All language subtitles for Bergerac s05e07 Thanks for Everythingx

- Good morning!
- Morning!

- Lovely one at last.
- Yeah!

Any progress on Hughes?

I hate these missing persons cases.
All such a mess, aren't they?

- What's the wife like?
- Mrs Hughes?

- Yeah.
- She wouldn't let me see her.

Said it wasn't convenient.
She reports him missing,

then tells me to make an appointment.
I mean, I ask you!

- Maybe she doesn't want him found.
- What?

Is this strictly Bureau business?
She's Jersey, isn't she? Born and bred.

He's not, and he's the missing man, Jim.

He's also a big name in finance here.
He's got a partner called Jack...

Yeah, Webb, I know.
Had man to get a hold of.

Is he trying to avoid you?

I want to interview
the wife first anyway.

Listen, Jim, will you go easy?
Be discreet?

People know him here, respect him,
like him even.

He's a busy man, okay?

Insurance, reinsurance,
investment advice, you name it.

When he came here, he had enough
to buy in. You got the picture?

- Sure.
- So just be discreet, all right?

Hey, hang on, I've got a missing man.

How do I go about finding him
without putting the word about, eh?

- It's your case, you deal with it.
- Thank you.

- Just remember what I say.
- Oh, Jim...

Morning, Peggy.
Some coffee would be nice.

- You're summoned, Jim.
- What do you mean?

Mrs Hughes will see you.
Soon as you can get over to her place.

Not at the moment, she won't.
I've got some filing to do.

Well, uh...

She sounded impatient.

You do the filing.

- He's gone to France, she thinks.
- I don't blame him.

- Inspector Bergerac?
- Chance would be a fine thing.

- Sergeant.
- I see.

Mrs Hughes?

I talked to you before?

Yeah, that's right.
Last night on the phone at the Bureau.

Well, you'd better come in...Sergeant.

Roger, take the dogs.

- Don't feed them.
- Yes, Mrs Hughes.

These people spoil animals and children.

Yeah, well, about you husband...

- Still missing. It's been six weeks.
- Six weeks?

Mmm-hmm.

Shouldn't you have reported it sooner?

Sergeant,
he's away a considerable amount.

In England, in France...
Business takes him away a geat deal.

He does not, however, forget birthdays.
My birthday, never.

And this time he went to France, right?

Yes. Sergeant, you will know that
he is a reasonably influential man.

Not, however,
given to publicity any more than I am.

I do hope you understand.

MRS HUGHES: Would you like a drink?
JIM: No, no thanks.

Do you want him back?

How dare you?

No, Mrs Hughes, it's a serious question.

I want to know if he's just,
you know, running away.

I have to ask.

We get on well enough. Very well!

- Yet no phone call, no card, nothing?
- We don't phone each other.

We both dislike the phone,
to tell you the truth.

We don't check up on each other.

But he always sends me flowers,

something small if he's away
on my birthday. Always.

Whee in Fance did he go?

You'd have to talk to Jack Webb
in the office. He may know.

To tell you the truth,
the business bores me.

Oh, I see.

Uh, did he have any worries you know of?
Anything at all?

No, not as far as I know.

You may find this had to understand,
Sergeant,

but we have
a very civilised arrangement.

He provides the working daily capital,
what I need, in fact, to keep me amused.

I make a home for him,

to which he can bring
his business friends and associates.

That's how it is.

It isn't a bed of roses. We do,
of course, have our separate interests.

What's his?

His obsession has been to create
the finest collection in private hands,

of this group of painters.

Cost a fortune, apparently.

I don't ask.
I'm not remotely interested.

MRS HUGHES: I never liked dead things.

He's obsessed by them.

- Do you know what happened there?
- No, I told you, I'm not interested.

There's a list in here, I think.

These, I think. All these.

Thank you.

- He's a methodical man.
- Yes, very methodical.

Can I keep this?

Sergeant, if you think it's going to
help you find him, yes.

Personally,
I fail to see any sort of connection

between a few precious pictures
and my missing husband!

Well, so do I at the minute.

Well, anyway, thanks for you help.
We'll be in touch, of course.

You're connected with Hungerford,
aren't you?

Um, yeah, I suppose I was.
Why, do you know him?

All flash.
Just a touch vulgar, don't you think?

- Working had, Charlie?
- Eh? Oh, yes, well, I mean,

somebody's got to keep
the wheels of commerce grinding, Jim.

Finance is the oil
of industrial strength, you know.

Hey, that's pretty good!

Yes, it is. Save it for an after-dinner
speech. It'll sound even better.

- Are you coming abroad?
- Yeah.

- Coffee?
- Yes, please.

Now, come on,
I'm a working man, as you can see.

What can I do for you?

Could you tell me
what you know about Peter Hughes?

- Peter Hughes?
- I rather gather you know him, right?

Well, of course I know him.
Financial whizz kid.

Forty-six, forty-seven,
lots of influence, and he enjoys it.

Sorry?

Well, making money's
only the start of it, Jim.

I mean, for people like him,
it means power,

power to make things happen,
make people do things.

People always want to believe
in people like Peter Hughes.

Well, why shouldn't they? Is he a liar?

No, he just enjoys having folk
eating out of his hand, that's all.

There's plenty of them do it.

Mind you,
I've never been like that myself.

No, of course not.

As I say, he's a very influential man.
Why do you ask?

Well, it seems he's disappeared.

Eh?

Oh, good grief, I see.

Um, look, Jim, do you mind
if we scrub around the coffee?

- What's the matter?
- Well, um...

It's just I've got to go and have
a word with a couple of friends.

You see, Peter Hughes was a sort of
banker for one or two deals offshore.

A bit, you know, iffy.

Hey, are you sure
I should know about this?

Well, Jersey exists
for those sorts of deals.

Jim, it's money makes
the world go round.

I thought it was love.

Did Hughes have any enemies?

No, no one, he's a very likable fellow.
I've always enjoyed his company.

Hail-fellow-well-met,
one of the boys, you know.

- Didn't warm to Mrs Hughes.
- Oh, you've met her, have you?

- Yeah. Tell me.
- Mary?

Well, she's a bit hard, a bit cold,

but she's got the cash, you see, Jim.

She's local, old money.

So he's never gonna walk out on her,
no danger.

Even if he was a bit of a ladies man.

How do you mean?

I dare say there's one or two husbands
who wouldn't be too sorry

to see him get into trouble.

- Any husbands in particular, Charlie?
- Well, I'm afraid I can't say, Jim.

- I'm sorry you'll have to excuse me.
- Hang on.

- I must go have a word with a friend.
- Hang on, Charlie! Come on!

I suppose the most blatant affair
was with Donald Black's lady wife.

Mind you, he was asking for it.

She's 20 years younger than him,
and no better than she ought to be.

I don't suppose Mary Hughes is
a barrel of laughs to live with, is she?

Mary? You ought to see her
when she lets he hair down.

Really?

I think I'd like to see that, Charlie.

Well, I suppose...

Look, it's Susan's birthday today,
right?

Oh, for God's sake, Jim! Don't you ever
remember anything important?

Right, two birds with one stone.
Coq d'Or tonight, 7:30, my treat.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I've got business to attend to.

I want you to check the airports,
harbour, all the usual places, okay?

Right.

I don't want a full-scale
missing person's alert, not yet.

But I do want to know
if he really has left the island, okay?

And don't forget, check the French end.

Photograph, description,
passport number?

Yeah, you'll go far.
Peggy's getting them copied out now.

- You can collect them from her, okay?
- Okay.

SUSAN ON INTERCOM: Be out in a tick.

- Sorry.
- For me?

- Your birthday. I was reminded.
- I'm glad. Well, lovely.

Dinner tonight at Coq d'Or, all right?

Oh, pushing the boat out a bit,
aren't you?

Ah, it's the least I can do.
Look, I'm sorry I forgot.

Happy birthday.

- 7:30 all right?
- Oh, just.

- Susan?
- See you later, Sergeant. Thanks.

Hello?

I try to keep trim. Not easy.
Too busy most of the time.

You know how it is, I'm sure, Sergeant.

You'll be fit at the minute then,
won't you, Mr Webb?

Giving me the run-around.

Is this the third degree, Sergeant?
Read me judge's rules, all that.

Peter spends a lot of his time
out of Jersey.

He's also very good at his job.

You haven't reported him missing,
have you?

- No, should I have?
- Well, his wife has.

Yes, well, maybe she has, Sergeant.
He's not missing. Not yet.

If his wife wants to panic,
that's her business, of course.

I think he's just recharging
the batteries.

He often takes off for a week,
two weeks, thee weeks.

It's necessary therapy, he says. Sure!

Who gains if he is missing?

- Gains?
- Yeah.

No one, no one at all.
Not even his wife.

Listen, he's been after a big killing.

A financial killing, I mean.

He had his reasons, he said.

- What were they, do you know?
- Search me.

Maybe he's found a painting he likes,
or a woman, I don't know.

He does tend to use people.
I suppose we all do, don't we?

- Whereabouts in France did he go?
- No idea.

He plays things very close to the chest.

That's one of the reasons
why I put money into the business.

Thank you, Sue.

He has a sense of,
I don't know, security.

Staying schtum until a deal is done.
You know what I mean.

Let's suppose he really is missing.

Sergeant,
I don't want to think about it.

Why not?

We're a bit short
in our current account,

the bank is in to us for a bit
this month,

and it's not exactly the right time
for him to do a runner.

- How much?
- About 70, I suppose.

- Seventy?
- Thousand.

- It really isn't serous, I assure you.
- Oh, really?

- Did he tell you about that?
- No, he... No, he didn't.

You just happened to find out

that the petty cash
was £70,000 short, did you?

- It's absurd, but yes.
- Yes, I'm sure.

Uh, did you check on that
after he'd left?

- It's not like that.
- No, sure, it just came to light, right?

Exactly.
Nothing to flap about, Sergeant.

£70,000 adrift, according to Webb.

I'll bet he's legged it
for a dim and distant shore somewhere.

Jim, it's my birthday, remember?

Yeah, sorry, I'm just trying to piece
this thing together, you know.

I'm sorry.

A quiet evening in a swish place.
Are you sure we can afford it, Jim?

Well, I... Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.

- It's very upmarket.
- Well, so are you.

- Flattery!
- Yeah!

- It's not enough, you know.
- What do you mean?

- 70,000. Never.
- Ah, that's a fortune, that is!

Well, to the likes of you and me,
perhaps, but to Peter Hughes? No!

This island's crammed with people
who think that £70,000 is pocket money.

You look around the Coq d'Or tonight,
you'll see a dozen of them.

It's not enough, Jim.

Now, add to that the £200,000

he got for selling a property
three weeks ago...

What property?

He sold a property that he owned
on the north side of the island.

£200,000 is what he got,
and undervalued! I did tell him.

Undervalued? Why?

He wanted a quick sale, he said.

I told him, if he was sensible,
he could get more if he waited.

He cut the price by £25,000!

£200,000 was what he got. ash.

Cash? Are you sure, Susan?
You mean, in hand?

Sure I'm sure.
We took our commission in cash, too.

Now, no more shop tonight.

- Please.
- Can you do that for me?

(PIANIST PLAYING)

- I feel like this is the beginning

- Though I've loved you
fo a million years

- And if I thought our love was ending

- I'd find myself drowning
in my own tears

- You are the sunshine of my life

- That's why I'll always be around you

- You are the apple of my eye

- Forever you'll stay in my heart

- You must have known that I was lonely

- That's when you came to my rescue... -

Ah, Susan, there you are!
Happy birthday!

- Happy bithday, Susan!
- Thank you.

Jim, I took the liberty of ordering
a bithday dinner. Hope you don't mind.

- That's very kind. Thanks, Charlie.
- Uh, my treat.

I thought you said
a nice, quiet twosome.

- Not that I'm complaining, of course.
- Didn't you tell her?

- Men!
- Exactly!

Uh, drink, Susan?

- Large G&T please, Charlie.
- Yeah, a large gin and tonic. Uh, Jim?

- Orange juice.
- Orange juice.

Yes, sir.

Well, here we are, then, Jim,
as promised.

And the lady will be here. I've checked.

What lady? Jim, what lady?

Oh, it's no one...
No one you'd know, Susan.

It's just a little bet
I've got on with Charlie here.

You said you wanted
to see her with her hair down,

and this is where she lets it down,
every night, without fail!

- Charlie, you're making mischief.
- Me? Never!

Who are we talking about?

If you think a nasty little
jumped-up official

is going to ruin my evening, Donald,
you may as well know... My usual.

Make it a large-large one, Frank.
Thank you.

Certainly, Mrs Hughes.

I'll park my bloody car where I like.

If it's towed away, then...

Ugh, there's nobody here tonight.

My mother always used to say,
"There wee people one knew, or no one."

I do know what she feels.

Are we going to order dinner or not,
Donald?

I want to make an evening of it,
I warn you!

That, I take it,
is the lady in question.

Right.

- Mrs Peter Hughes?
- Right again.

CHARLIE: Jim wanted to see her.

Great. "Come to the Coq d'Or
for a birthday treat!

"Many happy returns!"
And what do I find?

It's a bloody stakeout,
or whatever you call it.

Look, it's not like that.

I just thought,
killing two birds with one stone...

I'm sorry.

Aw, come on...

- Nothing like a good blow-out, eh?
- Charlie!

I'm sorry, it's vulgar, I know.
But I must say, I do enjoy a good meal.

Yes, Charles, we can see that.

You shouldn't have given up
your jogging, Charlie.

- No more time, unfortunately.
- Insulted! Insulted!

I have never been so insulted!
You're afraid to!

Donald Black, you ae afaid to isk
a few quid in a fiendly game of...

Not accept my credit?

I'll have you know, I can walk into
any house on this island,

and they will accept my make!
They always have and they...

You know who I am!
I mean, you do know who I am!

I think we should leave, Mary.

I'll damn well leave when I choose!
And with whom I choose!

You pathetic, cheap little cuckold!

Now go on, go home to an empty house,
you pathetic little man!

(PIANIST PLAYING
GET YOUR KICKS ON ROUTE 66)

Another brandy!

What are you staring at, man?
Another brandy!

Yes, Mrs Hughes.

Hell hath no fury...

- See what I mean, Jim?
- Who was the man?

Donald Black. You remember I told you,

Peter Hughes went off with his wife
for a few weeks? About a year back.

What was that business
about the playing cards, then?

- She's gambling, heavily.
- Really?

It's not legal, but she's hooked.
It's a sort of disease.

And people have been told
not to accept her marker,

so she makes scenes like that
all the time.

James, Charles,
this is a birthday party,

not a police conference committee.

Okay?

I'll drink to that, Susan.
Happy birthday!

Aye, happy birthday!

Happy birthday.

I've never liked him.

On the other hand,

I don't much like talking to
the authorities about personal matters.

Well, not many people do, Mr Black.

But it could help find the man,
couldn't it?

Is he missing, then?

Didn't his wife tell you?

I was at the restaurant last night.

You've been snooping, Sergeant.

No, not really,
but his wife has reported him missing,

and any information you have could help.

It will, of course,
be treated with the utmost discretion.

What did you hear about him?

Good chap, whizz kid with the money,
a lot of fun?

Bit of a light shooter, but where
there's smoke, there's some truth.

All that?

I have heard some of those things, yeah.

Yes, he was a cheat, Sergeant.

A liar, a con man and a cheat.

I've taken the trouble to look into
the affairs of his companies.

The off-shore funds, the shell companies
in the Caymans. It's all over.

I feel sorry for his partner,
to tell the truth.

Do you mind telling me why?

Because, if I don't miss my guess,
they're all empty.

He's been paying off Peter with
Paul's cash, juggling the books.

At a rough estimate,
he's gone missing with...

Oh, maybe...

270 grand.

Two...

You are joking, Sergeant.
That's pocket money.

I'm talking about a couple of million.
At least!

Do you know why he's gone?

Oh, come on, Mr Black. I need to know.
Have you got any ideas?

Maybe he just ran out of invention,
Sergeant.

There were a few people
waiting to see him cash.

Hi. There's an old friend
waiting to see you in the restroom.

- Oh, ta!
- Yeah.

Oh, hey!

- Ah, good to see you, Jim!
- And you!

- How are you?
- Very well!

I made a break of 52,
and you made me miss.

Look, I brought you a gift.
Oysters, fresh from Saint-Malo.

- Thank you.
- Uh, how is Susan?

- Oh, she's fine.
- Good.

Look, I need your help.

Well, you know what Crozier thinks
about cooperation, don't you?

Come up to the office.

I know... Not to take up your time,
but it's a matter of some urgency.

My...

There are banks involved,
insurance claims, and a wife.

- Yeah?
- She's beautiful. She's destroyed.

No, no, no. I like her.

She sees no reason for her husband
to go away.

- Sorry?
- He went away two weeks ago.

I have the details here.

Pichet. Jean Pichet. There's a
considerable sum of money missing.

Oh, I see.

I want to check at the hotels.

I come myself because the sums of money
are very considerable indeed.

- Hey, you guys.
- And I want him back in France.

But, Henri, it's holiday time.

The island's packed.
He could be anywhere.

- Oh, Jim!
- Yeah?

- I've got these ready for distribution.
- Oh, ta.

Oh, Peggy, this is Inspector Dupont.
Inspector Dupont, Peggy Masters.

- Inspector.
- Chief Inspector, madame.

Who is that?

Uh, somebody we've mislaid
for the moment.

Jean Pichet!

Peter Hughes.

- A wife? A wife did you say, Sergeant?
- Yes.

No, Sergeant. I am the wife.

Whoever she is,
she is not Peter Hughes' wife.

His mistress. His slut.

Did he run away for her?

(LAUGHING)

He'll come back here begging.

Who put him where he is?
Whose money started him off?

Whose time? Whose?

Children?

Two.

He'll come back crawling.

- If he comes back at all.
- What do you mean?

What do you mean? We agreed.

We agreed no children.

Clutter up our lives, would children.
We agreed.

Mrs Hughes, I know you're upset.
I know this has been a shock.

You don't know anything, Sergeant.

But he'll crawl back here.

He'll crawl.

And that Fench slut can whistle,
and he bastads.

And his bastards, madame.

I trust we can find him soon

then perhaps we can try to
unravel the mess he's made.

Mrs Hughes, I have to ask you this.

About the business,
was it in good shape?

Did he appear at all worried
or concerned about it?

Talk to Jack Webb if you want to know
anything about the business.

I'm not remotely interested.

I've told you already.
We... We had an arrangement...

- Was there anything else, Sergeant?
- Uh, yeah.

Would you let my friend
look at the picture gallery?

I think he might know
why the paintings went missing.

Well, help yourselves.

I'm sure it'll not make
a jot of difference.

- Well?
- Ah.

Is this collection important to you,
madame?

I couldn't give a damn about it.

Just a stupid obsession.

I can tell you, if he's gone for good
to that trollop, he'll lose this.

I'll sell it. He always said
it was worth a small fortune.

So, he goes,

it goes.

Yes, well...

The problem is, madame,
I think it's already gone.

You need an expert to look at these.

I think you will find
they are all extremely good copies.

- Copies?
- Oui, madame.

Fakes.

So what's left, Sergeant?

Not a very great deal, it appears.

Mr Webb,
there are two gentlemen to see you.

No time. Sorry,
I told you I was not to be disturbed.

Oh.

Oh, Sergeant. Uh, you better come in.

All right, Margaret. Thank you.

- I'm really rather busy, Sergeant.
- This shouldn't take too long.

This is Chief Inspector Dupont
from the other side of the water.

Monsieur.

This is just a routine follow-up really.
Nothing to worry about.

- You are very busy?
- Busy time of the year.

Of course.

I take it this is about Peter.
What's happened?

Him?

Yes, of course.

We know him as Monsieur Jean Pichet,
living near Saint-Malo, France.

And in St Helier, Jersey.

- Odd, isn't it?
- Strange.

- Did you know?
- Of course I didn't.

I don't believe it.

- Pichet, you say?
- Jean Pichet in France.

Peter Hughes here.

- And you are telling us you didn't know.
- Of course I didn't know anything...

I mean...

Oh, God.

That man Pichet, does Mary know?

Apparently not, so...

A mystery.

I don't know where he is.
I only wish I did.

I need to know a damn sight
more urgently than you do.

Since I heard... Since we talked...

Look, I know nothing about
what's been going on.

I've sat here for nearly 24 hours
going through all this.

Checking, double checking.

I put all my money into
this partnership, Sergeant.

Every penny.

I'm ruined.

He's...

He's destroyed me.

(PHONE RINGING)

Yeah?

Yes, yes, he is.

- Henri.
- Huh?

Oui.

Ah, oui.

Oui, merci.

I'm afraid, monsieur,
your problems are just beginning.

A body has been found near Saint-Malo.

The identification card says
Jean Pichet and,

apparently, he's been murdered.

(GREETINGS IN FRENCH)

Ah, you'll want to take a look.

Bernard,
Sergeant Bergerac, Jersey Police.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

Burned badly.

An effort to disguise the facts,
but bodies do not burn too easily.

An amateur.

Peter Hughes, or Jean Pichet.

Bernard has sent a set of prints off.

His right hand was
not too badly damaged.

There was also this ID card.
What's left of it.

Jean Pichet, it says.

So, he's at least our man.

But whose, Jim? Yours or mine?

Bonjour, mesdames.

Tell a lovely woman that her husband is
also married to another woman,

that would be bad enough, but...

I have to tell he
that he's been murdered.

You'll break the news, will you?

Now I hate being a policeman.

I have no reason to think
he would just go away.

I have two reasons to believe
he would stay.

You have children, Sergeant?

Yes, madame. One daughter.

It would be had to leave her, I'm sure.

Ah, yes.

Madame, I would suggest your husband
had three reasons for staying.

Nevertheless, he has gone, Inspector.

As I told you,
he had not mentioned any problems beyond

some minor business difficulties.

He has few friends, you see. He talks
always with me. We are very close.

But he's not been in touch
for three weeks?

We have a routine.

When he's away, he calls us or writes
to us three times each week.

This time...there has been nothing.

If there has been trouble,
if he is in trouble, it doesn't matter.

I just want him
to come home here, to us.

DUPONT: Yes, of course.

Madame,

is there anything else you can tell us
about your husband?

Uh, anything you may not have mentioned?

Anything unusual
that might have happened?

Sergeant,

I don't really understand
why you have come.

- I thought Chief Inspector Dupont...
- He is a colleague, an old friend.

I value his opinion.

Madame,
is there anything you can tell us?

I met Jean in Paris. He was studying at
and at history.

He loved pictures, but he could never
afford to buy what he liked,

so he gave it all up. "There was
no living in pictures," he used to say.

Did you marry in Paris?

We lived together for a time,
and then...

Family pressure. My mother fell ill,
I had to go and look after her.

He went his way.

He came back to my life 10 years ago.

We married.

And we are very happy together.

I know he has trouble with the bank.
I know there is trouble with money.

We will sell the house, anything.

I just want him to come home.

Madame,

I, too, have been trying to find a man.

In Jersey, he's called Hughes,

and here in France, he's called Pichet.

No.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, too, Sergeant.

- How he must be suffering, how hard.
- You see, he had another wife...

I don't need to know anything more,
Sergeant.

We want him home.

Find him for us. Tell him, please,
tell him to come home. He is loved here.

You will find him. Tell him, please.

We have found him, madame.

I'm sorry.

(DUPONT SPEAKING FRENCH)

No.

(CHILDREN LAUGHING)

JIM: She's too neat, too pat.
She's too plausible.

Oh, no, no, no. She's a decent woman,
a good woman.

- Now, you do like fish, don't you?
- Oh! By God, the oysters! I left them.

No, no, no.
I gave them to you inspector.

A bribe to get you here.

I don't like that Crozier very much.

Okay, so, we have first a café cognac,
and then we buy some fresh langoustines,

- moules, crab...
- I thought we were working.

No, later, Jim, later.
First things first.

You know the French only work
between meals.

So, here.

Now...
Now, I know women, Jim. Believe me.

Genevieve Pichet is a good woman.

He's a lucky man.

And yet he left her and the children
with absolutely nothing.

I don't understand that.

Nor do I, Jim. Why would he leave
Genevieve Pichet, huh?

She, too, believes in God
and that marriage was forever.

She's a good Catholic.

(DISPATHER ON RADIO SPEAKING FRENCH)

(RESPONDING IN FRENCH)

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

- You understood?
- Yeah.

The dead man's ID said Pichet,
the man I know as Hughes.

Now it's not either of them
because fingerpints say it's who?

- Pierre Moulins?
- Mmm-hmm.

Oh, that's great.

The autopsy report confirms
cause of death

was a cacked skull from a severe blow.

So whoever killed this Moulins
deliberately tried to confuse the issue

by planting Pichet's ID card,
clothes, etcetera.

Who'd want to do that?
Look, it's gotta be

Pichet/Hughes, hasn't it?

Maybe the answer lies in Moulins' place.

Come, we're wasting time.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

- Okay.
- Hey, do you like crabs?

Henri?

What?

Voici.

Here we are.

Taken in '68

during the student riots in Paris.

This man is Moulins Nalbet.

Police record for petty offences,
attempted extortion once,

he was suspected of vice attachments.
A nasty bit of work.

Now, this girl

is now Madame Genevieve Pichet.
Bernard did well, uh?

And this young man,

a lover in those days, Hughes,
now her husband.

Where does Moulins fit in?

- You gonna tell me?
- I can't, they'e still checking up.

Computers, Jim,
you know what they're like.

She never mentioned Moulins. Why not?

I think you're determined to drag Madame
Pichet into this. I think you're wrong.

Oh.

So it was blackmail?

That's a lot of money, my friend.

So, where is Hughes now?
He's alive somewhere.

And almost certainly
he killed Moulins, right?

Perhaps we should give
Madame Pichet the good news first.

Oh, monsieur...

I cannot tell you.

JIM: I'm just sorry that we made
that first mistake. It was, well...

I must apologise for the distress.

It really is no matter.

I do love him, you see, Sergeant.

To be told one minute he is dead

then to be told, no,
you may live again, hope again...

I am, of course, sorry
for the other man. Who was it?

Oh, we're not absolutely certain yet,
but we think it was a man called

Moulins, Pierre Moulins.
Doesn't mean anything to you, does it?

Nothing, nothing at all.

There's just one thing.

How do you think your husband's
identity card came to be in his hands?

It seems a bit strange. It was found
some way away from the body there.

- You don't mean you suspect Jean?
- No, no, no.

- It's just a bit strange, that's all.
- Non.

Oh, I'm sorry, madame,

but you do understand I am a policeman.
I must explore all the possibilities.

- All of them.
- That's not possible.

I love him and...

And I know that he could not...

No, he's too gentle, too kind,
too warm-hearted.

He hates to hurt anything, believe me.

I know Jean.

Find him for us,
and you will see, monsieur, please.

Find him.

- Well?
- Begs us to find him.

Begs us to bring him in. Swears he
couldn't harm anyone, let alone kill.

Yeah, but does she know Moulins?
Does she say?

She denied knowing him.

Are you gonna tell me?

I made a call to Bernard. Moulins must
be known to her. He was he stepbrother.

Don't, Jim, don't say it.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

She's on her way.

It's a bit of a comedown
for Monsieur Pichet.

Bit of a comedown for Peter Hughes.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

Madame Pichet.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

(SIGHS)

I love...

I love him.

I told you the truth.

We knew each other for so long before...

Always, he was going to come back.

And then he came back.

And it was all I dreamed.

And then...

Moulins?

My stepbrother.

Always causing trouble.

Always sponging off me, off my mother.

Off anyone he could take from.

Off Peter? Jean?

He knew, you see, something.

Jean was afraid of...

Of the truth.

He was so kind, monsieur,

With the children, with me.

I've been so lucky.

But he killed a man.
Your half-brother. Did you know that?

I told you.

You do not listen.

My husband could not kill anyone.

I found them together.

Pierre was demanding more and more money

and threatening to tell
that woman in Jersey about...

About me.

He said that if Jean
could no longer pay,

my children, our children,

would be made bastards.

I hit my stepbrother once.

Just once.

Do you understand?

And he left you to divert us, huh?

You would change the identity
and you would come and join him here

when the coast was clear, hmm?

And all the time
he was planning to leave.

(SIGHS)

Betrayed you, huh?

Ah, please, madame. Collect what
you want to take. We will go now.

Ah, it's one of his.

From the collection, I think.

A Boudin, a genuine Boudin.

It's worth a small fortune.

It's something, perhaps.

"Thanks for everything."