Original subtitles

Hello?

Something odd happened a few weeks ago.

He took pictures in your atelier.

- Who? ELT? - Yes.

When did you take these pictures?

She'll sell them to the high rollers at the exhibition.

And we'll take 25%.

Why did Sheila Legge leave everything to Dali

instead of her only living relative, Lord James?

Are you sure?

Poor Sheila had to go and leave him all her money.

This scandal will multiply

the value of the artwork exponentially.

It's such a lot of work for one person.

George?

Mrs. Magritte came face to face

with our clearly deranged murderer.

Stay out of my life!

Did you notice something strange in him?

They all did us right.

Sir?

You called, DC Quant?

Yeah. Do you know the Organ Inn, Constable Sutcliffe?

It's the only pub in the village.

Right. Go knock down there and check for the DCIF, please.

Yes, sir. Ma'am.

Oh, and, Constable, be discreet. Use the back roads.

DC Quant.

Superintendent Coney.

- Sir? - Pass me on to your DCI.

We can't seem to find him, sir.

What do you mean, DC?

He told me last night that he was going to the pub,

but he hasn't returned.

Doesn't sound like him.

Sir, two people have been killed here in very theatrical ways.

This killer craves attention.

And now the DCI has gone missing.

I have a bad feeling, sir.

Right.

I'm sending reinforcements.

Make sure the estate stays firmly locked and keep

the press out.

We don't need bad publicity.

A good result here, DC, will put

your position at the Yard in good stead.

I just want to find him.

Then do exactly that, alright?

I will, sir.

I'll be supervising, DC.

We'll talk later.

All clear! Come on then!

Zone one, manor house,

including service quarters and terrace.

Zone two, lawns and park.

Zone three, woods and perimeter.

Zone four, lake. I'll take one.

Peterson, two.

Three, Davis.

Henderson, four.

- Okay? - Yes.

Debrief at noon. Anything comes up,

talk to me at once. Understood?

- Yes. - And there's a killer

on the loose, so eyes peeled at all times.

Okay?

Let's go, men!

Thank you, sir.

Come on, give me a hand.

What's going on?

I don't know, but I don't like it.

Hang on. Is everyone here?

All the important ones are.

Big day.

What do you mean, girl?

Well, two people got killed, right?

And now there is police everywhere.

- All set. - Another death?

My God. I cannot take it anymore.

Who's missing then?

Where is Lee?

Relax. I'm not going anywhere.

That's the problem.

They're looking for something?

Or someone?

Who?

You do know this is the big day, don't you, Detective?

- Yes, my lord, but -- - Some of the world's richest

and most influential people are

on their way at this very moment.

Do you understand how important this is?

- Yes, but -- - I had asked your boss to

get this over with by this morning at the latest.

And now I watch on as a small army invades my state.

- We can't find him, my lord. - That's the problem exactly.

Not the killer.

Not just yet.

I mean uh, my superior.

It seems the DCI can't be found, my lord.

- Good lord. - We're looking for him.

This thing needs to be sorted by 4 p.m. sharp.

- Got it? - Yeah, I'll do my best, my lord.

Forget your best. Do what's necessary.

Good luck, Detective.

Let's stay calm and be strong together.

Well said. We're all just excited for the big night.

By sunrise we'll probably be all rich.

Excited? Not now, man.

Please. Have a sense of decorum.

Quant!

DC Quant!

Sorry. Do you have a minute?

Is it important, Magritte?

I went through my agent's suitcase.

Found an English phone number on the brochure

of one of my first paintings, "The Lovers."

The one that was at the first murder scene, right?

- Did you ring the number? - So I did.

Somebody picked up, but nobody answered.

So I identified the number.

It's the lobster phone in Moncton House.

- So? - So I'm thinking, if ELT had

contact with someone over here,

this might be a connection to the killer, right?

Wait, are you saying that your agent is the killer's assistant?

Unintentionally, maybe, yeah.

Alright, I'll deal with it.

But I have to deal with this first. I've a lot to deal with.

- DC Quant. - What?

Am I right in saying the DCI has gone missing?

Is it that obvious?

Don't tell anyone, Magritte, please.

My nerves are stretched as it is.

Well, this is definitely not the DCI.

- No. - So then, who is this?

I don't know.

It looks like it's been in the water for a while.

Bring the remains back down to the cellar

and ask Dr. Fine to check the dental records.

Continue the search.

Search harder!

Shouldn't we, I mean you, tell the group?

Yeah. Come on then.

You might have noticed some activity around the estate.

Are you kidding me?

Let her speak, man.

I just wanted to let you know that we have

everything under control.

Who's missing then?

We can't locate DCI Thistlethwaite.

What?

So the man who's solving these killings got killed?

No, I didn't say he got killed.

We just can't locate him right now.

Yeah, but you don't know?

He hasn't been killed?

Okay, let's not panic.

I mean, DCI Thistlethwaite is not a young man anymore.

He probably just had a fall, okay?

We will find him.

Oh, René Magritte, Belgian detective.

Just what we need right now.

She's right.

Shouldn't we leave detective work to the actual detectives?

There's certainly still enough of them about.

Scotland Yard is still the only authority on site.

And you're still being watched. Remember that.

Jesus, do you still think that we're the murderers?

No, I don't -- Not necessarily.

I just don't want you to become the victims.

I understand you've been very afraid during this time.

You're right.

I'm afraid.

Mortally.

I'm petrified.

I see burning stones. There, at the window.

Salva, are you okay?

Take it easy. Take a deep breath.

- I don't feel well. - Sit down, Salva, sit down.

I need space. I need space.

Whoa.

That was a lot of melodrama.

Even for him.

It's easy to panic if you've got something to hide

and the walls are closing in.

I don't trust anyone anymore.

Except for you.

Hold on, my friend.

I am not your friend, Magritte.

And they're right.

You are not the police.

Yeah?

Yeah, yeah, of course.

Why don't you go talk to your wife?

She seems like the only normal one out of the lot of you.

What are you doing, amor?

First of all, don't call me amor!

And second of all, I am leaving.

That's what I'm doing.

Well, you can't.

There is the police everywhere

and the gates are locked.

I don't care. I don't care, Gala.

The man who is supposed to sort out this mess went missing.

This is no place for a reasonable person to stay.

There is not a single reasonable person

here, let alone you.

I've had enough.

I'm not staying here one more minute.

Let me come with you.

Don't you get it?

I never want to see you again.

Why can't you act normal for once?!

Sir, sir, no, no, no.

- No, no, no, no. - The press are out there, sir.

Come on, get down from there, sir!

What's your name?

Sir, what's your name anyway?

Salvador Dali.

Are you supposed to be famous?

Why do you even ask?

Shut up! Shut up, all of you!

My friends are dying.

You're here like -- like vultures.

Shame on you. Shame on you. You have no respect at all.

How many corpses? Who?

Give us a bit of gory detail.

Look at him go!

Salvador Dali!

That's a true performer!

A brilliant artist!

I promise you I can sell that gate and make a killing.

Please take a picture. Take a picture. We can be all rich.

Not bad.

Where's Gala? Someone go get her.

My love, come down, please.

Let me be.

All of you!

Let him be.

All of you.

I can't take it anymore.

Get him the hell down, Manny, now.

Hey, Sal.

It's okay.

Mr. Dali, are you ready for a full statement?

There are police everywhere on the estate.

The main detective went missing.

Two of my friends...are dead.

- I feel bad, René. - Why?

Going through our friend's personal things.

My love? Look at me.

This man is not our friend. Okay?

- Yes, he is. - No.

Not until we're sure he's not involved.

As far as I can tell, he's a suspect,

and a seasoned con artist.

I've always known it.

Calm down. It's ELT.

Your naivety is endearing, my love.

- Excuse me? - Your naivety is endearing.

No, no. Just because I don't share your murderous ambitions

doesn't mean I'm simple.

And I'm not naive! I know what you say behind my back.

'Georgette, the cookie-baking bourgeois girl.'

My love, that's not fair.

I know who I am. That's how it is. And I like baking cookies.

But I have principles.

I won't condemn a friend based on a hunch.

- A hunch? - Yes, a hunch, yes.

He broke into my atelier. You saw him.

He leaked pictures of my painting,

used to create a theatrical murder scene

with me as the protagonist. So it's a bit more than a hunch.

Then prove it.

What's in that suitcase, Mr Detective?

Sweets...

Toiletries...

Not nearly enough underpants.

And they're dirty too.

You see?

So much for friendship.

Are you done now?

Let's go.

Yes. I'm coming.

Yes?

May I have a moment, my lord?

Is this about the Dali situation?

The gatekeeper called me. It's sorted.

Right. It just seems to me that Mr. Dali

has made quite a spectacle of himself.

Perhaps it's best I make a statement.

Well, Dali is who he is.

You don't want me to handle it, my lord?

There are a lot of police on my estate right now.

I think they can handle whatever needs handling.

Actually, I think we can use the free promo.

You know what?

Promo is a thing that make people buy stuff.

I'm sure my lord thinks differently, sir.

It's alright, Jukes.

Of course it is.

You can go now, Jukes.

Thank you, Jukes.

Now...

Let's talk proper business.

This is insane. I'm being treated like a criminal.

Get your hands off me.

I hate cops. I'm allergic to cops.

Welcome home, amor.

Please, not her.

But she's your wife, sir.

Can you lock me up in the basement?

No, I'm under strict orders, sir.

Don't worry, he'll survive.

Trust me, I won't.

Question is, will I?

Sorry, ma 'am?

Don't worry, boy. I'm only joking.

You have enough on. Go find your boss.

Or the killer.

And be a dear. Lock us up.

Sure, ma'am.

Great.

I'm stuck in here with a monster.

My own private hell.

Meet your Satan, querido.

Oh, Lord.

Say it's not so.

You alright, Doctor?

My apologies.

You know who this is?

This body has clearly been in the water for years now.

You have a name for us?

If his teeth match his dental records,

this would be Tobias George James,

the 12th Lord Denver.

May he rest in peace, finally.

Lord James' older brother?

The gold teeth he definitely had.

Too fond of good Belgian chocolate was our Lord Denver.

Didn't he kill himself years ago?

That was indeed the conclusion of the case, yes.

There is some confusion about that night.

Excessive alcohol.

Some simple souls in the village believe he lives on as a ghost.

You get that kind of hogwash around here, I'm afraid.

But suicide was -- um, is plausible.

Oh, yes. It was a tragedy waiting to happen.

Not if, but when.

We all agreed on that score.

What was his story?

Well, Tobias came back from the Great War.

Couldn't cope with the peace.

Shell-shocked.

Then he lost a lot of the family fortune

in the Wall Street crash.

We'll wait for the lab results, but it looks like him,

you'd say.

Not as I knew him.

- But, yes, I'd say so. - Okay.

Um, could you -- Could you tell Lord James, please?

- Of course. - Yeah.

His sister should know.

Thank you.

I hope Thistle is alright.

Thank you.

Yeah, me too.

Do you think the inspector believed us yesterday?

- I think he did. - Then why hold off the search?

- For the sake of protection. - To protect who?

Us, you and me,

Detective Quant, his constables, the guests.

But he didn't seem the type to let something slide.

That's right.

My guess is he came back to investigate in the evening.

- And he got attacked? - I don't know.

But we know for a fact that the killer was here.

Maybe they wanted to cover their tracks and bumped into the DCI?

- I don't know. - I'll have a look.

Do you still love me?

Yes. Why do you ask?

I don't know, sorry.

The past few days have been weird and intense.

I saw you're not wearing my bracelet anymore.

Oh no, it's just...

The clasp broke, so I took it to the jeweler in Brussels.

Is that why you look upset?

You know I love you.

I love you too.

Come on.

So...

I'll have a look.

What kind of clue are we looking for?

I don't know.

I've always liked those earrings.

Where'd you go?

I was working.

Death and despair inspire you?

It's funny how women are always attracted to the dark side.

And they act all surprised when they see the actual darkness.

What do you think this is, huh? A joke?

You think I'm fake?

Oh, calm down, Manny.

I am calm, and I need you calm.

How many of those have you had?

Just the two, I think.

You're not yourself.

Am I not, my man?

I need you now, Lee. Please cut the crap. Look at me.

It's me. I need you.

- Do you? - Yeah.

And this is important.

What is it that you need?

There's something I need to tell you,

and it might come as a shock.

Okay.

René?

This could be a clue, no?

Is this your painting?

Yeah.

I brought it back with me from Brussels

for the big show on Friday.

Where was this?

You know that clearing in the woods?

And he was there last night.

Maybe he dropped it to mark the spot.

Good work, Magritte.

Oh, no, no, it's Georgette found it.

Oh. Thank you.

I'll go have a look now.

You coming?

So this is how it's going to be?

Yes.

Today. The day we have been waiting for years and years.

The day of our final breakthrough.

Yes.

Fine.

What are you doing?

Line.

Border. Cross it and you'll see.

- Childish. - You are a child.

This is not working.

You're darn right it isn't.

I have one last proposal.

You hate me.

I can't do anything about that.

But we do have a shared interest.

Salvador Dali.

The product.

Our goal is to make you the greatest artist in the world.

You make the art.

I find money.

Inspire you.

And manage the image and sales.

It's always been like this.

And it works perfectly.

Behind the scenes, you can hate me all you want and vice versa.

But once outside the room, we are the golden Dalis.

We sell love.

Exactly.

It's a stupid idea.

Think about it.

People love us, want to be with us.

We -- We sell.

Take your time, partner.

And in the meantime,

we won't cross the red line.

And no fucking.

Deal?

Deal.

Can we fuck other people?

Pardon. I don't know the rules. Gala, I'm just asking.

I'm just asking.

It's my brother you say?

Chances are, it is.

Are you sure?

Well, not 100% certain, but...

Alright.

I'll have Jukes prepare the family crypt.

Should we...

...await confirmation?

More autopsies?

Why? His life ended in despair.

Whatever the specifics of it, I'd prefer not to know.

Let him rest.

I've had this weird feeling all day.

What do you sense?

That we might never see him again.

Quant!

Quant!

Oh, my God.

Quant!

Sir?!

Sir?!

Sir!

Quant.

Are you there?

Sir, what happened?

The killer...

No, no, my friend.

Not you too.

Detective --

Chief Inspector John Thistlethwaite...

...deceased in the line of duty.

Bad things come in three.

I liked him.

A lot.

If even the DCI didn't make it...

What are we going to do?

We pray to unknown gods.

Jesus Christ.

Eleven deep cuts in a straight line.

They're not exactly cuts, are they?

More like deep holes hammered into his spine.

What kind of sick person does this?

Looks ritualistic.

Or some sort of sick art.

I mean, it's definitely in the style of the other two murders.

This was the 365th case of his career.

Can you imagine investigating your own death last?

My God.

It was under my nose the whole time.

- Sorry, Detective? - He was planning all of it.

He wasn't even hiding it.

Fucking bastard.

You three, sweep the surroundings.

You four, follow me.

Look out for an iron with 11 9-inch nails

soldered to the bottom. I've seen it his workshop,

and it's very likely it's our murder weapon.

The man we are looking for is Man Ray.

Do not make a move.

No, no, no, no, no. Those nails, they're not even mine.

Put your tool down and get your hands behind your back.

Are you insane, Detective?

I'm at work.

Man Ray, I'm placing you

under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of

Detective Chief Inspector John Thistlethwaite,

the murder of Miss Sheila Legge,

as well as the torture and murder of Nash Wesley.

Take him to London, please, straight away.

No.

No, I -- I'm innocent, huh?

This is nonsense, Detective.

I'm innocent.

Get your hands off of me, huh?

- Are you sure about this? - Yes.

Alright.

There's one more person I need to speak to.

I know.

You want to come with me?

Are you sure?

I thought you didn't need my help.

I don't.

But you've got a good eye.

Does that mean that we're friends now?

Don't question it.

I guess Man won't be back for dinner.

For the murder of the DCI alone he'll never get out of jail.

What about the other murders?

We suspect him of all three.

Is there anything you'd like to share with us?

What is there left to say when the detective

has made up her mind?

I'm just trying to help, Lee.

Uh...

Man did tell me a secret earlier today.

It felt more like a confession.

Sit down.

- Oh, I couldn't, sir. - Sit down.

Do, uh...

Do you know Sheila?

Miss Legge well, Jukes?

I know Miss Legge all too well.

She's been a guest here so often.

Right here in this house, assisted by Dr. Fine,

she delivered her baby.

So sad what happened to little Sebastian last summer in Spain.

And Seb was a nightmare birth.

All that could go wrong did, but she were braver than a lioness.

Yeah, she was that, and a single mama, no?

I'm sorry, what do you mean, sir?

Of course the father was present.

Who are you talking about?

Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure, sir.

Have I said something I shouldn't?

N-No, I-I-- I'm just kidding.

I best get on.

- Can I offer you some wine, sir? - Yeah.

He realized that Sheila was using him.

Whether for attention or something else.

Nash, too, probably.

Bloodsuckers.

He wanted to be sure before telling me.

It felt like he needed to get it off his chest.

Badly.

Alright.

Um, thank you.

Thank you.

So, how are you going to present the case?

Murder three.

DCI Thistlethwaite.

Man got caught with the murder weapon.

Motive -- the DCI got too close.

Murder two, Nash,

shot with a salt bullet from Lee Miller's gun.

He had to the murder weapon at all times.

Motive -- Man wanted Nash dead

because Nash was the father of Seb

and Man always thought that was him.

Murder one, Sheila Legge, strangulation.

Motive -- jealousy.

He was angry for the same reason.

She made him believe he was the father.

He couldn't handle it.

All of this, plus a tendency towards violence

and an obsession with death and gore in his work.

Yeah, I mean, it's plausible.

I sense your doubt.

No, no doubt. It does make sense.

But as a surrealist, maybe it's a sense that bothers me.

Well, you've helped me quite a lot for a surrealist.

Trust me, you crushed this case.

Now go get your reward.

I don't really care about rewards.

That's good.

Only fools care for rewards.

Just get it over with.

Merci, detective.

Thank you, my friend.

There she is.

Superintendent Coney, my lord.

Man Ray, American artist.

Well, American killer, as it turns out.

Fine work, DC Quant.

Such a dreadful pity about Thistlethwaite.

One of our finest.

Slain in the line of duty.

That poor man.

What a bastard this case has been.

I wish the DCI never came close to this madman.

Man Ray will rot in prison for life, Quant.

If that's any consolation.

Yes, sir.

We can lift the lockdown whilst we're at it.

At last. This estate needs a breath of fresh air.

Send the men home.

You stay here to tidy everything up.

Write up reports and the like.

Make everything textbook for our American cousins.

Yes, sir.

And you can tell everyone to address you as DCI Quant.

Congratulations, DCI.

A fast promotion.

- Sir. - You don't sound too pleased.

No. Very. Thank you, sir.

The case is closed, DCI Quant. Full stop.

Congrats on all that.

Rejoice, we will.

Thank you for stopping by, Michael.

Anytime, my lord.

How is Virginia these days?

Fabulous.

She sends her regards.

Why don't you two come round for hunting season?

We're finally celebrating.

Aren't we?

- Plenty of reasons to. - Mm.

Everything is ready for the exhibition.

This might turn out to be one

of the biggest moments in modern art history.

Sante. To you, my lord.

To art.

And the fortune it's about to make us.

May I have your attention, please?

My dear friends, after all that has happened

in the last few days, tonight we become world famous.

But it all happened.

What else is life but a strange, chaotic game?

But let us, this fine group,

never forget what happened here, who we are, and what we were.

For all the rest of time

and never less than the day of yesterday...

...a collection of friends.

I give my love to all of you.

And now, raise your glass with me, please.

Let's go up there.

Let's go up there...

...and let's grab the world...

...by the goddamn balls.

Say it with me. Come on.

Let's grab the world...

...by the goddamn balls!

Thank you.

Whoo!

I love you so much.

Can I have a glass of Vichy water?

Hold the ice, two slices of lemon.

- Mr. Picasso. - Doctor.

Are we having good fortune tonight?

A lot of wealthy people around here.

- Yes. - Interested in the works.

Some ladies are interested in it, too.

Oh, Sali, my boy, come here and give me a hug.

My sweet Peggy Guggenheim.

Now, you tell me before you tell them what should I buy?

Peggy, you are the richest woman in the world.

- Oh, you think so? - Yeah, you are.

You can buy anything you want, surely.

Nancy, darling.

My friend Salvador here thinks

I'm the highest roller in the building.

How cute of him.

Meet Nancy Cunard, the heir and co-owner

of Cunard-White Star Line.

She's the real deal.

Peggy, you're so bourgeois. Who cares?

My pleasure.

Either way, my ladies, I think you should buy all of it.

You know what they say.

Oh, you don't know?

Buy more, darling.

Make more money.

Oh, he is such a cutie.

He is.

Steven, please, wait, listen to me.

You'll get your little sums of money on Monday, I swear.

I don't think so, mate.

It's a very important night for us.

Come on, don't do this to me, my friend.

Sorry, mate.

Take it up with the boss.

Frogs cracking jokes?

Only the Germans can be more crude.

MJ, you can really be a banker.

Hey, René, René.

Come on, come on.

May I present to you René Magritte, the painter's painter.

Nice to meet you.

Not to mention

the collector's pet

and his beautiful wife, Georgette Magritte.

Nice to meet you.

Word is, your lord ain't paying anyone around here.

Might be time for you to look for a new job.

You are on the estate of Lord James

and you will obey me!

Hot, are ya?

You've got a stinking attitude, my friend.

You get into that van and you will never work here again!

Steven!

Please!

Bastard!

Christ!

The caterer brought the wrong vintage of Bollinger.

What a complete idiot.

We'll have to go into the Lord's private champagne cellar

and take some of her own stock.

Get the rest of the staff to follow me

downstairs immediately.

These look pretty darkened, sir.

It looks like they've been here at least a decade.

If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it.

Uh, sir?

What is it now?

You might want to come see this.

Stay away from there, man.

That room is off limits.

The door was open, sir.

Keep it closed.

I need to speak to DC Quant immediately.

Get the rest of the stock upstairs, now!

Yes, sir.

Mon Dieu.

How is that even possible?

What the hell?