Riviera

You...

... broke my heart.

Adam?

Georgina? What the hell are you doing here?

You know, really I could ask you the same thing.

How did you...?

Irina told me.

I suppose it's good that you and

Mum are on first name terms now.

What are you doing with that?

I thought you were someone else.

What is this place?

Dad's little illusion.

The tax people seem to think

that if you're claiming residency in Monaco, you should

actually be a

resident in Monaco.

He asked me to pretend to be him, to look after the place,

collect the mail.

But why the gun?

He must have felt like he was in some sort of danger.

What if...

... this wasn't an accident?

What if he's still in danger?

What? I just got a text from his phone.

Saying what? Saying sorry.

Okay.

That's nuts. You don't think this is all

a little bit weird?

I think it's weird that you're even thinking like this.

Don't do this.

I should go.

Look,

I'm sorry.

I wish he was still alive too.

Police.

I am a colleague of Mr. Jukes.

Who?

Speak to him yourself.

Who are you?

I wanted to see if you knew of the apartment.

Can I talk to you at the police station, Mrs. Clios?

Shall I send a car?

No, I'll follow him.

Here's a list of potential new clients.

Our investors are spooked. We need to show some money coming in.

For example?

Jakob Negrescu offered us his account nine months ago

and we turned him away.

It's a big account. It would do what we need it to do.

The bank's dealings need to be above board,

reputable. Father always insisted. Not always.

What? Not in the harder days when

we were first starting out.

You think you get rich by being reputable

every step of the way?

Reputable is what you buy you've already

made your fortune.

And you know that how?

Darling, I was there, remember?

Father asked for your advice?

All the time.

Look, Negrescu's

company owns real estate, mostly downtown.

Some diversify now, so it's a couple of hotels, a casino.

Oh, a casino. Well, that would be

why father steered clear, I imagine.

Negrescu worked for your father back in the day. His lawyer.

Sounds like a crook to me.

Christos,

you want to stop putting that stuff up

your nose and get it together, okay?

It was fine playing at being the big boss

when Constantine was here, but he's gone now.

Time to step up.

Take a seat.

How long is this gonna take? I'll let him know you're here.

Mr. Delormes?

Hello, Mrs. Clios. How are you?

A bit confused as to why I'm

meeting a Mr. Jukes. Do you know him?

I do. Are you with the lawyer?

Should I be?

I doubt you have anything to worry about.

Actually, there's something else.

When are they gonna release my husband's things?

Soon, I believe.

Was there something in particular?

His phone.

I haven't seen a phone.

I'm not sure. I'll check.

I have to go. Goodbye.

Officer Jukes. I'm with Interpol.

Serious Financial Crime Agency.

Will you come this way?

Can we have the room?

Please have a seat.

You're an American.

What do you want?

Are you always this rude?

A strange man has been following me.

I have no idea why I'm in this room.

You're from the East Coast.

Do your family still live there?

My father lives in New York.

My mother's dead. I have no siblings.

No doubt you already know all of this.

Tell me about your father.

He was a stockbroker.

And he presently resides in the Metropolitan

Correctional Facility in New York.

It's not too bad as far as prisons go.

How many people know of his incarceration?

As few as possible.

Are you threatening me, Mr. Jukes?

You can't be held responsible for your father's affairs.

Those of your husband's, however.

What of them?

You were his curator.

Yes.

That's how we met.

Meaning you bought and sold works of art for him.

That is what a curator does.

Does the name John Brandyce mean anything to you?

Yes, he's also a collector,...

... like Constantine.

They sometimes bid on the same pieces.

Frequently?

Bidding at auction is frequently anonymous.

It's the auction house's responsibility to check...

... the bidder's credentials.

Are you acquainted with Mr. Brandyce?

No, I never met him.

A painting by Claude Lorrain.

Juno Confiding lo to the Care of Argus was bought from

Mr. Brandyce last year for $15 million.

Yes. I bid on it myself.

It was quite the coup at the time. Congratulations.

Thank you.

Are you aware that the same painting

was bought by Mr. Brandyce ten years ago

for $2 million?

No,

but the art market has been booming, so

It was sold to him by Comstantine Clios.

What are you implying? A profit of $13 million?

A painting sold twice between friends.

I wasn't aware they were friends. I never met the man.

Well, your husband, on the other hand. He had many associates.

The art world is the last unregulated market.

Ideal for money laundering. Constantine would never.

We have been tracking the movement of your husband's funds

from a series of companies to various

bank accounts held in Monaco.

I had no knowledge of my husband's financial affairs.

No.

But perhaps you do know that from a financial

point of view, Monaco is the best place to die.

Or the best place for funds to be held in probate.

I cannot believe Madame can be so naive.

Death duties in France

amount to 50% of all inheritance.

In Monaco, they simply don't exist.

Are you telling me you know nothing of such financial matters?

I intend to learn.

Oh, a course in actuarial accountancy, perhaps?

Is this interview over?

I have no intention of detaining you any further. Good day.

I thought I heard something...

This house is too big. Haunted.

The House of Clios.

Sounds like a horror movie.

Or a Greek tragedy.

What is it about this painting? You're always staring at it.

I bought it for your father because he loved it.

Juno Confiding lo to the Care of Argus.

So I look at it and I think of him.

But something's changed.

Maybe it's the moonlight.

Or maybe it's because he's gone.

He loved you, you know. He did.

Are you gonna leave?

Once you're paid off?

Why would you say something like that?

Do you want me to leave?

I don't know what I want.

But I do know that people leave me when I like them.

There should be a word for it, Madame. A word for what, Patrice?

For the unblemished portion of wall upon which a picture.

Once rested...

So you noticed?

Some time ago.

The frame has been moved.

Why didn't you say anything?

There are some things best left unsaid.

That's becoming quite a theme.

Madame?

Do you know of anything else

best left unsaid?

I still run this house, you know.