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TO MICHEL AUCLAIR…

Henri Migot is in Aix. Can you hear us?

-Hello, studio?
-Yes.

Hello, yes, Henri Migot here.
I'm in Aix, where there is panic.

The fire broke out
in the middle of the night,

while Mr. and Mrs. Perrier
and their three daughters were asleep.

And despite desperate efforts
from firefighters,

this gas station
has turned into an inferno.

Is it possible to determine
what caused this tragedy?

Listen, nothing is clear,
but there is already talk of arson.

It is believed that the Perrier family

has been under pressure for several months

to sell their land to a large company.

The company in question is run
by two notorious celebrities,

actress Jacqueline Repelsky
and producer Charles Maurin.

In any case, we now know that
Jacqueline Repelsky and Charles Maurin

will have to answer questions
from the investigating judge.

Henri Migot, live from Aix-en-Provence.
Back to you at the studio.

Mr. Maurin?

Do you think you can recoup
the huge cost of these studios?

You know,

this profession comes with
a certain number of risks.

It is clear that I'll have to produce
many successful films

to make a return
on such a huge investment.

And how many films
must you shoot per year to do so?

How many?

Young lady,

these studios are the fruit
of a seven-year project.

Seven years of struggle, hard work,
and great effort.

Costs won't be covered in a year.

Nor in one film.

Mr. Maurin?
Gilles Demestre, Cinema Television.

What do you think of
Jacqueline Repelsky's murder yesterday?

Like everyone here,
I was sad to learn of the death

of Jacqueline Repelsky.

She's a great actor and a great lady.

And her horrid death--

Yes, but she partnered with you
to build the studios being opened today.

Listen, I haven't seen Mrs. Repelsky
since the matter you're alluding to.

Today, my friends, we are gathered here

to prove that the passion
we devote to our trade

enables us to overcome
the harshest crises.

I'd like to take this opportunity
to thank the mayor

for his support in this endeavor

and for doing me the honor
of being here today.

Mr. Maurin? Excuse me.

Could Les Années de Sang
represent France at Cannes?

It's a bit early to answer that,
but we hope so.

Dear friends, the buffet is ready.

Say, Martin, you look to be on great form.

-Yes… Have a drink with me?
-Sure.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Martin, I hope your article
will be as long

as the one you wrote on Godard.

Speaking of, allow me to introduce
the star of the '90s, Sophie Belém.

-Have a glass of champagne.
-Thank you.

Who do you write for?

I write with the aim
of revealing young hopefuls.

You appear to have talent
and a bountiful personality…

The makings of a successful career.

Will you do an exposé on me?

Ah… An exposé? With pleasure.

I say…

Martin Fresnel.

What do you take me for?

Pretty actress, that.

Feel free to leave your champagne.

Always worth a try.

Hello? This is Lecoq speaking.

Yes, listen!

You lied to me.

No! No, no, no.

There was never any talk
of witnessing a murder.

Now listen carefully.

From now on, it's double pay.
Understood? I'm pretty angry. Okay?

Bye.

Shit! Shit!

-Got it.
-What are you doing?

Hunting flies.

And elephants.

But trains lack elephants…

-I want to catch flies too.
-Yes?

-What are you doing? Mind yourself.
-You don't like children.

Paul, what are you doing there?
Leave the man alone.

My apologies, sir.

Come on, Paul! Come here. Off you go.

Go, go, go.

Maybe there is an elephant in the train…

Come on, Paul. Finish your banana.

Martin?

-Martin Fresnel?
-Xavier.

Hi.

Still handsome as ever, I see.

You're right.
Staying in shape attracts chicks.

Me, I do all right, but…

Yeah, I do just fine,
30 push-ups per morning,

and 15 minutes of abs.

Result…

I see you still love yourself.

It's the best way to be loved.

Hey, so… do you still write bullshit
for that rag?

No, no. I've moved.
Now I write bullshit in a rag I like.

Are you still freelance?

Still loyal.

What brought you to Aix?

Maurin. A portrait.

It's all done. Films sent to Paris.

That's funny. I interviewed him.

Had I seen you…

You know, a photographer's life
is seeing without being seen.

We often try to be invisible.
Sometimes it works,

other times…

Hello, gentlemen. Tickets, please.

This area is smoke-free.

Neither of us mind it.

There we are. Thanks, sir.

-Drat…
-So, your ticket?

-I can't find it.
-I'll have to issue a fine.

I'm sorry, but…

To Paris, right?

Yes, Paris.

Here you are. Take this.

-Four hundred and five, please.
-No way! The paps will lap this up.

"L'Évènement journalist
caught without ticket."

Note… perhaps you aren't entitled
to expense accounts?

Aren't you usually in second class?

Normally, yes. But not anymore.

Thanks to this, mate.

Can't you go play somewhere else?

Give us a break.

Little pest.

-You don't like children, do you?
-I do.

What's that, then?

This is a black Porsche 911 Turbo.

A black 911 with all the trimmings.

Spoiler, leather seats, air con.

And…

this comes with it.

Nice optional extra.

Not for sharing, mate. What about you?

And women.

I'm done. Back to you.

Bad habit.

Oh yeah?

Gatsby?

"She was not only weeping, she…"

No. "She…"

"She was not only singing, she…"

"She…" You know.

Gatsby.

It's…

It's for my chameleon.

He's fussy, so I hand him…
I mean hand feed him.

PLATFORM 23
AIX EN PROVENCE

Keep walking, Paul.

Can you stop sulking?

It's a wonder
she got through the doors.

I have more.

Oh, the umbrella…

-I'll take the basket.
-Yes, that's very kind. Thank you.

Come on, Paul.

Well, there you go. I get it now.

-Come on, Paul.
-What a pain in the ass.

Don't wait for me.

Hey… You see that?

She's a Ferrari.

Ferrari!

Hey, honey.

-Need a hand?
-No, thanks.

Come on. Let's have dinner tonight?

Why not? I like men in a hurry.

Good. Do you have a car?

I mean, shall I get us a taxi?

INDIVIDUAL BUYING RECENT PHOTOS
AT HIGH PRICE

MEET IN MEN'S BATHROOM

Hey! Go away!

Somebody stop her!

You've got a nerve!

Mother, calm down. We'll get the next one.

We'll take the next one.

Is the Arc de Triomphe
too much of a detour?

-Not at all.
-Thanks.

So you're a Fitzgerald fan?

Weren't you reading
The Great Gatsby on the train?

-Yes.
-Ah. Enjoying it?

Yes, very much so.

My friend used to live here.

-Have you read Tender is the Night?
-No.

Shame. It's a masterpiece.
A real must-read.

-And The Last Tycoon?
-Again, no.

I see. You're not very
into Fitzgerald then?

I am. I like him a lot.

Him? Him… You mean Fitzgerald?
Not his characters.

-Don't tell me you like the Great Gatsby?
-Yes, I like him too.

Oh yeah?

It must be his expression of despair
that you like.

It's you who's driving me to despair.

It's a youthful mistake.

By Fitzgerald, I mean. Scott Fitzgerald.

Have you written a lot
or do you think you're too young?

No, I write about…

Well, I try.

Anyway, it's never too late--

-To make youthful mistakes?
-Exactly… Edith.

Edith? Gloria?

Zelda? No?

Micheline then. Muriel? Uh… Jacqueline?

-Georges?
-Lou.

Lou? Oh, Lou!

That's nice.

Marguerite Duras, I assume?

No. Martin.

Besides, Martin and Lou…
they go together nicely.

-And how about Diego?
-Diego?

For our first child's name.

What if it's a girl?

Tough, we're calling her Diego.

-That's 40 francs.
-Oh, sorry.

Here.

Thank you.

Didn't you ask me to dinner?

No! I told your colleague everything.
When I got here, the toilets were empty.

-Now let me go. I need to pee.
-No, no--

-I've been waiting an hour.
-You can after.

Come on.

Unbelievable! I'm filing a complaint.

-This is a 300 we confiscated.
-Oh yeah?

Very bright. A great lens that.

My wife has this one.

It's true! It cost me a fortune.

Picard, where are the ticket inspectors?

We're looking, boss. We're looking.

Gallibert, the prints?

They're everywhere, it's no use.

Test the toilets anyway. You never know.

Okay, I'm on it, boss.

-Where the hell is the undertaker?
-Boss?

We found a film in his camera

and a note with a phone number
in his pocket.

"Martin Fresnel."

Have you found
these ticket inspectors or not?

Ah, there you are. Come with me.

Do you remember him?

Did you notice anything suspicious
about his behavior?

Suspicious? No.

But I do remember him.

He was sharing a cabin
and the other guy had no ticket.

He claimed he'd lost it.

So I wrote him a fine
with the extra charge.

I probably still have the stub.

Gallibert!

Picard?

Picard?

Where has she got to now?

So, how's your book coming along?

Have you got time to order?

Is it a business meeting or a date?

Five minutes late, it's business.

After quarter of an hour, it's a date.

Hi, Martin. It's Anne-Marie. Safe travels.

We'll be expecting your article
on Aix tomorrow morning. Bye.

Hi, Martin. If you're there, pick up.

Very well, call me back.

-Your champagne, the way you like it.
-Thanks, Marie.

So, my poor Martin,

have you been stood up?

No. She'll be here.

You're right. Never lose hope.

-You've kept me waiting six months.
-What on earth?

I have lunch here every day.

I've waited for you every day
for six months.

Are you asking me to marry you?

I don't think she's coming.

I'll go get you something to nibble on.

Let's go elsewhere.

He took erotic photos
under the name Bob Green.

Photos of you?

For two years, we traveled a lot.

Living large.

Freedom,

mansions, champagne…

You like champagne?

When you're 15,
you don't do that stuff for pleasure.

Every man I met only wanted to use me.

I couldn't take it anymore.

Bob hung over me
like a permanent threat.

He'd never let me leave.
He always kept those photos.

One day, I don't know how,
but I escaped.

I came back to Paris.

Then I started doing all sorts of jobs.

Then I got back to doing what I did best.

Erotic photos?

Sex without the photos.

Drop me here, please.

Was I not clear?
We're from different worlds. Stop!

Hypocrite!

Oh my! Nice place.

Hypocrite…

Scared, aren't you?

Hypocrite must be hungry.

There we go.

That's Hypocrite.

Hello, Hypocrite.

You can feed him.

He's earned it.

He must be hungry.

Shit…

Xavier's Porsche.

Pardon?

What's it doing here?

-Who are you calling?
-Xavier.

He's not answering.

I get burgled and nothing's stolen?

I don't understand.

Xavier leaves me this…

I'll call the cops.

-Do you have any makeup remover?
-No, I don't.

-Who's the kid in the photo?
-Why?

Do you not like kids either?

Is he your son?

-Do you mind talking about him?
-No, no.

No.

Are you married?

No.

Do you still love his mother?

She's too much of a pain.

I met her like you, on a train.

I should've been wary. I wasn't her type.

She always preferred blue-eyed boys
over my Mediterranean charm.

Do you like blue-eyed boys?

Hate them!

She had me fooled for three years.

-Then she took off with Mickey Mouse.
-Who?

Mickey Mouse, my son.

We called him that
because his ears stick out.

Don't you ever see him? Where is he?

With her, who knows where.

I never hear from them.

She leaves no traces.

No proof.

Then one day, everything changes.

You bump into her…

without realizing it's her.

As usual.

She leaves because she's disappointed.

I wanted to love her

but it's always too late.

It's always too late.

You know…

-I don't…
-Shh.

Be quiet.

-Have you seen Xavier Lecoq since?
-No. Why would I? I barely know him.

-What exactly was your relationship?
-Non-existent, for the hundredth time.

Purely professional, that's all.

Just photos.

How did you two first meet?

Who's the chick?

The photographer's chick.

The one in the photo we found
on Lecoq's body.

How come Picard's questioning her?

True. We could do it.

Nice figure on her.

That's despicable.

I don't believe it.

Who's nicked my stapler now?

The medical examiner?

Oh, bloody hell…

Your thing, I haven't had time yet.

Right, everyone, listen up.

One, we have a photographer's body.

Two, a possible witness walking around.

Three, a killer on the loose.

So, let's get our hands on the witness--

Nabbing the killer the month you retire…

You'll really outdo the rest of us.

It's not that simple, young Perrot.
It's not that simple.

Got it! I've identified him.

He's a journalist.

He writes for L'Évènement's
arts and entertainment section.

It's not much, but I have his address.

TRAGIC DEATH OF A COLLEAGUE

You've reached Xavier Lecoq.
I'm not here right now.

Please leave a message after the beep.

Today's weather forecast on RMC.

Well, today's summer's day
will begin with a chill…

Right…

Now then…

Having unveiled
the new "French Hollywood,"

the famous producer
and piece of shit Charles Maurin…

-Here, look at this!
-Hey…

-Look! Come on!
-Shit! Xavier!

-Come on!
-Why? What's gotten into you?

-No, leave it!
-Wait!

-Where's your car?
-There.

The keys are in my jacket.

-What?
-Shh!

How do you start it?

-With this key. Can you explain--
-I can't.

-Get down.
-What for?

I said get down!

Gallibert, come on.
Perrot, you're with me.

Picard, you stay there.

-Who was that guy? Who is he?
-I can't explain.

-Why? What does he want with you?
-Please be quiet!

-It's been ten minutes!
-I'll explain later.

Careful! Slow down!
Stop at the police station.

Stop! Please just stop!

-Fine. Get out, I'll wait here.
-Goddamn it.

Goddamn it!

We're being chased, me and a woman.

Boss?

Please, sir.

Look, I'm with a young woman
and we're being chased.

I'm in a car. Please do something.

-What are you doing?
-Listen, I'm a journalist.

We're being chased,
I'm just asking for your help.

Come and see? Thanks.

I don't understand. She was there…
I don't understand.

Don't worry. Forget it.
I'll figure it out.

Apologies.

People are just crazy. Honestly!

AT THE MILLIARDAIRE
7 P.M.

I don't like this, Perrot. Not one bit.

Gallibert, stow that away.
We're not in Chicago.

So, the front door left wide open.

What does that tell you, Gallibert?

He only just left. The coffee's still hot.

Young Perrot, what does all this tell you?

Either that the murder witness
has become a nuisance

and must be eliminated.

Meaning he's no longer a witness,
but a victim.

Or that he's settled a score
and is no longer a victim, but a…

But a… culprit.

Gallibert, send out an APB.

-We'll find him, dead or alive.
-Copy that, boss.

Gallibert?

Sorry, boss.

Come on!

-What?
-Bernard, I need you.

Have you seen the time?
I'm in the thick of it.

-I need you.
-The dog!

Oh, shit! The dog…

I won't hear the end of this…

Right, listen…

-Here--
-Bernard!

What are you doing?

Don't worry baby. I'm coming.

I'm sorry to… cause trouble.

Could you develop these for me?

-Now?
-Please. It's very important.

Okay, take a seat. Give me half an hour.

Okay, thanks.

That's his. I should have known…

These are mine…

Have fun!

Come back, baby. Where are you going?

Shit.

TRAGIC DEATH OF A COLLEAGUE

And it is with this woman,

Jacqueline Repelsky,

that I set up my first production company
12 years ago.

At the time, we had a project in common.

The construction of Aix Studios.

And then we encountered problems.

We liquidated the company

and Jacqueline vanished into thin air.

Until two days ago.

In Aix.

Where a so-called secretary
arranged for us to meet that evening.

I went out of curiosity.

And the trip did not disappoint,

I can tell you that.

She was dead.

Murdered.

Jacqueline Repelsky murdered.

And there I was, like an idiot, trapped.

Do you realize?

Charles Maurin with Jacqueline Repelsky's
lifeless body in his arms.

The press would've happily
sullied my name again.

It'd be quicker to change jobs
than exonerate myself.

I'm stuck.

Either I pay up

or I'm screwed.

Luckily, I have you.

Hats off to you.

This is a real scoop.

Look! Look!

This isn't your usual material.

And look at this one, here.
Amazing! Amazing!

Fantastic!

Hey, who are you calling?

Who?

Look.

Hello, Christine?

Hi, it's Martin. Put Popeye on.

Please.

Where have you been?
I've been looking everywhere.

Do you know what day it is?

I've been calling all morning.
Warn me when you're staying out.

Telephone number for Charles Maurin?

Hang on, what year was
this Maurin-Repelsky business?

Seventy-six, seventy-seven.

Okay, I'll check the archives.
Don't go anywhere.

Laurence? Could you check the archives
for files on Charles Maurin, '76-'77?

Yes, I'm listening.

Yes. What number can I catch you on?

You're at Bernard's?
Okay, I'll call you there.

And don't… don't go anywhere!

I'll call you at Bernard's.

Police.

Martin Fresnel's secretary?

Yes, the young lady over there.

-Over there?
-Yes.

Hello. Inspector Picard.
Are you Martin Fresnel's secretary?

Yes. How may I help you?

Yes? Ah…

What's going on?

The police say you're involved
in Lecoq's murder.

What?

Martin, listen to me.

I had to give them Bernard's address.
They left a minute ago.

Do you have Maurin's phone number
and address?

-Got a pen ready?
-Sure.

-Sixty-four, rue de Longchamps.
-Yes.

-Personal number, 46 76 72 12.
-Yes.

He's on the fourth floor.
Opposite the elevator.

-Okay.
-Voilà. When will I see you?

Look, let's meet in half an hour at…

-The bar?
-No, quai de la Bastille.

-On the bank.
-Exactly.

Don't forget the Maurin file.

-Martin, can you explain--
-Anne-Marie, don't ask questions.

-Have you killed someone?
-No, but I'm not waiting for the cops.

-You swear it's true?
-Yes.

-I'm on my way.
-See you soon.

-Hello?
-Yes?

-Don't tell a soul.
-Hurry up.

Will do.

Bernard, I must dash.

The cops are coming.
Not a word about the photos.

Just tell them some bullshit.
I trust you. Okay?

-And… thanks.
-Yeah.

Right, see you.

Police, we're taking a look.

What does that mean?
Do you have a warrant?

Don't worry about that.

Accessory to murder.
How many years do you get for that?

Accessory to murder?

What are you talking about?

-He was here, sir.
-Where is he?

-Who?
-Fresnel.

Martin Fresnel.

Ring any bells?

He was here five minutes ago.

He's suspected of murdering
one of your colleagues. So?

Are you kidding?

Does it look like it?

Where did he go?

I don't know. He came here all flustered,

took a couple of photos I didn't even see,
and made a few phone calls.

To whom?

Who did he call?

I don't know.

Answer the commissioner!

All right, let's go.

We may need you again.
Don't skip town without informing us.

Commissioner, I don't understand.
He's lying.

Why not put him in custody?

I'm not suspicious. He's a sad case.

Yes, and it's a culprit we're after,
not a victim.

And that guy…

Catch me some flies for my chameleon.

-Some what?
-Some flies.

64 RUE DE LONGCHAMPS
46 76 72 12

Hello?

-Hello, Mr. Maurin?
-Speaking.

I have, in my possession,
some incriminating photos.

Who is this?

That doesn't matter.

Would you like them back?

I have money.

How much?

Whatever you're asking for.

When can you bring the photos?

Do you know where I live?

Half past nine.

All right.

He's bringing them tonight in person.

The fool.

He'll get a nice surprise.

Look, I planted a video camera
opposite my desk.

-Do you want me to stay?
-No, it could be dangerous.

Le Parisien, 14th September '77,
"Fatal blaze in Aix-en-Provence."

"Entire family dies in fire."

Le Parisien again, 15th September '77.
"I accuse!"

"Unscrupulous film-maker's trial…"
"Family dies in fire."

France Soir, 1st November '77,
"Is Maurin burning?"

"Producer Charles Maurin
and actress Jacqueline Repelsky

caught in property scandal."

France Soir, 10th November,
"Goodbye, friend."

"Deeply upset by this affair, the actress
accuses Maurin of negligence."

"Maurin, her former partner,
is suing for defamation."

-Yeah, right!
-Even Le Monde.

"New twist in the Maurin-Repelsky affair.
Case dismissed."

"Charles Maurin:
'Building resumes tomorrow.'"

What is this for?

Are you writing a biography for Maurin?

-Martin, I'm talking to you.
-Huh?

Tell me…

Did anyone survive?

I saw that in the file earlier.

Here: "Mr. Perrier and his family,
victims of the violent fire…"

That's irrelevant.

"Mr. Jean Perrier lived with his wife,
Jeannine, and three daughters,

Françoise, Sophie, and Emmanuelle."

Shall I go on?

Uh, "Firefighters weren't able to recover
the bodies from the ashes."

And so on… Will that do?

Yeah, that's everything?

-Yes, what's it for?
-It's too complicated to explain.

You've got enough
to revive an old scandal.

No, not an old scandal.

Then can you explain why the police
are accusing you of accessory to murder?

Martin, don't do anything silly.

Yes, I know.

Listen, go back to the office
and hide all this.

You didn't see me. Okay?

-Let me help you.
-Anne-Marie, you didn't see me.

-You could hide at my place.
-No.

You're mean, Martin.

You can trust me.

He's left me with all this.

Five, six, seven, eight…
And one, two, three,

four, five, six,

seven, eight and one…

Lou?

-I was worried you wouldn't come.
-Come, I have news.

What?

I know who…

Seven, eight…
And one, two, three, four, five, six…

I don't intend to let
Maurin's hitman kill me.

Have you contacted Maurin?

No.

I want to understand.

What's your role in all this?
Why leave me at the police station?

Look, I don't like police.

Do you remember
the Bob Green stuff in Brazil?

Well, he trafficked drugs too.

I was with him, and…

I had no choice and I got in trouble.

Anyway, once you went home,
the guy passed without stopping.

And I left a note, didn't I?

But how do you know Maurin's hitman?

I know Maurin.

He's a client of mine.

He's the reason I was in Aix.

By chance, I overheard a conversation
between him and… that guy.

And he was saying, "This journalist
caught me. Get rid of him."

So when I saw him outside your apartment,
I thought that journalist was you.

You played me like a fool.

It's not that simple, Martin.

These things aren't easy to say.

Are you mad at me?

I don't know, maybe… No.

You've got yourself in quite a mess,
without realizing it.

Right. I'll go and see
that bastard Maurin.

And trust me, he'll tell me the truth.

With these photos, he's trapped.

Construction couldn't start
without one last piece.

A piece of land Maurin wanted to buy.
And there's the rub…

Because there's a gas station there.

The owner refuses to sell.

Maurin tries to persuade him,
the owner stands firm.

Maurin gets impatient,

then one night, in a dramatic twist…

the gas station burns,
taking the whole family with it.

The police suspect arson,

but the trials that follows
ends in a dismissal.

Martin, please, let's leave.

And go where? The police want me
for Xavier's murder.

I can get you fake documents.

Fake documents? What for?
I haven't killed anyone, Lou.

I don't want to lose you.

We could get them just in case.
What's the harm in that?

Let's see Léo. He'll help us.

-I'll come for the passports tomorrow.
-Thanks, sir.

Nine o'clock tonight, prompt.

See you tomorrow.

I'm going to Maurin's.

-I'm coming too.
-No way.

Can you drop me home first
and fetch me later?

As you wish.

I have enough to blackmail him.

If we leave, we'll need money.

Are you joking?

Sometimes, yes.

Don't go.

It's too late.

Bernard…

What are you doing here?

-Did you kill him?
-Huh?

You killed him, you bastard!

Give me half the money
and I'll keep quiet.

-Money?
-You bastard!

Bastard murderer!

-Bernard…
-Stay away!

-Murderer!
-Bernard!

Idiot!

Arrest him! He's a madman.

-Stop! Police! Stop!
-Help!

Stop! Police!

Arrest him!

Arrest him!

What are you doing?

-It's no use screaming.
-What are you doing?

-You bitch!
-Calm down, calm down.

Don't arrest me, arrest him! It's him!

He's what? I don't understand.

He's the killer.

Take me where you've just been. Go.

You stupid cow, you don't understand.

I've done nothing wrong.
I haven't killed anyone. What…

It was him!

You stupid cow, leave me alone!

He killed him! It wasn't me!

You've let him get away!

-He killed him!
-Be quiet!

-It wasn't me!
-Turn this way.

You stupid, stupid cow!

-Hello?
-Hello. Berthomieu speaking.

Commissioner, it's Picard.

-What's going on, Picard?
-Come quickly, sir.

I'm on Fresnel's heels…

Calm down, Picard. I'm listening.

Commissioner,
there's been a second murder.

Come quickly. It's 64, rue de Longchamps.

Picard, don't panic. We're coming.

-Hang in there.
-Stupid bitch.

Shut your mouth!

-Hello?
-You got home fast, darling.

I don't understand. Who killed Maurin?
And who is this Bernard?

Here, this will do you good.

That scumbag who developed the photos
is with a cop now.

-A cop?
-Yes, a woman.

-That silly cow almost shot me.
-Calm down. Drink up.

Tomorrow, we'll get
the first plane to Ailleux.

-What is this?
-You'll see.

Here, kitty.

A nice big fly for you.

A nice home-grown fly.

There you go.

See? Police stations
aren't necessarily nasty places.

We'll be happy in the countryside,
you and I.

We'll catch flies together,
by the big river.

There's no shortage of flies in offices.
But we mustn't eat them.

They're too big.

Even for you.

Out in the sticks, we'll go to bed early,
get up early…

Apart from on Sundays.

We'll have many a Sunday.

Retirement with a cop,

who wasn't that bright, nor very flashy,

but his higher-ups
seem happy with him all the same.

They might even give me an award.

He's eating.

Here, take this.

Commissioner.

Yes, I know, I know…

Gallibert and Perrot lack finesse,
I know, but they're loyal.

And may I say, on bad days
or even very bad days,

they're the only ones
who tell me I'll always be

their commissioner, even once retired.

It's funny, but it comforts me.

Commissioner, fear is senseless.

It fears even the things
it expects help from.

What?

Let me find out whether Fresnel is scared.

All right.

Thanks.

"From her eyes, her mouth, her body."

"From her slightest movement,
I felt an indescribable attraction."

"I was filled with the unsettling warmth
of a distant memory."

"Mysterious and magic like an angel,
she brought me back to life."

"I already feel I can't live without her."

Give me that, give me that.

Can't live without who?

-Who cares?
-What do you mean?

Give it back, for fuck's sake.

-Screw you.
-Give it back, please.

Take it.

Don't ever do that again.

Don't take that tone with me!

-Why are you writing about me?
-I'm not.

-You have no right to write about me.
-Right? What right?

What are you talking about?

-What can you know or say about me?
-Nothing.

It's about us.

You fool.

I don't want you touching this. Okay?

You know,
Lolitas have always inspired writers.

-Don't you know that?
-I don't want to inspire anyone.

I don't want to be stolen, or to be used.
Do you get that?

-Especially not you.
-It's my story!

It's a book!

-Use someone else to write it.
-No.

No one else.

Definitely not. You stir things. You…

You give me the desire to write.
Don't you see?

You give me the desire to write…

You stir things…

People…

Colors… I don't know.

One day, my life started resembling
everything I'd long criticized.

You're like a film.

Like a beautiful film.

Screw everyone else.
I'm sick of them all.

Their bullshit, their betrayal…

The police after me…

Bodies dropping like flies…

Shit.

Hypocrite…

He's dead.

For the first time,
I think I've met someone

who doesn't just love me for my body.

You do have a nice body though.

I think we are.

We have the same watch.

Yes.

Here, a gift.

-A gift for me?
-Yes.

I found a photo in Picard's desk.
Want to see it?

Yes, let's see.

Look at her dad's face.

And her mum's curlers.

And look, they're camping.

I can't believe it.

Oh yeah?

Listen, you may be uncouth,

I can understand that, it's hereditary.

You may be lazy, I don't care.

But being blind? That's a step too far.

What? Fresnel isn't a killer,
it's obvious.

-Tell the commissioner.
-I will.

But maybe if you did some work,
we'd prove it.

Now, come on…

Hey, Perrot, have you tried Foltène?

It's great for balding.

Ignore that.

Yes? Yes, love?

Oh, really?

Six o'clock at the airport?
Okay, I'll meet you…

What do you mean, no?

I see.

Fine, 6 p.m. at the airport.

TO EMMANUELLE
IN MEMORY OF A BEAUTIFUL EVENING

Christine? It's Martin. Put Popeye on.

Please.

Lou!

Lou.

Lou!

Do you have the money, dear?

Do you have the negatives?

Leave that. Now stand up.

Slowly.

Do you like my home, dear?

Bob, you have the money.
What more do you want?

Keep moving.

It took me a long time to find you, dear.

I looked for you in Brazil,

then one day, I heard that
Repelsky had been killed.

That's when I realized my darling
was somehow involved.

I contacted friends all over the place

and following you became easy.

Keep moving!

And I congratulate you.
You did a wonderful job.

What a great student.

Keep moving!

Stand by that post.

-But listen, Bob!
-Shut up!

You're hurting me.

-I have money!
-Forget the money!

Money! Money!

It's all you ever fucking talk about.

Don't you care about feelings?

Friendship, love…
does that stuff mean nothing?

I have a heart, you know.

Of course, you ran off with all my money.

I didn't appreciate that.

But that's nothing compared to
the pain it caused.

Overnight, my little girl…

whom I'd taught everything…

just abandoned me. Me!

I made you.

Without me, you're nothing.
Do you understand? Nothing!

I'll get you begging now!

Stop this nonsense, Bob!
That's all in the past now.

There's more cash
in the suitcase than I took.

You made plenty off me, so we're even!

Shut up, you whore!

Bob decides when we're even.

You owe him everything.

I'm going to kill you, Lou.

Remember when I first met you?
You were a little orphan girl.

A bit prettier perhaps
than the other girls your age.

And without me,

without the great Bob Green…

How could you do that to me?

I won't let that evangelical journalist
inherit the fruits of my labor.

Your journalist… he's proved useful.

But of course…

You had him kill Repelsky,

you had him kill the photographer,
and then Maurin…

Gosh! He must be madly in love with you.

What about him?

-What fate awaits him?
-The same as yours, Bob.

Excuse me, miss. Inspector Picard.

-Do you remember me?
-Yes.

-I'd like to talk about Martin Fresnel.
-Martin…

If you think I can help…

No, I think it's him you can help.
I don't believe Martin Fresnel is guilty.

Stop.

Calm down.

Did you think I'd let you go down for it?

I just wanted to know
what Lecoq had told Fresnel about me.

Do you understand?

I saw Lecoq hand him the film
on the train.

You shouldn't have come aboard.
I tried to get it back.

Stop.

Nothing happened that night.

Why did you kill Lecoq?

You almost ruined everything.

You know…

I thought you loved me.

In any case,
you've never stopped trusting me.

We'll leave here together, rich.

Why the ambush?

Wait, let us explain.

Fresnel, I want to talk to you.

Fresnel, listen to me.

-Martin, stop!
-Fresnel, I'm not here to arrest you.

Listen, Fresnel…

Fresnel, stop! That's an order! Police!

Go on, then.

Hey, grab some papers,
I'll get the tickets.

Him!

Emmanuelle.

Emmanuelle…

Your attention, please.

This is the final call for…

Emmanuelle?

Emmanuelle?

Emmanuelle!

Emmanuelle!

Emmanuelle!

Passengers, please proceed to gate 15.

-Here's your boarding pass.
-Thanks.

Hurry, boarding is almost closed.

Emmanuelle.

Emmanuelle!

Emmanuelle!

Emmanuelle!

Emmanuelle!

Waiting for Gatsby,
if the night was mellow,

I strolled down Madison Avenue
and over Thirty-third Street

to the Pennsylvania Station.

Subtitle translation by: Lucy Harford