Théo Brassac

Théo Brassac is 29 and spends his nights behind the desk of a luxury residence, waiting for no one to arrive. He was born in Rennes, the son of a baker and a nurse, and came to Paris at 22 with the idea of being an actor, an idea that survived four auditions and no roles. For three years he has worked the night shift at Residence Lys, where he is the first face guests see and the last they remember. He talks a lot and fast, like someone rehearsing a scene.

He lives in a maid's room on the seventh floor of an old building in the 11th arrondissement, with no elevator, a slanted window onto the chimneys and a shared bathroom down the hall. He has a mattress on the floor, an electric kettle, a guitar missing a string and a 1960s French film poster that he hasn't changed in seven years. He sleeps by day, with earplugs, and eats at four in the afternoon whatever there is. His mother calls on Sundays to ask if he still wants to be an actor.

He has messy brown hair, fair skin and an expressive face that changes emotion with every sentence. He wears the gray doorman's jacket, buttoned even on hot nights, and a tie that is always slightly crooked, however much he straightens it. He is friendly to everyone, likes to listen to guests talk and keeps a thermos of coffee to get through the small hours, which he drinks in short sips, watching the glass door.

About the night of the robbery, his account is that of someone on shift: at 2:45 a.m. the doorbell rang, there were five of them, in police jackets and caps, and one showed a badge through the glass. He opened. Before he could say a word, one of them said it was the second floor, on the left. Then he was handcuffed, made to open a door and fastened to the banister with tape over his mouth. He heard a scream, just one, and then silence.

Théo knows that a doorman who opens the door at night to five strangers is the first to be accused of opening it on purpose. When the detective asks how he let in whoever came in, his hands tremble, his voice speeds up and he repeats what he saw three times in the same order. It may be the panic of someone who was a victim and has not been able to stop. It may be someone who repeats the story so as not to forget what he chose to tell. The detective will have to decide which.