? -In fact, it sucks.

But when they kill two millionaires, the pleasure becomes less guilty.

-How do I look? -Stunning.

Okay?

Five, four...

...three, two...

We...

want to live.

We want to live our lives.

No matter if they're bad or good.

We want to live them.

Why do you want to kill us?

Does someone want to kill her?

-I wish. -I brought you this tonight.

A stone.

Which has become a symbol of doom.

Unless she got that approved, I bet she clocked a spectator.

This is what we think of your stones.

Of your hate.

We reject it.

We throw it away.

How did I get wrapped up in such a crappy show?

Carlo, you didn't get wrapped up in it, you invented it.

-Right. -...a blood trail

-Thanks for reminding me. -...that poisoned our city.

Please, Ms. Crisanti...

Hurry, Tarcisio, it's already started.

-What a tragedy if I miss the beginning. -Have a seat.

-She's talking about our case. -Thanks for coming.

"Our case", Rosa?

-You know what I mean. -Shall we begin with your husband?

Yes, Cesare was a self-made man.

That's bullshit. He inherited everything.

Shh. Be quiet. Let me listen.

And he sent them to study in prestigious schools.

Because when he was 20, he studied in the States too.

And now we have the young daughter

of the first victim,

Fabrizio Gotti.

Let's welcome her.

Greta.

-Hi, Greta. -Hi.

Let's talk a bit about your dad.

If that's okay?

Well, I didn't know him very well.

My mom died when I was 12 years old,

and I went to live with my grandparents.

He came to visit a couple of times a year.

I loved him.

Did you ever think about who it might have been?

As I said, we didn't talk much.

But when we did, he was very sincere with me.

Once...

he told me he had a secret.

A big secret.

So...

-Can you share it with us? -Excuse me a sec.

He never told it to me.

It can transform into bile,

-into poison. -Ghezzi, what a surprise.

Don't tell me you're watching Crazy Love too?

Don't get wild ideas, my wife made me.

-And she was right. -Tell her I said hello.

If she wants tickets to come be in the audience...

Don't piss me off immediately.

So...

-Do you know anything? -About what?

About this secret the girl's talking about on TV.

You won't believe me, but I was going to call you tomorrow to tell you.

Why not in a month?

Listen. Every two days there's a stiff.

-Would you rather we come with sirens? -For God's sake, no.

I'll come to the station tomorrow at 10:00, okay?

No, forget the station.

I'll meet you at the café where we had breakfast that other time.

-Tomorrow morning, 8:30 on the dot. -Okay. See you tomorrow.

You'll get through it, with all the love around you. Mine...

-first and foremost. -So, you did it.

No, you did it.

You got me to work with the cops.

-It's becoming a classic. -What am I supposed to do?

Two homicides.

What, are we competing with the police now?

I don't know.

You'll get through it.

-In silence. -I was saying...

-In the end, she managed to make her cry. -Obviously.

She said her parents orphaned her and soon her grandparents too,

her brother's a prick and her lawyer will steal all her money.

...about this terrible,

terrible story.

But unfortunately, I'm afraid...

that it's not over yet.

-On the next episode, we'll have... -No, you wish.

Bitch.

I mean....

She talks about this secret on the show

-and you don't even give me a heads-up? -No, because initially...

-we didn't think it was that important. -"We" who?

Come on, we haven't seen each other for a long time.

Don't start haranguing me.

I won't, but if you know something, you have to tell me.

That's what I came for.

Look, I would've called you this morning to tell you and give you everything.

Give me what?

It's in the car. Come with me.

I took care of everything compliments of the Great Shit Factory.

-Carella. -There's another, Ghezzi.

-Another what? -Another dead body.

With a nice stone on his stomach.

I'll be right there.