The Flemish House (6 page)

Outside, Inspector Machère was busy
studying a spot of ground where the soil was less firm than elsewhere.

‘Anything new?' Maigret
asked.

‘I don't know! I'm
still looking for the corpse. Because until we get our hands on it, it will be
impossible to get these people.'

And he turned towards the Meuse as if to
say that that wasn't the way the body had gone.

It was just after midday. Maigret,
perhaps for the fourth time since that morning, was walking along the riverbank. On
the other side of the Meuse there was a big whitewashed factory wall, a gate and
dozens of workmen and women coming out of it, on foot or by bicycle.

The encounter took place a hundred
metres before the bridge. The inspector passed someone, looking at him straight on,
and when he turned round he saw the other man turning round as well.

He was the original of the portrait
found among Anna's clothes.

A brief hesitation. It was the young man
who took a step towards Maigret.

‘Are you the policeman from
Paris?'

‘Gérard Piedboeuf, I
presume?'

The policeman from Paris.
It
was the fifth or sixth time since that morning that Maigret had heard himself
referred to in those terms. And he understood the nuance very clearly. His colleague
Machère, from Nancy, was there to carry out inquiries, nothing else. They watched
him coming and going and when they thought they knew something they ran to tell
him.

As for Maigret, he was ‘the
policeman from Paris',
summoned by the Flemings, who had come
specially to wash them of all suspicion. And, in the street, people who knew him
already watched after him without the slightest sympathy.

‘Have you come from my
house?'

‘I went there, but early this
morning, and I only saw your nephew …'

Gérard was no longer quite the same age
as he had been in the portrait. If his figure was still very young, and his hair and
clothes were young as well, close up it was clear that he had turned twenty-five
some time ago.

‘Did you want to speak to
me?'

In any case, shyness was not one of his
faults. He didn't once look away. His eyes were brown and very shining, eyes
that women were bound to like, particularly since his complexion was dark and his
lips well formed.

‘Bah! I've only just begun
my inquiries …'

‘On behalf of the Peeters, I know!
The whole town knows! We knew even before you got here. You're a friend of the
family and you're going out of your way to …'

‘I'm doing no such thing!
Ah, your father's getting up …'

They could see the little house. On the
first floor the shutter rose, and they made out the form of a man with a big grey
moustache looking through the glass.

‘He's seen us!' said
Gérard. ‘He's going to get dressed …'

‘Did you now the Peeters
personally?'

They walked along the quayside, turning
around every time they reached a mooring post a hundred metres from the grocery. The
air was sharp. Gérard was wearing an
overcoat that was too thin,
but whose very slim fit must have appealed to him.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Your sister has been Joseph
Peeters' mistress for three years. Didn't she used to go to his
house?'

Gérard shrugged.

‘If we go through all that again
in detail! First of all, shortly before the child was born, Joseph swore that he
would marry her. Then Dr Van de Weert came, on behalf of the Peeters, to offer
10,000 francs for my sister to leave the country and never come back.
Germaine's first outing after she had recovered from the birth was to go and
show the child to the Peeters. A terrible scene, because they wouldn't let her
in, and the old woman treated her as a loose woman … In the end things settled down
… Joseph still promised to get married … But first he wanted to finish his studies
…'

‘And what about you?'

‘Me?'

He began by pretending not to
understand. But almost immediately he changed his mind and assumed a smile that was
both vain and ironic.

‘Have they told you
something?'

Maigret, while walking along the quay,
took the little portrait from his pocket and showed it to his companion.

‘Good heavens! I had no idea that
still existed!'

He tried to take it, but Maigret put it
back in his wallet.

‘Was she the one who …? No!
It's not possible. She's too proud for that. At least she is
now!'

And throughout the entire conversation
Maigret didn't take his eyes off his companion. Was he tubercular, like his
sister and probably like Joseph's son? It wasn't certain! But he had the
charm of certain consumptives: fine features, transparent skin, lips that were
sensual and mocking at the same time.

His elegance was that of an office
clerk, and he had thought it necessary to put a crêpe armband on his beige
overcoat.

‘Did you woo her?'

‘It was a long time ago … It goes
back to the time when my sister didn't yet have a child. At least four
years.'

‘Go on.'

‘My father's just taken a
look at the corner of the street …'

‘Go on anyway.'

‘It was Sunday. Germaine was
supposed to be going to visit the Rochefort caves with Joseph Peeters. At the last
moment they asked me to go, because one of his sisters was coming along. The caves
are twenty-five kilometres from here. We had a picnic. I was in very high spirits.
Afterwards the two couples parted to go walking the woods …'

Maigret's eyes were still on him,
without expressing his thoughts in any way.

‘And then?'

‘Well? Yes …'

And Gérard gave a fatuous, sly
smile.

‘I couldn't even tell you
how it went. I don't tend to drag things out. She didn't expect it and
…'

Maigret put a hand on his shoulder and
asked him slowly:

‘Is this true?'

And he knew that it was. Anna, at that
moment then, had been twenty-one …

‘Afterwards?'

‘Nothing! She's too ugly.
Coming back on the train, she stared into my eyes, and I worked out that the best
thing to do was to dump her …'

‘She didn't try
…?'

‘Nothing at all! I made sure to
avoid her. She felt that there was no point insisting. Except when we pass in the
street I have a sense that if looks could kill …'

They walked towards Piedboeuf senior,
who, without a false collar and with his feet in cloth slippers, was waiting for the
two men.

‘They tell me you came to see us
this morning. Please come in … Have you told the inspector, Gérard?'

Maigret went up the narrow staircase,
whose white wooden steps didn't look very solid. The same room acted as
kitchen, dining room and drawing room. It was poor and ugly. The table was covered
by a waxed cloth with a blue pattern.

‘Who would have killed her?'
said Piedboeuf abruptly; he seemed to be a man of mediocre intelligence. ‘She
left that evening, telling me that she hadn't had her monthly, or even any
news from Joseph.'

‘Her monthly?'

‘Yes! He paid a hundred francs a
month for the care of the child … That's the least he could do and
…'

Gérard, who felt that his father was about
to launch off on a familiar jeremiad, interrupted him.

‘The inspector isn't
interested in that! What he wants are facts, proof! Well, at the very least I have
proof that Joseph Peeters, who claims not to have come to Givet that day, was there
… He came on his motorbike and …'

‘Are you talking about the
witness? It's worthless now. Another motorcyclist has turned up to say he was
the one who drove along the quay just after eight o'clock …'

‘Ah!'

And, aggressively:

‘Are you against us?'

‘I'm not with anyone!
I'm not against anyone! I'm just looking for the truth.'

But Gérard chuckled and said loudly to
his father:

‘The inspector didn't come
here to try and catch us out … You'll forgive me, inspector … But I need to
eat … I have to earn a living, and my office opens at two o'clock!'

What was the point of talking? Maigret
cast one last glance around him, spotted the child's cot in the next room and
headed towards the door.

Machère was waiting for him at the
Hôtel de la Meuse. The travelling salesmen were having their lunch in a little room
separated from the café by a glass door.

But in the café itself you could have a
snack, without a tablecloth, and there were some people eating like that.

Machère wasn't alone. A little man
with monstrously wide shoulders and the long arms of a hunchback was
having an aperitif at his table, and got up when he saw Maigret coming in.

‘The owner of the
Étoile
Polaire
!' announced Machère, who was very animated. ‘Gustave
Cassin …'

Maigret sat down. A glance at the
saucers told him that his companions were already on their third aperitif.

‘Cassin has something to tell you
…'

That was exactly what the man was
waiting for! As soon as Machère fell silent, he started off, leaning importantly on
the chief inspector's shoulder:

‘You have to say what you have to
say, am I right? … Except there's no need to say it when people are asking you
not to say it … As my late father used to say: don't overdo it!'

‘A beer!' said Maigret to
the approaching waiter.

And he pushed back his bowler hat and
unbuttoned his overcoat. Then, as the sailor stumbled for words, he muttered:

‘If I'm not mistaken, on the
evening of the third of January you were completely drunk …'

‘Completely, that's not
true! … I'd had a few glasses, but I was still walking straight … And I
clearly saw what I saw …'

‘You saw a motorbike turning up
and stopping outside the Flemish house?'

‘Me? … Never in my life!
…'

Machère gestured to Maigret not to
interrupt the man and encouraged him to continue with a wave of his hand.

‘I saw a woman on the quay …
I'll tell you who it
was … The one of the two sisters
who's never in the shop and takes the train every day …'

‘Maria?'

‘Maybe that's her name …
Thin, with blonde hair … Well! It wasn't natural for her to be out of doors,
given that the wind was rattling the moorings of the boats …'

‘At what time?'

‘When I came back to go to bed …
Perhaps about eight … Perhaps a bit later …'

‘Did she see you?'

‘No! Rather than going on my way,
I pressed myself against the customs shed, because I thought she was waiting for a
lover, and I was hoping to have a laugh …'

‘Really! You've been
sentenced twice for indecent assault …'

Cassin smiled, showing a row of rotten
teeth. He was a man of indeterminate age, his hair still brown, low over his
forehead, but his face was very wrinkled.

He was very concerned with the effect he
produced, and every time he uttered a phrase he looked first at Maigret, then at
Inspector Machère, and then at a customer sitting behind him, listening to the
conversation.

‘Go on!'

‘She wasn't waiting for a
lover.'

None the less he hesitated. He gulped
down the contents of his glass in one, and called out to the waiter:

‘Same again!'

And in the next breath:

‘She checked that no one was
coming … During that
time people came out of the grocery, not
through the shop but by the back door … They were carrying something long and they
threw it into the Meuse, just between my boat and
Les Deux Frères
, which is
moored behind it …'

‘How much is that?' Maigret
asked the waiter, getting to his feet.

He didn't look surprised. Machère
was completely discomfited. As for the sailor, he didn't know what to
think.

‘Come with me.'

‘Where to?'

‘Doesn't matter.
Come!'

‘I'm waiting for the drink I
just ordered …'

Maigret waited patiently. He told the
landlord that he would come for lunch a few minutes later, and led the drunk towards
the quay.

It was the time of day when the place
was deserted, because everyone was eating. Big drops of rain started falling.

‘Where exactly were you?'
Maigret asked.

He knew the customs building. He saw
Cassin pressing himself into a corner.

‘You didn't move from
there?'

‘Definitely not! I didn't
want to get involved!'