Maigret (1991–2005): Season 4, Episode 4 - Maigret Goes Home - full transcript

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May I ask you something?

Just try.

Why do we have to in November
suddenly into the jungle?

That 'jungle' is the village of my youth.

Where you never wanted to take me.

Why now?
Is there something to celebrate?

A crime will occur
in the church of Saint-Fiacre ...

during early mass on All Souls' Day.

Anonymous letters
do you throw away?

It was in our letterbox yesterday.
I almost tore it up.

I've been a choirboy for ten years
been in that church.

Suddenly everything came up again.

And then I put the letter in my pocket.

Was something really going to happen?

What do you think?

I just heard the prodigal son
is back. I could hardly believe it.

Mrs. Maigret, I assume?
Countess de Saint-Fiacre.

It pleases my wife
of our big man.

He really belonged to the family.

It's a long time ago. But I see him
still for me as it is today.

I liked it even then.
But that will not surprise you.

Are you going to your parents' grave?

My husband admired your father.
They often walked together in the park.

He thought you would succeed your father.
That was as clear to him as a lump.

That was his favorite phrase.

That's why he was so furious
when you left us.

He was very unreasonable at the time. Unfortunately.

No, I was unreasonable.
That's why I never dared to come back.

Too bad, you were still a child.

My husband would love to have you again
want to see.

He told around
that he had sent you away ...

because as a steward you are smarter
would be than he.

I can see it.

- I liked him.
- He you too.

You were right to leave.

To those few poachers here
had you wasted your talent.

I leave you.

We have a lot to catch up.
Are you coming for dinner tomorrow?

- Seven-thirty, just like before.
Thank you, Madam Countess.

Countess? You come back to the castle
to work?

See you tomorrow, ma'am.

Seven o'clock.

- Are you taking communion?
- Not before breakfast.

- Coffee?
- Gladly.

- Two coffees.
- Wouldn't you rather lie down?

What if something really happens?
I don't want to miss that.

- Get a doctor.
- Quick, Emile.

She has to go to the castle.

There is my son with the doctor.

Her son must be warned.

Is it serious?

She is dead.

I don't know what you think about it
but I need coffee.

What is it?

Dear Alice, is there any coffee left?

I had put for madam.

We will think about her.
Although coffee wasn't good for her.

Not even Alice's coffee,
which frankly is not drinkable.


But she didn't listen.

I often came here.
Just like the pastor.

But she followed neither mine,
nor its prescriptions.

- You mean?
- How long haven't you been here?

- Mr. Jean wants breakfast.
- In the dining room?

In his bedroom.

- Who is Mr. Jean?
- That guy in a robe from just now.

That skinny musician whose talents
the countess was very fond.

- You mean the countess ...
- The heart goes its own way.

Other organs too, as you probably know.

Our friend loved the youth.

Where are you taking revenge on, Doctor?

So much bitterness about a dead person
who was your patient and your girlfriend.

I appreciate your freshness of mind.

That's great after 30 years of service.
But you are mistaken:

I loved the Countess.

You're good at covering up.

You saw that correctly, yes.

I act cynical
but that is not to cry.

Look at my hands.

Since that her dead heart
felt, they vibrate.

No Commissioner,
I am not drinking.

- Who signs the death certificate?
- Of course I do. Who else?

Then I want you to wait a little longer.

- Upon which?
Until the cause of death is known.

I know that one. She has had heart
complaints. That killed her.

Nobody has a hand there

With poison?

You are obsessed.
Pure professional deformation.

A crime will take place ...


Do say so.

Yet it happened.


I called Mr. Count in Paris.
He'll be here in two hours.

Two o'clock? I have three hours
done over.

Mr. Count is quite reckless.

- Is the countess really dead?
- Yes.

- A massive heart attack.
- It can't be a coincidence.

Why coincidence?
Can I have a glass of white wine?

A tall glass. For the shock.

He's pretty strong.
That takes some getting used to.

- He has no problem with it.
- Thank you ma'am.

Don't you want to know me anymore
now that you are a commissioner?

The shed, the frog pool ...

- Marie?
- Yes, Marie Tatin.

I have not forgotten you.

Come here.

I like that. Marietje ...

I don't remember what we all then
have been doing.

I do.

Too bad, the count is just leaving.
If I knew you were here ...

- Does not matter.
- Do you know him?

The last time I saw it
he was five.

I've tried
to find words of comfort.

But I am never on good terms
hit with him.

He is a strange man.
He leads a life in Paris that ...

I heard that.

- Where are the countess's things?
- Everything is on the table here.

Too bad you just got this drama
must experience.

It must be nice to come again
to be around your childhood.

- Yes.
- I'm from Paris myself.

But life there has gotten so hard.
Don't you agree?

Morals, decency, spirituality,
people don't care about it.

Little people don't ask questions.
Their faith can move mountains.

They will soon be on God's side.

I feel at home in Saint-Fiacre.

Here one does not get carried away
through dangerous passions.

Here I have my faith in people
found again. That was hard to find.

- Yes Yes.
- During the war I was a chaplain.

The army still has discipline.
Get over that nowadays.

- Where's her missal?
- On the table.

- I put it there myself.
- It's gone.

I'm counting on you to find it
mr pastor.


I know where the missal is.

- Tell me.
- Are you a cop?

You wouldn't say that.

Where is that missal?

- What's your name?
- Ernest.

- Nobody can hear us, Ernest.
- Won't you tell anyone?

- Not even in the confessional.
- Promise?

Not now. That will come later.

With all the fuss I have you this morning
no hand shook.

- I almost had your job once.
- Yes, that is often recalled.

Especially because of my son.
He wants to follow an example for you.

He wants to get out of the castle
to accomplish.

He doesn't have to leave the castle for that.
Take my father.

- And you yourself, Gauthier.
- Thank you sir.

- You're not saying sir to me, are you?
- What then?

Maigret or something?

Maybe I would be Mr. Count
can speak for a moment?

Right now? I just ask.

- I am changing. What is it?
- Chief Maigret is here.

- He wants to talk to you.
- Let him wait in the drawing room.

No, just ask if he comes here.


Someone who ever wiped my bottom
will not be alarmed by bare legs.

No, but I could have waited.
I came my condolences ...

Thank you. With every death in the family
I put on these trousers.

With increasing effort.

But this time the situation is hopeless.

I don't drink to the death of me
mother. I had a rough night.

A glass of champagne for breakfast
does wonders.

- Are you in?
- No, I had a quiet night.

You are much more sensible than I am.

I've been in Paris with a bunch of friends
Founded a club. I am the chairman.

The Herenclub. We meet
always at night in night clubs.

The meeting lasted last night
up to six o'clock. I was just home ...

when Gauthier called.

Poor mother. She never knew
how I missed her.

What do you mean?

I haven't been here in over a year.

We had serious disputes
and stupid little things.

That's over now.

I want to show you something.

It was on my bus the day before yesterday.

Then what did she die of?
Apparently not from a heart attack.

According to the doctor, yes.
He is sure.

I never understood why them
that man did not expire.

He has been in love with her for 20 years.
Madly in love.

When my father was still alive, it was still okay.
Then it became a farce.

He wanted to, but was not allowed.

I think he's been her along the way
gonna hate.

Would you stay with a doctor who hates you?

Are you coming.
I'm going to say goodbye to Mother.

- I've been expecting you in her room.
- Unshaven and smelling of whores?

That's not how it works here.

Disgusted. She had it on
can at least teach manners.

Mother couldn't resist
to play Pygmalion.

Of course she fell in love with her image
pine, which were not always marble.

Ah Maigret, what a sadness.

What exactly is the cause of death?

The heart, good.
But what does that letter mean?

I'm trying to find out.
Why was that letter sent to me?

Because you are famous.
Take it as a compliment.

No, the writer thinks I'm a loser
ben, standing with his nose on top ...

and finds nothing.
And that doesn't suit me.

- What are you going to do now?
- The usual.

I leave.

Oh yeah. You have the missal
from your mother?

The pastor had her bag, stick,
a glove and her missal.

Did you bring the missal?
as a souvenir?

Well no. I'd rather stick her
have taken along.

That may shock you.
But I am not a hypocrite.

From bidet to holy water basin is
normal in our family. Not for me.

I respect certain things.
You get that after ten years of Jesuits.

Maybe you have it without thinking
put in your pocket. After such a message ...

My lifestyle can be the brain
affect. But it's not that far yet.

Will you walk with me to your car?


- Is it locked?
- Never here.

Here may be missals
stolen, no cars.

What are you doing?
I'm telling you I don't have that missal.

No, but...

What kind of bullshit is this?

It's no bullshit.

It's a crime.

Count Maurice de Saint-Fiacre
committed suicide.

Disagree with his mother
would have been the reason.

I don't know if I'm leaving.
I just can't make up my mind.

Nothing can stop me.
Only conscientious objection. Ridiculous.

- Your father?
- Of course, yes.

The castle is everything to him.

- But not for me. And he doesn't understand that.
- Logical. It will be fine.

Even if I was allowed to leave, then still ...

He sacrificed so much himself.
For the castle, for me.

It's good that you think about it.
Don't rush anything.

But you have to do what you want.

- You have been so brave.
- Brave? On the contrary.

I was worried she'd put me in the castle
wanted to lock up.

I fled. Not exactly a heroic act.

And the pastor wants me to stay. I help
him now and then, I play the harmonium.

He likes me.
He can't live without me anymore.

He arranges a scholarship.
He thinks I should become a teacher.

Nice profession.

For a lifetime
run after children?

Fortunately, criminals run less fast.

Do you want me to come back later?

No, stay. With all conditions
I have barely spoken to you.

- Can I smoke?
- It's your room.

Have you had this hotel for a long time?

On May 4, it will be ten years.

- Is it working?
- Reasonable.

Not as good as during the occupation
of course.

Then it went great.

On Sundays the people came from the city,
with an empty stomach and a full cut.

In the evening it was just the other way around.
We had everything here, they had nothing.

- That time will never come back.
- That's a good thing.

- Wasn't that actually black trade?
- Of course it is.

But the gendarmes weren't dirty either
from a bite to eat.

I get it.

Have you been in Saint-Fiacre all this time

- What else?
- Did you work at the castle?

Just like all the girls from the village.
My parents were on their money.

- Have you worked there long?
- Let me think...

Until I get married. About eight years old.

- Do I know your husband?
- No, he wasn't from here.

He came from the other side
of the department.

- Were you happy with him?
- Sometimes.

When he was sober, he could be nice.

But his name was not Jules.
If you know what I mean.

So you know everyone
who worked on the castle.

Yes, still. How so?

Are there people there
who hated the countess?

So that is behind it.

I found all that interest
already so strange.

Nice, but strange.

It would be too good.

Everyone liked the countess.

She was nice.

I only know one person here
who had murderous tendencies.

- That's me.
- Did you mean to kill her?

No, Jules.

I could have killed you.

Why did you have me overnight
abandoned on the other?

What did I do to you?
What was wrong?

Did your father not like me?

Did I get in the way of your work?
Couldn't you air or see me anymore?

Or did you have someone else?

Then answer, Jules.

Now you can say it, right?

At our age
we don't have to lie anymore.

I'll confess something to you, Marie.

I've been asking the questions for 30 years. I knew
not what it's like to be interrogated.

But thanks to you ...

I now know how unpleasant that is.

Is that you, Maigret? I was expecting you.

I understand that.

I apologize.
You will think of me as a bad bear.

I've never been so rude.

Did I answer?

You left without saying anything.

- Almost on a run.
- That doesn't surprise me.

And of course you didn't get it.

I couldn't hold back my tears.

You have a beautiful and rare spectacle

The 17th Count of Saint-Fiacre
who sniffled that it had a nature.


That is probably what it is called.
I do not know it.

But suddenly I realized
what I had done.

She loved me, Maigret.

That killed her.

I tried her ...


and killed.


Yes I.

I had refused for over a year
to come here.

But I should have been here
to talk to her ...

to take her in my arms.
Then she would still be alive.


We loved each other
but could not say.

That was it. I'm sorry for allowing myself to be so
to know. You must think I'm ridiculous.

It's not up to me
to assess your behavior.

I want to find out what happened.
That is why I ask you the question again:

Do you have your mother's missal?


- So you didn't put it in your car?
- Dear man, get your ears done.

Sorry, let me go.

- Cheers. Don't you drink?
- I am not thirsty.

- Do you spit in 30-year-old whiskey?
- I'm leaving.

Centuries ago someone had a glass
off a Saint-Fiacre.

That has become his death.

I am not a historical figure.

So I will raise this glass of noble drink ...

in the memory of your father,
who put me in this library ...

offered my first whiskey.

I talked to Emile for at least an hour.

As if I heard myself.

He wants exactly the same as I did then.

He also does not want to succeed his father.

- What did you recommend to him?
- To leave.

He doesn't think about anything else.
But above all, he must not destroy anything.

He is much more mature than I was then.

More balanced and ...

- He's a good boy.
- Good evening sir.

Hello, Marie. It's chilly.

Can I go to the castle later?
Say a prayer to your mother?

Obviously, Marie.
You are always welcome.

Not everyone can say that.
Tonight I'm alone with my mother.

- What are you drinking?
- The usual.

Your turn.

Your husband died of it,
but we are vaccinated. Not true?

- Where's Maigret?
- He's having dinner with his wife.


Count de Saint-Fiacre.
Nice to meet you, ma'am.

It gives me great pleasure
to meet you.

All the more so since you are beautiful.
But Maigret has always had taste.

Isn't it, Marie?

Never mind.

So my mom asked you to eat?
Father Gauthier said that a moment ago.

It's not too late yet.
We can still go to the castle.

Order it here. Do yourself a favor.

We have a few nice bottles

- Give me an arm, ma'am.
- No thanks. It doesn't seem like a good idea.

You are wrong. Get with booze
the most beautiful mourning speeches were held.

Alcohol even tunes
enemies of the deceased sad.

Beautiful right.

I don't think so.

Besides, I am tired.

That was in it.
Your husband has told you everything.

You don't share bread with a suspect.
Not whiskey either, isn't it Maigret?

I don't suspect anyone.

Everyone and me in the first place.
And you are right too.

Imagine what a wonderful process
that will be. Stupid.

Maurice Charles Adalbert,
count de Saint-Fiacre ...

how can you exonerate yourself?

I don't know, Your Honor.

All witnesses say it:
That ungrateful son ...

wastes family property
in arcades and brothels.

He likes hookers
and maids.

It's a shame, Your Honor.
A complete shame.

Eased circumstances?
There are none.

The war? Yes, a wonderful war.

But in a squadron with classy sons
of archbishops ...

and champagne in the officer's mess.

To our women, our horses ...

and those who ride them.

That was a great time.

Well, he reacts angrily.
A real envy.

Just like mother when she said

When are you going to behave
Maurice? '

The last year was not so much fun.

She even refused ...

to pay my bad checks.
Imagine, Maigret.

If I wanted to kill her
Your Honor?

Of course.

Imagine my situation.
I said that to her too.

Did I really kill her?

Yes. Doubtless.

That has to be,
because Commissioner Maigret says so.

The great Maigret.

The famous Maigret.

Enough, Maurice.

Go home.

Go to sleep.

Moment. Jules?

With Commissioner Maigret.

You don't know everything yet, Chief.

Ask Jean MÈtayer what happened
has played between the count ...

and his mother, five days before
the tragedy. It's a phone call.

It's a stale,
typical provincial money issue.

- What's the number here?
- Very easy:1418.

This is number 1418 in Saint-Fiacre.

I want to know where
I just got a call.

I know that.
I am a police officer.

I wait.

What are you waiting for?

Number 4629 in Saint-Fiacre.

That's the castle.

Why don't you keep him on?

I need to know if he's guilty first.
An old habit of mine ...

as you might know.

- Not convinced?
- No.

And neither is the opposite.

What's wrong with you, Jules?

Are you sometimes blind?

Yes, everything points to him.

- And that's quite a bit.
- What do you mean?

Nothing. The reflex of an old one,
narrow-minded cop.

It shouldn't be too obvious
to be. Especially when I'm tired.

What are you doing difficult. Something obvious
lying may be true.

That will be fine. I dive under the wool.

Somehow the count is still ahead of me
"Mr. Maurice".

The five-year-old boy
that was on my shoulders.

I'm not saying he's his mom
could not kill.

Because she could be pretty annoying.

I mean he ...

could have killed her.

But those anonymous letters, those tricks ...

that stubbornness, that cowardice ...

I don't see him capable of that.

- A Saint-Fiacre doesn't do that.
- How so?

Are you becoming a child?

You talk like a boy of ten,
the little boy of the steward:

Polite, respectful. Little Jules
who looks up to the castle residents.

Can't a Saint-Fiacre be a bastard?
A murderer, but not a bastard.

Have you not seen and heard him?

Wake up the fuck now.

I've never heard you talk like that before.

Me neither.
Crude language is apparently contagious.

'On our women, horses
and those who ascend them. '

Such language is certainly classy in his circles.

You know what I'm gonna do
when I'm 'awake'?

Then I lubricate it.

You must be right.
I am not myself here.

Maybe I want the truth
not figure out at all.

Maybe I can do the thing
transfer better.

You are kidding me.

- Why not?
- You would disappoint me.

Yesterday I wanted to tell Maigret everything.
But I changed my mind.

I don't want to lose the count.

But I've seen him at night
entered the castle.

Hence the note in the missal
from his mother. Unbelievable.

What am I supposed to do, Father?

Close the door?
Then it is apparently important.

- You would think so.
- Glad to see you.

I'm not surprised.

I had the bad feeling that you were running away from me.

The countess has her son
spoken by phone.

A few days before the drama.

- That's not a question.
- My question.

I don't like to talk about it.
It is painful.

- It is important.
- They got words.

Just another bad check,
she refused to send a money order.

He began to utter menacing language.
He didn't know what he was saying.

- Did you listen in?
- Yes.

And after that?

The countess said that her son
would kill her again.

What exactly did she say?

"He's still going to kill me."
Something in that vein.

- Something like that?
- It's painful, I told you.

For someone who won't say anything
you say quite a bit.

Excuse me?

That anonymous phone call was unnecessary
and unpleasant. Typically something for you.

- What do you mean?
- Quiet.

Come on, Maigret. The pastor wants me
to the Foreign Legion.

This was a private conversation.
I have nothing more to report.

- I have to go to catechism class now.
- First tell what you know.

Reverend, you are no longer a soldier.

And I am not an enemy that you are going to
torture to get you going.

- You have to help me.
- I have to leave.

One word is enough, nothing more.

- Your silence infuriates me.
- Just hold on.

I don't want you to ask me any more questions.

Your refusal can be seen
as complicity. Pastor or not.

- You know who the culprit is.
- God knows that.

Confessional, he says nothing.

I give a lot for it
to know what's going on here.

Me too.

- Is the boss home?
- Yes.

Aristide, visit.

Is it you?
Come in, you know the way.

What do you think of Mr. Jean
and Madame Countess?

I don't think so.
That is not up to me.

The Countess was the Countess.

What she did didn't concern me.


But the day she met him
she better had broken a leg.

That would have been cheaper.

When he got here,
he barely had a wire on his body.

Have you seen his robe now?
And his shirts with his monogram?

And his dress suit? And that piano?
Greater they do not seem to exist.

The count was angry about the money
that she spent on the pianist?

Imagine his situation.
He got nothing at all.

To force him
to go to work, she said.

Somehow I understand her.

But it had to go wrong someday.

But when I dig Saint-Fiacre
called ...

I had already sent that pianist away.
With a shot of hail in his butt.

Another sip?

No thanks.

You cannot walk on one leg.

A little bottom then.

- Do you do the accounting?
- From the domain, yes. Why?

Do you think the pianist is alone
maintained? Or does it continue?

Haven't seen any checks?

That couldn't be. I had no access
to her personal accounts.

You are right
that you are suspicious.

I wouldn't be surprised if he did
had her signed an authorization.

Goodbye, notary.

Do you know where your mother
kept her personal papers?

In her secretaire.
She was more orderly than I was.

- In her bedroom? May I look?
- Yes, but there is no will.

The notary just called.

She recently got the last will
torn up and no new ones made.

- So you inherit everything?
- Yes, that's the law.

On your own?

So I'm the only one left with anything
to this crime. The only.

It's no different, Maigret.
I can not help it.

I'm not stealing anything.

I'm taking my letters away. There you have to
no one to enjoy.

- May I?
- No.

The letters are mine.

Letters are from the addressee,
not from the sender.

- You have to show them to me.
- I do not think so.

And this, MÈtayer? The pages you
from her diary ...

- are they yours too?
- Do you really think I would go that far?

Yes. Hand me over
what you took with you.

- I can force you.
- No, you are not in office.

Go away.

That makes no sense.
I mean fantasies.

Everyone dreams of it
that his loved ones die.

Because they know our weaknesses,
our bad qualities.

We all have killing tendencies
without exception.

- It's inescapable.
- I'm trying.

That proves
that you also suffer from it.

I'm just way too patient.
I've been listening to you for too long.

Sorry. I talk a lot.

Then we agree on that.

Good evening, Doctor.

You arrive just in time. I bored your husband
with my inordinate misanthropy.

He is thinking.

But he'll be revealing in a minute.
I can feel that.

I think he's in a bad mood.
But that's about it.

I expanded with Jean MÈtayer

- A very nice boy.
- Probably towards beautiful women.

He was sorry about your conversation
had become unpleasant.

He wanted to bring you the letters.
I just took them.

You want to read those letters, don't you?

And the one torn from the diary

- He didn't touch the diary.
- Beautiful.

Who are you going to question now,

- What do you mean?
- Feel free to continue your research.

I'm going to walk.

You're grumpy, ungrateful
and suspicious too.

Mug on. Good evening.

You didn't believe me when I just said it
about criminal tendencies.

But I think you can do her
now strangle.

Guilty, Doctor.

What do you think of Lazareff's article?


A commissioner's wife
doesn't think, she just listens.

Full of respect.

You got it.

You really are horrific.

You're the only one who really knows me.

Are you coming to warm up my spot?

- Excuse me, I'm busy.
- Feel free to go ahead.

That red-haired choirboy
from Saturday, you know ...

- Ernest?
- I want to talk to him.

Go ahead.
What can I say about that?

- Where I can find him maybe?
- Now he's in school.

The Catholic, I assume?

Of course.

I don't want to bother you with anything.

But I still have our conversation
thought of yesterday.

- I thought I was clear.
- Very clear, Father.

I used to be often enough
went to church ...

to know you wouldn't say anything.
Confessional, isn't it?

You have someone from the area
from the countess taken the confession.

And that person
told something about the count.

You believed that person.
That's for sure.

We're going to cross out. Who came
confess? MÈtayer? Probably not.

The doctor must be anti clergy.

The old Gauthier perhaps?
It must be a good Christian.

Maybe Emile?

Can I borrow this parish magazine? My
mother taught me to read with this.

Go ahead.

The same font.

I confessed
because I was upset about something.

I owe everything to the castle.
And what I saw then ...

I was hoping for advice from the pastor.

He just said:
Woe to the one who offends.

- I want to know what you saw, Emile.
- I understand that.

It happened in the night
before the countess's death.

At three o'clock I woke up from a car.

Exceptional in Saint-Fiacre.

I sleepily walk to the window.

And I see a man
open the gate of the castle.

First I wanted to warn my father.

But then I recognized the man.

- It was the count.
- Are you sure?

How could you recognize him in the dark?

There's a lantern on the road
next to the fence.

You could have told this before.

The funeral service is on November 6
in the church of Saint-Fiacre.

- Could you repeat that?
- You won't be there.

- You're out of your mind.
- Mouth closed.

You lie constantly.

You are at three in the morning
sneaked into the castle.

The cutout that you then missal in her
stopped, killed her.


- The boss isn't here.
- I'll be in front of my room.

- Your room?
- My room from the past.

Isn't Emile sleeping there now?
Can I take a look?

Go ahead.

I sleepily walk to the window.

And I see someone
open the gate of the castle.

Are you sure you saw it?

Did you see the count or not?

Joking is a mortal sin, Ernest.

I haven't seen it.
I had to tell Emile.

Then I would get a police whistle.

This is it.

It is forbidden
to carry such a whistle with you.

Get out.

Pages are missing
to her diary.

From late '51 to early '52.
Then what happened?

- Unfortunately ...
- Something special?

- Yeah, I don't like to talk about it. Whiskey?
- Gladly.

- Is it so embarrassing?
- Mom had an affair with a servant.

When I heard that
I have put things in order very hard.

But out of respect for her
I did not fire the man in question.

Nobody knew about it.

Even his father, the poor man,
knows nothing.

- Was it Emile?
- Yes.

But he has done everything
to cover up the matter.

Indeed, everything.

I'm not proud of what I've said
but I was in all states.

It is my fault.
I did lie.

Although the soap is not worth the cabbage.

I had incurred gambling debts.

My mother wouldn't pay.

Then I have books
taken from the castle library.

Secretly, because mother would be angry
if she knew I was selling things ...

whom she saw as family relics.

It's that simple.
But thanks to you everything is now cleared up.

- Except I don't have any proof.
- How do we do that?

You had good bordeaux lying around, right?

Thank you, Octave. You can go.
I do not need you anymore.

Excuse I put you in a Walter Scott-
atmosphere soak. But that is necessary.

Although not all of you
has evening wear ...

I just wanted to tonight
uphold the tradition.

Saint-Fiacre is the scene of murder
been. The victim is upstairs.

And the culprit is among us.

He's at this table.

It's ten past eleven. At twelve o'clock
the murderer is no longer alive.

Everyone knew that strong emotion
my mother could be fatal.

Yes, dear folks, each of us
could be the culprit.

Except for Mr. and Mrs. Maigret.
As the only ones.

It could even be Mr. Pastor.

Please remain seated.
The door is locked anyway.

"Woe to the one who offends."

And did your most distinguished parishioner
that not constantly?

Her death, during mass,
during prayer ...

would make up for everything.

Maybe even in God's eyes.
- You don't have the right.

This is of course a hypothesis,
but a plausible one.

Which also Sherlock Holmes
had not rejected.

After the pastor ...

the doctor.

Here the likelihood is already increasing.

The rejected admirer who
commits a crime of passion. Classic.

And who knew better than you, Doctor ...

how weak the heart was
that gave up that morning?

End this sinister game

You say it is just a game.

I am curious about the results.

Now Mr. MÈtayer,
who was called here Mr. Jean ...

as if he belonged to the family.

This is simpler. The man knows
where the sensitive chord lies ...

that you have to play
to get into a will.

And in all haste
you just kill your benefactress.

A waste of effort. Because it will
had meanwhile been destroyed.

I don't care about that legacy.
I now know she really cared about me.

Then now the degenerate son.

The gentleman who has the honor
to receive you tonight.

Your servant.

There is no possibility here
or probability.

It's obvious.

Who else, I ask you,
could commit such a cowardly act?

Such a low, revolting act?

Who else?

Who else?

Right, Emile?

Only he had never dared.

He won't get very far.

How could he?
Why did he hate us so much?

You don't get that either. You have none
faint of idea what humiliation means.

Emile was beyond his class and you
pushed him back into it very hard.

From lover of a countess
he became her servant again.

He couldn't forgive both of you.

That's why he wanted to destroy you.

- He almost did.
- I have to say honestly:

Our family has
more glorious days.

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