Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London (4 page)

‘Do you know what that drawing on the door is, Max?'

‘It looks like a strange kind of star.' As Max spoke Inky began snuffling around the bottom of the door to the lock-up garage. The wind and rain of many winters had rotted away the wood, but the door was still padlocked. ‘Look, Philippe! She's showing you what she did before. She pushed her nose under the door and pulled the briefcase handle out with her teeth. She's a very smart dog, you know,' he added proudly.

‘Yes, I'm sure she is. Was this drawing on the door when you came here before?'

‘It could
have been. Why's it there?'

‘Well, that's something I'm
not sure about. But if I was to make a guess, I'd say it might be a way of showing where the money's been hidden.'

‘But the money's gone now, Philippe.'

‘Yes, and that's a problem for someone – if that's the reason for the drawing. Have you seen this kind of strange star anywhere else in your neighbourhood, Max?'

‘I don't know. I might
have seen a star like this before, but I don't remember where. Do you want me to look for some more, Philippe? I could if you like.' Max was really getting into this detective business now!

‘No, no, Max,' Philippe said quickly. ‘That will be a job for Jacques, not you. Promise me you won't go off on your own again, especially to any place that your parents don't like. Although I really can't see what's wrong with here. Maybe it's quiet, but it's not deserted: there are people walking along the road at the end of this little… er…
rue
.'

‘I promise, I won't, at least not without you or Jacques. And we call this a lane, not a little rue. Mum doesn't think there's anything wrong with this place really; it's just that when she asked me to take a thank you note to her friend who lives on Burbage Road, she told me to go straight there and back. But then Inky got a scent of something and she was off. Not that we can blame her, because that's what dogs do.'

‘Yes, of course, Max. We won't blame Inky, and I will call it a lane too, because you know your Granny always says, ‘when we're in Rome, we do as the Romans do'. Now let's get you to school, I don't want you to be late.'

When they arrived at the gate, Celia and Timmy had already gone off to their classrooms, but Megan was waiting for them with her car parked nearby.

‘I was about to send out a search party for the two of you,' she exclaimed, as soon as she saw them. ‘What took you so long?'

‘Nothing that need concern you,
ma cherie
,' Philippe said, winking at Max, ‘we were engaged in secret men's business, weren't we, Max?' ‘I guess so,' Max replied, although he hadn't a clue what Philippe was talking about. Then he too, went off to class. But he went reluctantly: he would much rather have spent the rest of the day carrying out further forensic investigation on behalf of the French police.

On the drive back to the house to collect their overnight bags Philippe said, ‘Do you know what a pentacle is, love?'

‘Of course, I do! It's one of the symbols that devil worshippers and other idiots use in their rituals.'

‘Yes, but only when it's drawn with the point of the star
downwards
. The ordinary way, with the point up, is the symbol of witches, warlocks and their like. But the inverted pentagram, with the point of the star down, is apparently used to call up the powers of evil.'

Megan shivered. ‘I don't know the difference between a pentacle and a pentagram, Philippe, and I don't think I
want
to know.'

‘There's a difference, but I can't remember the details.'

‘Thank goodness for that! But why did you ask the question?'

‘Because I've just seen one, although whether it was a pentacle or a pentagram I can't be certain. Not that it matters, I suppose, but I think it was a pentacle.'

‘Please tell me it was the right way up, Philippe.'

‘No, it wasn't.'

‘But it had nothing to do with Max?'

‘It was at the place where he found the counterfeit notes.'

Megan shivered again and the car swerved violently, although the road ahead was clear.

‘Pull over to the side and stop the car,' Philippe said firmly. ‘Do it, Megan! Do it right now!'

She stopped the car. He released his seat belt and leant across to switch off the ignition. Then he put his arms around her and kissed her.

‘Forgive me, darling,' he said. ‘It was stupid of me to frighten you: there's really no need for you to worry.'

‘But devil worshippers, Philippe, and Max is only a… '

‘Ssh, I think the pentacle might just have been a way of showing where the money was hidden. I don't believe that this has anything to do with Satanism, or anything remotely like it.'

You don't entirely believe all of what you've just said, his conscience challenged. Not
all
of it, surely. No, not all of it, he admitted, but some
of it.

‘But you can't be sure, can you?'

Philippe sighed. ‘No, I can't be sure,' he conceded. ‘But it's one of the things I'll get Jacques to follow up. And if you knew him as well as I do, you'd know that there's no better man for the job. Once he's got his teeth into something he won't let go until he's got to the bottom of whatever it might be. I give you my word on that.'

‘You're very good for me, Philippe Maigret; you always seem to know the right thing to say. I'm so happy you came into my life.' ‘Me too, my love,' he said, kissing her again. And inside his chest, his heart was performing a lively series of backflips and handstands!

On the drive back to North London to meet Georges Martin and Jacques at St Pancras station, they had a little
contretemps
about where the inspector should stay. ‘But it's all settled, Megan,' Philippe said. ‘I've asked Paris HQ to make a reservation for him at that hotel down the road from your apartment.'

‘You can't expect Inspector Martin to stay in a strange hotel, in a strange city,' Megan protested. ‘That won't be much fun for him. He should stay with us. He'll be much happier in my guest room, which is bright and comfortable and besides… '

‘While he's in London Georges Martin will be a police officer
on duty,
and therefore not expecting to have
fun
or be
happy! Unlike the unfortunate Philippe Maigret, who
was
expecting exactly that, but seems to have found himself up to his neck in police matters instead!'

‘Is someone feeling just a teeny bit sorry for himself today, sweetie?'

‘Yes.'

‘I promise I'll make it up to you when all this is over and done with, Philippe. You can even stay inside my apartment all day, if that's what you'd like, instead of having me drag you all around London and the Home Counties, as I did before.'

‘That's what I'm counting on!
'

They collected Inspector Martin and Jacques, and drove them back to Megan's apartment, so that Philippe could brief them on exactly why they were needed in London. Preston, the head porter, watched their arrival with barely concealed astonishment.
Sacre bleu!
Two
more French cops he thought. Or if they're not, I'm a Dutch uncle.
What's Mrs Lisle up to now?'

As they were drinking their coffee Megan said, ‘As soon as we're finished, I'll get out of your way for a while. I have some shopping I could do.' ‘There's no need for you to leave,
Madame
,' Georges Martin said. ‘I'm sure we can have no secrets from
you
.'

‘There
is
a need, Georges. If I stay, you three will feel obliged to speak English all the time. And don't say you won't,' she said, seeing Philippe about to speak, ‘because you will, I know you will, because you're gentlemen. That's very sweet, but it's not fair. It will be much easier for you to use French. And please don't keep calling me
Madame;
at least not while you're in London. I understand that things might have to be different when I'm living in Paris, but not here, and not now. My name is Megan, as you are very well aware.'

Georges and Jacques both squirmed in their seats, and shot a quick glance at their boss to judge his reaction. Neither of them would presume to address Mrs Lisle by her Christian name without his approval.

‘Very well, then,' he reluctantly agreed. ‘Since it is your wish, my dear, but only while they are in London.'

‘Thank you, darling,' she said, ruffling his hair vigorously, and giving him a noisy kiss on her way to the kitchen to re-fill the coffee pot.

When she was out of earshot Philippe said firmly, ‘Not one
single
word of what you've just seen gets back to Paris, do you understand? Not one damn word! Otherwise the two of you will be back in uniform, directing peak hour traffic at the
Place de la Concorde,
before you know what's hit you
.
Is that clear?
How can I ever maintain discipline at HQ if everyone there thinks I'm nothing but a love-struck old fool?' Then he winked, and continued, ‘To which charge I must obviously plead guilty,' and they all laughed.

When the laughter had finished Philippe said quietly in French, ‘Do you have it, Georges?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Where?'

Georges tapped the inside of his leg, just above the ankle. ‘I'm wearing it in the same place that you do.'

‘Any trouble getting it through security at either end?'

‘No, your friends in high places made sure everything was okay.'

‘Bon
.'

‘
Do you want it now, Chief?' he asked, preparing to unstrap the revolver from his leg.

‘No, you hold on to it, it might be… er…
safer
with you for the time being. I assume it's not loaded?' Georges nodded.
‘
Bon,
keep it that way, at least for the time being.'

‘Okay, sir.'

‘What's so funny?' Megan asked, as she returned.

‘You are,
Madame
. We've decided that you have a subversive influence on the entire French police force!' Philippe replied.

‘Well, someone had to do it,' she said cheerfully, ‘and when I'm finished with your lot, I'll start on Scotland Yard. It's about time they were also dragged, kicking and screaming, into the 21
^st
Century!'

‘Do us a favour,' Philippe retorted. ‘Start with Scotland Yard first!'

Just then Megan's mobile rang. ‘Now see what you've done,' she said, as she looked at her phone. ‘If you talk of the devil he'll appear!'

Fortunately, it was not really the devil. It was Chief Inspector Clive Scott of the Met Police, with a request that Mrs Lisle give a repeat performance of her act with
Father
Andy Gillespie of Scotland Yard, the very next morning, but at a different venue. This time the performance was to be given at none other than St Luke's church itself; or rather, in the vicarage next to the church.

‘Schnitzel,' she said. ‘How has this come about? And what does Andy Gillespie think about us doing an encore?'

‘He's no more pleased about it than you are. In fact he claims he's still having nightmares about the last time he crossed paths with Nicole Vachon, although I think that's an exaggeration. But we've had a breakthrough: half an hour ago, Nicole phoned Andy's mobile saying she was in urgent need of a pastoral visit with him.'

‘I don't see why I'm needed if she's asked to see Andy. Doesn't that let me off the hook?' Megan could see Philippe was itching to say something but she shook her head.

‘No, I'm afraid not. Nicole said, and I quote her exact words, ‘that she felt a strong connection with the vicar's wife, because she found her very kind and understanding'.'

‘What! That's totally unbelievable! She must have meant it sarcastically. The whole time we were in her house she looked daggers at me. And what about her telling us that her dog's name was Max, when obviously it wasn't, because he wouldn't answer to that name?'

‘I know, I know. I've been over all of this with Andy,' the Chief Inspector said wearily, ‘but that's what she said, and this could be a step in the right direction for us. Will you do it, Mrs Lisle?'

‘Of course I will!'

‘I'll fill you in on all the details in the morning. As usual, there are a couple of flies in the ointment which we need to sort out before you and Andy give your performance.'

‘Like what?'

‘Well, for one thing, we need to persuade the real
vicar of St Luke's, and his good lady wife, to go along with this little pretence. And so far they're both saying they won't.'

‘Is David Wainwright still the vicar at St Luke's?'

‘Yes, I believe that's the vicar's name.'

‘Well, problem solved, Chief Inspector! David was at university with my son, and he's had enough roast dinners in my house for me ask him a small favour like this,' Megan said confidently.

‘A small
favour: like deliberately misleading one of the members of his flock by being an accomplice to a deception? That's how he described it to me not more than ten minutes ago?'

‘Oh, pish-pish, Chief Inspector! I very much doubt that Nicole has ever been one of his flock, but leave David to me, he'll be fine. Once he understands that it's for the greater good, he'll go along with it.'

‘The end justifies the means?'

‘Not always, but in this case it does!'

After their conversation had finished, Clive Scott turned to Andy Gillespie with the words, ‘Another damn coincidence, Andy. It seems that Megan Lisle's family has a connection with the vicar of St Luke's.'

‘Surely that's good news, boss?'

‘Maybe it is. But it's still a coincidence and we've had far too many of them in this case already: they make me nervous. It's not kosher, I tell you, not kosher at all.'

At the same time as this conversation was taking place at Scotland Yard, a similar one was about to take place near Regent's Park.

‘Don't say it, Philippe,' Megan said as he looked questioningly at her. ‘And don't even think
it, because it's not your call. Remember our agreement? You promised: never again in this or any Universe!'

‘I remember
,
' he said ruefully
.

Later that day, they crossed Vauxhall Bridge again, so that Megan could introduce the rest of her family to Jacques and Inspector Martin. Celia, of course, they knew well!

The sun had shone all day, and the late afternoon was so perfect that the children's father decided to cook one of his famous barbecues for them to eat in the garden. Inky was in canine heaven! Barbecues were her favourite because she knew that later there would be lots of bones for her to scoff. And scoff is exactly what she did, which is why the bones had to be rationed over a few days. The family had learnt, from disgusting experience, that the
end
results of those bones were gruesome!

Max and Timmy, ever the opportunists, coerced the three French detectives into a game of cricket. This was unfair, because Philippe had only had one very short lesson, and Georges and Jacques were complete beginners.

‘You're a rubbish bowler,' Max informed Georges after his latest delivery. ‘You're nearly as bad as Granny. That ball was well wide of the wicket!'

‘Hey, I object to that remark on the grounds that I might
resemble
it,' his Granny protested.

‘Well wide. Any decent umpire would have given it as a wide,' Timmy agreed knowledgeably.

‘Oh, boys, that's so rude,' their father said, although whether he was speaking as their father, or the umpire, was unclear.

‘They're right,' Georges said cheerfully. ‘But wait until they see how I bat!' Three fours and a six later, off two overs, the first bowled by Timmy, and the second by Max, and the boys had discovered their new best friend!

‘Where did you learn to bat like that if you've never played cricket before?' they asked, both mightily impressed.

‘It's true that I've never played cricket before, but I
have
played some American baseball in the past, so I can, at least, occasionally
hit
a ball, even if I can't bowl or pitch one.'

Then the boys' Dad bowled a few overs: three more fours, some singles, and another six resulted until, as the light failed, Georges was not out for a score of 45.

‘Well done,
mon ami
,
you have single-handedly restored the reputation of the
Police Nationale
!' his boss said, patting him on the back.

‘And remember that Georges also made an awesome
rugby tackle on Bruno Escargot at Gare du Nord that time,' Celia said, adding to the congratulations.

‘Yes, I remember. You're quite a sportsman, aren't you, Georges?' her father said.

Georges looked a little embarrassed. ‘Not really,
Monsieur,
sometimes I just get lucky,' he said.

None of them knew that, within 24 hours, Georges' luck would be tested to its absolute limit. And then some.