time.
‘What are they doing?’
‘The maid has cleared the table.
The ship-owner, in his armchair, is chain-smoking. I do believe Louis is falling
asleep. He still has his cigar between his teeth, but I don’t see the
slightest wisp of smoke.’
‘Did he have any more to
drink?’
‘A full glass of the bottle that
was on the mantelpiece.’
‘Armagnac,’ muttered
Maigret.
‘Hold on! There’s a light
upstairs … It must be the maid going to sleep. The mayor is standing up.
He—’
The sound of voices over by the bar. A
car engine. Some faint words …
‘A hundred metres on? In the
house?’
‘No, outside.’
Maigret set out to intercept the car,
which was heading his way. He saw the uniformed men inside and stopped it some
distance from the villa so as not to alert the mayor.
‘Any news?’
‘Évreux has informed us that the
man in the yellow car has been arrested.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Well, listen – he’s
protesting the arrest! He threatens to inform his ambassador.’
‘He’s a foreigner?’
‘Norwegian! Évreux gave us the
name over the phone, but it was impossible to understand. Martineau, or
Motineau … His papers seem to be in order, and the police want to know
what they should do.’
‘Have them bring him here, with
the yellow car. They must have an officer who can drive. Hurry, get back to Caen and
try to find out where Madame Grandmaison stays when she goes to Paris.’
‘They already told us that a
little while ago, it’s the Hôtel de Lutèce, Boulevard Raspail.’
‘Telephone from Caen to find out
if she arrived and what she’s doing. Wait! If she is there, phone the Police
Judiciaire for me and ask them to have her discreetly followed by an
inspector.’
The car needed to back up at three
different angles to turn around on the narrow road. Maigret went back once again to
Lucas on his wall but found him clambering down.
‘What are you doing?’
‘There’s nothing more to
see.’
‘They’ve left?’
‘No, but the mayor came over to
the curtains and drew them tightly closed.’
A hundred metres away, the boat from
Glasgow moved gently into the lock as orders were given in English. A sudden gust
carried the inspector’s hat off in that direction.
The topmost light in the villa suddenly
went out, leaving the façade in complete darkness.
8. The Mayor’s
Inquiry
Maigret was standing in the middle of the
road, both hands in his pockets, frowning.
‘Something worrying you?’
asked Lucas, who knew his boss.
‘Inside is where we should
be,’ grumbled the inspector, studying the villa’s windows one after the
other.
But they were all closed tight. There
was no way to get into the house. Maigret went quietly up to the front door, leaned
down and listened, gesturing to Lucas for silence. In the end they both had their
ears glued to the oak panel.
They heard no voices, could identify no
words. There were footsteps in the study, however, and some steady, dull thuds.
Were the two men fighting? Unlikely, for
the pounding was too evenly spaced. Two struggling men would come and go, staggering
and bumping into furniture, with pauses and flurries of punches. This was like a
pile-driver. And they could even distinguish the rhythmic breathing of the man
landing the blows: ‘Huh! … Huh! … Huh! …’
In counterpoint, low moaning.
The two policemen looked at each other.
The inspector turned towards the lock and pointed; the sergeant understood and
pulled a set of skeleton keys from his pocket.
‘Don’t make any
noise,’ whispered Maigret.
The house seemed
silent now. Ominously quiet. No more blows. No more footsteps. Maybe – but this was
hard to tell – the hoarse gasping of an exhausted man.
Lucas signalled. The door opened. Dim
light filtered into the hall from around the study door on the left. Maigret
shrugged with irritation and anger.
‘What are they doing?’
‘The maid has cleared the table.
The ship-owner, in his armchair, is chain-smoking. I do believe Louis is falling
asleep. He still has his cigar between his teeth, but I don’t see the
slightest wisp of smoke.’
‘Did he have any more to
drink?’
‘A full glass of the bottle that
was on the mantelpiece.’
‘Armagnac,’ muttered
Maigret.
‘Hold on! There’s a light
upstairs … It must be the maid going to sleep. The mayor is standing up.
He—’
The sound of voices over by the bar. A
car engine. Some faint words …
‘A hundred metres on? In the
house?’
‘No, outside.’
Maigret set out to intercept the car,
which was heading his way. He saw the uniformed men inside and stopped it some
distance from the villa so as not to alert the mayor.
‘Any news?’
‘Évreux has informed us that the
man in the yellow car has been arrested.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Well, listen – he’s
protesting the arrest! He threatens to inform his ambassador.’
‘He’s a foreigner?’
‘Norwegian! Évreux gave us the
name over the phone, but it was impossible to understand. Martineau, or
Motineau … His papers seem to be in order, and the police want to know
what they should do.’
‘Have them bring him here, with
the yellow car. They must have an officer who can drive. Hurry, get back to Caen and
try to find out where Madame Grandmaison stays when she goes to Paris.’
‘They already told us that a
little while ago, it’s the Hôtel de Lutèce, Boulevard Raspail.’
‘Telephone from Caen to find out
if she arrived and what she’s doing. Wait! If she is there, phone the Police
Judiciaire for me and ask them to have her discreetly followed by an
inspector.’
The car needed to back up at three
different angles to turn around on the narrow road. Maigret went back once again to
Lucas on his wall but found him clambering down.
‘What are you doing?’
‘There’s nothing more to
see.’
‘They’ve left?’
‘No, but the mayor came over to
the curtains and drew them tightly closed.’
A hundred metres away, the boat from
Glasgow moved gently into the lock as orders were given in English. A sudden gust
carried the inspector’s hat off in that direction.
The topmost light in the villa suddenly
went out, leaving the façade in complete darkness.
8. The Mayor’s
Inquiry
Maigret was standing in the middle of the
road, both hands in his pockets, frowning.
‘Something worrying you?’
asked Lucas, who knew his boss.
‘Inside is where we should
be,’ grumbled the inspector, studying the villa’s windows one after the
other.
But they were all closed tight. There
was no way to get into the house. Maigret went quietly up to the front door, leaned
down and listened, gesturing to Lucas for silence. In the end they both had their
ears glued to the oak panel.
They heard no voices, could identify no
words. There were footsteps in the study, however, and some steady, dull thuds.
Were the two men fighting? Unlikely, for
the pounding was too evenly spaced. Two struggling men would come and go, staggering
and bumping into furniture, with pauses and flurries of punches. This was like a
pile-driver. And they could even distinguish the rhythmic breathing of the man
landing the blows: ‘Huh! … Huh! … Huh! …’
In counterpoint, low moaning.
The two policemen looked at each other.
The inspector turned towards the lock and pointed; the sergeant understood and
pulled a set of skeleton keys from his pocket.
‘Don’t make any
noise,’ whispered Maigret.
The house seemed
silent now. Ominously quiet. No more blows. No more footsteps. Maybe – but this was
hard to tell – the hoarse gasping of an exhausted man.
Lucas signalled. The door opened. Dim
light filtered into the hall from around the study door on the left. Maigret
shrugged with irritation and anger.
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