Cannes Confidential

This is Radio Cannes, live, locked, and loaded.

Rumor has it the alleged bachelor Leo Duval

is in town for his 30th birthday bash.

But only the crème de la crme are invited.

Here is a little birthday song for Leo...

Motherfucker!

Come on.

Fucker.

Come on, baby.

What the hell?

Son of a bitch!

Camybear?

Where is Geneviève?

You have to settle for me this time.

I threatened to break her arm.

She reluctantly agreed.

Dad, why won't you see me?

How's Margaux?

I'm not here for a cozy catch-up chitchat, Dad.

And I guess Leblanc wasn't either.

You've been blackmailed to change your plea.

To protect Margaux and I? That's it?

I don't know what you're talking about...

Don't.

Isn't all this, the case, the sentence,

humiliating enough?

And I have to live with that.

No, Dad. We do.

Margaux and I.

After everything we've been through.

And now you get sent down for crimes you didn't commit!

Camille, listen to me.

I'm the only one who knows what's going on,

one of two people, actually,

who knows about you being blackmailed by Julien Boire.

Who is this other person?

Dad, stop, I'm begging you.

Tell me what's going on.

Who did you upset? Criminals?

The mob? Politicians? Who?

Okay, this isn't nothing.

Someone tried to drive me off the road.

So whatever deal you made didn't work.

They're still coming for me.

They're still coming...

for both of us.

You need to leave it alone.

Dad? You can't be serious.

Maybe your boss was right.

Maybe you need a break.

Guard!

Dad!

I won't give up.

His name is Leo Duval.

The Duval family owns the majority

of Belgian arms manufacturers and the conglomerate Gryphon.

- Arms dealers. - Aviation and aeronautic.

But still one of the biggest arms companies in Europe.

We're homicide, not babysitting.

Duval's security detail has informed us

there's been a threat on his life.

Oh, a death threat on a rich brat.

As in hired assassin.

Duvals are trying to keep this low-profile.

Then call us when the brat's keeled over.

Camille.

Ever heard of teamwork, Lieutenant?

Teamwork's overrated, if you ask me.

It requires trust.

I'm ordering you two to be there.

You're on the guest list.

You're going to do background checks on every guest,

every staff member and caterer of the hotel.

You screw this up, it'll screw up your careers.

Is that clear?

- Crystal. - Crystal.

So go.

Maybe your boss was right.

You need to leave it alone.

Hello.

Double espresso, black.

As usual?

- Yeah, thanks. - Sure.

Did you know that coffee originated in Ethiopia,

where a goatherd noticed that a particular bean

made his goats all jittery.

Curious by nature, he decided to try the bean.

Not now.

Did you see him?

They got to him. He won't budge.

Padel accident?

Someone tried to run me off the road.

Same car as the other night.

Boire?

That means he's on to you.

And that means he's more likely to a make mistake.

Also mean that he wants to kill me.

Mmm.

Thanks, honey.

Question is, who does Boire works for?

What have you discovered?

You've had copies of everything I have.

So the three gangsters that gave testimony against your father,

let's call them the Three Stooges for fun.

There must be a logical connection between them.

Maybe your father arrested them all at some point.

Already checked, nothing.

Alright, so remember our goatherd?

Well, he had a friend, the abbot at the local monastery,

who decided to distill and brew this bean into a drink

to keep him awake during evening prayers.

Coffee then disseminated throughout the whole world.

And it was the British who were responsible

for turning the Americans into coffee drinkers

when the people of Boston,

so outraged at the high taxation of their favorite beverage,

dumped the whole shipment into the harbor

at the eponymous Tea Party that you've no doubt heard of,

and the Americans chose coffee.

Is there a point to a history lesson?

There is always a connection.

We just haven't found it yet.

You two simply can't get enough of each other?

We need to get to the Majestic.

Oh, yeah. Huge party, VIPs only.

Sorry. That means you can't come.

Can you be quiet, Sherlock?

I don't trust this guy.

Don't mind him. It's okay.

We need background checks on Duval and his guests attending.

Interpol intelligence suggests

the hit man could be one known as "Nightshade."

Atropa belladonna. Deadly.

You a botanist now?

The Nightshade supposedly disappeared 15 years ago.

Hasn't been seen or heard of since.

Vanished without a trace. Poof. Gone.

- Some say dead. - So what do you think?

Would a ghost come out of retirement

for a hit on a rich douchebag bachelor?

- Le Majestic, right? - LéA: Yep.

Let's go. It's on him.

Pleasure, as always.

Guess who.

Yeah, of course it's me.

Oh, you know, keeping my head above water.

What have you heard recently about a Nightshade?

You need my botany skills.

Of course you are here.

What more do you know about the Nightshade?

The plant or the assassin?

Guess.

Well, it's a toxic, perennial, herbaceous plant

- from the same family as... - The other one, smartass.

I know. It was a joke.

No one knows who he or she is.

The Nightshade is supremely versatile,

happy to kill long range with a sniper rifle

or a bit of a poisoning

or even from close range with a silencer.

But the one constant is the memento,

which is always a skull-shaped pendant.

- A skull pendant? - I know.

- Really? - Yeah. Yeah.

Why do all killers suffer from vanity?

I'll let you know when I find him.

Or her.

It could be a "her."

Oh, surely you know, Camille,

the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

If crossed, for sure.

You have an irritating knack of popping up all over the place.

We, that is police, has it covered.

Guys, keep an eye on...

Blondie here.

Do not let him in.

- Oh, yeah, don't... - Sorry, can't stay here.

No, I know. I'm going. Bye.

See ya.

Oh, Jesus, I need a break.

I'll head up to the swimming pool.

Leo, Leo, they need more time to get everything ready.

You know what? Bring me a bottle of Cristal.

Excuse me? - Yeah, ice-cold.

What the hell is going on with him today?

Ahh, siblings. You gotta love them.

All that anxious attachment,

a giddy blend of love and rivalry laced with a bit

- of hatred of guilt. - Why are you still here?

You see, there's one tiny detail that I forgot to mention.

The Nightshade has never failed to complete a contract.

- Ah, Serge. How are you? - Hello.

I have a reservation. Delmasse.

Sure, I'll have a look. So, Delmasse.

Listen, my friend, you see the young woman over there?

I don't suppose you can do me a favor.

Uh, yes, there's a problem.

We had to let your room to another guest.

Excuse me? I had a booking.

It would appear not. The hotel is fully booked.