The Truth About Charlie Page #2

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This is the most horrific | day of my life.

What a nightmare.

I've got to get out of here.

The next thing I know, caution | has obviously been thrown to the winds.

We're at the Portabella | retrospective in Berlin,

visiting his old friends | in Uganda, Sarajevo, Montral.

Impulse marriage | at the Chelsea registry office.

It was... | It was all so exciting...

so promising at first.

Whirlwind romance. | Moved to Paris.

And then...

Then seems like he's | always off on business.

I'm mostly alone | in this huge flat.

And now...

And now...

Now I'm slightly drunk, | I'm afraid.

You're a good listener.

No.

You're a good talker.

Have you ever been in love | in Paris, Joshua?

Uh, I can't say that I've | had that pleasure, Reggie.

Well, | you're still young.

Maybe you still | have a chance.

That'd be nice.

Oh, yes. A bed. | Oh, thank God.

Thank you.

You are welcome.

Sweet dreams then.

What?

I'm gonna crash. | Room 28, second floor, | if you need me.

Oh.

Sleep well, okay?

Oh! Charles's bag.

Wha... Oh.

Sorry. | Good night, Reggie.

It's Regina, you know. | Nobody calls me Reggie.

Nobody at all, huh?

Not till now anyway.

Good.

Merci.

Oui.

Bon soir. | Bon soir.

Bon soir. | Bon soir.

Monsieur? | Hmm? "Oui, madame?"

Je peut vous aidez, Commandant? | For me. | Do something for me.

Okay. I will.

Peut-je avoir votre passeport, | s'il vous plat?

Sure thing. May I ask | what's up here, Commandant?

Monsieur?

And already you're moving her | into your hotel?

Tucking her in at night? | Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Hmm, it's kind of | a damsel in distress thing.

Yes, I know. | Slain husband, missing money.

Cops breathing | down her neck. | Exactly.

And now | the mysterious stranger.

Okay. Fine. | You're here on holiday?

Actually, I live here | off and on.

She's a real beauty, | isn't she?

I suppose she is. Yes.

I always wonder | with a woman like that...

what kind of guy actually | gets to go to bed with her?

Well, in this case, | a dead one, I guess.

Well, surely you're not | suspicious of her, Commandant.

No? | Well, she just doesn't | seem like the type.

Which type is that? | The murdering type?

Mm-hmm.

Cheese. Cheese.

Merci, monsieur. | I'll take that, Mrs. Lambert.

Mr. Bartholomew? | How do you do?

Wait here, Pierre.

Sorry our first meeting | has to take place under | such unhappy circumstances.

We have a great deal to cover, | and I'm on a bit of | a tight schedule today.

How you holding up? | I'm bewildered, | to tell you the truth.

French police | been bothering you?

They seem to think I had | something to do with this... | this hideous...

I'm afraid we can't interfere | there... not just now anyway.

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