Original subtitles

Sorry, we're closed.

No, you're open.

Hi, Andrea.

But... Is...

Is that you?

Yep.

-Weren't you... -Relax.

I'm just passing through.

Sweet ride.

It's a sweet ride if I can sell it.

Not even soccer players buy those cars anymore.

What do you want?

I want my money, Andrea.

That's all.

Your money!

-Didn't Angela have it? -Angela?

Yeah.

And so?

So, no one can find Angela.

I got back a week ago.

And I've been asking around.

And now I'm asking you.

I have no idea.

I haven't seen her for years.

Andrea,

she brought you the schmucks who bought this stuff.

Maybe you were even fucking her.

What are you talking about?

Just relax.

You see, Angela's not the problem.

The problem's my money.

So, now you tell me where she is,

I'll bring her some flowers, get my stuff and go.

I...

I don't know.

I haven't seen her in years. Seriously.

A name,

a place, whatever you know.

Two or three years ago she came to tell me

she was leaving, that she'd changed her name.

She gave me a card, in case she sent me a customer.

I remember because

that name was on the card.

Anna Galindi or

Galinda! Anna Galinda.

There were two red lips and...

something written in pen.

An address?

-Phone number? -No, no.

Just something like: “The usual gift, Andrea.”

It never happened again after that.

If it had, where would you have sent the money?

That's just it. I don't know.

But I think she would've got in touch.

Anyway, if you want,

I can look for the card.

Maybe it's at home somewhere.

No, don't worry.

It's me. I'm on my way.

Get two cars ready now.

Who gives a shit about procedure, Sannucci!

If he smells a rat, he'll run to the Vatican!

Hurry! My feet are freezing!

What the fuck!

Stop! Police!

Jesus fucking Christ!

What in the hell!

Stop!

Fuck you!

MONTEROSSI: THE SERIES

OF RAGE AND WIND: PART I

I'm not saying you always have to go,

but I think a few meetings a week

is the least you can do for what they pay you!

Look, if this is about money,

-I can even give up a part. -Look,

I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.

Since you holed up at home, ratings have dropped!

This morning De Pisis called me herself.

You're the best.

She knows it, and so do you!

Sure, I do.

The best at turning people's brains to mush?

-Is that a compliment? -No, it's a fact.

You're one of the best TV writers around,

and you're also a good person.

Two things I thought were incompatible.

But I'm the first guy's agent.

The second is your goddamn business!

What the hell do you do all day anyway?

I'm working...

on a new idea.

-That no one asked you for. -No.

But it's...

it's something that's mine. Something I like,

about real life, not her human-interest stories.

You can't polish everything.

Sometimes you need some truth! Don't look at me like that.

Explain why they should produce your little niche TV show

when Crazy Love can aim for 40 percent?

Because it'd be honest. It'd be...

real!

Jesus, not Lucia again.

That's enough. Forget it.

-But Lucia's job is different! -Yeah.

Yeah, full coverage, field investigations.

She was kidnapped in Iraq!

You're good too,

at making housewives cry.

You live downtown, you drink expensive whisky.

Try inviting her to dinner,

and bring an AK-47 like a real revolutionary.

-You're a real bitch. -Yeah, and low on excuses!

So, go to work tomorrow because I'm done covering you.

Thanks.

OK, Carlo?

OK, I will.

Perfect. Come on, I'm hungry.

I've totally lost my appetite.

Better. Hand it over, I'll start with yours.

Yum, will you look at that!

Damn! There, got it.

-No! It's sparkling water! -You don't want it?

I'll open it for you.

Lucia. Hi.

I'm Nadia, Carlo's assistant.

Oh, yeah.

He hired me as cover when he doesn't come!

We met at that depressing party in Fredda's office.

Exactly!

I'm Marzia. Nice to meet you.

Same here. Do you work with Carlo too?

He kinda helped me out.

Now I'm here... A hairdresser.

Can you believe that Monterossi!

He only hires women!

Don't go thinking it's a gender war.

-No? -No, his is more of a class war.

He finds all the poor saps and has the network hire them.

-Like wealth distribution. -Yeah, other people's wealth!

We still don't know what he enjoys more: helping us

-or screwing the Big Factory. -You can tell!

So, are you covering the Niger Delta?

Well, yeah, we're working on it. It's one of our ideas.

Why? Do you know about it?

Yeah, a little.

I studied it for my poli-sci thesis.

I found a local activist's blog that was really interesting too.

I can find it for you.

Sure! Thanks.

If I can find my notes, I'll give them to you.

That'd be great! Thanks.

-Maybe we could meet for a chat? -Sure, I'd love to.

Robin Hood's here.

Stealing from network to give to the poor!

Sorry, I gotta run.

-Bye. -Bye, Nadia!

-Hey. -Is everyone already inside?

For 15 minutes already.

Everything OK with you?

Everything's OK.

Good morning.

-Good morning, everybody. -'Morning.

Tell me about it later, OK?

What an honor! The great Monterossi's at work.

Why are you here?

Good question. I asked myself the same one.

Good. We can finally get started because we're all here.

Stefano, what were you saying?

Yesterday, a guy was murdered who sold cars to celebrities.

A very cool client base.

Yeah, exactly. We thought at the funeral there might be...

some famous people. Singers, soccer players.

Maybe we could use it.

The rich, tattooed nobility...

grieving over their carriage salesman.

Nice. Let's hook one of them.

Before they run off to Ibiza for comfort.

What about you?

Carlo...? Carlo...?

-Yes? -You with us?

Yeah.

So, this story about the murdered car salesman

and the mourning VIPs... What do you think of it?

What does true crime have to do with Crazy Love now?

Am I in the wrong meeting?

When we covered it, it went over well, right?

You're the one who brought us Marzia's episode!

Now, people are into it, Carlo.

Love and mystery.

Then if there's a body, even better!

Here, there are even some famous people involved.

First, the episode with Marzia was an exception,

and they were normal people.

Here we want to talk about normal people, not celebrities.

Inviting a VIP on Crazy Love would be like...

inviting the Dalai Lama on a quiz show!

It doesn't make any sense at all!

-That sounds like a great idea! -What?

-The one about the Dalia Lama. -Whatever.

Anyway, this is a totally normal guy.

-A car dealer. Go figure! -Flora...

that would mean totally changing the nature of the show.

The nature of the show is its nice 30 percent share.

Then, if it has a good writer...

That's why I'm asking you.

-You're kidding, right? -Not at all.

Thanks, Carlo.

So, what other guests do we have on the schedule?

So, how's our Father Courage?

No one's laughing, Carella.

There's nothing to laugh about.

Negligence, insubordination.

And if that security guard hadn't been walking by,

now we'd have two dead bodies.

You even let the killer steal your gun.

-Who was the dead guy? -You don't get it.

You screwed up.

-You're suspended for 30 days! -What?

-Yes. -Don't get excited.

-You heard the doctors. -You tell him, ma'am.

He's had enough excitement.

Now, give Sannucci your statement,

sign tons of papers for the gun and see you in a month.

Did you at least arrest the monk?

Don't tell me I went around dressed as a friar for nothing?

He was a little lamb. We just said: “Come with us”

and he was confessing like a seminarian!

We still need to write up the reports.

Money moving around, budgets. Money laundering!

He thought the monastery was a good cover.

Now, financial crimes will handle it.

We'll serve it on a silver platter.

So, we solved the case,

and, as thanks, I get a suspension.

You got suspended for not following orders.

Plus, neither I or the chief

or the prefect or even way on up to Jesus Christ

like it when our men get beat up dressed as friars!

Please, ma'am, keep this man on a leash!

Now, excuse us, but we have to run.

Goodbye.

I'll wait for you at the office, Sannucci.

-Carella? -Yeah?

-You handling this case? -Looks like.

Pray for me, Father Ghezzi.

Oh, fuck off!

-Thinks he's Serpico! -Tarcisio!

Yeah, I'm calm. I'm calm.

Detective...

-How are you? -How do you think he is?

Dislocated elbow, cracked ribs,

-a concussion, frostbitten feet! -Rosa, do me a favor.

Can you get me a couple of newspapers?

All the papers with news about Milan?

-But the doctor just said-- -Come on, do it for me, please.

Fine, I'll go.

Sannucci, sit down.

The whole story from the beginning!

What?

I won't sit here while Carella looks for that prick!

He can't have the satisfaction!

If they find out, I'll end up in the passport office!

-"They" who? -Carella!

-He's a nightmare. -I got an idea.

You help me,

and, I promise, when I get back, you'll only work with me.

-OK? -OK.

All right, so who's the stiff?

Andrea Reali, age 42. It's his dealership.

-How were sales? -Pretty good.

Few cars but the right ones.

Select clients, no installments, fat checks.

-Private life? -Separated, no kids,

but gets on with his ex, a villa, apartment downtown.

We searched them but nothing explains a murder like this.

All that money and he closes up shop himself?

Was he expecting anyone?

No, his secretary said he liked it.

Maybe not in the morning,

but at night, he'd close up, no matter what.

So, the killer was waiting outside...

...and we're looking for witnesses

because the security guard couldn't give a description.

-Has he got a record? -Nope, nothing.

But four years ago there was a kidnapping,

the son of Caprotti, the furniture magnate,

from Meda, Cantù, a place like that.

They only reported it

after they paid the ransom and the kid was let go.

So, there was no arrest.

What's the link?

The kid's dad bought cars from this guy Reali.

So, he's the finger.

“The finger”?

What do they teach at the academy?

-Sorry-- -The finger's the guy

who points the victim out to the kidnappers.

-Yeah, I knew that. -You did?

-No, but that's it. -Makes sense, right?

I don't know. There was no proof and it didn't even go to trial.

-Anything else? -No.

Can we just do your statement?

-Carella's waiting for me! -Listen here.

Soon as you get the bank statements,

get me all Reali's transactions during the kidnapping.

Then get me the names of anyone who worked on the investigation.

OK. I will.

So, let me get this straight.

Who was at the funeral?

What's that got to do with anything?

Answer the question.

There were lots of people who went to see the dead guy.

Journalists, soccer players, actresses.

Even that guy Manuel Macchi. You know him?

No.

Excuse me, may I?

-The singer for Eden? -Yeah.

The guy who always looks sad, and they weren't kidding!

Rest in peace, Andrea.

And the girl? Was she there?

Yes, that's what she said,

because I only saw her later.

Later when?

When I left. Outside.

It was raining and...

Rain, just what we needed.

-You waiting for a taxi too? -Yeah.

-What did they tell you? -Five minutes.

They told me that a half hour ago.

Get under here. You're getting wet.

-Andrea knew a lot of people. -He sure did.

Are you... Were you a friend?

Sort of.

And you?

I bought my first SUV from him.

Those are moments you just never forget.

Excuse me, but didn't you go there for work?

So, you knew Reali?

No way, never saw him before.

But couldn't say I was there for Flora's crappy show.

Fine. Let's keep going.

Nothing. At that point...

Here's the taxi.

But I think it's yours.

Verona 91.

-Mine's Ancona 17. -Ancona's great. I'll take it.

-Take this. -Don't worry...

No, no. I insist.

Since the driver was antsy, we went together.

I've got an idea.

-I'll give you a ride. -OK, let's go.

So, you went back to her house?

No. First, we went for a drink.

-Where? -A bar in Piazza Diaz.

What did you do there?

Why are you so interested?

This is just a chat. Nothing to be afraid of.

I know it's a chat,

but you seem too interested in my damn business for a chat.

Monterossi, let's move on.

Fine.

You know what?

What?

You don't look like a guy who'd remember his first SUV

or like one whose wife is on vacation.

You sure?

I wouldn't swear to it.

Also because it's always easy to seem like someone else.

Do you do that often?

More than I'd like to.

I'm not pretending I'm married.

The only time I got close, she ran off to another country.

-It's usually the opposite. -That's true,

but she despises clichés.

Love 'em and leave 'em.

You're not starting with a sob story, right?

We were just at a funeral.

No, don't worry.

You don't tell this stuff to just anyone, right?

And I surely won't tell you, Carella.

So, we'll skip this part if you don't mind.

Then...

You don't even know my name.

We haven't introduced ourselves.

-That's true. Carlo. -Anna.

That's it. We had a bite to eat and...

made small talk.

How did she seem to you?

Was she nervous?

-Did she do anything odd? -No.

We talked about movies,

travel. The...

The kind of talk to figure out if you want to move forward

or stop right there.

But... you didn't stop there

-and ended up at her place. -Yes.

She didn't feel like being alone

and proposed one last glass of wine.

Come in. Make yourself comfortable.

Thank you.

-Shall I put on some music? -Why not.

So?

What do you like?

I can play the good girl.

But if you want something special,

I can call a friend.

So, that's why?

Don't tell me you didn't know.

No.

I guess I was hoping I was wrong.

-About me? -No, about me.

I thought I'd hit the jackpot. Instead...

Instead, I like you.

You're kind of...

...too old-fashioned. Trust me.

-You disappointed? -No, it was a really nice night.

Maybe...

We should've quit while we were ahead.

No, wait.

We said one last glass, right?

All right.

I'd love to.

Also because...

-What? -I don't know.

I don't feel like being alone tonight.

Sounds stupid, doesn't it?

No. Why?

Happens to me too.

Look, we don't care if you used Ms. Galinda's services.

You can speak freely.

And I reiterate "freely" that I didn't "use" anything.

She seemed very fragile.

Defenseless.

We stayed there a while, chatting and listening to music.

Until I realized she'd fallen asleep.

What time was it when you left her house?

Wait, let me check...

what time I called the taxi.

Here it is.

12.25.

So, why is it that at 11.38

there's a call from you on this young lady's cell?

You were there and you phoned her?

Of course, I called her to leave her my number.

That's what you usually do. It's easy.

You ought to try it.

Listen...

Would you mind telling me why the cops are so interested

in my night with a girl?

'Cause she's dead.

A terrible death.

Want some tea or coffee?

What is this, a café?

Instead, go open the window!

OK, I'll try and be straight with you.

Do I think you killed her?

No. But do I think...

you can tell us something that may not seem important?

Yes.

Do I think you left out something deliberately?

I don't know.

What do you mean "dead"?

When?

I can't tell you that.

but it looks like it was a...

slow, painful death.

And this is what rules you out...

as the murderer.

Because even you, in a moment of madness...

could get the urge to kill someone, but...

that degree of cruelty...

That's all I can say.

Think hard.

Was there anything... strange?

A detail?

Something small that might seem insignificant.

The door.

One of those you can open without a key from outside,

that when you close it, it goes...

clack!

So, clack.

I can't get this damn clack out of my head.

I'll go with you to the funeral.

Carlo, come on. How could you have known?

-You shouldn't feel guilty. -But I do! She even said:

“I don't feel like being alone.”

And like an asshole, I...

I should've woken her up, told her to lock the door.

-What did the cops say? -Yeah.

What could they have said?

I don't think it'll be easy to catch him.

And your friend Ghezzi is out of commission too.

How come? What did he do?

He got jumped outside Reali's dealership.

He just happened to be there.

He tried to stop the killer,

but he beat the shit outa him.

-Why didn't anyone say anything? -He was dressed as a friar,

they stole his gun

and the police covered it up pathetically.

Who was dressed as a friar? Ghezzi?

An undercover mission.

A prior who mistook the monastery for a tax haven.

-Can you belive it? -Is he in the hospital now?

Yeah, at Niguarda.

-Carlo, Flora's here. -OK.

So?

How did it go at the funeral?

Well, you know...

It was pretty dead.

No, really. There was no one interesting.

Manuel Macchi posted lots of stories. He was there!

Jesus! He'd be perfect!

If we could just get him to cry on the show.

Yeah, he was crying.

But if he'll cry on the show remains to be seen.

Carlo, I'll give you whatever budget you want.

Just don't let him get away.

Please.

-Oh, hi. -Hi.

Going down?

Yeah, I'm going home.

Lucky you.

-Why the long face? -What "long face"?

You look like your cat died.

It's nothing. Forget it.

When you say that, it's usually serious.

-I wouldn't know where to begin. -So, I'm right. It's serious.

No, it's just here... in the elevator... so quickly...

If you don't want to talk about it, I get it.

One night we can meet and I'll tell you everything.

If you want to.

-Sure, why not. -All right.

-How about this weekend? -No, I have to go to London.

I left some things up in the air.

And tomorrow night?

Lunch is better.

Day after tomorrow?

OK. I'll take lunch.

See you the day after tomorrow.

-Bye. -Bye.

We found nothing suspicious in Reali's accounts.

As for the kidnapping,

The Commander of the Carabinieri in Meda was handling it.

Guy named Madeddu.

This is his phone number.

You already talk to him?

We haven't had time yet. Things just got messy.

"Messy" how?

Didn't you read about the death last night?

-Oh, the escort! -Yes!

The same gun was used to kill Reali.

Only now he fired three shots three meters away.

So, what's the connection?

At Reali's house, we found the card of this girl.

Anna Galinda.

A client?

Who knows.

It's weird. She's beautiful, but

in her house, we didn't find a thing.

No photos over three years old,

no school or family mementos.

Even on her cell, only a few clients' numbers.

But not Reali's, I imagine.

Oh, that reminds me!

Guess who the last person to see her alive was?

-Except the killer, obviously. -How should I know. Tell me!

-Monterossi! -Monterossi?

-Yes! -Carlo Monterossi?

I didn't peg him as the escort type.

Me neither.

-Anyway, she didn't live there. -Who?

Anna. If you didn't find anything in her home...

Yeah, but she's domiciled there.

She doesn't seem to have any other apartments.

-She must have a mom and dad. -No, no, no.

It's like she doesn't have a past.

Even all her papers...

they're all from 2013.

-They're fake. -Yeah, probably.

But they look perfect.

She must've paid a shitload.

Did you check her prints?

The killer burned them off

with an iron.

probably to make her talk. We found her tied up.

Or it's a red herring.

If you gotta kill a girl you tied up and tortured,

You shoot point-blank, not three meters away.

-Yeah. -Maybe he killed her earlier,

in a fit of rage.

Then stages an interrogation so the cops'll take the bait.

-Got it? -Yes.

Yeah?

-Am I disturbing you? -Look who it is!

What do you expect, Ghezzi?

When a friar gets beat up, you go visit him.

Come on, don't you start in too!

How are you?

How do you think I am.

I'm like a prisoner.

No, worse.

Because when I get out, the guard'll be on me like glue.

What guard?

Rosa, my wife. She's always on my back.

And now that she knows I have high blood sugar!

If we're done, I'll get going.

-Sure, go ahead. -Goodnight.

-Goodnight. -Sannucci...

-Thank you. -Don't mention it.

Will you come with me to get some hot chocolate?

Don't you have high blood sugar?

Yes, but I'm sick of all this too.

Then, the hot chocolate is on me.

Sounds great.

After you.

About this Galinda girl...

-I got a few questions for you. -Go ahead.

Did you know her?

No. Not very well. Not very well at all.

-You a client? -A friend.

Sure. Of course.

I'm a friend too.

Well, maybe not a friend...

Sometimes we worked together.

You're the only friend who came.

That was nice. The others were cops.

Whenever she called me, she'd give me 250 euros.

Twice what I usually get.

It's easy with them.

Guys with money are shy.

They can't wait to leave. They feel ashamed.

Will you buy me a coffee?

Yes.

Thanks. I don't feel like being alone.

Sure.

OK.

Here you go.

Thanks.

-That'll be 7.40. -Thanks, keep the change.

You know she had money hidden away?

-Who? -Anna.

No, I didn't know that.

Of course...

Usually people with money don't do this kind of work.

-You're mistaken, Mr...? -Sorry. Carlo.

-Carlo Monterossi. -Serena.

-Nice to meet you. -Same here.

On the internet, I'm Bianca Luna.

I know, it's funny but

-one name's as good as another. -Sure.

Why do you say I'm "mistaken"?

It's true that

this was Anna's job,

but she did it in a different way.

She had her clients.

She was fit, beautiful, nice clothes, nice apartment.

Sometimes a “friend” would take her around.

Business trips.

I was a little envious.

Anyway...

You don't know anything about the money?

No. Should I?

I don't know, but if she does,

who'll get it? It's a waste.

But...

Tell me, Serena, is that why you're here?

You think I know about this treasure of Anna's?

No, no. I didn't want... That's not what I meant.

Now you think I'm a bitch, right?

-The bitchy whore. -No, no.

Now I think you feel lost

and that you just want to talk to someone. Right?

So, what do you know about this treasure?

Only what Anna told me:

“Amilcare has my treasure. Grandpa Neroni has it,”

then laugh. Maybe she was kidding,

-but that's the name. -Amilcare Neroni?

Yeah. That's all I know.

Yeah, Anna had a few secrets.

She had nice clothes, rich friends, even secrets.

I don't have all that. I don't even have secrets!

Seeing where her secrets got her...

maybe you're better off.

Excuse me.

-Yeah? -We're meeting at your place.

If Caterina's gone, I'll wait downstairs. Move it!

You said you were coming.

I did come.

You just didn't see me.

Bye.

Bye.

LUCIA: WE STILL ON FOR LUNCH TOMORROW?

Now I...

I have to go.

Thanks for the company.

When I proposed dinner, she immediately said lunch.

Come on! A romantic dinner is too much.

It's five years since you saw her.

Then what did she leave up in the air in London?

Is she seeing somebody?

Did they break up?

-Who knows. Ask her. -Ask her what?

It's one thing if I'd asked her then,

but now, out of the blue. I'd sound pathetic.

Then, you know what?

Have Falcone follow her.

What are you talking about?

Instead... and this is just an idea...

One day, you could go by the international office,

then, just en passant,

ask if she's going to London on business.

You know everyone there.

Excuse me, when I wanted to spy on my ex,

you were all: “It's immoral. You're hurting yourself.”

Now that it's your turn, you want a little help?

Anyway,

just as a final note,

it's one thing to secretly read someone's email.

It's another to ask a question just en passant.

Sure, I just go to her office and say:

“Excuse me, do you happen to know if Lucia,

the bit-shot reporter, has a boyfriend in London?”

-Just en passant? -Signor Carlo...?

-Yeah, where are you? -Down here.

Your friend Oscar is in the living room

-with a guy I've never seen. -OK.

If you're hungry, there's lasagna in the fridge.

Then, put it back inside.

Otherwise, it'll go bad.

Thanks, Caterina. See you later.

And, please, don't touch the washing machine!

Never touched it. I don't even know where it is!

-Well...? -This is Meseret.

You were at the funeral. Nice to meet you. Carlo.

Same here. Nadia.

We talked briefly outside the cemetery,

while you were with the girl.

He said he worked for Anna for several years.

Now he's not only unemployed, he's very sorry.

Not sorry.

I'm angry.

Great.

-Why “great”? -Because...

I'm good and pissed off too.

And about this Reali...

Nothing yet.

We questioned all the dealership's customers.

People up to here in money.

-But they don't kill people. -At most, they send someone.

But you need a motive,

-but we still haven't found one. -And what about Galinda?

The killer didn't steal anything,

but he searched her house with a fine-tooth comb.

Like a pro, like he was looking for something.

The coroner said the burns on her fingertips

and other torture signs were inflicted after she died.

In fact, he shot her from three meters away,

like in a fit of rage.

He must've done the rest later, like a red herring.

Good intuition, Sannucci.

And from a work standpoint?

She was independent.

No pimp. Got along great with the landlord.

Select clients. We started questioning them but

-nothing. -So, we haven't got shit.

Except... Any certainty that her papers are fake? No.

And our next move?

We should question the people from the funeral.

The hooker, Serena, may know more than she told us.

The Ethiopian too. Aside from her clients,

he was the closest person to the victim.

That all?

Maybe we could distribute a picture of Anna?

We had a good one, on a sailboat.

-Someone might recognize her. -Yeah, sure.

We could even write that we're fucking clueless!

That would mean putting someone on the phones,

sifting through false leads, dealing with wackos.

No, no. Excuse me.

Listen...

-There might be another way. -Like what?

A girl gets new documents made

and works as a hooker,

and, according to her clients,

in three years, she's always had impeccable conduct.

This makes you think she was even working...

-before that. -Under a different name.

She probably started out lower,

with newspaper ads. That stuff.

-Yeah. -Right?

Maybe we can compare a picture with escort sites with archives.

I'll see if I can get some guys from the postal police.

Who's there?

Hey...?

That you?

Of course, it's me.

Who did you think it was?

Of course.

Hi.

SUBTITLES BY: HEATHER MILLIGAN