Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London (12 page)

‘You're mad,' Patrick said angrily. ‘Stark raving bonkers and I don't believe a word of it. Sure, the old boy was acting a bit strange when I saw him, but he hadn't gone completely loopy.'

‘Trust us, it's true,' Clive Scott said.

‘It's true, Patrick,' Andy Gillespie confirmed.

‘It can't be. Dad would never
let anyone, other than a qualified doctor, treat Ginny with anything.'

‘And yet he has. But why don't I start from the beginning?'

‘I wish you would, Chief Inspector, because right now I feel like I've wandered into the Mad Hatter's Tea Party.'

So Clive Scott related everything. Chapter and verse: the large donation to the gallery, and the copy of the mother and child painting, the coming event at the London Eye, the counterfeit money, followed by the bomb blast in Dulwich Park. Next he described Genevieve's treatment at the hands of the man whom he suspected was The Recruiter, including the wearing of a known satanic symbol. After that, he threw into the mix the Recruiter's manipulation of an everyday rascal like Slippery Sid Ellis by means of his mother's illness and gambling debts. Finally, he added the fact of Serge Vachon's body having been fished out of the Thames, the attempted murder of Georges Martin and Nicole Vachon, then metaphorically stirred well, and waited, shooting a ‘keep schtum' look at Andy, and silence engulfed the room.

The three of them sat in this quiet state for almost five minutes, while the shadows lengthened and the light began to fail.

Finally, Patrick Evremond spoke. ‘But why?' he asked plaintively. His voice was like the cry of a little boy. ‘Why would he do it?'

‘Before I tell you what I think,' Chief Inspector Scott replied, ‘would you please tell me exactly why your father came to see you?'

‘He had some papers for me to sign.'

‘What kind of papers?'

Patrick hesitated for a moment. ‘Okay – here goes,' he said. ‘He had a Lasting Power of Attorney that his lawyer had drawn up for him. He asked me to sign it, so I did, and then he signed, and my Professor witnessed the whole thing. I guess that means it's legal now.'

‘And exactly what does that mean?' Andy Gillespie asked.

His chief inspector stepped in to answer before Patrick could speak. ‘It means that if James Evremond should be unable to manage his own affairs because of mental incapacity, or any other reason, for that matter, Patrick will take charge of everything, financial and otherwise. Isn't that right, young man?'

‘Yes, that's pretty much how it was explained to me.'

‘And didn't you think that was strange?'

He shrugged. ‘Not really. Dad's getting on a bit so I just thought he was being prepared by covering all the bases, as he usually did. But now… ' He suddenly slumped down on the table with his head in his hands. When he raised his head again he was very pale. ‘My God, he also gave me an updated copy of his Will. He thinks he's going to die next week, doesn't he?'

‘I think he believes there's a good chance that he will. Or, at the very least, he'll be seriously injured,' Chief Inspector Scott said.

‘But why is he doing all this? How has this Recruiter managed to get to him? My father's a clever, rational man: he wouldn't just fall for any old con trick that someone might try on him.'

‘In my experience, desperate people often do desperate, illogical things,' Clive Scott said quietly. ‘Look at it from your father's point of view. The medical profession couldn't save his wife, so why would he think it would be any different with Genevieve. Is your father a religious man?'

‘He was, when Mum was alive. They used to go to church fairly regularly and Ginny and I went to St Clements' Sunday school when we were younger.'

‘But he stopped going after your mother died?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why?'

‘He wouldn't say, but I think he just… er… sort of gave up hope. He seemed to blame God for what had happened. He was completely disillusioned with the whole faith thing.'

‘Did you feel the same way too?'

‘No, of course not! It's just… Life: bad things happen to good people all the time. And sometimes it's your family's turn for the bad luck. It's pretty obvious that we don't see anything like the whole picture. Not even as much as one percent of the whole picture, if you ask me. But I never expected that Ginny would get the same thing as Mum. Talk about the double whammy.'

‘But now perhaps you begin to see how your father was such an easy target for The Recruiter. After the medical profession told him there was nothing more they could do for your sister, and believing that the church and God had failed him when your mother was ill, he grabbed the first little glimmer of hope that was offered to him, no matter from where it came.'

‘What can I do, Chief Inspector?' Patrick asked. ‘I'll do anything I can to help.'

‘Well, first I must take you further into my confidence,' the chief inspector said. Andy Gillespie shook his head, but kept quiet.

‘I wish you would. I need to know
everything
. And I repeat that whatever you tell me will go no further than this room, no matter what happens next.' ‘Very well, then. Tomorrow morning we intend to arrest your father on a charge of passing counterfeit money. Wait,' he said, holding up his hand as he saw Patrick about to speak, ‘save your questions for when I've finished.' Patrick nodded, and said nothing. ‘We don't expect that we'll be able to keep him in custody for more than an hour or so, but it will be enough time for us to get inside the house, with a police doctor, who will examine Genevieve. But, and this is where you come into the picture, we'd also like to have a good look around the house at the same time. Would you agree to that, Patrick?'

‘Will you have a search warrant?'

‘Probably not: we'd need more evidence before we could get one. But, since you've signed a Lasting Power of Attorney, you could give us
your
permission.'

‘You're on dodgy legal ground, Chief Inspector. I haven't invoked the Power of Attorney yet so… '

‘No, but the document has been signed by both parties, and legally witnessed,' the chief inspector interrupted. ‘And, in view of the urgency of the situation, I believe that's probably good enough. Provided, of course, that we have your permission. Do we?'

‘Of course, I'll do anything you want. I've told you that already.'

‘Good. But now I'm afraid we must be off. There's much work to be done before tomorrow morning.'

‘But not without me, Chief Inspector. I'm coming with you.'

‘But you can't,' Andy said. ‘Our insurance doesn't cover civilians travelling in a police helicopter.'

‘Tough luck,' Patrick said. ‘If you can bend the rules to suit your purposes, then so can I, Sergeant Gillespie; that's only fair. And I'll sign whatever you want me to sign to get you off the hook if we happen to crash and burn on our way to London!'

Andy Gillespie raised his eyebrows and looked enquiringly at his boss.

‘Okay. You have five minutes to get your gear together and then we're off. And if we should – God forbid! – crash and burn, then no one will be any the wiser anyway!'

On the flight to London Clive Scott said, ‘Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight, Patrick? A mate's house perhaps, or some other place? If you suddenly turn up, out of the blue, your father might be suspicious, and we don't want to give the game away at this late stage.'

‘Yes, that's not a problem: but what about Ginny's safety in the meantime? What if The Recruiter forces more of his junk down her throat tonight? Who will stop him, if I'm not there?'

‘We will have men watching the house. If he puts in an appearance he'll be stopped – one way, or another. You have my word on that.' The chief inspector's tone was grim. ‘There's no way he's practising more of his mischief on her tonight! No way on God's green earth.'

But Patrick was still not satisfied. ‘Just because you stop
him it doesn't mean you'll find anything
on
him, Chief Inspector. ‘What if you find nothing suspicious? Then you'll have to let him go.'

Clive Scott smiled and shook his head. ‘Trust me, Patrick. If he shows up tonight, he'll be stopped. If he's stopped he'll be searched, and if he's searched something
will
be found. And whatever's found will be enough to make sure he spends the night in the cells.'

‘But how can you be sure?' Patrick insisted. ‘I tell you, Mr Scott, that if he comes anywhere near Ginny tonight, I will kill
him myself!'

‘Don't do that, young man,' Clive Scott said with a smile. ‘It will put the kybosh on your future career prospects, and I'd really hate
to have to arrest you! Besides, there's no need. I give you my word that something will be found on him, even if I have to risk my pension by putting that something in his blasted pocket myself!'

‘Sir!' Andy Gillespie exclaimed.

‘Calm yourself, Andy,' his boss said. ‘Would I do such a thing? No, of course I wouldn't. But, if the need arises, I'm willing to bend the rules just a fraction.'

‘For the greater good, Chief Inspector?'

‘For the greater good, Patrick: and also because I want to get this creep's fingerprints on our database tout-de-blasted-suite!'

The helicopter landed smoothly on Scotland Yard's roof, and Clive Scott and Andy Gillespie escorted Patrick Evremond down to street level where a police car was waiting to take him to where he would spend the night.

As the two policemen watched the departing car, the chief inspector said, ‘Arrange a large interview room for the morning, please Andy. And let Slippery Sid's solicitor know that I intend to interview him again sometime between 10.30 and 11.30am. Then, after I've asked Slippery a few more questions, we'll toss James Evremond into the mix to see what their reactions might be. Next, if we're lucky enough to have The Recruiter in custody by then, we'll introduce him to the party and… '

‘The three of them will be like stray cats fighting in a barrel,' Andy Gillespie said.

‘Indeed they will,' his boss said, chuckling as he imagined the scene, ‘and that's exactly
the result I'm hoping for, Andy, old son!'

While all this activity was happening in Cambridge, and in the skies between there and Scotland Yard, Jacques Laurent and Megan had arrived at St Pancras in good time for him to catch the Eurostar for Paris.

‘I know how much you French enjoy your coffee, Jacques,' she said, ‘so let me buy you a decent one before I leave you at the mercy of Eurostar,' Megan said.

‘
Merci, Madame, t
hat's a kind thought. And certainly I don't rate very highly what is claimed to be coffee on the train.'

They sat down at an outside table at one of the concourse's better coffee shops, and waited to be served. It was a little oasis of calm in the middle of the great sandstorm of humanity that swirled all around them, ebbing and flowing in ceaseless activity. They sat facing each other, but Megan's back was towards the platforms, which is why she saw the broad smile on Jacques' face before she felt the strong embrace of the arms thrown around her from behind, followed by
‘Bonjour,
my love,' as Philippe bent to kiss her cheek.

‘Philippe! What are you doing here?' she cried, jumping up from her seat, ‘Oh… my Lord! I've never been happier to see
anyone
in my whole life!' She threw her arms around him and hugged him.

‘Well,' he said, kissing her again, ‘That's quite a welcome.' Then he added, with a wink in Jacques' direction, ‘And I must say I've never expected you to address me as “my Lord”. But I could certainly get used to hearing it!'

Jacques laughed, ‘
Bonjour
, sir,' he said, standing with his hand outstretched to greet his boss. ‘I promise that
Madame
didn't suspect a thing! We all kept…
comment vous-dites…
er
… schtum,'
he finished triumphantly, as he finally remembered one of Chief Inspector Scott's favourite words.

The waiter came so they all sat down and gave him their coffee order. The two Frenchmen had a
demitasse
of black coffee each while Megan ordered a cappuccino.

‘Why are you here, Philippe?' she asked, holding his hand tightly as if she was afraid he might suddenly disappear.

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps
Madame
is familiar with the saying “If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain”?'

‘Of course. So?'

‘Well, I
am
a detective. It was obvious that you
and Max
were not coming to Paris anytime soon, and so
Voila!
Here I am.'

Jacques glanced at his watch as he finished his coffee. ‘Time to go,' he said reluctantly. ‘It wouldn't do for me to be this close and still miss the train.'

‘No. And I'm sure your family will be very happy to have you home again,' Megan said, patting him on the arm.

‘For sure,
Madame,
and I will be happy to be with them too. But I will miss London, and your family south of the river, because we've had some good times together.'

‘Then you must all come again soon,' Megan said, patting his arm again. Then she threw her arms around him, and kissed him noisily on both cheeks. Jacques looked embarrassed but also pleased. He shook hands with his boss again, said a last
au revoir
then joined the throng going through Security, waving once again before he disappeared from their sight.

‘Where to now,
ma cherie
?' Philippe asked.

‘What do you mean?'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Surely you want to go to Scotland Yard, or south-east London, or maybe you have other fish to fry somewhere… '

‘No,' she laughed. ‘All I want to do is take you home so we can have a lovely, quiet night together.'

‘No dinner out?'

‘No, I'll rustle something up and we'll eat in.'

‘If that's the case, I'm happy with baked beans on toast,' he said.

‘I don't believe you've ever eaten baked beans in your life, and you're certainly not going to start tonight,' she said laughing again.

‘I hear they're most nourishing, and a popular food here in England,' he teased.

‘That's true. But as far as adults are concerned, they're best eaten with eggs and bacon at breakfast.'

‘Ah, I understand,' he said, ‘wrong time of day.'

‘Precisely – or maybe when there's been a cooking disaster of some kind.'

‘The ways of the English are endlessly fascinating,' he said mischievously.

‘Well, my friend, since you're here now, it's best to do as we do!'

However, when they reached Megan's apartment, they had hardly stepped inside before her mobile rang. It was Max, and he sounded scared.

‘Granny,' he said, ‘Thank goodness you're home!'

‘What is it, darling?'

‘I've tried to phone Mum but she's left her mobile in the kitchen, and Dad's in Bristol tonight.'

‘Where is Mum?'

‘She's gone to pick Timmy up from cricket. She said she'd be about fifteen minutes.'

‘And Celia?'

‘Not home from school yet.'

‘So you're alone?'

‘No, Inky's here with me, Granny.'

‘But something's wrong? You sound scared, Max.'

‘I am. I thought someone was following me when I got off the bus, but I couldn't see anyone when I looked. But now there's a man standing across the street – he's outside of Catherine's house – and he's staring, staring, at our
house and… '

‘Keep him talking, my love,' Philippe whispered. He was already pressing his phone's speed dial.

‘Chief Inspector Scott? Good afternoon,
mon ami.
Yes, thank you, I had a good trip to London. But now we have another development in the case. How soon can you get a police car to the family home in south-east London?'

‘Immediately – if that's what you want.'

‘It is! Max is alone and there seems to be a man watching the house from across the street.'

‘Description?'

‘Haven't one yet. Hold the line, please.'

Meanwhile, Megan was asking, ‘what does this man look like, Max? Can you see him?'

‘Yes, I'm upstairs in Mum and Dad's bedroom peeking through the curtains.'

‘Tell me what he's doing now and what he looks like.'

Philippe whispered, ‘keep him talking until the police car gets there.' Megan nodded.

‘So,' she said, as casually as she could though her heart was racing, ‘give me a full description, just like a proper policeman would.'

‘Okay,' Max sounded a little calmer now. ‘He's tall. Taller than Dad, and he's younger too. Maybe, he's thirty-five, or forty. And he's fairly good-looking.'

‘What's he wearing?'

‘He's got black trousers, a black shirt, and a long black coat, that looks kind of old-fashioned. And there's something big and shiny hanging around his neck, but I can't see what it is. Oh, and he's carrying a black sports bag.'

‘Well done, Max, that's a great description.' She looked at Philippe and he nodded: he was repeating this description down the line to Chief Inspector Scott.

‘Oh, now he's crossing the street! I think he's going to ring our bell.'

‘Is the door locked?'

‘Yes.'

‘Max, rush downstairs as fast as you can. Go into the kitchen and close the door to the hall. A police car is on the way to you. If he rings the bell, let Inky out so she can run up to the door, but you stay put. I'm sure her barking will scare him off!'

‘Okay, Granny.'

From the other end of the line she could hear Max running downstairs. But she could also hear the bell being rung: next came the sound of Inky's loud barking, and then the welcome sound of the siren heralded the approach of the police car. ‘Thank God,' she said. ‘Can you hear it Max? The police are almost there.'

‘Yes, Granny; he's stopped ringing the bell now. I think he's gone.'

The local police saw the man running off in the opposite direction as their patrol car entered from Half Moon Lane.

‘There he is,' the policeman exclaimed. ‘Black clothes, black hair, black… everything! That's our man – step on it, Rob, we've got him now!'

As the car accelerated they watched him running down the street on the same side of the road as they were.

‘Gotcha!' cried the second policeman. Then he hesitated, and said, ‘Where'd he go?'

‘Around the corner, maybe?'

‘Don't be daft – he was nowhere near the corner.'

‘Well, he's not anywhere in sight now.'

Later that afternoon, when they were summoned to Scotland Yard to give their report on the incident, they both said the same thing.

‘Chief Inspector Scott, it was the weirdest thing. One moment he was there and then – poof! – he was gone.'

‘He'd jumped over a fence?'

‘No way. We had a visual on him the whole time. One moment he was there, and the next minute he had disappeared.'

‘That's not possible lads!' Chief Inspector Scott thundered. ‘Do you realise how crazy that sounds?'

‘Yes, we do,' replied Mike Barrett, the more senior policeman, speaking on his colleague's behalf as well as his own. ‘But that's what happened.'

‘It must have been a trick of the light,' Andy Gillespie said.

‘Maybe,' Mike replied, although he sounded far from convinced.

‘What else could it blasted well have been?'

‘I don't know, Chief Inspector, but I tell you this. I'm forty-five years old and I've never, ever seen anything like this before in my life. And that's a fact!'

After the south London cops had left, Chief Inspector Scott turned to Andy Gillespie, and said, ‘What are we dealing with here, do you think? Is it the paranormal, or some kind of cheap conjuring trick?'

‘Haven't a clue, guv. I reckon it's one of those times when you pays your money and you makes your choice.'

‘Nah, nah, nah: I'll have none of this mumbo-jumbo stuff on my watch. It was a con trick. That's the story, and we'll both blasted well stick to it.
Capisce?'

‘
Capisce
, boss,' Sergeant Gillespie reluctantly agreed.