Original subtitles

Have a nice day!

- Hi, Mrs. Destouches. - Hi.

Two cream puffs, as usual?

Here you are. Two cream puffs.

Thank you.

Here's your change. Goodbye.

Yes, hello?

Yes.

Really?

Black Enigma

Take it all down.

You didn't see

or hear anything strange? A shot? A detonation?

No. Nothing at all.

At first, I even thought

she had fainted.

Than I saw the blood.

It was... horrible.

She's the daughter of a doctor

who lives Lhomond Street, nearby.

All right.

Hello, Alain.

In five minutes?

- You were leaving the bakery? - Yes.

I had bought two cream puffs. For my dinner.

They're on sale right before closing.

If you have no more questions...

I'd like to go home.

I don't feel too well.

Hurry. The DA is coming.

Let me just take down your address.

1 Estrapade Square.

Hey.

Is forensics done?

They didn't find much.

No cartridges, no witness...

We searched the entire square.

Where did the shots come from?

- Where was the killer? - Far away.

He could have fired from any window.

Thank you, Miss.

I'll walk the rest of the way home alone.

I live right there.

Fine. Good night, Mrs. Destouches.

So, no one has seen

or heard anything.

A seasoned marksman.

Another terrorist act?

Well, de Luca?

Terrorists usually aim at a specific target.

Why kill some ordinary girl?

Given what we know, I'd bet on an execution.

With everything going on these days,

people are on edge: watch what you say.

Don't mention terrorism.

This is a criminal inquiry.

She received a postmortem call.

Some guy named François.

Her boyfriend. His name often comes up on her phone.

Could you get anything out of the witness?

Not much. She was in shock.

But she'll have more to say.

All right...

And now for the hardest part.

Could anyone

want to harm your daughter,

or yourself?

I want to see her.

I'm sorry. It's too early.

Of course.

Because of the autopsy?

Do you know a François?

He called her on her cell phone.

We didn't know her friends.

We would see her for dinner.

We trusted her.

- A student? - In art school.

First year, in sculpture.

She'd just turned 18.

Hello. What's your name?

Prosper.

Why are you in my sister's room?

He came to my home again, I mean, your son's home.

Didn't you change the locks?

I saw his plates.

Coffee?

Arrest him!

Arrest him? No. On what charges?

He says he doesn't know your son but he has his keys.

It's proof he's lying.

Let me show you something.

Look.

This is Marc's necklace.

He loved it.

His mother gave it to him when he turned 16.

The Indian police found it with his passport

and belongings.

In searching Laurain's apartment, I found this.

Look.

They fit perfectly.

You reported it?

- No. - Why not?

It's illegal to search his apartment.

I have no right.

He's your son. You can't quit.

You know, Marc disappeared five years ago. I should have...

...done it then. It's too late now.

It's my fault.

He knew I wasn't his biological father.

So he went to India

to reconnect with his past.

Listen, de Luca,

go home.

We need to find the man who killed an 18-year-old girl

named Charlotte Castillon, who has parents and a little brother.

Go on.

Yes, boss?

We have his address in Paris.

François N'Guyen, 22 years old. We're on our way.

Keep me posted.

OK.

Let's go.

- What floor? - Fourth.

They had enough room to put an elevator in! Honestly!

Well!

- Hello, ma'am. - Police.

Have you seen your neighbor today?

Mrs. Destouches? I'm afraid not.

But ask her sister. She lives on the first floor.

Thank you.

OK, thanks.

MR. AND MRS. BLANCHET

Here.

- Hello, ma'am. - Hello, sir.

Police. Captain Rousseau,

Detective de Luca.

We're looking for your sister, Jeanne Destouches.

- She's not answering. - Jeanne?

What do you want with her?

She witnessed the murder yesterday.

What's going on?

It's the police.

They want to see your aunt.

She in the square last night?

No.

Hello.

She's not at home?

Apparently not.

Next time, I'll wear sweatpants.

Mom! Mom!

Jeanne?

That way.

- What number? - 8.

Is that him?

François N'Guyen?

Police.

Asshole!

- Heart attack. - Are you sure?

I've treated her 20 years.

She suffered from a heart condition.

Yesterday's shock killed her.

What a tragedy!

First little Charlotte, and now poor Jeanne.

You knew Miss Castillon?

Dr. Castillon is a colleague.

We could perhaps put her in her bed.

Don't touch a thing. Thank you.

I'm sorry. My condolences.

Why not put her in her bed?

De Luca.

The nephew is right.

Why can't we move her body?

She's our only witness.

And she suddenly dies!

You heard the doctor.

She was ill. She saw a murder.

She climbed four flights of stairs. It was a heart attack.

I'm only questioning its cause.

What cause? Look, de Luca,

I've had enough of your mysteries.

I'm sorry.

Go home and call the funeral home.

Thanks.

Come on, Gabriel.

- Come on, Gabriel. - Wait.

What is it?

What are you looking for?

- A box of cream puffs. - Cream puffs?

Jeanne had bought two cream puffs.

She hung on to that box the whole evening.

She left with it. It was the first thing I noticed.

The box isn't here.

So what? I don't follow you.

What if she'd been frightened?

Frightened by what?

She stumbled upon someone, who then hid the pastry box.

Someone like the girl's murderer.

Hold on...

This is getting ridiculous.

About the pastries...

Maybe she ate them on her way home. Just a guess...

You had plans

to meet up at La Villette.

Where, exactly?

- Near the waterway. - Be precise!

The rotunda.

You had plans to go see a movie.

- She was late, as usual. - And then?

I tried to call her

and went by myself.

So he has no alibi.

Alibi? What do you mean, an alibi?

Why did you run

when you saw us? - I panicked.

Do we look like idiots?

What happened with your girlfriend?

Nothing happened.

What is this?

Look at what you did.

Look. Look!

Keep an eye on that N'Guyen.

- What do we know about him? - Not much.

A student in sociology.

His mother married a retired army captain, Blanchet.

Like Jeanne Destouches's neighbors.

Exactly.

Terrab, go to his college. talk to his professors and his pals.

See what you can find.

Zegrani, check the shooting ranges.

See if he was registered.

There.

We should geolocate his call, just in case,

to see if he really was at La Villette at the time.

OK.

Is it for me?

No. It's for you, Detective.

I'll put it on your desk.

Wedding bells...

De Luca, take care of the Blanchets.

What time does Mr. Blanchet get home?

Mr. Blanchet? He's at his place in the country, like always.

And his wife?

She went to join him for the weekend.

Does anyone have Mrs. Destouches's keys

aside from you and her nephew?

I never had a set of her keys.

She didn't trust anyone.

Hello, ma'am.

Hello. May I come in?

Please.

I adore cream puffs.

I'd sell my soul for them.

Jeanne loved them too.

It's the only thing we had in common.

Have a seat.

Thank you.

Mrs. Destouches,

apart from your son, who had access to her home?

No one.

How is Gabriel? He seemed shocked by her death.

Yes. He's inconsolable.

Jeanne practically raised him.

And Gabriel's father?

He doesn't have one.

Of course he has a father.

Let's say I never tried to find out...

You sometimes have to do without fathers.

I never knew mine.

When I was born,

at the end of the war,

he was dead.

When Gabriel was born...

I wasn't the mothering kind.

Jeanne took care of him.

He almost always lived with her.

She stole him.

How's that?

She tried to take him from me.

And I let her.

Maybe because, at the time, it suited me. Who knows.

He moved here six months ago.

Did something happen with his aunt?

He just wanted to get closer to me.

- He looks very serious. - Unlike me.

That's for sure.

Jeanne used to say: "He's an artist."

Did I mention he studied at Boulle College?

He did design and communication.

- Boulle? - Yes.

Excuse me.

- Please. - Thank you.

- Hi, Albina. - Roger.

I've come to express my condolences.

Don't we look alike?

The door was open...

My son spends hours looking at her.

- It's beautiful. - Yes.

Gaby says she looks like me.

When I was younger, of course.

Hey.

Hey.

I didn't think I'd see you again

after all that happened.

Yes. I tried to move on too.

But deep inside,

I couldn't forget you.

- I thought... - Sorry.

Well. I'm here.

How about you?

Tell me.

- Open the door! - I'm on the first floor.

Go on.

The lights. The lights!

Now you tell me the fucking truth.

Where is my son? What did you do to him?

It was only an accident.

I swear.

My son is dead?

Is that it?

You killed him.

- You killed him. Why? - I didn't kill him.

We had an argument.

Marc wanted to know

about his biological dad.

- Yeah... - In Benares.

I know that part by heart.

OK. Fine.

- Go on. - He wanted to go by himself.

He refused to let me come but finally gave in,

provided I left him once we got to Delhi.

We traveled for two weeks.

Two magical weeks.

I thought he'd changed his mind.

But no.

He said he was going, and that we had to part ways.

I was shattered.

We fought.

He was standing near the edge. He fell.

Why didn't you tell the police?

I was scared.

- Scared? - They wouldn't believe me.

They'd accuse me.

I gathered his stuff and took the train

to Benares.

I left his things in an alley

to make it look like an assault.

You...

Write down

in detail...

Come on, get going!

...the name of the place where my son died...

...because of you.

Come on, get up.

Turn around.

Know who this is?

No?

That's my wife.

Marc's mother.

She's pretty.

Right? Yes, she's pretty.

Know where she is?

In an insane asylum.

You know why?

She's been waiting for her son

for five years.

The ballistics report, Captain.

Call a meeting in my office.

Captain Rousseau, French homicide police.

BOULLE ART SCHOOL

I repeat that the scale models

are due this evening, no later.

"I heard banging opposite our bookcase-door.

"I am like a bird,

"whose wings have been clipped..."

Hello, Detective de Luca.

Come.

"I want to live on after my death."

Please.

"I heard banging..."

It's an installation for my degree.

It evokes Anne Frank's confinement in Amsterdam.

Do you want to talk outside?

No. Here is fine.

You came to talk about Jeanne?

What can I tell you that my mom hasn't already?

Did you know Miss Castillon?

Not personally.

I'd see her around.

And here?

She was a first-year, I'm a senior.

I didn't know Charlotte.

You use her first name.

Fate is unjust.

Fate didn't kill her. A bullet did.

I know.

Just like my aunt.

If she hadn't seen the murder, she'd be alive.

Did she often buy cream puffs?

Yes. Every night. It was her dinner.

What did she do with the box?

The box?

We didn't find the pastries or the box.

She surely ate the pastries.

But the box should have been in her trash.

Excuse me...

I'm under the impression

this is more about my aunt than about Charlotte Castillon.

Why?

Where were you when she died?

I was here.

I had classes, 2:00 to 7:00 pm.

You can check.

That caliber,

a 7.92, is from a Mauser 98k,

that's unregistered.

German fabrication.

Mostly used during World War II.

- World War II? - Yes.

And the autopsy?

Yes.

So...

"Splinters due to the projectile

"which pierced..."

Wow! You can curl up with this. Makes fine bedtime reading.

It'll help you get to sleep.

- What about the suspect? - We've located his call.

He was in Aubervilliers when he called Charlotte.

Why did he lie to us?

Maybe he didn't know she was dead.

Go check out the address.

Where is de Luca?

We won't find anything here.

Look. There's a guy.

- What's he doing? - Go!

Tear it down, with your bear paws. Enjoy.

Oh, fuck.

Holy shit.

Well?

I make money watching over the container.

For whom?

My father-in-law.

Yves Blanchet?

And the weapons?

He was in the army.

Is that why you attacked us?

You thought we were after the guns?

Charlotte knew?

Of course.

He liked to flaunt his new money.

She got suspicious.

Who knew she knew?

Yves Blanchet.

OK, thanks.

The cops in Provins.

They found Blanchet in his country house.

- We'll question him tomorrow. - And the house?

No Mauser rifle in the country house or in Paris.

- Nothing. - Blanchet wasn't in Paris that day.

Where is his country house?

In Boitron, 70 km from Paris.

It's not a solid alibi.

He could've driven to Paris and back.

It takes an hour.

Only Mrs. N'Guyen says he stayed put.

It doesn't make any sense.

There are better ways to silence someone.

I don't buy it.

But it's all we have.

Where were you this morning de Luca?

At Boulle Art School,

where Charlotte was a student,

just like Jeanne's nephew, Gabriel.

Really? What's Jeanne's nephew have to do with all this?

I asked Albina if anyone else had Jeanne's keys.

And?

Gabriel was the only one.

Right. So you think Gabriel stole the cream puffs?

Cream puffs?

Hold on.

Or whomever Jeanne stumbled upon as she came home.

Or... Even Blanchet. It's a possibility.

Right.

So, if I understand correctly..

I defer to you, De Luca, so correct me if I'm wrong.

Jeanne Destouches goes home, right?

She opens the door and stumbles upon the murderer.

Charlotte's murderer.

Heart attack. She keels over, dead.

And our murderer,

either a gourmet or a man of principles

who hates to waste food,

maybe even both,

takes the pastries and goes back home

to eat them while watching a game on TV.

There.

Right?

That is your theory, right?

Mariella.

Get up.

I should have jumped off that cliff.

I loved him.

I still do.

I always will.

I tried to go back to a normal life, but I couldn't.

It didn't make sense.

I couldn't go out like before,

party like we used to.

We partied all the time.

Wherever there was a piano, he'd sit down and play.

His music.

I can't get it out of my head.

I look for him.

I look for him everywhere.

I have a set of his keys, so sometimes I go to his place.

I'm glad you found me.

I think I was waiting for you.

Marc was a wonderful person.

He loved you. He told me so.

"My real dad is the one who raised me

"and taught me everything."

I miss him.

It's an original print by photographer Adam Spite.

We swept by it yesterday.

I love how he manages to shed light

and create sensuality in darker areas.

I find it very moving. Don't you?

I'm going to London to see his exhibition. Want to come?

I have to go.

What's wrong?

I didn't ask you to marry me.

I'm just suggesting we go to London.

What is it you want?

To be with you as much as I can.

Now I've found you, I won't let you go.

I can't...

...give you what you want. I can't.

Mariella.

Mr. Blanchet, you were a paratrooper.

I was made captain after Operation Turquoise.

But your pension is no longer enough.

You top it off with arms trafficking.

"Arms trafficking"? Don't go overboard.

When I came back from Africa, I had some stock.

I'm selling it.

When you found out Charlotte knew, you panicked.

A teenage girl can't hold her tongue.

A ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any minute.

Your superiors speak highly of you: "A brave officer,

"shows initiative,

"ready for any sacrifice to defend his troops.

"A fine marksman,

"capable of hitting a target at over 500 m away."

600 m, to be precise.

But the distance between my country house

and the girl killed on the square

was 70 km.

To my knowledge, no one has ever done that.

Given the projectile's path,

the shot came from one of three buildings.

This one, and the two on the side.

Yeah...

OK, but which one?

It all depends on the position of the victim.

- That's Blanchet's place. - And the windows

are Mrs. Destouches's.

Any news from Blanchet?

He says he was in his country house the night of the murder.

But he admits to the arms trafficking...

So we can keep him in custody.

No trace of powder on the window ledges.

Nothing at Blanchet's or Destouches's. Nor on the roof.

What is this?

Reconstructing the heart attack?

Absolutely, Captain.

Jeanne comes home.

She stumbles upon the armed murderer.

The shock kills her instantly.

He panics.

For no reason, he panics and runs off with the pastry box.

"He"... But who is "he"?

Remember her position when we found her?

The murderer wasn't behind her, but right here

in her home.

But...

why would Jeanne know Charlotte?

- Boulle College. - That isn't proof.

You're constructing theories, but there's no evidence.

There's no motive, no proof.

It amounts to nothing.

Hello, sir.

- Pardon me. I'm... - I know who you are, Detective.

I've seen you around.

Roger Baudouin. Excuse me.

You know the Destouches family.

Mostly Albina. We used to be very close.

But not anymore?

Oh yes. We've remained very good...

Very old friends.

We're exactly the same age.

We were both born in 1944, during the war.

Our grandfathers were both masons,

except mine died...

He died broke, while hers made money off the war.

- The black market. - Yes.

Not only that.

He hid Jews

in his cellar

and was paid for it,

handsome sums.

A model citizen, in a way.

He did it for his daughter.

She was left with her two girls when her husband left her.

Albina said her father died during the war.

She'd rather say that then that her father abandoned her.

Abandoned her?

It's a long story.

People say

Albina and Jeanne's father,

named Hubert,

that Hubert

fell in love with a Jewish girl

hidden in the cellar.

One night they vanished.

The irony is that the grandpa

cashed in on the tragedy.

The girl had paid by giving him a painting.

- A painting? - Her portrait, I believe.

It's late, de Luca.

Yes, I know. Sorry, Captain.

- It's about Charlotte. - Give me a minute.

I think I found something.

Rachel Rothenstein, a young Jewish girl

who vanished during the war.

The Destouches hid a young girl in their cellar

at that time.

She ran off with Albina and Jeanne's dad.

I'm sure it's her.

What does that have to do with Charlotte?

Gabriel owns a copy of it.

He's interested in it

because Rachel looks like his mother.

Wow.

Yes, it's absurd but...

It really doesn't have anything to do with our investigation.

But I feel there's something there.

Yes. You feel there's something.

First the pastries, now this.

Wow! Let me tell you:

the reason you're clinging to these wacky details

is you're getting nowhere, de Luca.

Nowhere at all.

The neighbors' plumbing.

The walls are thin.

Are you OK, Captain?

Yes.

Go home, now.

Come on.

- Let me wash. I stink. - You want a bubble bath?

Hurry up.

How could you do this?

Calm down, son.

I'm not your son.

Use your head.

Do you know why they left us alone?

They think we're going to give in.

Look at me. Do you get it or not?

They have nothing on us. We're not mixed up in this.

Get it?

No one knew about her except you.

I was in the country.

You drove back.

You believe I would hurt an 18-year-old kid?

If you hadn't preened around with your little slut

she'd still be alive right now.

Calm down.

Let go of him. OK?

Go rot in hell!

Captain?

Concerning Blanchet, look at this.

That's the ATM at Saint-Cyr-sur-Morin,

10 km from Boitron, 60 km from Paris.

That's Blanchet.

- When Charlotte died. - At 4:23 pm,

15 min before the murder.

We have no evidence, no suspect, no motive. We've got nothing.

We're missing something.

We have to start all over again. From scratch.

Because I can't see...

Let's do a reconstruction.

Terrab, call the DA.

The call you received, Captain.

The Indian police found my son Marc's body.

What's left of it.

They want to run DNA tests and all, but...

I know it's my son.

Jérôme Laurain told you where to look.

It had to be him.

How did you get him to admit it?

My son is dead.

But I've known that for some time. I don't need the details.

My wife clings to this desperate hope.

She believes Marc is still alive somewhere.

It's deranged her.

The irony of this story

is that I too cling to a desperate hope:

I want her to come home.

You and Lili

are proof that love exists.

Love.

Not that it'll happen to me.

The only time I loved a man was a long time ago.

I was studying law at Aix.

His name was Benjamin.

He was the fiancé, of my best friend, Alice.

They were engaged

and we had an affair.

I fell madly in love.

He did too.

We were naive enough

to think Alice would understand,

and forgive us.

She hung herself a week later.

I'm through with love.

It's over.

Your problem is fear, not love.

Right?

When you love someone...

...that's it. There's no...

You want to live with him...

or her.

It never lasts. At least not for me.

What doesn't last? Love?

So? Does life last? No.

Do you stop living because you're going to die? No.

That's just an excuse.

Your problem, de Luca, is that you're afraid.

You're afraid.

Come on. Another round?

Yes.

Get in.

- Hey. - Hey.

Yes, it's me.

To what do I owe the honor of these flowers?

Flowers have their own language, you know.

Camellias mean: "You're beautiful."

And white

camellias?

White is: "You reject my love."

Any plans tonight?

Come to my place at 8:30, I'll cook you dinner.

- All right? - 8:30. Perfect.

See you then.

You have two options.

First: tell the cops Captain Rousseau kidnapped you to get you to confess.

I'll be charged, but I won't let you be.

Second: you go to the DA's office,

office number 333,

and make a confession

for the accidental death of Marc Rousseau.

And you'll never, ever, hear from me again.

There.

There you are!

Thanks for the shirts.

Thanks.

Off to school?

Off to class?

You're sweet.

Thanks.

Have a good day.

See you for supper?

No.

I'm meeting up with friends.

Have fun!

You have something to ask me?

Good guess.

A Mauser 98k, a rifle once used by the Wehrmacht.

Fine machinery.

In the cellar where he hid Jews

did the grandpa also hide guns?

Haven't you already searched all the cellars?

Nothing there.

Nothing?

You know,

in Paris, the cellars make up an underground city.

They hold so many secrets we'll never discover them all.

"I am like a bird

"whose wings were clipped

"and who in the darkness

"crashes into the bars of a cage that's too small.

"I heard banging opposite our bookcase-door.

"I am like a bird

"whose wings were clipped,

"and who in the darkness

"crashes into the bars of a cage...

"It evokes Anne Frank's confinement in Amsterdam.

"I want to live on after my death."

Help!

Is anyone there?

Can you hear me?

Anyone? Help!

Do you know how I found out the truth, Mariella?

You've reached Mariella de Luca.

It is Mariella, right?

I went through your wallet.

It's a lovely name.

I'm very sensitive to names, and to how they sound.

Listen to this one.

Jacob Lessing.

Isn't it beautiful?

Do you know it?

He was a painter in the 1930s.

Do you know any art history, Mariella?

I specialize in the period between the wars.

Then one day,

I found a catalogue of an old Lessing exhibit

and discovered a new painting.

Gabriel?

The Blue Sleeper.

Gaby? Gaby?

And what do I see,

painted there?

My mother's face,

exactly like Albina's.

I swear.

So I thought:

"It can't be.

"It dates from 1940. My mother was born in 1944."

Still, it started to haunt me.

I think of it night and day.

I did some research

and found out

that the model

from the painting

is called Rachel Rothenstein,

that she's Jewish

and disappeared in 1944,

the year my mother was born.

And then it hit me.

I thought:

"Well...

"she's not my mother

"but she may be my mother's mother."

I went to see my aunt Jeanne,

who adored me

and wouldn't refuse me anything.

I showed her a copy of the portrait.

Her face went pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

She told me everything.

All there is to know.

For 70 years

she had been carrying that load.

Open up, Gabriel.

I know you're there.

Go away, mom!

Open up right now! I found the rifle!

Gabriel...

Open up or I'll call the police.

Open the door!

You killed her.

Why did you kill her?

What is this?

What are you doing? What is all of this?

What's in there?

And that door,

what's behind it? - Don't.

Don't go in.

- You won't understand. - Understand what?

Are there others, back there?

- Other girls? - No!

No! Stop! Listen to me.

Your life is behind that door.

A life stolen from you.

Your parents are behind that door,

your father and mother.

They were walled in alive 70 years ago.

Understand?

Gabriel, stop it. You're scaring me. You're mad.

Your father didn't leave you.

You're not Flora's daughter.

- Stop it. - There was a girl.

She was in hiding here, during the war.

A Jew. Her name was Rachel Rothenstein.

She was Jewish.

Your father came down every day

to bring her food and water.

They fell in love.

Every night, he came down to be with her.

Rachel became pregnant

and gave birth here, behind that door

to a little girl.

Flora knew about it.

It drove her crazy.

She was also expecting a child.

So one night she came down

and made them believe the Germans were here,

locked them up and took the baby,

saying her cries would alert them. That baby was you.

Calm down, please. You're crazy.

There was cement and bricks in the cellar.

Flora spent the night building a brick wall

in front of the door.

She had a miscarriage.

- Jeanne knew. - Jeanne?

She was there when Flora miscarried,

when your parents were walled in,

and when Flora told everyone

you were hers.

When Jeanne told me this,

it was without any remorse.

- I've avenged you, mom. - My child.

- I've avenged you. - Please.

I've avenged you.

You're completely crazy.

This woman is innocent.

You have to let her go.

It's her or me, mom.

Do you want me to go to jail?

You run, cross the street and arrive here,

right here,

when Joëlle... Take a few steps back.

When she picks up her change,

you fall right...

- Next to her. - Right.

Right next to her.

OK? Look.

Right...

- Zegrani? - Yes.

And de Luca?

I called 10 times. No answer.

She knew she had to be here at 9:00 am!

- Maybe she's sick. - Send someone to check.

- Can I speak with you? - Yes.

Do you know Jérôme Laurain?

Yes. What did he tell you?

That he confessed

and that you suggested he come to me.

Yes. That way you know everything.

I can't stop there.

I have to launch an inquiry into the matter.

Alain, do what you have to do, OK?

What matters is we have the body. I can tell his mother

that her son is dead.

The rest doesn't matter.

Are you sure he told you the truth?

- Yes. - About the accident?

Yes.

Yeah, OK... Right in front.

Are you OK?

Jean, what's going on?

Charlotte Castillon wasn't the target.

Mrs. Destouches was.

Charlotte Castillon ran up

as Jeanne passed by,

walking quietly.

Charlotte ran by as the shot was fired

and she was hit.

There's no doubt about it.

There was no motive.

Where's de Luca?

- Not at home. - Come with me.

She said Gabriel studied at Boulle, right?

- Right? - Who?

- De Luca, she said that, right? - Yes.

Let's go.

Search the whole building.

Police. We're looking for Gabriel Destouches.

He's probably not here yet.

Sometimes he comes early to work on his installation.

Follow me.

Gabriel is making an installation as his thesis project.

He's been at it for 6 months.

Let me show you.

It's based on excerpts from The Diary of Anne Frank.

It's evokes the hideout

where Anne Frank was confined.

What is this series

of doors? What is it?

It means you shouldn't stop at what you see,

that behind a door

there may be another.

A hidden one.

Where is she?

Who?

What is it?

Come.

Which way?

Give me something heavy.

Quick!

Damn it! De Luca.

Joëlle!

Joëlle! Joëlle!

Look at me.

De Luca, damn it!

Come on.

Let's get you out.

Give me a hand.

Careful.

There.

Watch out.

I alone am guilty.

No one else.

I did it alone.

I wanted revenge.

I don't know what my mother told you,

but it was I, and I alone.

I had Jeanne in my sights,

I didn't see Charlotte.

I'll regret it all my life.

How did you get your hands

on the Mauser k98?

Jeanne told me about a rifle found after the war,

in the cellar.

January 25, 1944,

Jeanne and her mother walled in Albina's parents.

I decided to kill my aunt on January 25th.

And your alibi? Weren't you at school

when she died?

We were in the auditorium.

I left through a back door.

I took my bike.

I live less than 20 minutes away.

And Jeanne?

When I saw I'd missed her,

I hid in the apartment and waited.

It took a long time, two hours, before she came home.

I let her open the door and come in.

Then I aimed at her.

The fear.

She was good enough to die alone.

I didn't have to fire. Her heart failed her.

Or whatever she had in place of a heart.

And then you ate the cream puffs?

Yes. I was famished!

I don't know why. The stress maybe.

And the box,

I burned it.

Same thing. I wasn't thinking straight.

I'm telling you. It was me.

You know...

Detective de Luca saw your mother down there.

You know that.

You suffered a hallucination.

Leave my mother alone.

She spent her life with her parents' murderers.

She has her revenge. She has the right

to live in peace now.

Yes, Gabriel.

Your mother suffered.

But she was there.

It was no hallucination.

Thanks, darling. They're beautiful.

What do orange roses mean?

I'll tell you after dinner.

Why not before?

- I was told you'd be here. - Yes.

May I ask you something?

Yes.

I'd like to take three days off to go to London.

London?

What for?

A friend invited me to an exhibition.

A friend?

So? Do you want my blessing?

No.

Your permission, Captain, for three days off.

If you want to go to London, go ahead. What can I do?

Huh?

- Are you OK? - Yes, I'm OK.

I'm OK.

I did everything I could to find out the truth about my son.

And now that I've found it,

I don't know what to do with it.

My wife lived with the crazy hope

of finding her son, but...

I mean...

If I tell her now he's dead...

If you can make it, so can she.

He was your son, too.

If you'd met him, I think...

You'd have liked him.

You'd have loved him...

Like a brother.

Right. You'd have loved him

like a brother, Mariella.

Subtitles: ECLAIR