their faces growing redder and redder.
An hour later, Maigret learned in the
bar on the quay that Gassin hadnât gone back to his barge but that heâd
taken a room at Catherineâs, above the dance hall.
8.
It was a Sunday, one of those Sundays
which do not exist outside childhood memories, everything spruce and newly minted,
from the periwinkle-blue sky to the water which reflected elongated images of the
houses. Even the taxis were redder or greener than on other days, and the empty,
echoing streets playfully bounced the smallest sounds back and forth.
Maigret ordered the driver to stop just
before he got to the Charenton lock, and Lucas, whom heâd detailed to keep an
eye on Gassin, emerged from the bar and came over to meet him.
âHe hasnât moved. He spent
last night drinking with the woman who runs the dance hall, but he hasnât left
the place. Maybe heâs still asleep.â
The decks of the barges were as deserted
as the streets. There was just one small boy sitting on a rudder, who was putting on
his Sunday socks. Lucas, nodding towards the
Golden Fleece
, went on:
âYesterday, the crazy girl got
worked up. She popped out of the hatch five or six times and once she ran as far as
the bar on the corner. Some boatmen saw her and went off to find the old man, but he
wouldnât go home. After the funeral and the rest of it, it created an awkward
atmosphere. Until midnight you could see people on the boats all the time, and they
were all looking in this direction. I
should also mention that the dance hall has opened again
for business. You can hear the music as far away as the lock. The men from the boats
were still all dressed up. Anyway, the girl must have gone to sleep in the end, but
this morning it wasnât properly light before she was wandering around the
place, not wearing shoes, like a cat worrying about her kittens. On the way she woke
up the neighbours on three or four barges: two hours ago youâd have seen men
and women in nightshirts peering out of all the hatches. But despite it all, no one
told her where the old man was. I think it was for the best. One woman brought her
back to the
Golden Fleece
, and theyâre both there now, cooking up
breakfast for themselves. Look, you can see the smoke coming from the
stove-pipe.â
Smoke was rising straight into the air
from most of the boats, where people were getting dressed amid a warm aroma of
coffee.
âKeep watching him,â said
Maigret.
Instead of getting back into his taxi,
he walked into the dance hall. The door was open. The woman was sprinkling water on
the floor before sweeping it.
âIs he upstairs?â asked the
inspector.
âI think heâs just got up. I
can hear footsteps.
Maigret climbed several stairs and
listened. Someone was indeed moving about. Then a door opened, and Gassin stuck out
his face covered with shaving soap, shrugged his shoulders and went back inside.
Ducrauâs house in the country, at
Samois, was separated from the Seine by the towpath. It was a substantial
building consisting of three wings and
a central courtyard.
When the taxi stopped, Ducrau was
waiting by the gate. He was wearing navy blue as usual, and there was a new cap on
his head.
âYou neednât keep the
cab,â he told Maigret. âMy car will take you back.â
He waited while Maigret paid the driver.
He applied surprisingly meticulous attention to locking the gate himself. He then
put the key in his pocket and called to his chauffeur, who was at the far end of the
courtyard cleaning a grey car with a hose.
âEdgar! Donât let anybody in
and if you see anyone prowling round the house, come and tell me.â
After which he looked solemnly at
Maigret and asked:
âWhere is he?â
âGetting dressed.â
âWhat about Aline? What sort of
state is she
An hour later, Maigret learned in the
bar on the quay that Gassin hadnât gone back to his barge but that heâd
taken a room at Catherineâs, above the dance hall.
8.
It was a Sunday, one of those Sundays
which do not exist outside childhood memories, everything spruce and newly minted,
from the periwinkle-blue sky to the water which reflected elongated images of the
houses. Even the taxis were redder or greener than on other days, and the empty,
echoing streets playfully bounced the smallest sounds back and forth.
Maigret ordered the driver to stop just
before he got to the Charenton lock, and Lucas, whom heâd detailed to keep an
eye on Gassin, emerged from the bar and came over to meet him.
âHe hasnât moved. He spent
last night drinking with the woman who runs the dance hall, but he hasnât left
the place. Maybe heâs still asleep.â
The decks of the barges were as deserted
as the streets. There was just one small boy sitting on a rudder, who was putting on
his Sunday socks. Lucas, nodding towards the
Golden Fleece
, went on:
âYesterday, the crazy girl got
worked up. She popped out of the hatch five or six times and once she ran as far as
the bar on the corner. Some boatmen saw her and went off to find the old man, but he
wouldnât go home. After the funeral and the rest of it, it created an awkward
atmosphere. Until midnight you could see people on the boats all the time, and they
were all looking in this direction. I
should also mention that the dance hall has opened again
for business. You can hear the music as far away as the lock. The men from the boats
were still all dressed up. Anyway, the girl must have gone to sleep in the end, but
this morning it wasnât properly light before she was wandering around the
place, not wearing shoes, like a cat worrying about her kittens. On the way she woke
up the neighbours on three or four barges: two hours ago youâd have seen men
and women in nightshirts peering out of all the hatches. But despite it all, no one
told her where the old man was. I think it was for the best. One woman brought her
back to the
Golden Fleece
, and theyâre both there now, cooking up
breakfast for themselves. Look, you can see the smoke coming from the
stove-pipe.â
Smoke was rising straight into the air
from most of the boats, where people were getting dressed amid a warm aroma of
coffee.
âKeep watching him,â said
Maigret.
Instead of getting back into his taxi,
he walked into the dance hall. The door was open. The woman was sprinkling water on
the floor before sweeping it.
âIs he upstairs?â asked the
inspector.
âI think heâs just got up. I
can hear footsteps.
Maigret climbed several stairs and
listened. Someone was indeed moving about. Then a door opened, and Gassin stuck out
his face covered with shaving soap, shrugged his shoulders and went back inside.
Ducrauâs house in the country, at
Samois, was separated from the Seine by the towpath. It was a substantial
building consisting of three wings and
a central courtyard.
When the taxi stopped, Ducrau was
waiting by the gate. He was wearing navy blue as usual, and there was a new cap on
his head.
âYou neednât keep the
cab,â he told Maigret. âMy car will take you back.â
He waited while Maigret paid the driver.
He applied surprisingly meticulous attention to locking the gate himself. He then
put the key in his pocket and called to his chauffeur, who was at the far end of the
courtyard cleaning a grey car with a hose.
âEdgar! Donât let anybody in
and if you see anyone prowling round the house, come and tell me.â
After which he looked solemnly at
Maigret and asked:
âWhere is he?â
âGetting dressed.â
âWhat about Aline? What sort of
state is she
Similar Books
