♪ ♪ Our daughter's missing.

Call Chief Inspector Maigret.

FUMAL: The girl you can't find.

You must be as bad a detective as your father was at running an estate.

MAIGRET: He and I grew up in the same village.

He wants to renew an old grudge.

Fumal has been receiving death threats.

I would like you to investigate them.

Fumal has an instinct for people's weaknesses.

Next time, be more careful.

Where are you going?

To find out who wants to kill a billionaire.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (siren blaring in distance) (door opens offscreen) Better hurry.

Mass is in 15 minutes.

(strikes match) ♪ ♪ (leaves rustling) (breathing shakily) ♪ ♪ (insects chirping) (laughter, chatter) ♪ ♪ WOMAN: Not out here.

MAN: Come on.

(indistinct chatter) (sighs) (phone rings) CELINE (over phone): Yes?

I need something to eat.

CELINE: Now?

Yes.

Then I'll wake Felix.

You too.

Emails to write.

Yes, sir.

(phone beeps) (indistinct chatter in background) (clattering) (chatter, laughter) Hurry up!

(drops phone) Clean up and go.

Celine.

Mm?

To that loser Roger Gaillardin.

(sniffs) The midnight deadline has passed.

My offer will now go down by five million euros every 24 hours.

(phone vibrating) (silverware clatters) Sir?

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (silverware clinking) (paper rustling) (giggles) (mugs clink) Dr.

Klein confirmed tomorrow morning.

You'll be there?

To see the heartbeat?

(muffled): I would not miss it for the world.

Mm.

Mm.

(phone vibrating) Yes, Lucas.

LUCAS (over phone): Are you near a TV, boss?

Do I have to be?

Yes, a reporter ambushed Layla's parents, they're talking.

REPORTER (on television): How worried are you for Layla?

CHARLES (on television): Worried?

W-well, she's been missing for more than three days.

REPORTER: Do the police have any leads?

MARIE (on television): No, I mean, they're working hard but it's just another job for them.

For us, our whole world's been ripped apart.

Our baby's gone.

REPORTER: What more would you like to see being done?

CHARLES: The police are doing the best they can, but Layla's brought joy to so many people, if anyone knows anything or has seen anything, please, just tell us, or tell the police.

LUCAS (over phone): Christ, we're going to be swamped.

Please call Chief Inspector Maigret at the Police Judiciaire or leave a message on our "Where Is Layla?"

Facebook page that we've set up, and we'll pass on the message to the police.

CHARLES: We need your help.

Thank you.

I'll come in.

LUCAS: Janvier is already outside.

You still don't know what happened?

No.

Are you worried?

Yes.

♪ ♪ (door opens and shuts) NEWSREADER (on television): The disappearance of influencer Layla Lyonnet three days ago.

The police have no leads.

So the mystery deepens, as do the fears of her parents and her thousands of fans.

VICTOR: Chief Inspector Maigret.

My boss wants to talk to you.

How did you know where I live?

If Monsieur Fumal wants someone, he finds them.

Tell him to find his local police station and talk to them.

What was that about?

(engine starts) (tires screech) (indistinct animated chatter) JANVIER (sighs): Layla fans.

Can I run a couple of them over?

(chuckles) Not today.

(horn honks, indistinct chatter continues) (phones ringing) ISABELLE: It's all over her Instagram, where she goes to write poetry-- in the Bois de Boulogne?

What idiot let them in here?

ISABELLE: Don't just type, go there.

Yeah, just by the border.

I have your number.

Thank you.

Someone saw Layla near the Spanish border last night.

Twentieth tip this morning.

(phone rings) Let it go to voice mail.

Lapointe, Cavre, over here-- Torrence, you too.

We've got all we need.

Come here-- he's gonna see you out.

Let's go through what we know so far.

Relationships outside the family?

LUCAS: No boyfriend, no girlfriend, no close friends.

In her latest video she was advocating celibacy.

Oh, welcome to the club.

That's a surprise.

What about relationships at work?

Same picture.

She doesn't have any.

"Work" is just her and her phones.

Mum and dad handle the business side.

So unfortunately mum and dad are right: she's been missing three days, we don't have a single lead.

CAVRE: No, we have dozens of leads.

By the end of the day, we're gonna have hundreds of leads.

We don't have the manpower to follow them all up.

She could be kidnapped, she could be murdered... LAPOINTE: Or she could be faking it.

Layla was a mid-range influencer with about 600,000 followers but she was losing followers and sponsors.

Now, however, the "Where Is Layla?"

Facebook page her parents set up has had over a million hits.

So this is just a publicity stunt?

MAIGRET: No, as far as we're concerned, she's still a missing kid, and we'll put everything we have into finding her.

(footsteps approaching) Madame prosecutor, we've got no news as yet, and the fact that Layla's parents have decided to go public... KERNAVEL: I'm sorry, I'm not here about Layla.

Can you come with me, Chief Inspector?

(phone ringing) Put all calls through to voicemail, go through them at the end of the day.

Get back out there, go to all the places where Layla was last seen, ask questions.

We've done that.

Then we do it again!

What did she say?

What was her appearance?

What was her mood?

Lapointe, look at the parents.

Uh... wh-What do you mean?

What do you mean "what do I mean"?

You're the one who suggested it might be a put-up job.

Look at them.

♪ ♪ KERNAVEL: Minister.

Chief Inspector Maigret.

Chief Inspector.

Give me two minutes.

I apologize for pulling you away from your work.

Mathilde says you have your hands full with this influencer girl.

We do.

Monsieur Fumal called me.

He said he tried to talk to you this morning.

His driver did.

Who is he?

The owner of Fumal.co, the retail billionaire.

Surely you've heard of him.

I'm not a big shopper.

Fumal has been receiving death threats.

I would like you to investigate them.

My unit doesn't investigate threats, Madame Minister.

If he gets killed, then we'll investigate.

Maigret, this is not how you speak... Mathilde.

It's all right.

Fumal has many friends in the media.

If these threats turn out to be real, or God forbid, are acted on, a vast amount of government and police time will have to be spent investigating them.

I'm asking you to nip that in the bud.

Find out what's going on.

Fumal is a bully.

Mathilde tells me you can't be bullied.

I'm asking you, as a personal favor, go and see him.

(phone chimes) I don't need to.

He's just showed up at my office.

Minister.

♪ ♪ (indistinct chatter, phones ringing) (elevator chimes) I'll deal with it.

Even scruffier than you used to be.

Fumal.

Ferdinand Fumal.

Correct.

Or, as you used to call me, Fatty Fumal, oink-oink.

Hm, the butcher's son from Saint-Fiacre, and you, the estate manager's son.

Well, look at me now and... look at you.

And, uh, the girl you can't find.

Did the minister give you an earful?

She told me to speak to you.

Did she tell you who I was?

Some sort of businessman.

Some sort!

I have revolutionized food retail in France, I have built an empire... Getting death threats?

Yes.

Messages.

"I'm going to cut you up."

"You're going to die."

You don't know who's sending them?

No.

Does anyone bear you a grudge right now?

Roger Gaillardin.

I'm buying his business, and he hates me.

What, enough to want to kill you?

Well, he's weak.

He could be desperate.

I'll need to see the messages, take a look around your home and offices, interview your staff.

I have dozens of offices and thousands of staff, but my headquarters is at my home at 219 Rue de Courcelles.

I'll tell my secretary you're coming.

Do you have family?

A wife.

Children?

No children.

Same as you.

Do you have lovers, a mistress?

None of your business.

You came to me, it is my business.

She isn't.

Talk to my secretary, Celine.

You'll like her.

Most men do.

See you later, Jules.

What are you, a geisha?

Rude.

(scoffs) Boss, you can't get involved with this jerk, we're already swamped.

No choice.

Tell Gaillardin we want to speak to him, don't say why.

W-where are you going?

A bar.

Then Rue de Courcelles.

Thanks.

(panting in flashback) MAIGRET (voiceover): Fumal.

Ferdinand Fumal.

FUMAL (voiceover): Or as you used to call me, Fatty Fumal.

No!

(children laughing, Fumal panting) BOYS: Oink, oink!

(making snorting sounds) Oink, oink, oink.

Come on, guys, let's leave him!

BOY: He'll come down when he's hungry.

(boys snorting, laughing) (boys taunting) Bye-bye!

(rope snaps, young Fumal screams) (groans) (grunts) JANVIER (voiceover): Boss?

Look, sorry to interrupt your busy day, but we might have something on Layla.

Her spinning class was cancelled three days ago, because the instructor, Marcus Desailly, stopped turning up.

That's Marcus.

A couple of people in the class said that he used to pay a lot of attention to Layla-- flirting, touching, borderline inappropriate.

They also say that his cellphone number went dead three days ago, the same day Layla disappeared.

(phone vibrates) (exhales) Lapointe.

Found where Marcus lives.

What on earth are you doing?

Concierge wouldn't give me the key, didn't believe I was a cop, even said my ID was fake, so... Initiative.

I like it.

Clever little Lapointe.

He's a musician.

Paris Conservatoire.

Toothbrush and shaving stuff have gone.

Bed hasn't been slept in.

Anything that might belong to Layla?

LAPOINTE: What, like a fetish?

No, like she was here.

Actually, I could be right about the fetish.

Marcus's screensaver was Layla and his password is her date of birth.

And this is his photo album... (clicking) He was stalking her.

MAIGRET: Posted yesterday, arrived today.

Opened.

So he was here today.

Or someone was.

(phone camera clicks) We should get out, put a watch on the place.

(keys jangling) Boss?

Shall we do that?

Yes.

Good idea.

Where are you going?

To find out who wants to kill a billionaire.

(door opens) ♪ ♪ (doorbell ringing) (keys jangling) I know who you are.

This way.

(shuts and locks gate) ♪ ♪ I am Celine Bourges, personal secretary to Monsieur Fumal.

Death threats: "You're going to die" "I'm going to cut you up."

Oh, I left out "bastard," "fat ass."

We checked with our service provider.

The messages came from pre-paid burner phones.

You can't identify the sender.

Nonetheless, I would like the numbers.

You have them.

How many staff live here?

Ah... myself, Victor-- who's Fumal's driver, Joseph Goldman, his business manager, Noemi-- Madame Fumal's maid-- Felix, the chef.

Do you always wear that coat?

In this heat?

How many years have you worked for Fumal?

Five years.

Is he a good boss?

He's an appalling boss.

How is he appalling?

The usual ways, plus a few of his own.

Has he abused you?

He once made me strip in front of him.

Why?

He accused me of stealing money from his safe in his office.

I denied it; he made me strip to prove it.

You could have refused.

Could have quit.

(scoffs) What, and lose my nice job, my nice apartment, my... You don't like Fumal.

(sardonic chuckle) Nobody likes him.

Except perhaps his mistress.

Who's his mistress?

I was told not to say, so I won't.

Otherwise, you'll lose your nice job, your nice apartment, and your boyfriend, Felix the chef?

Oh, you're good.

I, um, blush when I'm caught out.

Also when I lie, which is kind of annoying.

(pouring water) Does Fumal know about you and Felix?

(sighs) Probably.

He collects secrets.

Who do you think is threatening him?

(scoffs) Anyone he's ever done business with.

For Monsieur Fumal, a deal is only a success when the other side is left weeping in the gutter.

Does that include Roger Gaillardin?

I don't know.

You're the detective.

Look, is there anything else?

I mean, this is fun, but I do have work to do.

I would like to talk to Madame Fumal.

Well, it's a bit early.

(sighs) Follow me.

(door closes) Noemi, uh, this is Chief Inspector Maigret.

He'd like to speak with Madame Fumal.

She has only just had breakfast.

Is she dressed?

Breakfast of champions.

(laughs softly) (knocks on door) (door opens) What is it now, Noemi?

My name is Maigret.

Chief Inspector.

Brigade Criminelle.

Has, uh, someone killed him?

No.

Someone has sent messages threatening to kill him.

(uncaps liquor bottle) You don't share a bedroom with your husband?

I don't share anything with my husband.

Why did you marry him?

Because I was in love with him.

♪ ♪ You don't want to hear this.

I do.

If you're willing to tell me.

My father owned a chain of butcher shops in Brittany that Fumal wanted.

He was... courting me at the same time.

Yeah, he was rich.

(exhales) And charming.

I was young and pretty.

I thought he loved me.

But he was buying me.

Like I was another shop.

(ice rattling) My father encouraged the match.

Uh-huh.

He said it would keep us together.

But in less than a year, Fumal had sold the shops, fired the staff, and, uh, put the whole business online.

My father came here to protest.

I heard them arguing in the office.

Fumal said that my father was a weakling, that... he had taken his business and his daughter at a knock-down price, and he had never even put up a fight.

Then he got his thug Victor to throw him out.

Two weeks later, my father had a heart attack.

I'm sorry.

Why did you stay?

He threatened to cut me off without a penny, and, uh, stop paying for the care that my father now needs.

You know, I am like everybody else in this house.

I'm trapped by his money.

And by fear.

VICTOR: (clears throat) Monsieur Fumal has got another message.

♪ ♪ (keyboard clacking) Look.

Look!

"Your cops won't save you, fat man."

FUMAL: They know about you, so they must be watching.

Do you know who it is yet?

Maigret!

I'm talking to you!

Were the messages sent from the same number?

GOLDMAN: No.

It was another pre-paid burner phone.

Joseph Goldman, Monsieur Fumal's business manager.

MAIGRET: Can I have the number?

(sighs) Okay, Goldilocks, get out.

You too, creeping Jesus.

I want to have a heart-to-heart with my childhood friend.

What are you doing?

Sending the number to our crime lab.

(scoffs) It's gotta be someone here.

I know they hate me.

They lie to my face and they steal behind my back.

Do you know that, Ferdinand?

For a fact?

I know they look down their nose at me, because I came from nothing and now I have everything.

Do I know they steal?

Well, Goldman insider trades on the back of every one of my deals.

Celine has been nicking petty cash for years.

She has 5,000 euros rolled up in the left toe of her Bottega Veneta boots in her closet-- saving up so her and her boyfriend Felix can buy a bar in Gien.

Felix over-orders for the kitchen, then flogs the surplus to local restaurants.

My lovely wife is drunk all day and entertains her gentleman friend all night.

You didn't find any of this out?

You must be as bad a detective as your father was at running an estate.

He was good at his job.

He was terrible.

He was about to be fired when he had his stroke.

Saved everyone a lot of embarrassment.

Strange, how our childhood idols fail us when we learn the truth.

The Countess de Saint-Fiacre, for example.

Or Sophie, as she insists I call her.

Yeah, we're friends.

But the stories I've heard about her.

(whistles) Dear, oh dear.

You had a crush on her, didn't you?

(laughs) I remember how she used to call-- "Jules!

Jules!"

And you'd come running.

"Jules!

Jules..." I don't need you, you creep, get out.

I'm not scared of this great lunk.

(small chuckle) What are you doing?

Making a call.

Lucas.

Get Inspector Cavre to Fumal's.

He's to stay here until I say otherwise.

What about Roger Gaillardin?

Have you checked him out yet?

Okay.

Meet me there.

Gaillardin's a criminal.

Should've been locked up years ago, and I can prove it.

One of my detectives will be here soon.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Any news on Layla's spinning instructor, Marcus?

No.

Parents know nothing, Friends know nothing.

He's vanished into the same black hole she has.

We are looking.

(voiceover): Monsieur Gaillardin-- have you been sending death threats to Ferdinand Fumal, sir?

I'm sorry, I beg your pardon?

Death threats.

Texts.

"You're going to die."

"I'm going to cut you up."

(scoffs) No, I haven't.

Do you dislike Monsieur Fumal?

Yes, he's a vile human being.

He said you were a criminal.

Of course he did.

He insults me, he bribes, blackmails my board, bullies my suppliers, and feeds gossip to the media.

My share price has halved in less than six months.

So why did he say you were a criminal?

I don't need to explain his disgusting slanders, not to you or anyone.

I didn't threaten him.

If I'd wanted him dead, I wouldn't send messages, I'd just walk up to him and shoot him in the face.

♪ ♪ Thank you for talking to us.

♪ ♪ (door opens) (door closes) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (muffled chatter) LAYLA: ...solidify and might block your drains.

So, either use a tissue or a kitchen towel and put it in the bin.

This is my favorite brand.

(clicks) I'm doing detective work for you.

Layla.

This is when she broke through, age seven... ...lip-synching to some of her favorite artists.

(vocalist on computer): ♪ ...getting down tonight ♪ ♪ Call my girls, all my sisters get right ♪ So full of joy.

♪ Get your high heels on ♪ ♪ And your little black dress... ♪ No wonder people loved her.

♪ 'Cause you're gonna impress tonight ♪ ♪ We only drink champagne, that's right... ♪ (clicks) Then, the brands moved in.

Still lovely, still innocent.

Next comes sex.

More pout, less smile, but she's still in control, still enjoying herself.

But then there's this.

(clicks) On the fan sites, they call it the dark post.

It was made two months ago, and it was deleted less than a minute after it was recorded, but a couple of people managed to save it.

(clicks) Hey, guys.

I just wanted to say that only you can judge you.

Don't be afraid to stand up, don't be afraid to be alone.

Love will find you.

Love is waiting.

(clicks) Life really wasn't fun anymore.

Like she was trapped being watched all the time, and judged.

Well, she was being watched.

By her spinning instructor.

Marcus.

Looks like he was stalking her.

Are there more photographs like this?

Lots.

Actually like this?

Oh, yes.

Why?

Seems kind of innocent.

(phone rings) (ringing stops) Moers.

He what?

Are you sure?

Okay, okay.

I'm on my way.

♪ ♪ (knocking) Show me.

Hello to you, too.

(beeping) I analyzed the cell data from the two numbers used to send the messages.

I also got the... ...locations they were sent from.

I suspect that, as I will soon demonstrate, the user did not know that even burner phones can now have GPS, which reveals their location.

The first threat was sent four days ago.

The second, the next day.

But, in the same time span... (clicks) three longer messages: To a journalist's Twitter feed, a online gossip column, a restaurant critic.

All anonymous, either attacking Roger Gaillardin or praising Ferdinand Fumal.

"Gaillardin has been a total disaster as C.E.O.

The board should welcome Fumal with open arms."

That pattern continues.

Anonymous threats against Fumal, anonymous texts praising Fumal, attacking Gaillardin.

(clicking) It's weird, but it doesn't necessarily... Then you add the third factor.

I used Fumal's own phone to track where he's been for the last four days.

All the same places.

♪ ♪ What, he sent himself the death threats?

Thank you, Moers.

♪ ♪ (birds chirping) GOLDMAN: Your former colleagues supply the manpower, former clients and contacts the threat intelligence... FUMAL: And you have the makings of a highly profitable private security company.

And you'd provide the funding for this?

Oh, yes.

Seriously?

(sighs) Well, well, the great detective.

A glass of wine, Chief Inspector?

No.

You sure?

Cavre says you've usually had a couple by now.

I have some information.

I'd rather tell you privately.

(scoffs) Why?

Is Goldman trying to kill me?

(laughs) He hasn't got the balls.

Well, come on then.

Spit it out.

Our technicians have analyzed the phone numbers used to send the threats.

They have 99% degree of certainty that you sent them yourself.

That's rubbish.

Read the analysis.

In my opinion, there is no threat to you at this time, and I am withdrawing my team from your case.

Go on then, piss off.

You too, you little sponger.

Hey, he begged us to set him up with a private security company.

He suggested it.

Come on, Cavre.

Hey, before you scuttle off, do you know what I'm gonna do next?

I'm buying Saint-Fiacre.

The chateau.

I made the countess an offer.

She didn't like it, but she'll take it.

She's up to her ears in debt.

The butcher's boy, owner of Saint-Fiacre.

Maybe they'll even make me a count.

Why did you ask for me, Fumal?

I saw you on TV, because of the girl you can't find, so I wanted to see if you were as good as they say-- or if, as your loyal subordinate says, you've been promoted too far, too fast.

That's not the real reason, is it?

No.

No, it's not.

I wanted to see if you were still the smug little hypocrite you were back then.

Hypocrite?

Pretending to be my friend and laughing at me up your sleeve.

You were even worse than the others.

I despised you then, I despise you now.

Get out!

Go on.

♪ ♪ Fumal has an instinct for people's weaknesses.

(sighs) You let him find yours and use it.

Next time, be more careful.

Er... I'm sorry.

(phone vibrating) Yes, Janvier.

JANVIER (on phone): Boss, two of Layla's fans just broke into Marcus's apartment.

(police radio chatter) Layla's amateur sleuths.

Managed to grab the little bastards.

How did they get in?

Same way we did.

Asked questions at Layla's exercise class.

MAIGRET: I thought the plan was you and Lapointe would keep watch.

We were.

Apartment across there.

They were too quick-- pulled up in an Uber and ran in, bust down the door before we could stop them.

Trashed the place.

MAIGRET: Hope we're not interrupting you, Lapointe.

LAPOINTE: I'm just checking the "Where Is Layla?"

Facebook page.

Yep.

Marcus is on it, and his apartment.

Plus, there's a thread: "Why didn't the cops come clean about Marcus Desailly?'

This is out of control, boss.

What if one of these hormonal wackos gets to Marcus before we do?

(phone vibrating) Madame prosecutor.

I did.

I will.

Right, seal this place.

Priority is Marcus.

We have to find him before someone else does.

(quietly): Okay.

♪ ♪ It's fine.

It's not a problem, he's with me.

(indistinct chatter, classical music playing) Fumal.

What do you have to say?

What did he tell you?

Many things.

Mainly that you were rude, incompetent, and out of your depth.

And you didn't even find out who was threatening him.

Oh, so that's one thing he didn't tell you.

What?

He sent himself the death threats.

Why, for God's sake?

Because he thinks everyone is out to get him and he wanted police protection.

You mean this was just paranoia?

Partly paranoia.

There is another reason.

He and I grew up in the same village.

He wanted to renew an old grudge.

Didn't you think it odd that of all the detectives at La Crim he asked for me?

And there's a third reason.

He wanted to show he had power over you.

What that is and why, I don't know and I don't care, but I know he collects secrets.

That's how he does business.

Now, Layla Lyonnet has been missing nearly four days.

I don't want to waste another minute on Fumal.

Wait.

Is Fumal in danger?

Only in his imagination.

KERNAVEL: You can trust him, Minister.

All right.

Thank you, Maigret.

I need your help with the Layla case.

♪ ♪ (overlapping): It's the police!

Have you found her?

Inspector, have you found her yet?

Inspector!

Do you have any leads?

Have you found Layla?

(clamoring, crosstalk) Madame Lyonnet, Prosecutor Kernavel.

Come in, please.

Monsieur Lyonnet.

Have a seat.

Have you got any news for us?

I hoped I would have news, but due to the behavior of some of Layla's fans, police surveillance of a suspect was disrupted, and... Then Marcus Desailly is a suspect?

We're keen to talk to him, to find out what he knows about Layla.

What do you mean, what he knows?

He knows everything.

He was stalking her.

Possibly.

But because of the fans, his name and face were all over social media, including your Facebook page.

So finding him will be infinitely harder.

I'm sorry about that, but her fans are upset.

We're upset.

Our daugh... our daughter's missing, and the police are doing nothing.

KERNAVEL: They identified Marcus, didn't they?

CHARLES: Yeah, okay.

Is that all you've come for, to complain about Layla's fans?

No, I would like you to call them off.

What, like they're dogs?

They're people.

They care about her.

And if we don't "call them off," what are you going to do?

KERNAVEL: I would very reluctantly prosecute you for obstructing a police investigation.

(sniffles) We... We've lost our daughter and you're threatening us?

You're unbelievable.

(sobbing) CHARLES: No, don't touch that!

(phone chimes) You've no right to do that.

To stop you filming us without our consent?

We absolutely do.

I'm serious, call off the fans.

(phone beeps) Do you know what the worst case scenario is?

Yeah, we sue you.

The worst case scenario is Layla has been kidnapped, and this publicity makes the kidnapper panic.

That's when kidnaps go wrong, when we recover the victim not living but dead.

Please.

Do what Prosecutor Kernavel is asking.

Call the fans off.

(vocalist on computer): ♪ Tonight we comin' through ♪ ♪ Hangin' with my crew ♪ ♪ What you wanna do... ♪ (phone ringing) ♪ Sexy ladies... ♪ (stops video) (ringing continues) (indistinct chatter) (phone vibrating) Hey.

LOUISE (on phone): Hey.

Someone just called for you-- Sophie de Saint-Fiacre?

The countess?

The countess.

You'd better call her back.

Do you want her number?

Please.

♪ ♪ Jules.

Sophie.

You've grown up.

Er, it happens.

(laughs) Two Calvados, please.

We'll drink to the memory of your father.

He and I would always have a Calvados together when we went through the estate accounts.

Perhaps that's why they were always so confused.

No... Jules, I'm joking!

Your father was always scrupulous.

But, seriously, how many years is it since we last met, 20 years?

Nearly 20 years.

It's too long.

And in all that time, you've never been back to Saint-Fiacre?

No.

(waiter approaching) Thank you.

(glasses clink) Your wife sounds nice.

Do you have children?

Not yet.

Though we've just learned she's pregnant, so... Well, that's wonderful news.

Now we really do have something to drink to, not just old times.

To your firstborn.

(clinking) I wish my son would settle down and get married.

You remember Maurice?

Of course.

Why are we meeting here?

And not at your apartment?

Well, you are the detective.

We're here... because I'm selling the Paris apartment.

It's all packing cases and empty spaces on the wall where the paintings used to hang.

Ferdinand Fumal.

He's why you wanted to see me.

Yes.

(glass thuds) He's trying to buy Saint-Fiacre.

You knew?

I worked with him, briefly.

He told me.

When I say trying to buy, it's more like forcing me to sell, and offering me an insultingly low price.

He said you were in debt.

(scoffs) The things people tell policemen.

Did he also tell you he's blackmailing me?

It's how he does his deals.

He looks for weaknesses.

Well, he's found mine.

I was not a saint after my husband died.

Some of my ex-lovers have evidence of my wild years.

And Fumal?

Well, he's willing to buy it.

For myself?

I don't give a damn, but when... I think about Maurice... and the Saint-Fiacre name dragged through the mud by this bully?

(exclaims, sucks in breath) (bracelets jangling) Sophie?

(gasps) Are you all right?

I'm fine now.

What I don't understand is how he gets away with this behavior.

How he can harass and bribe and blackmail.

What do you want me to do?

Stop him.

Are you asking me as police?

I'm asking you as a man.

♪ ♪ (clears throat) (clears throat again) (keypad beeping) Come to beg, have you?

The answer's still no.

(gun clicks) (gunshots firing) (exhales) (breathing shakily) (sighs) (dog barking in distance) (traffic thrumming in distance) (sighs) What did your countess want?

My help.

Did you help?

No.

Big day tomorrow.

The heartbeat.

♪ ♪ (breathing deeply) (panting) (clock ticking) ♪ ♪ (breathing deeply) ♪ ♪ (phone ringing) (phone beeps) (whispering): Lucas?

LUCAS (on phone): Boss, the police were called to Fumal's house an hour ago.

He's been shot.

(sighs) ♪ ♪ (click) ♪ ♪ At least three gunshots, and none of you heard anything?

Lies.

That house is full of lies.

I trusted you.

You're doing everything you can.

Where were you last night?

Are you serious?

MAIGRET: You're like a jackal-- let others do the killing and wait for the scraps.

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