01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

Marie Lepine


Does my father have
an appointment with the ministry today?

This afternoon, at five o'clock.

Do you know why?

I'm afraid I do.

He needs our help, Hector.

What can we do?

Buy some time.

We'd need a catastrophe.

A strike, or a hell of a scandal.

These are dangerous times.

Our enemies are at the gates.

We won't abandon the frontline.

Do you see?

...on her chin, her hair and her dress!

Leave her be, poor thing.

Here, I'll clean you up.

Children.

Times are hard.

Dad doesn't have a job anymore.

Fiersi's out of work.

You're pleased?

I am.

The woods in winter.

They're far
from Vallotton's countryside,

or Gervex's high society.

They're harsher, sadder.

Almost gothic.

You haven't sold much.

We had to reschedule the private view.

My husband is indisposed. He's resting.

Upstairs.

I wasn't planning on staying anyway.

As I feared, people are talking.

My daughter knows.

Did she say so?

She unearthed one of
your husband's paintings and hung it up.

A portrait of me.

I've brought it back for you.

Thank you.

Talking of the woods,

I hear Bagatelle is for sale?

I heard about it at the city council.
The whole thing is absurd.

The owner is threatening to divide up
his land in the Bois de Boulogne,

around the château.

Can you imagine?

A council estate
in the middle of the woods.

- The city will have to buy it.
- How much?

I can't remember. Six or seven million.

I'm not here to talk about Bagatelle.

Shame.

You're her father, not her husband.
She shouldn't judge you.

Tell her the truth.

You loved your wife.

You were faithful to her.

After her death,
you waited over six months before...

Before coming to see me.

God forgive my weakness.

My daughter is another matter.

You're ashamed.

Of course you're ashamed.

The Commissioner and Deadly Lips...

How scandalous. It's a disgrace.

Why are you here?

To put me back in my place,

as if I were a snitch.

It's over. There's nothing I can do.

I came to tell you face-to-face,
out of friendship.

You won't cause a scene?

I don't cry over my clients.

I replace them.

Goodbye, madame.

Adolphe has syphilis.

What about you?

What about me?

You won't cause a scene?

Hup.

He's always been clumsy.

Once you sign the identification report,

you can take possession
of your son's body and personal effects.

He stole my revolver.

The g*n will also
be returned to you, sir.

You can keep it.

With a father like that,
it's easier to understand why he did it.

Could he have been ill?

Syphilis? No.

No cankers, no marks.
His organs are intact. But...

The fourth b*llet
destroyed his cerebellum. He may...

He may have... He...

You! There's a butcher's on Rue Lagrange.
Fetch me a cow heart.

Say it's for Dr Socquet,
they'll give you credit. Go, go, go!

Go on!

A friend from university, Jules Bordet,
lives in Vienna. We exchange notes.

He's just developed a test: cardiolipin.

It's a lipid antigen.

When mixed with blood,
it reacts with the germ.

I've never tried it.

For sale: Château de Bagatelle
Bois de Boulogne


Price: 125,000 francs

Well?

What are you going to do to me now?

Will I be beaten to death? Drowned?

Hung, perhaps?

Or walled up alive?

Get dressed.

Where are we going?

To the doctor.

- Chandrot!
- Yes, sir?

The Cronier case.
April 1904. Robbery and m*rder.

A suspect was interrogated: Paul Cétinet.
An invert, the victim's lover.

You wrote "alibi confirmed"

and you let him go.

Can you clarify?

Easily. It was the vice squad.

They said they rounded up
twenty f*ggots that night.

I left it at that.

Is the case--

In Inspector Jouin's hands.
That will be all, Chandrot.

Which guy from the vice squad was it?

Guichard.

Jouin, phone.

Yes?- It's your daughter's godfather.

- Does your body in the woods have a name?
- Cétinet.

- First name?
- Paul.

f*cking hell.

What?

What is it? Do you know him?

Not personally.

But I'll look into it.

Inspector?

Madame Cétinet?

I wanted to thank you.

My husband disagrees, but I...

I'd rather know.

Who's that?

Madame Cétinet.

I'm Chief Superintendent Cochefert.

This way, madame.
We'll be more comfortable in my office.

Isn't your husband with you?

He's gone to see the judge.
I wasn't invited.

Shall I...?

Are you going out?

Just getting some air.

- Can you tell us about your son, madame?
- Now, now, Jouin.

Don't rush madame.

Sorry.

If madame Cétinet
wants to tell us a bit about Paul,

she'll do so freely, at her own pace.

Of course, madame, everything
you say will be kept confidential.

Take your time.

Perhaps you'd like a little liqueur?

Oh no, thank you. I'm a member of
the 7th Arrondissement Temperance League.

A healthy choice.

I don't drink myself,
at this time of day.

Are you sure?

Well,
these are exceptional circumstances.

And I... I have a pain in my chest.

You have a mother's heart, madame.

Here you are.

When he was 15,

Paul was caught committing an act...

that I can't describe.

Our little Paul dallying with...

With the coachman.

Lord.

As parents ourselves,
we can only sympathise.

I have seven children,

and Inspector Jouin
has just had a little girl.

- Congratulations.
- Thank you.

What was the coachman's name?

Margerit, I think.

My husband gave him a taste of his whip
and showed him the door.

I mean,
we weren't going to call the police...

No.

Of course.

All that mattered was saving our son.

In tough situations, my husband
stays calm and makes the decisions.

He's an officer. He was in Africa.

And...

And he said...

He said?

"Never mind.
We'll have a vicar in the family."

We found a seminary.

Notre-Dame de la Miséricorde.
They were good people, very strict.

One morning, they came to get Paul.

I tried to explain to him

that it was for his own good.

He was shouting.

"Mum, why?"

"Why, Mum?"

Paul didn't like the seminary?

No, he did. Very much so.

I went to visit him.
He'd adapted very well.

He looked so handsome in his habit.

But Paul wasn't ordained as a priest?

They sent him away.

They said he'd...

corrupted some of his friends.

I suppose Paul didn't come home
after his dismissal?

My husband wouldn't have allowed it.

- You never saw him again?
- No.

He never got in touch?

Not even to ask for money?

No, I... My husband--

I'm not talking

about your husband, madame.

I'm talking about you.

And your son.

Paul stole his father's g*n.

Where did he find it?

He did come back home.

Three weeks ago.

I found him in our bedroom.
My little boy...

He was much thinner, he was...

He was frightening to look at.

I held him in my arms,
like when he was little.

He told me he'd been...

He'd been made to do... terrible things.

He wanted to stop,
but there was a whole g*ng of them.

He kept saying,
"I'm their Jesus. I'm their Jesus."

I told him that I forgave him,

that I'd give him everything,
my money, my jewellery...

So he could get away
from those people, you know?

He told me he loved me,

and he left with the g*n.

All I asked him was...

to change.

Excuse me.

Colonel Cétinet is here, madame.

He's waiting for you.

Are you proud of yourself?

Your officer has sullied
the name of a respectable family.

Is that the work of the police?

- They lost their son a long time ago.
- Now they can bury him.

Do you think that Colonel Cétinet,
with his Legion of Honour and w*r medals,

wants to bury a pederast
in the family vault?

You've got the wrong department,
Your Honour.

The research brigade
carries out investigations

and identifies bodies.

Family secrets
are dealt with by the vice squad.

Jouin.

Congratulate me.

Bravo.

The test is conclusive.
Your man had syphilis.

You must be relieved,
Monsieur Steinheil.

Indeed.

Yes, I do feel much better.

My husband has been humble, and brave.

He was thinking of us.

I can only forgive him.

This illness is part of our lives now.

And we'll face it.

Together.

Some sufferers live

for twenty

or thirty years.

With the right treatment.

We can't eradicate the illness,
but we can delay its progress,

or even stop it.

How?

Weekly injections of mercury,

over two to four years.

That's the standard treatment,
but I won't deny it's quite unpleasant,

and there may be side effects.

Thanks again, doctor.

Would you have a minute to speak to me,

in private?

It'll only take a minute.

But of course. If sir agrees?

I'll be right there.

Well, I...

I'm a bit worried.

About my own health.

Your husband swore on his honour
that he'd had no sexual relations with you

since his symptoms started.

They always lie.

Why do they all lie?

Were you having regular sexual relations?

Just the once.

Was it recent?

Yes.

I'll have to

examine your genitals.

Must I undress?

That depends.

Are you wearing open drawers?

Yes.

Then take a seat.

Research brigade, Inspector Quemener.

No, madame, Inspector Jouin isn't...

available.

I don't know.
Can I pass on a message, perhaps?

Tell him to ring Weidmann and Chauvin.

When he has a minute.

Has he forgotten you?

Rosalie Dantremont is an unusual case.

The girls from her neighbourhood
don't know her.

We don't know where,
or even if, she was soliciting.

No pimp, no colleagues...

No pavement.

A ghost.

Where are you going?

To my client's.

The Jesus ploy.

Organised group blackmail.

The Jesus is a young invert,

attractive, educated,

at ease in society.

The bait.

The target is a wealthy member
of the middle class, a father,

or a public figure.

Someone with something to lose.

The Jesus seduces him,

and tempts him into his love nest.

The sofa.

Somewhere private and lavish
where the prey feels comfortable.

And so it begins.

Alcohol, drugs, photos...

The gentleman is compromised.
And now, the threat.

A fake police officer.

Or even a real one.

He pays once, he pays a hundred times.
The spiral continues.

Once ruined, he's reduced to silence,

and they move on to the next man.

Paul Cétinet was a minion.

Who else?

Who taught them?

Who's leading them?

They'd have to know people very well.

A servant, or...

A priest?

A doctor.

Syphilis.

Thank you very much, doctor.
Thank you for everything.

My respects, madame.

The diary of the victim, Ernest Cronier.

The last appointment before his death...

Dr Philippe Verlot.

He's an excellent practitioner.
Did your lover recommend him?

His list of patients
must be worth a fortune.

The syphilis phonebook.

Do you feel better?

Dr Verlot told me I wasn't contagious.

But that's no excuse.

I don't know what came over me.

It's not me.

It's this awful thing
devouring my brain.

I couldn't control my emotions.

Fear.

Desire.

Love.

You never disappoint.

You thought you'd get off that lightly?

I don't know
if I'll be able to redeem myself.

No.

It's hopeless.

I've been doing some research,

and 63 serious accidents
occurred last year.

Automobiles, sir, are terrifying.

Production is tripling every year,
and accidents will follow suit.

Based on this data,
I forecast 3,000 deaths per year by 1920.

- 3,000 deaths?
- At least.

Throughout this century,

automobile traffic
will k*ll as many people as a w*r.

The future looks dark, sir.
We must take action.

This is quite a leap from anthropometry.

You can get the measure of a man
from his equipment.

I mean, his engine.
You know what I mean.

I imagine you already have a plan?

A plan... A little experiment.

I'd only need twenty men.

Take thirty.

- Oh no, that's too many.
- No, please.

I insist.

Oh, that's... That's really...
Thank you.

Twenty will be fine. More than enough.

That's generous, that's...

Right. Thank you, Commissioner.

The Minister sends his apologies.

He needs to rearrange
the 5 p.m. appointment.

So be it.

Tomorrow, then.

He's going to the provinces
for the rest of the week.

You're a bad liar, Hector.

Did my daughter ask you
to let all this drag on?

Monday will be perfect.

Weidmann and Chauvin
are the legal representatives

of Rosalie Dantremont.

She's asked us
to take care of her personal effects.

The rent is paid till Friday.

After that, I'll empty the place.

Did she have guests?

This isn't a brothel, madame.
This is a quality bedsit.

I'm turning people away.

You're turning people away,
yet you accept an unmarried mother?

I wouldn't usually.

I must have been feeling soft.

Christian charity. What can I say?

For a prost*tute?

Come, now...

You wouldn't usually.

She had a guarantor, madame.
Someone respectable.

How respectable?

- Father.
- Yes?

Can you help me?

- That depends why you're here.
- I'd like to see Father Martel.

He's no longer here.

- I heard--
- Yes.

He did spend some time with us after
leaving the seminary, but he didn't stay.

Do you know where I could find him?

Saint-Cyr-au-Mont-d'Or, near Lyon,
but you could write to him at the church.

Thank you.

Tell me.

- Father Martel isn't in any trouble?
- No. A friend of his is asking after him.

Mademoiselle.

- Do you work in the Château de Bagatelle?
- Yes.

Inspector Fondari, vice squad.

Please follow me.

You should find yourself
somewhere better.

I have. I leave in ten days.

Anyway, they sold the château.
They're moving.

They've started packing up.

The furniture, the art, it's all going.

It must be a lot of work.

There are three of us.
They really get through the sheets.

Three times a day, sometimes.

Lots of guests?

Upstairs. Always the same room.

Men, but never more than four.

- Any particular time?
- Afternoons, mainly.

How many wardens?

Four, plus the coachman.

He goes inside whenever he likes.
Not me. I sleep in the servants' quarters.

I've never seen the owners.
They don't live there. They're in London.

I don't know those people.
I can only imagine what they get up to.

Nobody's ever touched me, anyway.
I wouldn't let them.

I've got a bollock-stabber.

You won't make me register, will you?

Don't do that to me, I'm engaged.

That depends on you, love.

My husband isn't here, madame.

When will he be back?

I don't know.

Very well.

We're in no hurry.

We'd like to try a few.

The shop is closed.

Do you have anything for men?

- Mine isn't very comfortable, I--
- I only have hats for women, sir.

You need another milliner.

Goodbye.

Elegance and Tradition.

I couldn't even find
a hat for my mother in here.

Father Martel was paying
Rosalie Dantremont's rent.

A young seminarian,
recently transferred to the provinces.

You don't have anything.
Hearsay and guesswork.

Saint-Cyr-au-Mont-d'Or. I'll write.

What for?

To update him about his parishioner.

And ask him for a health certificate?

There is no Dantremont Affair.

No plot, no crime.

Just mediocrity.
That's what you can't stand.

Not to mention
your other poor reasons for...

I'm coming home.

I promise.

I was in the office all day.

Yes, I was with Cochefert.

No, I didn't ask, because actually,
I thought of someone else.

Fiersi.

No, he's not a crook. He's a father.

His heart's in the right place.
He's a friend.

I'll explain later.

I'm coming home, okay?

I love you both.

Inspector Antoine Jouin.

Guichard.

Vice squad.

We'd like your help
with something urgent.

Please follow us.

- Is there a problem?
- Not at all.

We just need Inspector Jouin, Superintendent.

Explain yourself.

I'm saying this... for your sake.

Explain yourself.

As you wish.

A search warrant,
signed by Judge Boucart.

As you can see,

there's also an order of committal.

I'll speak to the Commissioner.

Is he here?

You can't go in. He's in a meeting!

Cochefert...

Yes, Superintendent Cochefert.

Duly noted.

His cases always whet the appetite.

Mysteries, plots, murders...

If he's talking about Jouin,
that's a godsend.

He's a real lucky charm.

Can you listen in?

I'll try.

Do you know a Monsieur Mercadier?

Félicien.

A banker at the Crédit Lyonnais,

on Avenue Kleber.

He's an informer.

Is he registered as such?

No.

Have you known him long?

It was a recent case.

- Why? Has something happened?
- Oh no.

Monsieur Mercadier is just fine.
Or rather, he's in good health, only...

He's accusing you of extorting from him,
not information, but...

a sexual act.

In the Bois de Boulogne.

On Christmas Day.

Are you serious?

And in the evenings,

when you're not working,

do you go out on your bike?

In the woods?

So the warden is in on this too.

And when you're out in the woods...

Do you head north or south?

You already know.

We only know
what's in the statements, Inspector.

Like those of your colleagues.

Your little jokes...

With the thermometer.

Inspector Jouin.

Are you an invert?

He is a bit odd.

Don't you think?

Inspector Jouin
is being accused of infamy, sir.

His career is at risk,
as is his reputation.

His reputation
wasn't worth much to start with.

Perhaps even his freedom.

Antoine Jouin, research brigade.

I already told you.

Still busy?

There's only one line
for the whole Prefecture?

Bunch of halfwits.

Stop trying. They know it's you.

They don't like you.

Good evening.

You're old enough to know the truth.

You should know
I have some health issues.

But don't worry, it's nothing serious.

Your father has eczema,
my darling.

- It's very common in anxious people.
- That's right.

I'll get treatment.

And everything will be okay.

I love you.

I'm looking forward
to the next private view.

With you.

Really?

Go and hug your mum. Go on.

Arrest


...Police Commissioner... ...Prostitution...

Arrest - Paris

I've got a g*n.

That's handy.

I'm looking for one.