Original subtitles

I have no idea who he is.

Franco Rivetti.

They found him in his car in a parking garage

near Torre Velasca.

Whoever shot him was evidently in the back seat.

It was a high-calibre gun,

9mm Parabellum at least,

and special bullets, hollow-point.

To prove we trust you, I'll tell you something.

These bullets...

They're pretty unusual. Rare stuff.

Army surplus. 1950s at the latest.

Do these rare bullets ring any bells?

Never touched a gun in my life.

I wouldn't even know where to put the bullets.

In the car, there wasn't just the body.

We found the gun they tried to shoot you with

and everything you need to chop off your finger.

We're almost sure it was Rivetti who shot at you

after killing Muller and that other lady.

So, now you recognize him?

It might be him, but how can I be sure.

I only saw his eyes.

We found

this email of yours in the glove box.

addressed to Muller, the man Rivetti killed.

“Dear Lukas, I refuse to testify.

"I know these cases. It's just a waste of time

"and only lead to revenge and retaliation.

"You should just forget it. There's nothing to gain.

"For me, this is over.

"Best wishes. Carlo Monterossi.”

What sort of trouble are we talking about?

Nothing. This Lukas Muller...

He wanted my help to sue some C-list starlet

who promised to go his soiree, then took the money and ran.

It was so pathetic. From the dregs of the TV world.

But what's Rivetti got to do with this whole thing?

That's what we want to know.

-Think hard. -You told me that yesterday.

There has to be a connection somewhere.

I want to find it too, I swear.

Because I'm scared shitless.

But, unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.

And this dead guy doesn't help at all.

All right, then.

-We'll take you home. -Yes, thanks.

-Hello? -They'll go up to 28.

We can push for 30 grand an episode but that's it.

-They're that desperate? -26.8 percent just isn't enough.

I'd have been happy with that for a first episode.

Not them. The anticipation, the scandal...

They were hoping for more.

Then the stories just weren't...

-Did you see the episode? -No.

Only Flora's heartfelt appeal and my spectacular humiliation.

-That's when it topped out. -I'll get the car.

-32.7. -Thanks, I take my cyanide cold.

Carlo, listen to me.

If someone like Flora De Pisis goes in front of the camera

and begs you to come back,

it's inconceivable that you wouldn't.

-The live appeal was her idea. -Yeah, I know.

Who in the hell told you?

Nadia and Oscar told me. Who do you think?

Do those two still work there?

Of course. I hired Nadia, and they obviously kept her.

Oscar still does some investigating.

Come on, then. You have your little pals too!

What would it cost you to do another year?

-No. Katia, I already told you. -Come on, Carlo!

No!

You're crazy, Monterossi.

And you don't even realize it because you're a dick too!

Fine.

MONTEROSSI: THE SERIES

THIS IS NOT A LOVE SONG: PART II

Everything OK, Monterossi?

Could be better.

A guy I've never seen before tries to shoot me

and gets me mixed up with a lady I don't even know

and another guy I do know, but just barely.

Then he gets himself killed by a third guy

who shoots people with vintage ammo and

in his car, they find my email, which has nothing do with this.

Did I miss anything?

-I don't think so. -OK.

Thing is, if he killed him over something personal,

like a vendetta,

he'd have been looking for him already.

And the cut-off fingers, corpses and my attempted murder

have nothing to do with it. I could feel relatively at ease.

But if the things are connected,

and if this new killer is ahead of you,

I'm in deep shit.

Yeah, but

it's too soon to say that.

Let's hope it's not too late.

Know what your problem is?

You need to have more faith in law enforcement.

But you're the ones who don't believe me!

I believe you.

What do I have to do to get my old life back?

Nothing, you just need a little patience.

Meanwhile, stay home and behave.

But I can't stay home.

I hear things, feel scared, have nightmares.

Can't someone put you up? A girlfriend or something?

Don't even go there. I'm already depressed enough.

Love solitude

and you'll be a happy man.

Where did that come from?

Indian proverb.

I just made it up.

Then, it's a Milan proverb.

[in Sinti] Faster. Faster.

Faster. Faster.

Wait.

What?

That's him.

Who? The blond kid?

Yeah, the one pointing into the car.

The one kissing the girl?

Let's go.

Let's go.

-Who are you? -Easy.

What the fuck do you want? Let me go!

Let me go! Who the fuck are you?

What the fuck! I didn't do a fucking thing!

-Sit down! -Let me go!

-Hold still! -I didn't do shit!

-Calm down! -I didn't do shit! Really!

What the fuck do you want?

Hold still. Hold still.

-I swear. I didn't do shit. -Fine, fine.

-Here you can scream too. -I didn't do shit. Got it?

In fact, you're good.

We're looking for the bad guy, your buddy.

The big guy.

You know who I mean?

Yeah, Sergio.

But he's not my friend.

He's not anybody's friend.

How old are you, Stringa?

Twenty-four.

Aren't you a little young to burn women and children?

I didn't do anything.

-You didn't? -No.

-You sure? -Yes.

Big Sergio called me that night. Said he had a job for me.

An easy grand.

I wanted to buy a Charleston.

He just wanted me to be lookout. I didn't do anything wrong.

I was just following orders.

"Just following orders."

I've heard that a million times.

"Just following orders."

The world is following orders.

Our orders are to find your buddy.

You help us, and we're gone.

But I don't know where Sergio is!

I don't fucking know! Sergio's a lone wolf.

No, wait, wait.

I do know one thing.

Sergio didn't give me the money.

It was an old guy he does business with.

He's an antique dealer in Lierna, on Como Lake.

-Drugs? -No.

I don't think so.

We didn't go in because he's a marquis.

-We waited outside. -Where?

It's...

in front of a dock on the lake.

It only has one window, but I think it's big.

Sergio said there was lots of stuff inside.

I don't know the address. Sergio took me there by car.

Sure is strange, though.

You barely know the guy, then take a trip to the lake.

I wanted the money he owed me.

Money. Money.

-New Charleston? -Yes.

-This it? -Yes.

-Nice. -Yeah, it's nice.

-Music is nice. -Yeah.

-How much money? -1,800.

And to burn a two-year-old baby,

you only got 1,000 euros?

I didn't do anything. I swear.

I was the lookout. I didn't do anything.

Why? Why?

Why did you do this to me?

[in Sinti] Send him to hell.

Well...?

About the first victim, the woman in the photo,

I couldn't find much out.

A widow beyond suspicion, no men friends,

golf club member, weekends at the sea.

And the Swiss guy?

Lukas Muller, yeah.

A real sleazeball.

Typical parasite on the margins of the Great Shit Factory,

as you'd put it.

Small shows for a few local TV stations.

Then local festivals in some godforsaken towns.

They'd bring the patron saint and he, some second-rate VIP.

Then to top it off,

a nice, fat fundraiser for inexistent charities,

but all somehow connected to his bank account.

And Rivetti? What about him?

-The new dead guy? -Yeah. The guy who shot me.

Nadia's looking into him.

He's in there.

You're a big boy. You had your shots.

But if you want my opinion, this is a mistake.

You already gave me your opinion, Oscar.

-And it hasn't changed. -OK, I get it.

-I'm looking for the old man. -I know.

Last pool table in the back.

Oscar sent me.

He said you think you're pretty cool.

so I got you a cool-dude gun.

I removed the serial number.

And the safety, well... You know how it works.

Yeah, yeah.

Hey, cool dude.

Like that, it makes a good paperweight.

Otherwise,

you'll need these little suppositories.

Right, of course.

-Peek-a-boo. -I have some cash and my watch.

You hear that?

Now we're watch thieves.

9mm, double stack.

Made in Italy takes over the world.

Hands on your thighs and don't move them.

Fuck!

We can talk here

or upstairs in the house,

or we don't talk and your funeral's in two days.

We can talk here.

We're looking for your client.

A certain De Magistris. Maybe you remember him.

You already saved his ass a few times.

Keep your hands on your thighs.

Snub-nosed 38, hair trigger.

-But he's not the nervous kind. -That depends.

Spare me the theatrics.

Good man. Let's get to bed early tonight.

I don't know where he is.

Last time I saw him, we went to see his girl.

They caught them with 50 grams of coke.

With his record, he would've got five years.

We sent her. She only did four months.

-They call that a fair trade. -What a fucking gentleman.

-How much did he pay? -He didn't.

No way.

A lawyer who works pro bono.

I didn't say I work for free. I said he didn't pay me.

It's the only way to keep him from saying certain names

and keep him out of trouble. 'Cause he's a prick.

That's what I get paid for. By those names.

Now I'm gonna tell you what you're thinking.

He reads minds.

If De Magistris is a scumbag like you say,

if he's isn't a cost anymore, it's not such a bad deal.

You can even give us a name outside your circle,

someone to help us find him.

-Can I ask you a quick question? -Sure, De Rosa

-Stringa. Was that you two? -What?

That Nazi punk they suffocated in the studio?

Do we look like people who use supermarket bags?

Please! We like going boom!

Then, you're not the only ones looking for De Magistris.

The papers say you guys did it. An inside job.

Maybe this drummer comrade's goosestep wasn't up to snuff.

Bullshit.

Marzia Senzapane.

Big Sergio's girlfriend.

She wasn't at her house.

Because now she lives at Via Rovereto 32.

Hands on the wheel.

Come on. Ten and two, like at driving school.

See you around.

Nice car.

You look nervous, Monterossi.

Hello, Ghezzi.

I mean, Detective.

Tonight it's my turn to be your guardian angel.

Oh, so that's why.

I don't think you're taking my advice.

What advice?

Monterossi!

Don't play the hero. Your not the type.

Don't worry. I'm going to brush my teeth and go to bed.

-Hello. I'll take him home. -Good.

-Goodnight. -Come on. Let's go.

What's the story, Nadia?

Not much, but I found some interesting information.

No, what's the story with you?

What?

Oh, nothing.

-Come on. I can tell. -Tell what?

Your eyes are puffy. You smell like a bar.

-You down half a bottle a day! -Of whiskey? No way!

-Three quarters? -Two fifths.

Whatever.

Actually, give me a little.

-Take it easy. It's potent. -Yeah, yeah.

So...

Oscar told you about Muller and the lady.

Anyway, deadly boring.

"Deadly" is the right word.

-Rivetti's more interesting. -I bet.

Except he came over here to shoot me.

Born in Pavia in '57.

-Yesterday was his birthday. -Happy birthday, then.

That was a bad joke. Sorry.

Went to Milan after finishing school,

became an electrician who loves high-tech.

Then in the '90s, he gets into security systems.

He opens a business,

builds systems for companies and homes.

Business is good.

He's a loner,

but in 2005 he gets married.

Her name's Margherita Colorni,

born in Milan in '63.

Not exactly a teenage crush.

No kids, everything great until

January 12th around midnight.

So, technically, it could be the 13th.

What happened on January 13th?

His wife died in an accident here in Milan.

No witnesses.

Driver fled. They never got him.

Shit. That's terrible.

Franco Rivetti couldn't cope.

He closes up shop.

In fact, according to the Chamber of Commerce

FraMar...

FraMar.

Franco and Margherita, right?

I hadn't thought of that.

Anyway, FraMar no longer exists.

Rivetti's a wreck.

He stops working, even sells his home.

-But... -But what?

He continues to rent a small workshop.

A storage room.

Who knows.

Anyway, it's a basement full of stuff.

How do you know it's full of stuff?

Because Oscar contacted the owner and

made up some story about how he knew Rivetti

and how he agreed to sublet it for a higher rent

and asked for the keys to check it out.

Don't tell me the guy gave him the keys.

We'll find out tomorrow.

Hey, take it easy!

-Come on. Cut it out. -What's got into you?

Absolutely nothing.

Come on, before you puke in my living room.

What happened?

I broke into Erica's computer.

What for?

"What for"? Because she left me.

What do you mean she left you?

She left.

She's got someone else.

-A man. -Oh.

-But... isn't a man better? -Are you stupid!

You know the worst part?

They were seeing each other before,

when she was still with me.

I told you not to look at her private stuff!

-You can't do that. -OK, but what does that change?

What the fuck!

I'm a mess.

I've been sleeping on friends' couches for a month.

-Yesterday, I slept in the car. -Why? She's still at the house?

No, no.

I... I don't want to go back there.

Whoa, come on now. That's enough.

-Come on! -That's enough now!

Shall we go throw up?

-She'll miss me, won't she? -Yeah.

Like crazy.

But

if you want

good old Bob will always be there to console you.

And he...

he won't be singing for some Californian freak,

or the farmers in the Midwest.

He'll be singing just for you, Nadia Federici.

"Please

"see for me if her hair hangs long.

"If it rolls and flows all down her breast.

"Please see for me if her hair hangs long.

"That's the way I remember her best.

"I'm a-wonderin' if she remembers me at all.

"Many times I've often prayed.

"In the darkness of my night.

"In the brightness of my day."

When you witness injustice,

you can't just sit back and think:

The authorities or someone else will handle it.

Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

Signor Carlo...?

Signor Carlo...?

Signor Carlo!

I think it's time to get up.

Yeah. Thanks, Caterina.

I made a nice, big breakfast.

I see a young lady slept over.

Caterina, it's not what you think.

Right. Anyway, I'm going to do the shopping

and leave Signor Carlo with the sad, pretty lady.

Now she'll start in on me about the "sad, pretty lady".

I see you're feeling better.

Yeah, I'm not bad.

-Thanks for last night. -Oh, please!

Stay as long as you like.

Just don't play Bob Dylan again.

-It's like a finger in my wound. -Better there than another spot.

That reminds me,

I have news on the guy who shot at you.

I saw in his call log that the last cal before he died

was from a cell registered to a certain

Marzia Senzapane.

I don't know how you got his call log,

but it must've been illegal.

-Don't tell me that. -No, I will tell you.

-That's not really the point. -What is the point, then?

The thing is

I think this Marzia Senzapane is in deep shit.

Why?

She got caught in the car with a lot of coke and this

Sergio De Magistris.

She has no record. His is longer than the Bible.

He's clearly the real dealer.

And I think

he called Rivetti with her phone before killing him.

But why did he kill him?

What I don't understand is why Marzia is in danger?

Because he's beaten her up a few times.

I found the reports and everything.

I wouldn't want... just out of jail...

So, let's go talk to this Marzia!

Don't you want to call that guy Ghezzi, the cop?

No, no. Forget it.

You see, Nadia...

When you find yourself faced with injustice,

you can't just sit back and say:

The authorities will handle it,

someone else always has to handle it.

But sometimes you gotta get out there

and do something yourself. No turning back.

-Just do it! -What's got into you?

I mean,

what a thing to say. It's not like you.

Are you all right?

Someone tried to shoot me. It has an impact.

Or maybe...

by chance... You found out she's coming back, right?

-Who? -Who? Jesus!

Lucia. Come on!

Yes, I may have heard something about it.

Why? What do you know?

Nothing. It's just that...

yesterday I saw her name on the schedule and...

There you go. See? Sometimes, they come back.

How long have you known?

A couple of weeks.

-That explains a lot. -Yeah, right!

Now, after all that's happened, I'm thinking about her!

When is she supposed to get here exactly?

Of course, if it's like De Rosa says

and someone else out there wants to kill De Magistris.

What if he kills him first?

Do we still get paid?

-What do you mean? -Well,

it doesn't seem very ethical.

It's more ethical if we shoot him.

Yeah, but

then if someone else shoots him...

When we decided to start this firm,

we set ourselves some limits.

But our priority is to make money.

Anyway, let's make sure we find him.

Who is it?

-Friends of Big Sergio. -He's not here.

We know, Miss Marzia. That's why we're here.

We'd like to talk to you.

It's important. Just listen to us.

Then we'll go.

Giulio.

Marzia. Nice to meet you.

Renato. Very delighted.

May we?

Thanks, excuse me.

Excuse me.

Who is it?

-May I? -Come in.

-'Morning. -'Morning.

-We got something. -Let's hear it.

Go ahead.

On January 13th Rivetti's wife died in an accident.

She was on her way home on a 125 cc scooter,

in Viale Ortles, an outlying industrial zone.

-I know the place. -And...

she went on the green light

but a car ran into her and she died instantly.

No witnesses.

The guy just disappeared.

-And the investigation? -Not a thing.

But two months later he went to the local police

with some CCTV footage.

A video that our motivated colleagues missed.

What's in the video?

It's less than a minute.

If you want to watch it, it'll save us the explaining.

Yes, let's watch it.

What are you doing?

If they saw us enter, they'll be waiting

-and we're toast. -Who?

Marzia's boyfriend, his friends.

We should've taken the stairs!

-So, let's take them. -Then, we'll see them going up.

Wait, let me get this thing out.

What the fuck are you doing?

-Don't shout! -Put that away! Are you stupid!

No, but something just doesn't seem...

Fine. I'll put it away.

-But you gotta stay calm! -Listen, Carlo...

maybe you should go home.

What are you saying? No way.

Fine, but that thing doesn't exist!

And leave the rest to me. OK?

Who is it?

-Marzia? -Yes?

Listen, you don't know us,

but we're worried about you.

Why?

Because of Sergio.

Why's everyone looking for him? What'd he do?

-What do you mean "you all"? -Two guys came by earlier.

Sorry, but who are you two?

He works in TV. And I kind of do too.

But we're not cops, if that's what you want to know.

I figured that out.

You haven't started shouting yet.

What TV show?

-Here and there. -Ever watch Crazy Love?

-Obviously. Who doesn't! -Me, for example.

"The things we do for love."

Exactly!

He came up with that show.

-Really? -Pretty much.

Can we come in? Are we disturbing you?

No, no. Come in.

Thank you.

What did the two men from before want?

They were looking for Sergio. Like you.

Well, maybe not just like you.

They said they worked together and he screwed them over.

Oh did he?

Yeah, what's new.

Anyway, Sergio isn't at home.

I got out of jail three weeks ago.

Never seen or heard from him.

I've known him for ten years but

I don't know him at all.

I told them he might be at this villa in Mediglia.

Last year he took me there a couple of times.

He said one day we'd go live there, but then...

Yeah, right. Always the same thing.

Yeah, I know the type.

Well...

Got anything else to tell us?

For the show?

No, just to understand better. Don't worry.

At first, it was incredible.

We made love all the time. Just...

head over heels.

Or at least... I was.

Then...

just after that he started disappearing and

using his fists.

And I'd always forgive him.

Even...

when he wanted me to turn tricks.

What a piece of shit.

In the end, I even did time for him.

He...

visited me once, then

he never showed up again.

I'm a total fool.

Do you feel sorry for me?

No, no.

It's just that...

I think he got you into another mess.

He sure did.

A really big mess too.

-Here we are. -Thanks.

Jesus.

Look.

Wow.

-Come see the best part. -All right.

Wow, what an amazing view!

Don't tell him that, he'll feel guilty he's rich.

-OK. -Come on.

-I'll show you the guest room. -OK.

I'll tell Caterina to give you whatever you need.

Here we are.

You can get settled in here for now.

I'll get my stuff out of here.

Wait a sec.

Are we sure this is a good idea?

Marzia, if you don't want to go to the police,

you have to hide.

-Your situation isn't very... -Yeah, I know but

I don't even know you guys.

I don't want to drag you into this mess.

If it's any consolation, I'm already up to my neck in it.

It's Oscar. Excuse me.

-Hello? -Via Cartella 24. Bring Nadia.

I'll be waiting. Hurry.

-What did he say? -Nothing, but I think

he managed to get the keys to Rivetti's storage room.

Now we have to go somewhere for a little while.

-You make yourself at home. -Thanks.

-Bye. -Bye.

-Good afternoon. -Good afternoon.

We're looking for Marquis Sensini Ferni.

Look, we're closing up.

The marquis, please.

Let them through, Edoardo.

You can go home.

OK.

Come with me.

You know, I've been waiting for you?

I was expecting someone in a kippah

or a suit and tie, pretending to be customers.

Instead...

Gypsies.

Fair enough.

What kind of Gypsies, if I may ask?

Sinti.

What can I do for you, gentlemen?

We're looking for Sergio De Magistris.

We know he does business with you.

"Business".

You want the whole story?

If it ends with the address we want, yes.

[in Sinti] Wait.

We want the whole story.

I began by selling the furniture of noble families

that were ruined when Fascism ended.

Then I dealt in other antiques.

From Argentina, Chile,

from wherever they'd fled to.

Nazi exiles wanted their iron crosses back,

their medals.

They wanted the proof of their grandeur.

But this market opened another one.

A sick one.

Morbid.

Each concentration camp had its museum of horrors.

Lampshades made from human skin.

Notebooks.

Soap made from bones.

I dealt in that for years,

telling myself it was just

the sick nostalgia of aging lunatics.

Then I got cancer.

And for the first time, I had to face pain.

And death.

Those things began to disgust me.

But I couldn't stop.

Then I left everything to the lawyer, De Rosa, and

to that De Magistris.

Where can we find them?

All I have is an address.

They gave it to me the last time they came.

Just in case any other pieces came in.

I have something else for you.

I've held onto it since I began waiting.

Gypsies.

What a coincidence.

Stolen from a Sinti queen,

in 1943

at the Sobibor camp.

It arrived to me in '81.

It's only right that it returns to you.

Thank you.

It's my duty.

All I ask is that you use this.

Just a moment.

Please.

So, here we are again.

What can I tell you?

What can you tell me?

How the fuck it happened!

How what happened?

Someone tried to shoot you! They only missed you by a hair!

So, it's all our fault?

Yes, that's exactly what I suspect.

Now tell me what the fuck happened!

And from the beginning.

SUBTITLES BY: HEATHER MILLIGAN