Garde à vue (1981) - full transcript

THE GRILLING

I see.

It works when it wants to.

New Year's Eve, 9 p.m.

Hi.

Can I help you?

My car's been stolen.

You're the third.

And certainly not the last.

The others can go hang.

What if I had that attitude?



Mr?

Jabelain.

Jean-Marie Jabelain.

Good evening Sir.

I do apologise.

There was a traffic jam at St-Jean.

Has it cleared yet?

No.

Where's the other one?

He went for a coffee.

I asked him to bring me one...

I'm not sure he heard me.

He's a bit like you, your partner...

....he only hears what he wants to.



That's not true.

My rule is both to listen...

and write down everything.

Hopefully, this case
will soon be cleared up.

What's that?

Did you walk on this table?

No, it's the other one, he -

Incidentally,

your Chief Superintendent...

a handsome fellow, he is.

They say he even wears a wig.

Is that true?

I know I sound bitter when I say

I didn't receive an invitation this year.

Maybe it was lost in the mail...

Are you disappointed?

Yes, such elegant parties.

Kissing under mistletoe,
the best jokes...

Ladies can bring their jewellery,

dance with their lovers,

then introduce them
to their husbands.

Are you married, Detective?

Yes. I was.

Three times.

Apparently I'm boring.

Please take a seat.

It is strange that
we've troubled you...

on New Year's Eve.

We just need to clarify some details,

especially concerning the dog.

Mrs Martinaud isn't expecting you?

No...

My wife's not waiting.

Good Evening Belmont.

Do you want it?

What about Mr Martinaud's coffee?

It's here.

If this is for Mr Martinaud, then fine...

it's better I don't have it.

I'm stressed enough.

Thanks all the same.

We were about to talk about the dog.

Yes. Wait, which dog?

I'm afraid we're going
to do this one to death...

So am I...
although in terms of the dog,

I have to understand your statement.

Let see...

On the evening of
December the third...

You take a walk with
Mr and Mrs Brunet's dog.

Is that true?

Yes it is.

The same routine each night.
I'm fond of dogs.

If you like them, why
don't you have any yourself?

My wife doesn't like them.
She prefers cats.

- You have a cat?
- No, they're too messy.

My wife would like a cat
without the mess.

A cat makes less mess than a dog.

Canaries are the messiest of all.

She didn't want any,
but I stood my ground.

Sometimes, it works...

Yes...

The canary, the neighbor's dog...

What's his name again?

Brunet.

- No, the dog.
- Tango.

Right. Tango. An Irish setter.

Good sense of smell, those dogs...

Aren't they retrievers?

You bet. And very good ones.

Only if they go hunting.

Tango is more of a house dog.

Tango.
You spell it like doing a 'tango'?

Well...

How do you want to spell it?

Like 'paso doble' ?

In all your statements you say...

'When I found the body'.

You never mention the dog.

So what?

The dog should have found the body.

Sorry. My mistake.

And I studied that file all evening!

While in traffic jams...

No, you're right.

Mr Brunet said...

you weren't with Tango that evening.

Usually you are,
but not on that evening.

Not on the third.

Old Brunet is talking nonsense.

He drinks.

All right, but...

Mrs Faure,
the shop owner at number 12...

must be talking nonsense too.

So is Marcel Esperu at number 19...

In the whole neighborhood...

you're the only one talking sense?

Who should I believe?

Them.

You know Sir...

I have nothing against you.

Not the slightest resentment.

I would even say no feelings at all.

It would be too hard
to have an opinion...

of everyone who came through here.

That shows...

a certain kind of dedication.

Mr Martinaud,

Two little girls were raped and killed,

eight days apart.

I want to know who did it.

If it is you or someone else,

I swear I don't care.

Don't say that. It's not true.

- Yes it is.
- Not true!

If an arab or a nigger
rapes little girls...

it's an ordinary story.

But if it's me, Mr Martinaud...

public notary and lawyer,

it's unheard of in a cop's career.

Newspapers, interviews...

TV if all goes well... true?

Confess!

Let's not reverse roles here!

Right, let's say
I am obsessed by ambition.

But Brunet, Mrs Faure and Esperu,

why do they condemn you?

Because I'm rich,

I have a nice house
and a lovely wife.

As it happens,
I don't deserve any of it.

My mind and body
are only average...

Mediocre people
resign themselves...

when exceptional people succeed.

They applaud the gifted,
the champions.

But success for one of them...

it just gets on their nerves.

It strikes them as an injustice.

I'm sure you've received
anonymous letters.

No more than usual.

No... well, not a lot more.

If Frenchmen like
to write to the police,

what can I do?

Yes, I received letters, loads of them.

About tax evasion, real estate fraud,

little things like that.

And two rapes, of course.

And some of those
letters even suggest...

that your wife was the instigator.

And in others, a simple spectator.

But none of the letters
mention your mediocrity.

Eccentricity, yes. But not mediocrity.

Anyhow, two witnesses testified...

you were without
the dog on the third.

- No.
- How's that?

May I?

They don't say there's no dog...

they say they didn't notice it.

It's underlined.

Belmont, come here.

What's all this mess?

He's right.
They don't say the dog wasn't there...

they just say they didn't notice it.

Isn't that the same?

No. Not at all.

They say they didn't notice...

That could mean it was there...

or it wasn't, right?

Sorry, but... does it matter?

If the dog was there,

it should have found the body.

Again, does it really matter?

True, does it matter?

It's not the dog that called us, right?

I didn't help it make the call!

Tell me, Detective...

When I was summoned,

I was told it would be
for a short time only.

I've been here for an hour now!

Nobody cares if I had
something else to do...

but I have.

Well, I did have.

I'm afraid, Sir, that this affair...

will drag on a little longer
than expected.

If you want to call home,
please do so...

Dial 0 for the switchboard.

Let's go, Belmont?

Here, Mercier.

Where do we go from here?
And thanks for the trick:

'Come on Belmont,
that's not what's written'.

You want me to play the fool?

Do you have some change?

Why are you fooling around
with that dog?

It makes no sense.

A rich lawyer that accepts spending...

New Year's Eve with cops...

makes no sense either.
Nothing does.

In your opinion, is he guilty or not?

When I read the file, yes...

but face to face
I'm not so sure. There.

You can come back.

Nobody answered at home.

You can come back.

Twenty two

Twenty two hours

Twenty two hours zero

Twenty two hours zero fif

No thanks I have my own poison.

If you're thirsty,

there's a vending machine
in the corridor.

Ask Detective Belmont for change.

Now about little Genevieve Lebailly,

Did you know her a little...
or very well?

She was eight. I'm fifty.

A man of my age cannot know
an eight year old well.

According to the neighbours,

she was a very cheerful girl.

Very spontaneous, right?

Yes, cheerful.

Not in the least suspicious.

Who would have followed anyone.

Yes, anyone...

preferably a noted lawyer.

No, I'm not saying that.

Exactly, you're not saying it.

So, what do I type?

'Not in the least suspicious'.

No, type everything.
Questions and answers!

Your questions are so vile...

that you're ashamed of them.

From now on,

I insist that everything
is written down!

Maybe you'll change your tone!

All right...

Age. Occupation. Marital status!

Shit!

Name and occupation, Martinaud!

- He asked me twenty times!
- Now I'm asking you!

You wanted everything noted,
so here we go.

- Your name is Martinaud?
- Yes.

- Jerome!?
Yes, Jerome Charles Emile.

- Notary, 43 De Lattre, Le Bourg, Manche.
- Yes.

- Are you married?
- Yes.

- No children?
- None.

Why? Too messy?

Because my wife can't have children.

She can't, or doesn't want to?

If she can't...

You could adopt.

You already walk
someone else's dog.

You're so graceful.

And that, for fuck sake...

Is that graceful?

When police arrived,
they found her like that...

lying face down.

Face down, yet you recognised her!

Yes, her tracksuit and her hair...

I don't remember.

Typical cop question!

As if you couldn't recognise...

- someone you saw 100 times!
- Of course.

Because of the tracksuit,
I knew it was Wednesday

She went to the stadium
every Wednesday.

Wait...

Wednesday, the 3rd...
old Brunet is right...

he couldn't notice the dog...

it was already outside,
playing in the field.

Yes...

I called it.

And it followed?

Of course!

Very clever.

Oh yes, very smart.

Tell me, Martinaud.

Seriously...

do you know why you are here?

Of course...

You are here under suspicion.

First a witness, now you're a suspect.

One thing leads to another...

There was at some point...

a sort of shift, you see?

I'm sure this hasn't
escaped your attention.

Not really.
But why the shift? That escapes me.

Two little girls were killed,

Two children.

The first on November 25th
at Saint-Clement beach.

The second on December 3
on Jobourg public parkland.

That's near your place.

It happens that,
unfortunately for you,

on the day of the first murder
you were in the vicinity,

and on the evening
of the second you are...

centre stage:
the first to find the body.

And the first to call police.

Frankly Sir, those walls
would not be sufficient...

to carve out the names
of the murderers...

who supposedly 'discovered'
their victim's bodies.

Which makes perfect sense since...

they are the first to know.

Your idea of civic duty
is very personal.

I can't remember
the person who said -

You don't remember a lot!

'Safety ends once you...'

'enter a police station'.

Even dialling your
phone number inspires fear.

If you don't mind,

let's temporarily
put aside the phone call...

Why?

The operator identified my voice.

Correct.

At last, evidence that's in my favour...

and you ignore it.

Just for now, the Detective decided.

Thanks Belmont.

Very well.

And now?

What shall we talk about?
Dogs? Birds?

The first murder, if you please.

Saint Clement, the dunes.

It's wasn't that long ago... 6 weeks.

The morning of November the 25th...

A Tuesday...

South side beach.

We find a child's body,

Pauline Valera, 8 years old.

Raped, murdered...
strangled to death.

It must have happened
in the bunker.

She ran, and the killer
caught her at the beach.

The same day,

we find your car
illegally parked at the harbour.

Less than a kilometre
from the dunes.

It must have been there all night...

A policemen noted the time
between 7 and 7.20 a.m.

The policemen's watches
differed by a few minutes.

You don't disagree at this point?

I'm saying nothing.

We found the girl's body
half an hour later.

The watches decided to agree now.

I don't know what's keeping me...

from smashing this
typewriter in his face.

Regulations Belmont...

simply regulations.

Honestly Sir, if it was not
for those damn rules...

You questioned me
about that 100 times...

and I answered 100 times.

Since we're not in Scotland Yard,

please allow me
to explain to you gentlemen,

that you're beginning
to give me the shits!

This diversion is not
really important for the record.

Maybe not.

It's up to you.

Your car was at the harbour. Right?

But where were you,

during that time?

At the pub, or my sister's place.
I don't remember.

Ah yes, I forgot the pub.

Your sister... The pub...

Unfortunately the pub's owner...

didn't remember seeing you...

at all.

And as for visiting your sick sister...

Gallbladder sickness.

You know how these alibis work:

'You have no relationship
with the defendant' etc.

Even without the word 'defendant',

there's the family connection...

If Jeanine cannot testify,
why did he question her?

Because I'm a cop.

Why did he harass her
just before her operation?

Which, between you and me...

was very thoughtful indeed.

The doctor allowed me 5 minutes.

Is there trouble between you two?

It's been a while since your last visit.

We see each other less
since her wedding.

What does the wedding
have to do with anything?

Detective Belmont
certainly has his suspicions.

Your sister married a painter?

- A painter, yes.
- Mr Van...

Van Kempen. Jos Van Kempen.

Not bad paintings too.

You've seen his work?

Just a few paintings...

Yes it's because of him
that you can't see your sister.

Until this visit at Saint-Clement.

I see her secretly.

Away from her husband?

No.

That's right,
your wife didn't go with you.

She must have had
other things on that day.

My sister and her
don't get on very well.

You mean... at all?

It's complicated.

Very complicated.

It was fine at first.

They would go to
the movies, exhibitions...

They got on quite well.

Then Jos...

started to sell lots of paintings...

and from there...

how can I put it...

Your wife was jealous of your sister.

She had an affair with the painter.

She thought he was the kind of man...

she should have had married.

An artist rather than a businessman.

Exactly.

Someone who's talked about.

You may soon be
talked about, Mr Martinaud.

Tell me,

was it before or
after your sister's visit...

that you went to this pub?

After.

I was upset to find
Jeanine gaunt and tired.

I went for a drink
and didn't pay attention...

I parked in the wrong place.

And the wrong time.

How much time
did you stay in this pub?

I didn't pay attention.

Less than 1 hour.

And then?

Then I returned to my sister.

Right away?

Almost...

But not quite, Martinaud.

First you went to the lighthouse.

Isn't Saint-Clement
lighthouse splendid?

Yes, that's true...

I went to the lighthouse.

To get some fresh air?

As you say the
lighthouse is splendid...

so I went to see it.

There's people from Paris that -

Okay! You saw the lighthouse.
Then what?

Then?

Then? I already told you what I did!

I left my car at the harbour,

I went back to my sister's place.

- 12, Lorientais Street.
- By the beach?

The beach?

You get to Lorientais Street
from the lighthouse...

via the beach.

Yes...

that's obvious.

What's less obvious
is Pauline Valera's body.

The person who did that
had to go along the beach...

He had to pass along the
beach just like the person...

who raped Genevieve Lebailly did...

You disgust me!

Why 'The person who did that'...

'The Culprit', 'The Murderer' ?

Give this ghost a name.

Say 'Mr Martinaud, The Lawyer'...

since you're so sure of it.

Not quite Martinaud, not quite...

And incidentally,
that's why you're still here.

I'm here because I want to be.

Because the other one
asked me to.

Now, I'm leaving!

Sit down, Sir.

You're not leaving now.

What do you mean I'm not leaving.

Take care gentlemen...

you don't have many options left.

Either you release me,

hold me in custody,

or take me before a Judge.

I don't know about you,

but I'm inclined to choose custody.

You can make a phone call.

- To whom?
- Anyone.

Your lawyer, for instance.

You can call him,
but he can't come here.

That's how it is.

I don't have a lawyer.

At least, not any more.

A 3 spades story...

double and down.

Tomorrow if you see the Judge...

you'll need a lawyer.

Mr Kellman who pleaded
my last divorce is brilliant.

I lost...but he was brilliant.

If you want a life sentence,
I have his number.

Or, Detective Belmont
will give you a list.

Surely you know some of them.

There's a Chinese one
this year if you're interested.

I already have one.

My acupuncturist.

I want to see you go free, Martinaud.

I don't know why.

I know. I make you laugh.

No. You can irritate me...

surprise me...

even persuade me...

But while I still think
you killed 2 children,

You have no chance
to make me laugh Martinaud.

A red dot means 'available at night'.

Close your eyes and
pick one at random.

Perhaps not in your best interest.

You should try to call home.

Maybe someone will answer.

No.

Do you think it's normal?

And you, are you normal?

Spending New Year's Eve
talking about rape, murder...

mind your own business!

I'll call if I feel like it.

Henri?

Thanks, you too pal.
Happy New Year.

Tell me...

Did someone call Jobourg
from Room 24 a moment ago?

Yes, wait...

22-71-10.

Thanks, Henri.

Please empty your pockets.

Eh... what... are you mad?

Everything... on the table.

You can sit down Sir.

You too Belmont.

Your wife?

I didn't imagine her like that.

Nor me.

Too bad you didn't come
to Blvd. De Lattre.

You could have understood.

I was there!

But you...

you understood nothing.

Try to remember...

The place's topography,
as you would say.

Downstairs there's...

No, upstairs.
It's more informative upstairs.

I didn't see anything exciting!

Mr Martinaud didn't say exciting,
but informative.

Thanks.

Upstairs...

- there's a corridor.
- Yes.

- A long corridor.
- Fifteen metres!

- Possibly...
- Definitely!

Three bedrooms...

If I remember two large, one small.

A child's room,
a guest room and ours.

The child's room remained empty.

The guestroom is now my wife's.

Ours became my room.

Between these two rooms
is a fifteen metre corridor.

Many things can keep
a couple apart:

Adultery, sickness, death...

I am separated from
my wife by a corridor.

A fifteen metre corridor.

Just that...

Well, just...
a fifteen metre wasteland!

And at the end of that wasteland...

A locked door.

Surely you don't know what it's like...

to knock on a door that will not open.

Another coffee?

Yes.

This time can I have one?

Can I get up too?

Impressive!

Really, very funny.

'Another coffee'?

You're not going to
trick me into a friendly chat!

You really think I'm a fool!

On the contrary...

I think you're very smart Martinaud.

A first-class con-man...

I question you about the
rape and murder of two girls...

and the conversation
moves to your wife,

a corridor, a door...

Alright, why not.

Now that you've led me to this door...

you must open it.

I want to know what's behind it.

You know that very well.

Don't you prefer to tell it
in your own words?

So many nights I thought
about those words.

Be my guest.

All right.

I'll tell you what's behind this door.

It's Mrs Martinaud.
Chantal Martinaud...

she that refuses you her bed.

And since when?

Months? Years?

Maybe since the beginning?

Don't push it!

So, when?

Right in the middle
of our honeymoon.

And what about that, my dear friend?

The novelty that was our sex life

broke down almost immediately.

5 or 6 weeks of mad ecstasy...

hiding in hotels, it was fun.

And such a novelty for me.

I felt I was living on the edge...

Depraved acts...

that would occupy my mind...

when I was back in my office

seeing clients.

Until the day that Chantal...

asked for my hand in marriage.

Well... me...

I'd never have dreamed...

So it was her.

She proposed?

You don't know her.

It's never that simple.

She tends to constantly meander.

- And so?
- So !?

Marriage...

Venice...

Hotel Danieli... yes...

That's where all broke down.

The young bride
started to have migraines...

and thought I had
obsessive thoughts.

My so-called perversity
astonished her...

But...

her amazement was shortlived.

There was disgust...

repugnance...

it became...

slowly gangrenous.

Anyway, back to Blvd De Lattre...

I was at the end of the corridor...

with my toothbrush.

Do you see the picture?

I see, yes.

What do you see?

What Mr Gallien?
Absolutely nothing!

You know why?

You have determined your
own version of the story...

while I explain another!

But you are not here
for the other one.

I don't give a damn about
Mrs Martinaud's migraines,

your toothbrush,

or Mr Martinaud
naked in the corridor!

What I see is a longer corridor...

darker...

with Pauline Valera and
Genevieve Lebailly at the end!

I want this corridor
to take me to that beach...

to the field at Jobourg...

and to the murderer!

Detective,
let me tell you something...

If I had the guts to kill...

I would not choose little girls.

Oh no!

Did you ever want to kill?

Detective Belmont, sometimes...

Never one of your three wives?

The first one, maybe...

Not really...

She made superb flower bouquets.

You don't kill a woman
who loves flowers.

I don't see why not...

- Here's Tintin!
- How's it going?

We're making progress.

Listen Martinaud, everybody's tired...

so let's not waste time.

Let's go.

Right!

So...

Little Valera's body
was found at 8 a.m.

According to the pathologist...

she'd been dead for 5 hours.

That works out about 3 a.m.

But...

you were still
admiring the lighthouse.

Seriously!

Do you see me
at a lighthouse at 3 a.m.?

Not me...

but I would be happier
if someone saw you.

Your sister doesn't remember
when you were back.

Nor can I!

You don't notice that.

Not all the time.

Tell me...

during your stroll...

Was the lighthouse lit up?

Of course!
Else I wouldn't have seen it.

Such a horrible fog...

Not even fit for a dog.

Yet suitable enough for a lawyer...

and of course you met no-one.

No.

And you heard nothing?

Yes...

only crashing waves.

Ah, waves yes...

Nothing else?

No.

No voices? Nobody?

I don't remember.

And you expect me to believe you?

I don't give a fuck!

Hey! I'm not a printing press.

To summarize,
you didn't hear or see anything.

I did!

An extraordinary racket!

A drunkard, somewhere
wanting to reconquer Algeria.

Waves, the sea...

and seagulls...

No!

Why not seagulls?

Because at that hour, seagulls...

are sleeping!

From the moment
nobody saw you enter...

and nobody saw you leave,
how long was it?

1 hour? Half an hour?

About that.

Enough time to rape
and strangle Pauline Valera.

A hard-on in that cold weather,
that's amazing!

His comment makes sense.

A point for the defense.

Very very funny!

I promise that on the day
they recontruct the crime

everything will be exposed!

Funny! Really!!

Isn't that enough?

What?

I asked whether you
were done, you idiot!

All right...

Actually, I'm glad
you mentioned the weather...

Thanks Belmont.

Ignoring Detective
Belmont's remark...

Very funny, really...

Excellent! Really.

Isn't it strange to be about...

in the middle of the night
in such weather?

Even stranger for an 8 year-old.

The Valera girl had to be there...

so I could kill her... right?

Can you spare a cigarette...

Please, Detective?

No!

You're not a very good sport.

But I don't play, Martinaud.

My questions are not for you...

to win a packet of soap powder...

or a plane ticket...

but to put you away for life.

In jail, or an asylum with other nuts.

I'll ask you for the third time:

Did you hear anything
while at the lighthouse?

Yes?

Come in, damn it!

Sorry... can you come at once?

Can you excuse me for a moment?

Be my guest...

bad timing.

Take your coat, it's the boss.

Tell me, Detective...

What was I supposed to hear...

at this damn lighthouse?

The fog horn Mr Martinaud.

The fog horn.

Your boss is thrilled. For once!

He didn't get far with the little dog.

And for Miss Valera
being outside at 3 a.m...

that was no success either!

But...

the fog horn...

really...

My hat goes off to you, Detective!

Well...

For now!

How do you explain that?

The appearance and color of caviar...

so why isn't it caviar?

Please.

Please excuse me.

- Good evening Gallien.
- Good evening Sir.

Do you want a drink? Some food?

I guess I'm not here for that.

Of course not.

You've held him for 3 hours...

'Held him' is a laugh...

He's as slippery as a eel.

I've noticed that perverts...

have a remarkable intellect...

How else would they dream it up?

Those are police symbols...

Border patrol...

You have the badge for this one?

'The Valera girl had to be there'...

'so I could kill her'.

When did I stop typing?

When he called you an idiot.

I admire you Martinaud.

We discuss children
being raped and strangled,

and you make jokes.

'Strangled and raped'.

I just said that.

You said 'raped and strangled'.

I disagree with 'raped and strangled',

But I agree with 'strangled and raped'.

I agree... maybe.

You should be careful.

In my case, it's not important...

but you have to ask questions
in the correct order.

Mr Belmont.

Otherwise...

What?

Closing up?

Perhaps the girl
led you to the dunes...

True...

The young sluts of today...

grow to become big sluts...

and later, old sluts!

You're obsessed with sluts!

They don't interest me.
It's how you achieved it.

Old ones, no problem...

but youngsters...they run fast!

Tell me...

Come on...

How did you do it?

Touch them, like that?

No?

Not like that?

You tell them
'what's your name kitty'?

'Pauline'...

'So sweet, so cute!'.

You hurt me!

You hurt them too.

You're crazy!

Who's the crazy one!

Don't be too rough...

Only detain him as a last resort.

Tell me...

the squeaking...

is worse than last year.

Don't tell me he's already in custody?

He is.

For an hour and a half already.

Oh dear...

I know, but he was
ready to bugger off!

You killed them both, bastard!

Wait for the other one...

You did this to them...

or this?

Where are you going?

Little girls... You bastard...

Small butts... You scum!

I'm going to really mess you up!

Mr Gallien... is not back yet?

What do you want!

Fuck you!

Fuck them alright!

That's enough, I'm out of here.

- No!
- I want out, damn it!

Martinaud!

Where's he going?

Come on...

Shit! Let me go!

Martinaud don't be a fool!

Come on, damn it!

Don't move!

No need to panic like that.

What happened?

Calm down.

I didn't hurt you, right?

Move! There's nothing to see.

Shit! Let me go!

I'm a minor, and I'll fuck you up!

Charming. Who's that?

Berthier's son.

Berthier?!

He nicked that car,
the Japanese one.

He wrecked it on
Edgar Quinet Blvd.

You father will be pleased.

Except for bikes, Japanese is crap.

This bomb was useless.

You should have stolen a bike.

And how did you wreck it?

Ramming a streetlight.

I would have prefered
a cop, a family man...

A fatty like you.

Look, I'm not fat,
I'm just well covered

Antoine!

What?

What's up with you?

It's the 'Night of the Long Stress'.

Why do you say that?

Because Belmont
plastered Martinaud!

Here.

Looks bad..

A fine mess...

He made a fine mess...

Not to mention the kicks.

I can't breathe.

Do we call a doctor?

He can ask for the doctor.

Better call a radiologist...

I'm sure my nose is broken.

Give me that, I'll manage.

Can't you just leave me in peace?

You're crowding...
I just told you I can't breathe!

Fuck off!

He's right. Move away!

You too Belmont.

What, me too?

Haven't you done enough, already?

What is it?

Have I got small pox or something?

Look at those two-faced bastards!

Aren't they nice?

Not as nice as you!

Because if he had cracked...

you would have
a signed confession now.

Great for everyone!

Yeah, but he didn't crack.

Bad luck.

Your only hope now is that I'm guilty.

Because if I was the murder,

then you just roughed up a sadist,

and that's OK.

But if I'm innocent...

then you are the sadists.

Fine!

Trouble brewing, gentlemen?

Listen Martinaud...

What do you want, an apology?

OK then. I officially disapprove...

of Mr Belmont's methods. Happy?

No way!

Where's the damn list of lawyers!

You intend to file a complaint?

You bet. Assault before witnesses.

What witnesses?
For a little scratch?

I think I prefer Belmont.

What?

I prefer Belmont!

There's two kinds of cops:

Straight and twisted.

And you're twisted!

I'll tell you why...

Your fog horn trick...

that was really twisted!

If I didn't hear it,
it means I was elsewhere?

True! I was elsewhere!

But not where you think I was!

I was not on Saint Clement dunes!

I was... with a whore! There!

Right! A whore!

I have life outside corridors...
I go visit whores.

They're Chantal's opposite.

Whores give out plenty...

for relatively little money.

Precisely!

Midnight.

Happy New Year, Antoine.

Happy New Year, buddy.

I guess we don't kiss...

I'll tell him...

You forget something?

Mrs Martinaud just arrived.

Asking for her husband.
What do we say?

What do we say Martinaud?

It's OK...

I'll see what I can do.

They left you in the dark, Madam?

There.

Is that better?

My husband's been here
hours, Detective.

I know Madam...

I'm afraid we're not done yet...

Did you arrest him?

No, we just took him into custody.

Can I ask why?

I'm not sure I have to answer that...

but you must know already.

Usually I enjoy humour,

but I find yours contemptible.

I've come to see
my husband and I demand...

You're in no position
to insist Madam.

Please excuse me...

I don't normally talk this way.

What's to stop me
seeing my husband?

Nothing Madam,

except for one small detail.

He doesn't want to see you.

Won't you take off your coat?

Yes.

Please.

A warm drink? Coffee? Tea?

I'd like some tea, thanks.

Henri?

Can you send a tea to Room 60?

What? Yes tea!

Tea! You know what it is, right?

Alright. Thanks.

Are you sure you won't sit down?

You know...

it was I who switched off the light.

Thank you.

Sorry.

You wanted to talk
to me Mrs Martinaud.

So let's talk...

About what?

Me, for instance.

You mean your marriage?

That's not a word
that comes to mind.

Because of the two rooms?

Ah... he told you about that.

And what else?

Venice...

De Lattre Blvd...

the corridor...

I see.

For you perhaps...

for me, it's still unclear.

From what I understand...

based on your husband's account,

wouldn't it be simpler...

just to separate?

Or divorce?

How long have you
been here Mr Gallien?

6 years.

So you know the city well enough...

You'll understand if I tell you
that before my marriage,

I was living in St Louis district.

That's nice.

The odd-numbered side,
you appreciate.

Surely even better.

Don't be fooled.

It's not a sign of wealth,
but one of status.

You'll find the money
on De Lattre Boulevard.

Our dinner was often
just a slice of ham,

but my parents would
never have moved.

But all that is foreign
to you, of course?

For 35 years, my parents lived...

in the same two-room flat...

in the 20th District of Paris.

They could never move either. So...

Not to be rude...

but your wedding,

we can hardly call it
an error of youth.

Youth? No.

When I left school I had choices...

Work... What sort?

Marriage... To whom?

To sleep around.

In our families,

there's always a friend of father...

to take you skiing at Ibiza.

You were old enough.

Oh, more than enough.

I had my mother's gift of piano...

and naive ideas about love...

And along came
Prince Charming, right?

All I did was fullfil the dream...

of well educated bitches.

To marry Jerome Martinaud.

PHD in public law,

heir of Martinaud study.

Sole heir?

And his sister?
He has a sister, right?

Poor thing...

He left her some
royalties and a shack.

In Saint Clement?

He told you much...

Not everything.

I'm afraid the most interesting part...

still lies in shadows...

Martinaud is vile...

when he ceases to be a lawyer...

vile...

Is poor Martinaud such
a problem in his corridor?

Because Madam,
despite your efforts...

to have him beheaded,
your husband...

in the eyes of the law,
is still innocent.

Please let's not play with words...

Too bad, it can be amusing.

Like 'conjugal duties'.

Martinaud uses it often.

He says you've never
done your duty...

as willingly as before
you were married. True?

True.

Maybe because it was
not a duty yet.

An investment?

Why are you becoming vulgar?

Please excuse me.

Do you mind?

Yes, if I'm not smoking.

Sorry.

Thanks.

Your husband claims...

that it was during your honeymoon...

that the marriage
became gangrenous.

He used this word: 'gangrenous'.

And on his return from Venice,

his things were at
the end of the corridor.

True?

False!

Since when did you
sleep in separate rooms?

Christmas Eve, 10 years ago.

You see, almost an anniversary.

Today, he is afraid.

He's one of those men who hope...

things will improve,

as long as you
don't talk about them.

He's right.

To hope?

To be afraid.

A mandarin?

No thanks.

We used to spend all Christmas...

with my brother and
his wife at Louvier.

It was because
of their child, Camille.

We have no children, and...

at that time she was...

how should I say...

a charming little girl.

There's children like that...

who have something magical...

a distinctive grace...

It was a pleasant evening,

we were all perfectly happy...

as a family should be
during Christmas.

Camille was opening her presents...

Father Christmas spoiled her.

She was delighted,

a bit too exited maybe.

Jerome was spending time with her.

He only had eyes for her.

My sister-in-law had done
a wonderful job...

organising everything.

Her taste is a bit provincial...

but it seems they are happy like that.

Jerome was still
chatting with the child...

nobody paid attention.

Nobody was looking after them.

All in all, a simple family reunion.

A quiet party.

I sorted out gifts
with my sister-in-law.

Books she'll never read,

Jewellery I'll never wear.

Everyone had left the dining room,

except for Jerome and Camille.

I'd left a present behind...

and went to get it
for no real reason...

unless you call it intuition.

There they were.

He was talking, she was listening.

I couldn't hear the words but it was...

how can I say...

He was talking to her as to a woman.

She seemed to understand.

Then he must have felt my presence.

I remember Camille.

Her smile.

He had no right to
make her smile like that.

In short you continued
to live together...

at opposite ends of the corridor.

Such things were
never a problem for me.

The physical aspect of marriage.

If a woman decides
it doesn't matter...

And even if I had chosen...

to normalise relations...

there are images you never forget.

Mrs Martinaud,

Everything you just said...

could explain a certain behaviour.

But Madam, I am a detective.

And to charge
Jerome Martinaud with two murders,

I need proof.

I have it.

And he listens to her!

She is talking nonsense...

and he's listening!

Can I please go
to the toilet and cut my wrists?

You laugh about it, but it happens.

At such an hour,

a man doesn't know
if he's joking or dreaming,

or what he's doing.

Detective?

Could I ask you
for your opinion now?

My opinion Madam doesn't matter...

because it will never
change yours, will it?

Mr Martinaud says
he'll cut his wrists.

Now what!

What did Chantal Martinaud tell you?

Do you like mudbaths, Sir?

Mudbaths...

What rubbish has she
been telling you?

Why didn't you come in!

You could have heard
everything but you refused.

Make up your mind!

Do you know what you want?

Yes.

I know what I want to know,

and what you don't want me to know.

Fine! To clear our minds,

Let's go back to
that evening, on the 3rd.

The Valera evening?

No, the Lebailly evening.

Not my favorite.

Isn't it over already?

Not really.

That's why I asked
if you like mudbaths.

You found little Genevieve
in a ditch, right?

How was the weather, that evening?

A weather report, now.

Do you remember this
big storm during the day?

This ditch must have
been filthy... was it?

I'm not sure...

You have so much
space for your walk...

and you end up there.

Of course!

I saw the body.

Really?

But...

how could you see it Martinaud?

Did you have stilts?

No, not that day.

Nothing is visible from
the parklands. Not a thing!

There's bushes and nettles that high!

I'm sorry but I don't follow.

How's that?

I don't follow
your reasoning, that's all.

Of course you can...

Your following
my reasoning very closely!

The parklands, nettles,
the ditch, the body...

and the wood.

Why is it that you never
talked about the wood?

And you, why can't you
tell me what my wife said?

There was dead leaves
under the girl's shoes.

dead leaves fall from trees.

There's only one tree
in the parklands...

and it is dead.

So the child came from the wood.

- And you?
-Me?

You came from
Jobourg or the wood?

I don't know!

Make up your mind Martinaud!

Dead leaves, the wood, Jobourg...

it's becoming surreal!

Even more surreal than that...

is Mr Martinaud going
back home in a hurry!

Sorry?

Why did you run back home?

I found the body!

Why home?

To make a phone call!

There's two phone booths
on that land.

So why run back home?

I don't know...

I was in shock! There!

Your wife...
did she hear you coming in?

I don't know if she heard me or not...

She doesn't care.

She's not interested.

Ok.

You're back home
the phone is there...

and you go upstairs. Why?

To go to the bathroom.

To phone?

I wanted to puke!
I had the shits!

Happy now?

Because of the shock?

Yes, that's why.

Probably because of that.

Tell me Martinaud...

How many raincoats do you have?

Like this one. How many?

Two.

Two!

Exactly the same?

Of course!

There are two kinds of raincoats:

With or without a belt,
I prefer them with.

They suit me better.

Not feeling well?

I'm fine, my friend. Really I am.

Carry on.

You're very pale.

I'm fine Gallien, really.

Speak for yourself.
You're not that sparkling either.

Stop beating around the bush!

On the evening of the third...

What do you want to know?

Be precise!

What were you doing in the wood?

In the wood,
and also at Saint-Clement.

I've already had
the pleasure of telling you,

that I was with at whore.

OK Martinaud,
what's the girl's name...

and the name and
address of the hotel...

There was no hotel...

The whore was 'car cruising'.

'An amazon', as they say.

- Pathetic.
- What?

Your argument. It's pathetic.

It's not an argument, it's an alibi!

Your alibi is pathetic!

You wait until 2 a.m.

to confess you went whoring?

You haven't stopped lying
since you got here!

A sick sister that you hardly see.

An hour in a pub where
nobody recognised you.

A trip to the lighthouse and then,

no trip to the lighthouse.

And now an anonymous whore!

Tell me Martinaud,

When will you tell me
something I can believe?

She told you about Camille...

Admit it.

Admit that she came
to tell you about that night.

A motive to rape children.

She came to speak about Camille...

and everything is clear to you now.

You're so lucky.

I am the...

the ugly duckling.

The Black Sheep.

Of course it's so much easier
to accept that version,

than to believe a love story.

What's happening Martinaud?

What's with you?

Where are you going with...

your duck, your sheep...

I was only asking
about your raincoat.

You're right.

Let's talk about raincoats...

they're more important.

They are!

Fortunately, you have two raincoats.

What did you do with the other one?

The other one?

Yes, from the parklands.

I gave it to the police.

No you didn't.

No Martinaud,
the one given to the police...

was perfectly clean.
No traces of mud or branches.

So what?

You are still lying Martinaud.

You didn't go home to throw up.

You changed your clothes.

Really? Why?

Because there was
blood on your raincoat.

Of course. I touched her
so that I could identify her.

However,
you provided to the police...

a perfectly clean raincoat.

And why?

Because the one
you wore that night is here!

You have no proof of that.

Yes I have.

The dry cleaner's ticket...

that your wife fetched herself.

Murder on Thursday...

dry cleaners the next day.

A spotless murderer
with impeccable clothing.

No, that's not it. It's just...

What Martinaud?

I didn't think...

she was capable of that.

Your wife doesn't
like you very much, pal.

No. She doesn't.

Not much.

It gets to the point where...

it's almost a joke.

Did you kill Valera?

Yes.

And Lebailly?

Yes.

Both of them?

Yes, both.

Both.

Yes.

Killed and raped. It's me.

Are you ready to testify?

That's what I'm doing, right?

Antoine!

Congratulations pal!

You were right to be persistent.

- Tell me?
- Yes.

What happened to Belmont?

Nothing at all.

I guessed as much.

And Martinaud?

Adami's taking a statement.

And then...

Madam...?

Yes.

Is she taking it very hard?

No, she's keeping brave.

Come on.

Come!

Sorry Madam,
you'll have to wait 5 minutes,

we must unload the car.

I'm in no hurry.

Thank you Madam.

Come on, a bit more...

Come back... stop!

Wait a moment...

Hey!

Take a look.

What's that?

It's blood.

Hey Antoine!

Can you come over here?

Please come here...

Whose car is that?

A man named Jabelin.

He hassled us all night
about his stolen car.

And where is he?

Did you let him go?

No, we brought him in...

and he's cooling off in the station.

What about Martinaud?

'The Notable Mr Martinaud'!

Mr Gallien is looking after that.

After I carried the body...

No, correction...
I dragged the body...

Detective Gallien prefers
'to drag out'...

I dragged the body from
the small woods to the ditch.

What you call 'small woods'
is Jobourg's wood?

I need precise naming.

That's fine.

Write 'small woods'...

The small woods in Jobourg.

So he is the real one.

Are you sure?

It's boiling, up there...

I understand...

To confess to two crimes...

...just to get away from...

...all this mess.

Without him,
I was the perfect suspect.

All right, that's enough Martinaud.

Do the right thing and get out now.

Take your...

Take your raincoat and
get back to your corridor.

That's what you wanted to say.

Clear off Martinaud!

There's...

There's something
I would like to ask.

Just one thing.

If it had been essential... vital...

...would you have called
Camille to the witness box?

Who is Camille?

Gallien!

January the 1st, 7 a.m.