âNo matter what happens, weâve got them. Tail them, thatâs all â¦â
The taxi set out. A sagging mudguard made a racket all down the road.
âLetâs hear it, Grandjean â¦â
And Maigret heard him out, all the while keeping an
eye on Jojo and the three houses and listening intently to the noises of the night.
âIt was Lucas who telephoned me, told me to watch the owner of this place, Monsieur Oscar â¦Â I began following him at Porte dâOrléans. They had a big dinner at LâEscargot, where they spoke to no one, then went on to
LâAmbigu â¦Â Until then, nothing to report. At midnight, they come out of the theatre and I see them head for the Chope Saint-Martin â¦Â You know the place; in the little dining room upstairs, there are always a few tough guys â¦Â So Monsieur Oscar walks in like
he owns the joint. The waiters welcome him, the proprietor shakes his hand, asks him how business is going â¦
âAs for the wife, her, sheâs right at home there too.
âThey sit down at a table where there were already three guys and a tart. I recognized one of the guys, he owns a bar somewhere around République. The second had a junkshop, Rue du Temple. As for the third guy, I donât know, but the
tart with him has got to be on record with Vice â¦
âThey start drinking champagne, having a gay old time. Then they order crayfish, onion soup, what have you, a real blowout, like those people get up to: yelling, slapping their thighs, belting out a little song now and then â¦
âThere was one jealous scene, because Monsieur Oscar was cuddling too close to the tart and his wife didnât care for her. That worked out in the end, thanks to a fresh bottle of champagne.
âTime to time, the
patron
came over to have a drink with his customers and he even stood them a round. Then,
towards three oâclock, I think, the waiter arrived to say Monsieur
Oscarâs wanted on the phone.
âWhen he came back from the booth, he wasnât laughing any more. He gave me a dirty look, because I was the only one there they didnât know. He spoke in a low voice to the others â¦Â They were in some kind of mess! They
pulled the longest faces â¦Â The girl â I mean Monsieur Oscarâs wife â had circles under her eyes and halfway down her cheeks and was drinking like mad to give herself some Dutch courage â¦
âThere was only one guy who left with the couple, the fellow I didnât know, some kind of Italian or Spaniard â¦
âWhile they were saying goodnight and all that I got out ahead of them to the boulevard. I picked a taxi that didnât look too dilapidated and called two inspectors on duty over at Porte Saint-Denis.
âYou saw their car â¦Â Well! They started going like blazes at Boulevard Saint-Michel. They were whistled down at least ten times, never even looked back. We had real trouble following them. The taxi driver â a Russian â claimed I
was making him burn out his engine â¦â
âTheyâre the ones who were shooting?â
âYes!â
After hearing all the gunfire, Lucas had left the Three Widows house and now joined the inspector.
âWhatâs going on?â he asked.
âHowâs the patient?â
âWeaker. I think heâll make it till morning, though. The surgeon should arrive soon. But what happened here?â
Lucas took in the garageâs iron shutter, scarred by
bullets, and the cot where the mechanic was still tied up with electric wire.
âAn organized gang, then, chief?â
âAnd how!â
Maigret was unusually worried; it was the slight hunching of his shoulders that gave it away. His lips were clamped hard around the stem of his pipe.
âLucas, you organize the dragnet. Phone Arpajon, Ãtampes, Chartres, Orléans, Le Mans,
The taxi set out. A sagging mudguard made a racket all down the road.
âLetâs hear it, Grandjean â¦â
And Maigret heard him out, all the while keeping an
eye on Jojo and the three houses and listening intently to the noises of the night.
âIt was Lucas who telephoned me, told me to watch the owner of this place, Monsieur Oscar â¦Â I began following him at Porte dâOrléans. They had a big dinner at LâEscargot, where they spoke to no one, then went on to
LâAmbigu â¦Â Until then, nothing to report. At midnight, they come out of the theatre and I see them head for the Chope Saint-Martin â¦Â You know the place; in the little dining room upstairs, there are always a few tough guys â¦Â So Monsieur Oscar walks in like
he owns the joint. The waiters welcome him, the proprietor shakes his hand, asks him how business is going â¦
âAs for the wife, her, sheâs right at home there too.
âThey sit down at a table where there were already three guys and a tart. I recognized one of the guys, he owns a bar somewhere around République. The second had a junkshop, Rue du Temple. As for the third guy, I donât know, but the
tart with him has got to be on record with Vice â¦
âThey start drinking champagne, having a gay old time. Then they order crayfish, onion soup, what have you, a real blowout, like those people get up to: yelling, slapping their thighs, belting out a little song now and then â¦
âThere was one jealous scene, because Monsieur Oscar was cuddling too close to the tart and his wife didnât care for her. That worked out in the end, thanks to a fresh bottle of champagne.
âTime to time, the
patron
came over to have a drink with his customers and he even stood them a round. Then,
towards three oâclock, I think, the waiter arrived to say Monsieur
Oscarâs wanted on the phone.
âWhen he came back from the booth, he wasnât laughing any more. He gave me a dirty look, because I was the only one there they didnât know. He spoke in a low voice to the others â¦Â They were in some kind of mess! They
pulled the longest faces â¦Â The girl â I mean Monsieur Oscarâs wife â had circles under her eyes and halfway down her cheeks and was drinking like mad to give herself some Dutch courage â¦
âThere was only one guy who left with the couple, the fellow I didnât know, some kind of Italian or Spaniard â¦
âWhile they were saying goodnight and all that I got out ahead of them to the boulevard. I picked a taxi that didnât look too dilapidated and called two inspectors on duty over at Porte Saint-Denis.
âYou saw their car â¦Â Well! They started going like blazes at Boulevard Saint-Michel. They were whistled down at least ten times, never even looked back. We had real trouble following them. The taxi driver â a Russian â claimed I
was making him burn out his engine â¦â
âTheyâre the ones who were shooting?â
âYes!â
After hearing all the gunfire, Lucas had left the Three Widows house and now joined the inspector.
âWhatâs going on?â he asked.
âHowâs the patient?â
âWeaker. I think heâll make it till morning, though. The surgeon should arrive soon. But what happened here?â
Lucas took in the garageâs iron shutter, scarred by
bullets, and the cot where the mechanic was still tied up with electric wire.
âAn organized gang, then, chief?â
âAnd how!â
Maigret was unusually worried; it was the slight hunching of his shoulders that gave it away. His lips were clamped hard around the stem of his pipe.
âLucas, you organize the dragnet. Phone Arpajon, Ãtampes, Chartres, Orléans, Le Mans,
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