A Crime in Holland (14 page)

‘All right, that will do,' snapped Maigret. ‘I know how it goes: “There are some exceptions, they're sick or they're misfits. They meet barriers they can't overcome. They're rejected on all sides, so they turn to a life of crime.” That sort of thing, yes? Not original. With the conclusion: “We don't need more prisons, we need more rehabilitation centres, hospitals, clinics …”'

Duclos, looking sullen, did not reply.

‘Right, so you were talking about this for three quarters of an hour, with a few striking examples. You quoted Lombroso, Freud and company.'

He looked at his watch, then spoke mainly to the row of chairs.

‘I'm going to ask you to wait another few minutes.'

Just at that moment, one of the Wienands children started to cry, and her mother, in a state of nerves, gave the little girl a shake to quieten her. Wienands, seeing that this was having no effect, took the child on his knees and first patted her hand, then pinched her arm to make her stop.

The empty chair between Beetje and Any was the only reminder that what had happened was a tragedy. And even then it was hard to take it in. Was Beetje, with her fresh complexion but quite ordinary features, really worth breaking up a marriage for?

There was just one thing about her that was really
seductive, and it was the spell cast by Maigret's staging of the scene that had brought out that pure truth, reducing events to their crudest common denominator: her two splendid breasts, made even more enticing by the shiny silk surface. Eighteen-year-old breasts, quivering a little under her blouse, just enough to make them look even more luscious.

Along the row sat Madame Popinga, who even at the age of eighteen hadn't had breasts like that, Madame Popinga, swathed in too many clothes, layer upon layer of sober, tasteful garments, which took away from her any fleshly allure.

Then there was Any, skinny, ugly, flat-chested, but enigmatic.

Conrad Popinga had met Beetje: Popinga, a man who loved life, a man who had such an appetite for good things. And he hadn't been looking at Beetje's face, with her baby-blue eyes. Nor, above all, had he guessed at the desire to escape lurking beneath that china-doll face.

What he'd seen was that quivering bosom, that attractive young body bursting with health!

As for Madame Wienands, she was no longer a woman in that sense: she was all mother and housewife. Just now she was wiping the nose of her child, who had worn herself out with crying.

‘Do I have to stay up here?' asked Duclos from the stage.

‘If you please.'

And Maigret approached Pijpekamp, and spoke to him in an undertone. Shortly afterwards, the Dutch policeman went out, taking Oosting with him.

Men were playing billiards in the café. The clash of the billiard balls could be heard.

And in the hall, people's chests were constricted. It felt like a spiritualist session, as if they were waiting for some terrifying thing to happen. Any was the only one who dared stand up, abruptly, and after hesitating for a while she said:

‘I don't see what you want us to do. It's …'

‘It's time now. Excuse me, where is Barens?'

He'd forgotten about him. He located him, standing at the back of the hall, leaning against the wall.

‘Why didn't you come and take your seat?'

‘You said: the same as the other night …'

The boy's gaze shifted around, and his voice came out breathless.

‘The other night I was in the cheap seats, with the other students.'

Maigret took no further notice of him. He went to open the door that led to an entry porch giving directly on to the street, making it possible to avoid going through the café. He could see only three or four silhouettes in the darkness outside.

‘I presume that when the lecture finished, some people clustered around the foot of the stage: the college principal, the minister, a few elders of the town congratulating the lecturer.'

No one replied, but these few words were enough to conjure up the scene: the bulk of the audience moving towards the exit, the scraping of chairs, conversations and around the stage a little group: handshakes and words of praise for the professor.

As the room emptied, the last handful of people would finally move towards the door. Barens would come to join the Popingas.

‘You can come down now, Monsieur Duclos.'

They all stood up. But everyone seemed unsure about the role he or she should play. They were watching Maigret. Any and Beetje were pretending not to see each other. Wienands, looking awkward and embarrassed, was carrying his younger child, a baby.

‘Follow me.'

And just before they reached the door:

‘We're going to walk to the house in the same order as on the evening of the lecture. Madame Popinga and Monsieur Duclos …'

They looked at each other, hesitated, then started to walk along the dark street.

‘Mademoiselle Beetje! You were walking with Monsieur Popinga. So go along now, I'll catch up with you.'

She scarcely dared set off alone towards the town, and above all was afraid of her father, at present being guarded in a corner of the hall by a policeman.

‘Now Monsieur and Madame Wienands …'

These two could behave the most naturally, since they had the children to look after.

‘Now Mademoiselle Any and Barens.'

The last named almost burst into tears, but bit his lip and walked out past Maigret.

Then the inspector turned to the policeman guarding Liewens.

‘On the evening of the murder, at this time, he was at
home. Can you take him there, and get him to do exactly what he did that night?'

It looked like a straggling funeral procession. The first to leave kept stopping and wondering whether they should keep going. There were hesitations and halts.

Madame Van Hasselt was watching the scene from her doorway, while exchanging remarks with the billiard players.

The town was three-quarters asleep, the shops all closed. Madame Popinga and Duclos headed straight for the quayside, the professor seemingly trying to reassure his companion.

Pools of light alternated with darkness, since the street lamps were far apart.

The black waters of the canal were visible, and boats bobbed gently, each with a lamp attached to its mast. Beetje, sensing Any following behind her, was trying to walk casually, but being on her own made that difficult to achieve.

A few paces separated each group. A hundred metres or so ahead, Oosting's boat could easily be seen, since it was the only one with a hull painted white. No light showed from the portholes. The quayside was deserted.

‘Please stop where you are now!' Maigret called out, loudly enough to be heard by everyone.

They all froze. It was a dark night. The luminous beam of the lighthouse passed very high overhead, without illuminating anything.

Maigret spoke to Any:

‘This is where you were in the procession?'

‘Yes.'

‘And what about you, Barens?'

‘Yes, I think so.'

‘You're sure? You were definitely walking along with Any?'

‘Yes. Wait … Not here but a few metres further on, Any pointed to one of the children's coats, dragging in the mud.'

‘And you ran ahead a little way to tell Wienands?'

‘Madame Wienands, yes.'

‘And that just took a few seconds?'

‘Yes. The Wienands family went on, and I waited for Any to catch up.'

‘And you didn't notice anything unusual?'

‘No.'

‘Go on another ten metres, everyone,' Maigret ordered. By that time, Madame Popinga's sister was level with Oosting's boat.

‘Now Barens, go and catch up the Wienands family.'

And to Any:

‘Pick up that cap from the deck!'

She had only to take three steps and lean across. The cap was clearly visible, black on white: the metallic badge on it was catching the light.

‘Why do you want me to …?'

‘Just pick it up. ‘

The others could be glimpsed ahead of them turning round to see what was happening.

‘But I didn't …'

‘That doesn't matter. We haven't got enough people. Everyone will have to act several parts. It's just an experiment.'

She picked up the cap.

‘Now hide it under your coat. And go and join Barens.'

Then he went on to the deck of the boat and called:

‘Pijpekamp!'

‘
Ja!
'

And the Dutch inspector showed himself at the forward hatch. It was where Oosting slept. There wasn't room for a man to stand upright inside it, so it made sense, if you were smoking the last pipe of an evening, say, to lean out and put your elbows on the deck.

Oosting was in precisely this attitude. From the bank, from the level where the cap had been placed, he could not be seen, but he would have been able to see the person who had stolen the cap quite clearly.

‘Good. Now get him to act exactly the same as he did the other night.'

And Maigret strode on, overtaking some of the groups.

‘Keep walking! I will take Popinga's place.'

He found himself alongside Beetje, with Madame Popinga and Duclos ahead of him, the Wienands family behind him, and Any and Barens bringing up the rear. There was a sound of steps further behind. Oosting, accompanied by Pijpekamp, had started to walk along the bank.

From that point, there was no more street lighting. After the harbour, one went past the lock, now deserted, separating the sea from the canal. Then came the towpath, with trees on the right, and half a kilometre ahead, the Popinga house.

Beetje stammered:

‘I … I don't see what …'

‘Hush. It's a quiet night. The others can hear us, just like we can hear the people in front of us and behind us. So Popinga was talking to you out loud about this and that, the lecture probably.'

‘Yes.'

‘But under your breath you were remonstrating with him.'

‘How do you know?'

‘Never mind. Wait. During the lecture, you were sitting next to him. You tried to press his hand. Did he push you away?'

‘Y-yes,' she stammered, impressed, and looking at him wide-eyed.

‘And you tried again.'

‘Yes. He wasn't so cautious before, he even kissed me behind a door in his house. And once in the dining room, when Madame Popinga was in the parlour, and saying something to us. It was only recently he started to get scared.'

‘So, you were arguing with him. You told him again that you wanted to go away somewhere with him, while you carried on the more innocent conversation in normal voices.'

They could hear the footsteps of the people ahead of them and behind, voices murmuring, and Duclos saying:

‘… assure you that this does not correspond to any
proper
method of conducting a police investigation.'

And behind them Madame Wienands was telling her child in Dutch to behave herself. Ahead of them, the house loomed up through the darkness. There were no lights on. Madame Popinga stopped at the door.

‘You stopped like this the other night too, didn't you, because your husband had the key?'

‘Yes.'

The groups all caught up.

‘Open the door,' said Maigret. ‘Was the maid in bed then?'

‘Yes, as she is tonight.'

After opening the door, she pressed an electric switch. The hall, with the bamboo coat-stand on the left, was now illuminated.

‘And Popinga was in a good mood at this point?'

‘Yes, very, but he was not his usual self. He was speaking too loudly.'

People took off their hats and coats.

‘One moment. Did everyone take off their coats here?'

‘Everyone except Any and me,' said Madame Popinga. ‘We went up to our rooms to tidy ourselves up.'

‘And you didn't go into any other room? Who put the light on in the parlour?'

‘Conrad.'

‘So please go upstairs.'

And he went up with them.

‘Any didn't stay in your room, although she had to go through it to get to hers. Is that right?'

‘Yes, I think so.'

‘Would you be so good as to repeat exactly what you did? Mademoiselle Any, please go and put the cap with your hat and coat in your room. What did you do next, both of you?'

Madame Popinga's lower lip quivered.

‘I … I just powdered my nose,' she said in a childlike voice. ‘And combed my hair. But I can't … It's so awful. I
seem to … I could hear Conrad's voice. He was talking about the wireless, and saying he wanted to listen to Radio-Paris.'

Madame Popinga threw her coat on the bed. She was weeping without tears, from nervous tension. Any, in the study which was her temporary bedroom, was standing still and waiting.

‘And you came down together?'

‘Yes. No. I can't remember. I think Any came down a little after me. I was thinking about getting the tea made.'

‘So in that case, would you go downstairs now, please.'

He remained alone with Any, didn't say a word but took the cap from her, looked around and hid it under the divan.

‘Come on.'

‘How can you think …?'

‘No. Just come along. You didn't powder your nose?'

‘No, never!'

There were shadows under her eyes. Maigret made her go down ahead of him. The stairs creaked. Below, there was absolute silence. So much so that when they entered the parlour, the atmosphere was surreal. The room looked like a waxworks museum. Nobody had dared sit down. Madame Wienands was the only one moving, as she tidied her older child's hair.

‘Take your places as you did the other night. Where's the wireless?'

He found it himself, and switched it on. There was crackling at first, then some voices and strains of music, and finally he tuned it to a station playing a comedy sketch between two Frenchmen: