Vivement dimanche!

Who is your lawyer?
Mr. Clement.
Go ahead, then.
I won't answer any question
till he gets here.

You won't get a peep out of me...
not even the right time!
Good evening, Mr. Clement.
Bring in two chairs
and some sandwiches.

Massoulier's been killed.
I know.
These idiots suspect me.
They want to detain me.

It's their right, but...
I think I was denounced.
Not exactly, but accused
by a loony anonymous phone caller.

- Did you tell them?
- Not yet.

What do you want here?
One day,
I'll find you in my bedroom.

We'll see this with Mme Santelli.
Listen to me...
You two, come here.
No conspiracies.
Sit down.
- Commissaire Santelli?
- What is it now?

He's an Albanian.
She's his interpreter.

They insisted on seeing you.
I want to live here,
in this country.

I don't want to be sent back.
He wants political asylum here,

Political asylum at 11 p.m.!
I'll see what I can do.
You kept us waiting!
I know, I'm sorry. Killings
don't happen everyday in this town.

Massoulier died this morning.
Neither a suicide nor an accident.
He was hot pointblank
in the head.