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Vivement Dimanche

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Oh, it's you?
- Going that way? - Over there!
- Too bad! - That's life!
Hello, Mme Vercel.
Put Julien on!
Your husband's out hunting. He's not back yet.
Then, you'll do.
Go to my bank and get me a checkbook.
Mail it to room 813, Hotel Garibaldi, Nice.
I can't leave now. I'm alone here.
And I'd need your signature.
Don't quibble with me!
Remember, last time the manager turned me down:
he told me to get lost.
What nerve! I'll tell my husband.
Go ahead. He's on his way in.
It's Mme Vercel. Hurry.
I hope you can hear her. Sounds like trumpets in the background.
And your wife's rather overwrought.
It does sound like trumpets.
Marie-Christine?
Come on, don't be so uptight.
You must stay in Nice?
3 more days?
I'll send it. But don't be so nasty
to my secretary.
Stop saying "that girl". Her name's Barbara.
Lost?
If she said that,
you were right.
Why did you insult my wife?
You told her to get lost.
No, I didn't!
She's high-strung, but she doesn't lie.
Yes, she did!
She got along well with my former secretary.
Listen, Mr. Vercel,
why not let your wife pick your next secretary?
My next one
will start in a month.
"Le Provencal?"
The Want Ads section, please.
I'm looking for a skilled secretary.
She has to be fluent in English.
A month from now.
Yes, references required.
Marital status? Irrelevant.
Get yourself an orphan. They're used to being abused!
Mr. Vercel, please.
Inspector Santelli to see you.
Detective Jambrau.
How was the hunting today?
I didn't hit anything.
I don't know why I bother. I'm fed up.
Notice anything unusual?
No...
I heard two odd shots.
The second 5 seconds after the first...
as if to kill off a duck. But there was no duck.
There was no duck
but there was a hunter whose head was shattered to bits.
Massoulier?
- Is he dead? - How did you know it was him?
I didn't mention his name.
I recognized his car as I was leaving. It's odd...
he was a crack shot.
Maybe a suicide.
He wouldn't commit suicide, chief.
His brother's a priest.
It doesn't mean anything.
Do you mind if I leave early tonight?
Even if you mind, I don't care.
According to union rules...
I can take 2 hours off to look for a new job.
Vercel real estate!
You sound like an angel...
but you killed Massoulier. You'll pay for it!
It's me again. It's very rude to hang up.
Hello. Don't hang up again.
No, madame. Wait a minute...
Just let me lower the TV.
Ok, I'm listening.
You're a murderer. You killed Massoulier
because you were jealous.
He was your wife's lover,
one of many...
Madame, I could sue you.
It was jealousy.
I know all about jealousy. It's agony.
She slept with anyone and tutti quanti.
Ask her about the silver dining set that you got as a wedding present.
Who are you?
If I were you, I'd kill myself.
If she's so virtuous,
ask her what she did with the silver dining set.
Who are you?
If I were you, I'd kill myself.
"Me hate him?
"Oh no! You're all wrong.
"I've admired him all along.
"He's a head taller than the others.
"Brave, yet gentle. Noble and proud. Berard!
"He rides past, his head unbowed."
"He is charming."
"Such a man must be..."
"Refined."
"His eyes reflect his great heart.
"A great heart!"
"Tremendous!"
- "Gallant!" - "Brave!"
"And yet, kind!"
"Tender."
- "Generous!" - "Wonderful!"
"I like him!"
"His height is extraordinary!"
"His brow! His eyes! His nose!"
"If she keeps on praising me, I'm ruined."
Not bad. But if the king isn't funnier...
I'll play the part myself.
Let's go on to Blanche and the jester, Triboulet.
- Where's Triboulet? - He's not here.
Bertrand's always late.
- Where is he? - I don't know.
Well, he's your ex-husband.
Does he know we're rehearsing?
Cut it out!
We've been divorced for a year. I'm not his custodian.
Why not call his paper?
We're wasting time. Let's look at the wardrobe.
Hello, Mme Vercel.
You'll wake all the neighbors.
Come on, it's none of our business.
I know all about jealousy. It's agony.
She slept with anyone and tutti quanti.
I admit it.
I was Massoulier's mistress...
but it's ancient history.
He's dead and so what? He was a bastard
and a lousy lover.
Leave me alone!
I've nothing to say to you.
Open the door.
I'm scared of you.
Don't be ridiculous!
You won't hit me?
Have I ever hit you?
There's no need for you to be afraid.
You know I never get angry.
I don't understand anger.
I don't understand arguments.
If someone disappoints me,
I lower the iron curtain.
You're reading the paper?
Is it interesting?
I'm speaking calmly...
and regretfully, but I mean it:
We must get a divorce.
Nothing to say?
I don't hear you. I'm reading the paper.
I'm reading it for you.
Don't talk.
Look at me.
Wait...
Wait awhile.
I'm waiting for you, Julien.
Don't tell them I'm here.
Inspector Santelli wants to see you.
We met today.
He wants to see you again.
Did you know Massoulier was going hunting today?
Certainly not.
But you recognized his car.
I told you I saw it only as I was leaving.
What shot pellets go in this gun?
I'd say three.
Nowadays no one uses six but me.
This is Massoulier's gun: 3 shot pellets.
But Massoulier was killed by two number six shots.
Is that why I'm here?
No.
It's to show you this.
The 6 shot pellets I bought. I told you myself I use 6!
You also told me you were the only one to use 6!
You must be kidding!
Look here Vercel...
I may be younger than you, but I'm not intimidated!
It's going to be a long night. Tomorrow too.
Then, I'll call my lawyer.
I can detain you for 48 hours without a lawyer.
Who is your lawyer?
Mr. Clement.
Go ahead, then.
I won't answer any question till he gets here.
You won't get a peep out of me...
not even the right time!
Good evening, Mr. Clement.
Bring in two chairs and some sandwiches.
Massoulier's been killed.
I know.
These idiots suspect me. They want to detain me.
It's their right, but...
I think I was denounced.
Not exactly, but accused by a loony anonymous phone caller.
- Did you tell them? - Not yet.
What do you want here?
One day, I'll find you in my bedroom.
We'll see this with Mme Santelli.
Listen to me...
You two, come here.
No conspiracies.
Sit down.
- Commissaire Santelli? - What is it now?
He's an Albanian. She's his interpreter.
They insisted on seeing you.
I want to live here, in this country.
I don't want to be sent back.
He wants political asylum here, Inspector.
Political asylum at 11 p.m.!
I'll see what I can do.
You kept us waiting!
I know, I'm sorry. Killings don't happen everyday in this town.
Massoulier died this morning.
Neither a suicide nor an accident.
He was hot pointblank in the head.
They've got a prime suspect.
When they went to get him...
Vercel was about to flee.
Julien Vercel.
- Is he arrested? - No, detained!
Do you feel better?
Yes, thanks to you.
But why does that cop
go on and on about being younger than I am?
That's to overcome his timidity. But he's no fool.
I doubt the killer is a local resident.
What about those phone calls?
Just another maniac.
Listen Clement,
I'm sure my wife was Massoulier's mistress.
You've got no proof.
I can't believe it.
It's true. I'm considering a divorce.
No, not now!
It would look bad.
Have you told your wife?
No, she's in Nice. She's coming back tomorrow.
Then wait.
You may work things out.
The word "divorce" is ugly.
Both the word and the act!
If things reach that stage...
I'd feel wretched... really wretched.
Here we are.
Thank you for everything.
Come in for a drink.
No, thanks.
My daughter's feverish. I want to make sure she's okay.
Don't worry.
Calm down and get some sleep.
"You're so kind, father."
"Are you not my own flesh and blood?"
I'm fed up: Bertrand keeps on pawing me!
Old Hugo didn't mind a little incest.
"How can we stage out play... If she won't meet me half way?"
Your attitude isn't professional.
We're not professionals. We're amateurs!
We play for fun and charity.
Who decided Bertrand would play Triboulet?
We're wasting time. Let's start all over.
You come in when you hear: "Here she comes".
Help me move the door.
I've got to leave town. Can you manage the agency?
Make up your mind: you fire me and now I'm promoted.
I'm in trouble.
I can't force you to help me.
What do you want me to do?
I'll explain.
"Heavens, I'm terribly impatient.
"But I hear her footsteps. Here she comes."
"Two bells chime."
"Heavens, I'm terribly impatient.
"But I hear her footsteps. Here she comes."
Put the lights out.
What's wrong? The police let you go.
Only because they had to.
I must go to Nice...
to find out what my wife was doing there.
To find out...
whom she was meeting, everything.
If there was someone besides Massoulier.
I must tell you something:
Massoulier was my wife's lover!
I know it,
but it's none of my business.
Where's the gun that was here?
In my pocket.
Oh, no!
It's crazy for you to run away,
but if it's to kill your wife, I won't let you.
I'm not going to kill her... she's already dead!
What?
She was killed in our house this evening...
but I didn't do it.
Do you believe me?
It's hard to believe...
She came home at 7 p.m.
We had a big fight. Then, this fool,
Santelli's assistant, took me back to the police station.
I was very upset
but they allowed my lawyer to come over.
He drove me home.
When he asked when my wife was coming back, I lied...
and said she'd be back in 2 days.
Because of that stupid lie, I couldn't ask him to help me.
My daughter's feverish. I want to make sure she's okay.
Don't worry.
Calm down and get some sleep.
Do you believe me now?
- Would the cops believe me? - No.
I have no choice.
I must dig into Marie-Christine's past.
I must investigate in Nice where she ran a beauty salon.
I've got to run.
No, you can't drive in your condition.
I'll make you some coffee or you'll fall asleep.
I'm much too keyed up to fall asleep at the wheel.
Let me give you my opinion.
I think you should turn yourself in as a temporary prisoner.
"A temporary prisoner!"
And I'll go to Nice
to investigate for you.
I know Nice very well.
I went to business school there.
It was the best school
for the Prevost-Delaunay system. It was on Plaza Albert Ist.
I guess that's not very exciting.
Here's the coffee.
Damn it!
POLICE STATION
Is "rue des Entrepreneurs" on the way?
To the Garibaldi? It's not far.
Then, let's go: 57, rue des Entrepreneurs.
It's a nightclub!
It wasn't a beauty salon?
It's been the "Red Angel" for years.
If I were you, I wouldn't set foot in there.
What do you mean?
You may not believe me, but if you come in,
I won't wait for you. It's Louison's joint.
- Who is she? - I don't know...
but I don't want trouble.
Make up your mind: You stay
or we go on but I'm leaving.
Okay, on to the Garibaldi.
A room for the night.
Have you reserved?
Mme Vercel recommended her room to me.
Mme Vercel.
She was in room 813, but it isn't ready.
You can have room 811, next door.
Fine.
Where's your luggage?
It'll be here tomorrow.
But you wanted a room for one night.
Yes. My luggage will get here in time for my departure.
Just a minute, please.
Shall I pay in advance?
No, it's alright.
Germaine!
Come here!
You must help me out.
Right now?
It's embarrassing.
Don't tell anybody:
My trick can only make it...
if I'm a maid.
Is he the tax man?
So you must lend me your apron.
- What about me? - I'll give it back.
Leave it on my shelf when you go.
May I help?
I need a savonette.
No problem. Just ask.
I've got a hunch you know you way around. Right?
Tell me about her.
I never saw this dame before.
The woman in the panther coat... She was here this morning.
Was she alone?
Yes, always by herself.
No visitors?
Never...
I bet I know:
The man with her is your husband, right?
No, he's my brother.
Since room 813 is ready, can I stay here?
It's alright with me.
I'll just tell the desk.
What's going on?
It's a mistake.
I'm in the wrong room.
I won't let you leave!
Don't run away!
- Who are you? - Let me go!
Who are you?
What did you do in my room?
LABLACHE DETECTIVE AGENCY
I was wrong to let Vercel go.
I should have kept him here.
But you were with him.
I left him at his house.
He didn't tell me
his wife was back.
I'm sure he can explain everything.
Chief, a call from Nice.
Nice airport.
Nice airport. Stop your search.
We've located his car.
He's flown the coop!
Good morning. Mr. Lablache, please.
He's in conference.
Remember, gentlemen: Our job is 10% inspiration
and 90% transpiration.
Mr. Lablache?
Let me show you something.
It's the woman I told you about.
Leave us alone.
Put this on.
They won't recognize you.
I'll be frank with you, I get the picture.
I know about the incident last night.
The man is a beginner here.
He's not good at shadowing jobs so we gave him an investigation.
End of story.
- Coffee? - No, thanks.
We both know that private detectives
have no right to break and enter.
If I report this to the police, you'll be in trouble.
I have a hunch you won't go to the police.
Don't bet on it!
Normally, 9 persons out of 10
would have complained to the hotel management.
But you came straight here.
What do you want? My apologies?
I apologize most sincerely.
I direct the most reputable agency in Nice.
A client requested a report on a woman.
Yesterday, she was in room 813 at the Garibaldi.
We didn't know she'd checked out.
I accept your apologies...
but I want to know the name of your client.
Even if I knew it. No way!
But in this case, he didn't give his name.
He calls us when he wants news.
Do you think it was one of her lovers?
In the past 25 years, I've learned one thing:
It's never the lover who has a woman shadowed, it's her husband!
In that case, tell me her name...
the name of the woman in room 813.
I'm sorry, but I can't tell you.
It's Marie-Christine Vercel.
Now, you've got to help me.
The bus to Marseilles?
Across the way!
"Le Capitaine" is ahead,
"Mon amour" a length behind.
"Mon Amour", moves up to the finish line
and wins by a nose.
Do you remember "Le Capitaine"?
Mme Vercel's lover? Her "Amour?"
No, "Le Capitaine" isn't a man, he's a horse...
Same thing for "Mon Amour."
Horse racing!
That's where all her money went. Here's my bus.
Check into the racing circles!
How dirty!
Don't you realize?
I'm locked in here,
gagged out,
with the phone ringing all day...
and wild rumors spreading in town.
You meant well and were trying to help
but it was up to me to go to Nice.
Helpful or not...
I wouldn't have lifted a finger
if I'd known you were a killer.
What do you mean?
I know now!
3 days ago, you asked a detective in Nice to shadow your wife.
I never left town.
You did it by phone and didn't tell them your name.
You were suspicious of her.
I might as well tell you:
I always knew you were guilty, but I went along with you
because I thought it was an unpremeditated crime of passion.
In reality, you planned the whole thing
and I find it revolting.
No Barbara, you're right.
You're entitled to the truth.
I'm guilty.
I'm guilty...
just as you said.
But please try to understand me.
You mustn't think I'm a coward.
I'm ready to pay for what I did.
Let's go to the cops. We'll tell them everything.
You're right, Barbara,
about the man who wanted her watched.
When we find him, we'll have the killer.
What's that?
Be careful, Barbara.
What do you want?
I'm just doing my job.
No stray dogs here!
No dogs...
but lots of dead bodies.
You're not fussy, are you?
Working for a killer.
I feel concerned.
I'm worried.
Do you have a picture of your boss?
Is that all? Draw it yourself!
Go on, get lost!
Everybody knows you sleep with him.
You creep!
The coffee's warm.
It's hot, right?
Yes, very.
Is it too hot?
No, it's better when it's hot.
I'll pick it up there. You listen in.
We'll lift the receiver together.
After the next ring.
Vercel Agency.
So it's true? I can hardly believe it.
Who is this?
You tramp...
working for a killer.
I didn't know he'd been indicted.
Don't be a smart ass!
I'm sure you know where he's hiding.
Why don't you join him, you slut?
You think it's the same woman?
I think I know her. Don't you?
I've no idea.
Watch out!
I'd like to see Mr. Vercel.
He's not here. Can I help you?
I wanted to talk to him about a chateau.
A chateau...
for a summer camp.
Do you want to rent it, or buy it?
Perhaps an annuity purchase.
It's risky...
You must wait till the owners are deceased.
But our camp's only open 3 months a year.
Even so, you can't evict the owners.
They're generally elderly.
My vacation camp is for adolescents.
It's rarely for senior citizens!
Think it over.
I'd like to get going
by next year. Kids need a bracing climate,
something high up.
We have some nice properties, between 900 and 1800 feet up.
The ads say "a step from the ocean."
Do you want the mountains or the beach?
You seem a little confused.
Isn't this Mr. Vercel's agency?
Can't I speak to him?
He's away at a convention...
the real estate convention.
You deal in real estate?
Does this look like a grocery store?
I've got work to do.
Why don't you think things over.
Come back some other time.
Alright, I'll be back.
I'll surely be back.
If all our customers were like that one...
What a creep!
A telex.
"Report from Lablache to Vercel.
"Marie-Christine Beauty Salon never existed.
"Mme Vercel is a heavy better at Nice turf.
"Married Julien Vercel under false name.
"Real identity: Josiane Kerbel.
"Worked several years as
"so-called "beautician," which led to...
"surveillance by Vice Squad.
"Kerbel's murder yesterday concludes our investigation.
"Signed: Lablache."
Take it to Clement, but don't tell him I'm here.
Why worry about him?
After all, he's your lawyer.
Give me my raincoat.
Just look!
Can I run around this way?
Now, I'll lock up and remember:
don't answer the phone.
Unless you call.
How will you know?
We'll make up a code:
let it ring once and hang up.
When you ring again, I'll answer.
Good idea. So long.
Mr. Clement, please.
He's busy. Would you wait?
There's someone in.
Have a seat.
It won't be long.
If you won't...
I'll go to the police!
It's a scandal!
They were all jealous of him!
My life is over now!
It's all over!
I meant to call you. Come in.
My life is over!
Take a deep breath.
It's awful:
The more you love a person,
the less helpful you are.
Wasn't Mr. Vercel with you that night?
I drove him home from the police station.
And you know,
I wanted to ask him to stay at my house...
but I was embarrassed to.
I didn't.
But Mme Vercel was already dead!
Who knows?
He told me she was still in Nice...
and yet the police officer saw her suitcase...
one hour earlier in the salon.
Why did Julien lie?
You talk as if he was guilty. Do you believe that?
No, but to believe or not to believe
is not the question. Life isn't a novel.
In a novel, our friend would be guilty.
By running away, Vercel is acting as if he were guilty.
What would you do in his place?
If he asked me, I'd tell him what I'm telling you.
No reason to worry.
Thank God, we're in France where juries
allow for crimes of passion.
Meanwhile, tell me...
what can I do for you?
I want your advice.
If you know where Vercel is,
can you ask him...
for instructions.
I've kept the agency open but is that what he wants?
Unfortunately...
I don't know where he is.
If I did, I'd tell him to surrender.
Only then can I really help him.
If he contacts you, tell him that
and ask him to call me at once.
Come along, please.
What for?
The chief wants to see you.
What were you doing in Nice last night?
None of your business!
Is that so?
I already know that at the Garibaldi,
you insisted on having room 813,
the very one Mme Vercel had just vacated.
Mr. Vercel...
asked me for some information
on his wife's trip to Nice.
But we both thought she was alive.
At least, I thought so. But never mind.
I gather you also know that 3 days ago,
the Lablache agency got instructions
to check Mme Vercel's past.
When you're about to kill someone, you don't consult a private eye.
Why not try to find out
who called the agency in Nice?
I'd be on top of things...
if I'd kept your boss locked up.
I had the right to detain him.
Don't leave town
without my permission.
We're in charge. And if your murdering boss...
He's innocent!
You're really stubborn!
How can I convince you we're dealing with a dangerous paranoid?
Impressive, aren't they?
Mme Vercel...
Massoulier's car as we found it.
Look at the door.
Now see these fingerprints,
the fingers of Vercel's right hand.
It's very simple.
As I was leaving, I saw a car with the lights on.
To be helpful, I put them out and closed the door
with my hand like this.
It would be a miracle if I'd left no prints!
Did you tell them that?
I couldn't... I didn't know.
When Santelli showed me the pictures, I was upset.
Because you're a ninny!
Besides, why go to the cops? I told you to see my lawyer.
You're all mixed up.
You keep on getting me in deeper.
I'm going to call my lawyer.
Let me tell you something first.
Your dear lawyer thinks you're guilty.
Did he say so?
He almost did. True, he adores you.
"My best friend... my close friend..."
But what he really craves
is a chance to display his eloquence by pleading a crime of passion.
He said: "The French adore love affairs...
"I'll get Julien Vercel acquitted."
You still want to call him?
Look!
Between your lawyer...
and Santelli: The creep who came here.
The summer camp?
I'm sure of it.
He's snooping around.
First, he's there when they remove the body.
Then, he just happens to drop in here.
It's not a coincidence.
Stop scratching your ear: it's annoying.
But it helps me to think.
Dial the number of the Eden Cinema.
You want to see a movie?
No, I want to speak to the manager.
Massoulier owned it, so she may know something.
She might know whom he spoke to last.
The Eden: Next show at 8:30.
Good morning,
I'd like to speak to the manager.
There is no manager.
Do you know this voice?
I'm not sure.
She's the nut who makes those phone calls.
To be sure...
I'll call back and keep her talking.
I just want to know...
if "Paths of Glory" is a love story.
It's a war film
between the French and Germans.
Canons and soldiers. Are there any women?
The soldiers carry photos of their wives...
So, it's a love story?
There's love, battles, songs,
emotions and tutti quanti.
Orchestra or balcony?
It's about Mr. Massoulier.
The film is half over
but it's up to you.
Do you know who he met last?
I know who sent you.
If he had any decency, he would kill himself.
You're all wrong. Mr. Vercel isn't guilty.
Don't be indecent!
He wasn't the only one.
Many men were drooling around that bitch.
It turned ugly when that slut hit town.
Yes, she was a slut!
Go away!
Listen to me!
I too want to know the truth.
Go away!
Either go in, or go out.
I'm just looking at the posters.
This is the lobby...
you're in the way.
I'm asking you to leave.
- How much? - What?
How much is it?
It's past 7:35. P.m.
So, you saw Barbara?
I couldn't get a word out of her,
but I'm sure she knows a lot:
I saw her leaving the lawyer's office.
She was hysterical.
She just went into a brand new cabaret, "The Red Angel."
I thought that was in Nice.
It's the same name. I could hardly believe my eyes.
There's a restaurant name...
- "Thi Loan." - A Vietnamese?
We sold the property,
it's in our files.
She just came out.
What's her name?
I can't just walk up and ask her name.
She's leaving. I'll follow her.
Barbara, wait. Be careful!
You're late, sir.
You're late and you're losing your keys.
Has the rehearsal started?
Are we friends again?
You're a lunatic!
Why? Because I want to sleep with you?
Do divorced couples make love?
It happens every day.
What about Genevieve?
She left me because of you.
I said your name when I slept with her.
Yes, I know, while you work like angels,
I miss one rehearsal out of two and we play
next Sunday. I've let you down.
So, either you trust me to be letter perfect...
or else, replace me...
Is this alright?
You've got some nerve!
No, she looks just fine.
Very pretty.
Go on!
Don't mind me.
Go ahead.
"Me hate him? Oh no!
"you're all wrong.
"I've admired him all along."
"Berard! He rides past, his head unbowed."
I'll run along. I don't want to intrude.
"You obviously prefer "Le Provencal"...
"To our amateur efforts at rehearsal."
I know the cashier's name: It's Paula Delbeque.
That's a big help.
What about the "Red Angel" file?
Nothing of interest.
"Mme Loan sold all of her restaurant stock...
"as follows: 365 shares to Paula Delbeque..."
Look!
Delbeque! It's the same name.
I can't figure it out.
Why would the major stockholder of a nightclub...
work as a cashier in a crummy cinema?
It's vital that I talk to her.
Don't be crazy!
All the cops have your picture. Let me go!
You can't handle it. Besides, she knows you.
She won't see me. I'll sneak into her flat.
If they used her as a cover,
she's got files. I'll find them.
Don't you think I can?
Cut it out? Who is accused of murder?
I get all the dirty work and...
Stop yelling!
Who can that be?
Don't answer it.
I won't. I've got to leave.
You're stubborn, but so am I.
We're both whispering since the phone rang.
I borrowed "Le Provencal" car.
It's final: I'm telling you...
What? That I'm fired? That's already done.
Don't be afraid, it's me.
If this is risky, I should be in on it, right?
It's really unfair:
if a boss can fire me, why can't I fire him?
Keep out of sight.
We're at the Eden.
I'm slowing down.
Do you recognize the cashier?
I certainly do.
She was Massoulier's mistress long ago. It didn't last.
I assure you she still loves him.
She's stuck there between the two evening shows.
One hour to search her apartment, that's enough to find something.
It's there, on the 4th floor.
I'll go up and you watch.
No way! I'll go and you watch!
Don't argue.
As you like.
What are you doing here?
I didn't kill him?
He's not dead?
He's breathing.
If we don't stop him, he'll come to real fast.
We must do something.
You know...
this guy... I'm certain he's the killer.
Not necessarily.
I'm positive, it's him.
I'd say there are 9 chances out of 10.
Tying up an unconscious man isn't very heroic.
We're no heroes!
The police?
How about some protection?
Robberies night after night!
57, rue des Recollets,
there's a customer for you.
What did you do that for?
To accelerate your release.
What are you waiting for?
Can you start it?
I'll handle it.
Look, it's flooded.
What got into you?
I saw it in a movie.
Let's wait to see how it winds up.
We'll find out in the morning paper.
I feel dizzy.
You're O.K.?
It's the first time I slugged a man.
By the twelfth, I'll have the knack.
With all what's happened in the past two days...
it's only now I realize that Marie-Christine's gone.
I lived with a stranger for 2 years.
I sensed there was something wrong, but I ignored it.
I wonder why she came here.
- Was she your client at first? - No, I found the store for her.
She closed her beauty salon soon after opening it.
She claimed she wanted to be with me.
I liked her, I really did...
you can't understand.
In that case, why tell me about it?
Death is a strange thing.
When people die of illness...
it's cruel and unfair, but it's really death.
When it's a crime, or a killing...
death becomes abstract...
as if the solution to the mystery had priority.
It's like reading a thriller.
And yet Marie-Christine is dead...
and so is Massoulier.
From here, our town looks lovely.
When I started in business,
whenever a customer hesitated... I'd bring him here
to convince him.
Behind those little lights, there are all sorts of people:
watching TV, night shifts,
sleeping children...
and our killer,
who'll be sore as hell when the cops pick him up.
No, let me drive.
Why did you kiss me?
There are no cops around.
Who knows!
Another riddle.
Just browsing?
I'll pay, but it's not worth it.
What do they say?
Almost nothing.
"Inquest in double murder at a standstill."
It's awful!
We didn't dream it.
There's another possibility:
the guy we slugged is a big shot
and the cops want the whole network.
What's that?
It's for Massoulier's funeral.
For today? You've got to go, Barbara.
We can't afford to neglect a lead.
Not this! I won't stand it!
Take that wreath away!
We are gathered
to accompany Jacques Massoulier
to his last home.
The mass for his eternal soul will be offered
by his brother, Father Claude Massoulier.
"May the peace of Our Lord
be with one and all
forever and ever."
I wonder who invented you!
Who said the priest looked like a killer?
He was investigating on his own. It was his right.
We're doing the same thing!
I was wrong to go by looks.
To go by looks!
Even while I was fighting him,
I thought he looked like a nice guy!
Naturally, with your imagination...
you figure the real killer looks like a priest.
I'm here for the secretarial job. The ad in "Le Provencal".
Oh, the ad! Well, things have happened since then.
You got someone?
No, the job is open.
Well, it should be.
May I see the director?
Mr. Vercel is out of town.
For how long?
Don't you read the papers?
No, the ink smears. I hate dirty fingers.
Are you a secretary?
I do what I'm told.
You take stenography?
Those pencil notes?
Is it really necessary?
It comes in handy. Can you type?
How fast?
I type, but I'm no speed demon.
I type with one finger.
Only one finger?
This one.
It's enough.
Let me show you.
Fantastic!
And you're a blonde.
Yes, I am. So what?
It's an asset.
Mr. Vercel hates brunettes.
In fact, he fired me.
I'm leaving.
Maybe he has other reasons.
He may want to rejuvenate his staff!
Thanks, I feel better.
It's a pity Mr. Vercel's away.
He'd be very interested in you.
I'll leave you my phone number.
He can call me.
Almost 4 p.m. I've got to run.
A bill, another one...
publicity... Ah!
What is it?
Nothing. An anonymous letter.
Let's see.
- It's for me. - I want to see it.
"You little intriguer, why don't you mind your own business?"
See, "little intriguer".
When I say it, you don't believe me.
We're not getting anywhere.
All we've done in 3 days is to bash a priest...
and to get anonymous filth.
Do you want to turn yourself in?
Never! I'd rather die.
But we've got no more leads.
I've got a lead.
It's the "Red Angel."
First...
The Eden is a crummy movie house
that conceals a chain of cabarets.
Second...
The cabarets conceal a prostitution ring.
When a hooker
is arrested, she's released within the hour.
Because her working card says
she's a hostess for "The Red Angel."
Thanks to Louison...
I'll bore from within.
What does Louison do?
The oldest profession in the world.
You know her?
Almost.
But thanks to her...
we'll find out what Paula Delbeque won't tell us.
Do I look plausible?
Plausible as what?
That's all I wanted to know.
Got a light?
Do you wear pantyhose?
No, stockings.
Then, let's go up.
No way!
Why not?
It's your mustache. I can't stand it.
Try another girl.
Who is she?
She turned me down.
Hear that?
The new one picks her johns.
I'll handle her.
This is our beat.
Louison told me to work here.
Let's find out.
Right, let's go ask Louison.
Let's go.
What do you plan to do about the lights?
You getting cold feet?
Because customers...
Excuse me.
What are you doing here?
You're not supposed to come inside.
There's a mix-up. She says you hired her.
We'd never hire a brunette.
They don't make enough to buy new shoes.
She says Louison hired her.
You know Louison?
Yes, I know her.
You know her?
I know her and she knows me.
Where did you meet?
In Nice. I worked there.
She suggested I come... and work for her here.
Louison said that?
Yes, she did.
Louison, a visitor!
What is it?
This broad says you hired her.
Have we met?
I didn't hire her.
I don't know you.
And she thought you were a dame.
Me, a dame?
I've been called
lots of things, but till now...
no one's ever called me a dame!
The things you hear...
"DELBEQUE-MASSOULIER, INC."
Do you have a cigarette? A light?
You want me to puff it for you? Beat it!
Wait till we're alone.
Hey, you!
You can't hang around here.
On your way!
Go on to Marseilles. There's lots of work there.
...And the platform goes down.
The platform goes down and the girls up!
You feel better? No hard feelings?
No, you were right.
I was wrong.
But I'm scarred... so I only get 100 Frs.
That's less income...
so you'll have to work more.
Thank you. But I've got no right to accept it.
Since when are you so virtuous?
Get me Louison.
I'll get my brother.
It's Paula!
Coming.
He's coming to see you.
No kidding!
Are you sure?
Yes.
Let me take this call upstairs. Hold on.
OK.
I've got the letters. He'll have to pay.
- What will you do? - Don't worry,
I won't mention you.
It'll soon be over.
Oh, it's you? Come in.
They were well hidden.
I looked all over.
You can stop worrying.
You know where I found them?
They were in a shoe box!
How about a bonus?
I kept a few.
Who was it?
Tell me his name. It was a man?
Warn Paula...
Hurry!
I must see Mr. Clement.
He's usually here at this time, but today he's out.
It's strange, he didn't call. You can wait here.
BEAUTY SALON TO RENT
I'll wait in his office.
Is the boss back?
It's the dame from the Vercel agency. She's nervy!
She crashed his office.
- You let her? - She just bolted past me!
Hello?
What happened?
One: Massoulier. Two: Vercel's wife.
Three: The Eden cashier. Bodies right and left.
Make up your mind.
Are you with us or against us?
And now, a third murder.
Following the shooting of Jacques Massoulier...
and the killing of Marie-Christine Vercel...
the latest victim is the cashier of the Eden...
stabbed to death an hour ago in the darkened cinema.
The circumstantial evidence points to Julien Vercel...
who disappeared 3 days ago.
A city-wide search is under way for Vercel.
The police blocked all the city exists.
The killer's arrest is imminent.
- Mr. Clement, please. - Hold on.
I've got to see you right away.
Did you hear the radio?
This is goodbye. Thanks for everything.
You did your best. You meant well.
I've got to go now.
To the police?
No, I'm going to see my lawyer.
You're made! There are roadblocks all over.
I'll go by the sea. My lawyer set it up.
Please,
listen to me...
don't leave.
I know what I'm doing.
or take me with you.
Impossible.
Because you despise me?
I don't despise you.
Well, I despise you...
and moreover...
I love you.
A blind man could see that!
You've never looked at me as a woman.
Since I'm not a platinum blonde with fake eye lashes,
I haven't got a chance!
Ask me the question you asked before.
I'm asking you.
The answer is yes.
You're taking me?
No, I need 24 hours. I'll call you tomorrow...
and you'll join me.
I feel like a complete idiot. Does it mean I'm in love?
I've felt that way for the past 6 months.
I can't wait.
Wait for what?
Wait for next Sunday.
Hear that?
I hear nothing.
It's not normal. We always hear street noises.
Take a look.
It's quiet.
Everything's alright.
It's been two minutes since I kissed you.
I know who the killer is.
Good work!
You've been despicable all along!
I didn't kill Massoulier, I didn't kill my wife...
I didn't kill the Eden cashier.
Is that your story?
We could write a book about your wife.
Did you know she married you under a false name?
You're real funny.
It's no laughing matter.
Your marriage isn't valid...
because under her real name of Josiane Kerbel...
was married to a Belgian horse trainer.
He went to jail for doping a horse.
He always claimed she did it.
Meanwhile, she was living it up.
An ex-lover was blackmailing her, so she drove to France.
She got drunk and ran over a soldier.
She drove off leaving him to die on the road.
So aside from Interpol,
insurance companies were on her trail. Here you are!
We've got your client...
and all your legal wiles won't get him out.
Let me go on with the report on his wife.
It's very interesting.
We'll skip the rubber checks.
She lands in Nice and opens a beauty salon.
When you married her, she heaved a sigh of relief:
She needed to lie low at that time. How's that?
It's still funny.
Yes, she needed time...
but with Massoulier around, it wasn't easy.
I never speak ill of the dead...
but if it wasn't for Massoulier, all this mess...
Little boys play with toy railroads,
stations, houses, cars, garages.
Later on, they find out they can't all belong to one man.
They learn to share, to go into partnership.
Massoulier had remained a little boy:
He wanted the beauty salon,
the cinema, the cabaret, the brothels, he wanted them all!
Damn it! I remind you that 3 persons were killed after Massoulier.
So there's another little boy in this town who refused to grow up!
I must see Mr. Santelli!
Excuse me for interrupting...
but I've got some information.
Busybody!
Let her talk.
All leads are useful at that point.
A detective agency in Nice was hired
to investigate on Marie-Christine's past.
It was a phone request by an unknown client.
Yes, it's in the file.
Well, I decided to call the Nice agency...
and I learned that the client...
sent them a picture of Marie-Christine
in a typed envelope.
Do you have the envelope?
If I get it, can you identify it?
In 3 days, I can trace any typewriter owner.
Wait...
The detective has just left home.
By now, he should be in the office
searching for the envelope.
As soon as he does, he'll call us here.
I gave him your phone number.
Thank you for your cooperation.
You may go now.
May I read my client's statement?
Certainly.
It's short and sweet:
"I didn't kill Massoulier, nor my wife.
"I didn't kill Louison, or the Eden cashier."
It's not much help.
Santelli speaking.
I don't know. I'm busy.
I'm tied up here
for at least an hour.
It's very simple, honey.
Use the potatoes while they're hot.
You may burn your fingers, but never mind.
I get it, darling.
Then, you pour the white wine
on the potatoes,
but slice them thin. Got it?
Yes, but hurry because the kids have to go to school.
The table's set and we're waiting.
Cut it out...
I need the line
for an important call. Bye, darling.
It was my old lady.
What are you doing?
Your conversation made me hungry.
I'll just hop out for a sandwich.
They can send someone for it.
I prefer to take a walk.
Come with me.
- Don't lose him. - OK.
Is Lablache still on the line?
He's on hold.
It looks as if my lawyer will be needing a good lawyer.
Hold on, Mr. Lablache, Mr. Santelli wants to talk to you.
Lablache? Santelli speaking.
I'm still here.
It's working as planned. He just left. He's about to call you.
Tell me what I should say.
Just keep him talking till he hangs himself.
I'll hang up.
Fine. We'll both hang up!
Come down, Miss-know-it-all!
She did well in the role of my wife.
We had to needle the lawyer.
Did you see him with those cigarettes?
I planned to nail him...
while he was helping me run away.
- He could've killed you. - It's true.
When did you suspect him?
I never trusted him since he handled my divorce.
I had to slap him down.
What for?
To make him remove his hand from my bra.
A groping hand doesn't always mean a killer...
Or else, Jambrau'd be in jail for life.
OK,
but while I was waiting in his office...
I noticed something suspicious.
I leaned against the wall.
It led to Marie-Christine's former beauty salon.
A fantastic gimmick to have a secret affair
in a small town.
I also noticed a card from the Lablache agency
and a picture of Marie-Christine in Clement's arms.
It all added up.
He's just gone into to phone booth!
Lablache speaking.
Last week, I requested a little inquest.
I mailed you a picture in an envelope.
I see. I just got to the office.
I don't know if it's still here.
I'm pretty sure it's been destroyed.
Mr. Lablache, are you a gambler?
When the odds are good.
I'll bet a handsome amount you won't find that envelope.
What do you mean by handsome amount?
15,000 Frs.
But destroying evidence...
Who says it's evidence?
You simply won't find...
an envelope that was discarded
in a wastebasket 3 days ago.
I'm willing to bet 30,000 Frs.
It's my final price.
Forget all I said.
You were putting me on.
The die is cast!
Give the envelope to the cops...
but keep Marie-Christine's picture.
I killed her because she no longer loved me,
Massoulier because she asked me to.
I killed Paula because she guessed the truth
and Louison because he was blackmailing me.
I was about to kill Vercel.
I don't belong to the brotherhood of men.
Everything I've done was for women.
I like to look at them and to touch them.
I enjoy giving them pleasure.
Women are magic, so I became a magician.
In one minute, there'll be another corpse here.
I see them approaching.
Sorry to let you down,
you've just lost 30,000 Frs.
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