A Christmas Kiss

I'm floating.

I'm in my mother's belly.

How do you feel?

I feel alone.

I want you to go back

even further in time.

What do you see?

Light...

Welcome to Mouthe

Candice Lecoeur's Hometown

"I bequeath all my property

and belongings,

"including

my 8 hectares of vineyards,

"my wine-making business

and my home,

"which are estimated today

at 650,000 Euro...

"to the town of Mouthe,

"which will be in charge

of finding a winemaker

"to perpetuate my work."

I didn't drive 400 miles...

"To my sole nephew, David Rousseau,

"I bequeath Toby,

"for I know he loved him dearly."

Toby?

Isn't he dead?

Dear Diary,

I started writing to you

on June 1, 1990,

the day I turned 13.

24 diaries filled

with my poor existence,

told without

the flair of a great writer.

For I have no style,

or only one you could call zilch.

I'd caress your blank pages,

hoping to soon tell you

I'd met someone who really loved me,

who understood me.

A new diary, a new beginning.

The beginning of my new life...

That's what I wanted to write

on your first page.

But it's been three days

since I've written...

I've been dead.

It's surely for the best...

"Snowflake Hotel".

Last week it was -36C.

This is...

The coldest town in France.

"Little Siberia".

You know the place?

I came here as a kid.

Luckily, my dad called my uncle

an ass and we never came back.

It smells like glue. I love it!

They just wallpapered.

Ghastly, isn't it?

Uh, yes. It's unusual.

You look a little...

unusual yourself.

I bet you're an artist or something.

No.

I'm a door-to-door kitchen salesman.

I put you in No. 5. The best room.

It's cold, huh?

The boiler broke down.

But there are blankets.

And there's rum in the mini-bar.

If you're really cold, dial 9,

I'll make a hot-water bottle.

No further

than last time you called.

Glad you think it's funny.

Only a little...

Don't forget, if you want to come out

before the literary season...

The book will come out

when it comes out.

Forget about writing

a James Ellroy masterpiece.

You've received advances.

We have a contract...

Then we'll break it.

You can't fit writing

into little timeslots.

Very well.

Take your time.

But with another publisher.

I've reached my limits.

Today's news

is marked by a tragic death.

The entire region is in mourning.'

Candice Lecoeur represented

"The Belle of Jura" cheese

before becoming weather lady...

It's noon?

The native of Mouthe

visibly decided to end her life.

Her body was found

in the woods next to the border.

Here's our correspondent...

Shit.

Candice Lecoeur's many fans

are in mourning.

Born Martine Langevin,

she was the icon

for "The Belle of Jura" cheese

before becoming weather lady

at Franche-Comt TV.

It is here at the morgue

of the brand new Mouthe hospital,

that Candice's body will rest

before the funeral.

She was found

with a bottle of sleeping pills

in her hand,

in the middle of a "no man's land".

Captain Colbert, could you explain?

It's an area

outside legal jurisdiction

on the Franco-Swiss border.

- So no investigation?

- Correct.

The case is closed.

Thus her mysterious death

will remain... a myst...

Always happens.

It's the snow on the lines.

I won't ask if you slept well.

- Forget something?

#- I started.

I have an idea. A title in any case.

That's a start. What is it?

"No Man's Land".

Not very catchy, is it?

What's it about?

A town called Mouthe,

where a local starlet is found dead.

A blond who did cheese commercials.

A cheese star...

In a no man's land... In Mouthe...

I need to dig deeper.

This might be something.

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