The Truth About Charlie Page #4

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I'm trying to get to the truth | by conspiring with them.

Well, how noble of you | to embrace their techniques.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, really, | about your brother and everything,

but give me a break.

Reggie, I hate | that you're caught up in this.

But at the same time I'm glad...

because it means that we've met. | I liked Joshua Peters, | and now he's gone.

Monsieur. | Oui.

Stay here in Paris, | Reggie. With me.

Don't buy that ticket.

What do you think?

- Madame?

La, la, la, la, la! | Bye.

Did you mean what you said | in the taxi?

Everything. | Which part?

The part about that | you're really, really...

glad that you met me | or something like that.

Deeply.

That's sweet... Alex.

I'm still going to London. | Wait.

No, you're not.

You're not goin' | anywhere, Reggie.

Reggie?

Ladies and gentlemen, | welcome.

Whoa!

"Okay," crise cardiaque.

Cardiac arrest. "Mort subite." | Sudden death syndrome.

Our preliminary | forensic reports.

And nobody wants to offer me | a more complicated explanation?

Okay. Regina?

A word with you alone, | s'il vous plat. | The rest of you may leave.

Commandant, I was hoping to | remain here with Madame Lambert.

You especially, monsieur, | may leave.

I was hoping that maybe | I could be of some assistance.

Merci, monsieur. | Au revoir.

That's okay.

You said yesterday that | your husband was an orphan.

An only child? | That's right.

A woman showed up at the morgue | early this morning.

From the provinces. Rully.

She identified | your husband's corpse | as her unmarried son.

Charles du Lac.

"Du Lac"?

Du Lac... Lake.

Charlie Lake. | The old woman said...

her husband beat her son, | and her, without mercy.

Every day. Until one evening | the father fell to his death | from a bedroom window.

Fourteen-year-old Charles | left home the next day.

She's seen him only occasionally | in the years since then.

Why are you telling me | all this, Commandant?

The woman seemed | quite deranged.

Hmm. | I worry for her.

She's convinced | you are responsible | for her son's death.

The missing money. | Well, there | should be a club.

Unfortunately, she's already | on a train back to Rully.

- Ah! | - Regina, I trust you.

You're not a suspect here.

But I do believe you can | lead us to the killer.

And I very much want | your help.

- Commandant... | - Please, Regina. Call meJeanne.

Merci.

I trust you, too.

You will cooperate? | If it means getting | to the truth, yes.

Exactly what kind | of cooperation did | you have in mind, Jeanne?

Whatever it takes to help us | find out everything possible...

about your mysterious | Mr. Peters and his friends.

Whatever it takes?

I'm asking you to find out | everything you can, Regina.

Open up. Dig deep.

Just be very, very careful.

Okay, everybody.

The moment you've | all been waiting for.

- Charlie's last day.

You too, Alex. Dive in.

Okay, here's | Charlie's letter.

You satisfied?

Tell us about Sarajevo, | Mrs. Lake.

Sarajevo? How did you | know about Sara...

I mentioned you told me | a little about your travels.

Mrs. Lambert. Carson Dyle | was terminated...

in 1998 by Eastern European | militia near the former | Yugoslavian border,

forty kilometers | east of Sarajevo.

You've got nothing | to hide, Regina.

You can tell them | about Sarajevo.

What about Sarajevo?

Tell us about your border crossings, | custom checks,

any chance encounters.

We need to know | everything about Sarajevo.

Okay.

I'll start from the beginning.

Very good, Mrs. Lake.

Bon apptit.

Is that table | reserved for them?

They don't know | about this place.

Oh, you didn't tell them | we were coming here? | No.

Unlike everything else about | us, what I confided in you, | et cetera, et cetera.

Reggie, what did the cop want | when she asked you to stay?

She doesn't seem to | like you very much, Alex.

Am I still | allowed to kiss you?

Yeah.

Mm. | Mm.

Oh, that's nice.

Really nice.

There's one other thing.

Which is? | I told them it was me | that killed Charles.

Why would you say | a terrible thing like that?

Okay, Reggie, | I'm gonna ask you again.

This person you don't want | to tell me about?

What do they know about Charles? | I don't want to | play that game anymore.

I don't want to | play any games anymore.

I never break a promise.

- Listen, Regina.

I've really gotten to like you. | I think you're very special.

Yeah. I'm sure. | "Now, can I have that money?"

Right. Hand it over. | I couldn't | stand you when I first met you.

I thought you were so stuck up. | But now I've got a crush on you.

Aw, shucks, girl.

Watch out for Dyle, | Regina. I mean it.

Putting in some overtime?

I see I'm not the only one.

You better back off, Lola. | Did you tell her who | killed Charlie yet, Dyle?

Back off, Lola! | You back off.

Pardon.

- All right. I'll get one.

Oh, eh, allez.

- Go-o!

Lachez-moi!

Quelle salope.!

No!

Lola?

Regina? D-Dyle.

Lola, you hold on. | There's help coming.

D-Dyle.

No, no, no, no. Lola, | he didn't really kill Charles.

- He just told you that, I promise. | - Dyle. Dyle.

N- No.

No.!

Oh, Lola.

We were entitled | to a share of those diamonds,

after what we went through,

Mrs. Lake.

She said, "Dyle." | It's the last thing she said.

- Oh, Reggie, I... | - Yeah. Yeah.

- And in the club, she said, | "Watch out for Dyle." | - Reggie, I...

Why have you never | gone to the police | with your suspicions?

Your brother's death? | Those three? Charles?

I guess I want | that money too.

This is... | very illuminating.

- I'll see you tomorrow? | - Tomorrow?

It's Saturday.

Charlie's last day.

Good night.

Good night, Reggie.

Hmm.

"My dear Regina, | I'm off today to Cannes.

"Got a lead on | a couple of Renoirs, | maybe a Schnabel...

"and a Basquiat.

Can't wait for you."

Oui? All? All?

- I've got it. | - What? What have you got?

I know. | Why didn't I think of that?

Listen. Lieutenant Dessalines will be | over in ten minutes to get you.

We've got some work to do. | I'll get my people ready,

- and see you at headquarters | in half an hour, okay? | - Brilliant.

"12:
00 noon. 8 Rue des Rosiers.

Clignancourt. | The flea market. "

- D'accord.

Je vous rappelle | dans quinze minutes.

D'accord? | D'accord.

Let's go over there | and take a look.

Fancy meeting you here. | Hi.

You find what you were | looking for, Alex?

Reggie, you've found | something, haven't you?

Well, well, well. | The gang's all here.

What's left of it, anyway.

Excusez-moi, monsieur. | Oui?

Yes. Just a little.

Also some "Japonaise." | Mandarine.

Tragic history, monsieur.

Mister Hyppolite's place.

He made a great fortune | last week.

He was, uh, retiring.

Going to see the world.

Ahh! Hmm.

Next day,

he was dead.

What did he sell? | Hector?

He traded in | postage stamps.

Stamps? | Yes.

The collectors called him | "The Seeker."

He could find | anything for you.

If you could afford. | Ahh!

Stamps?

What's he doing, Reggie? | Where's he going? | Where's he going?

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