The Dancer at the Gai-Moulin (11 page)

‘You'll soon understand
why,' he said. ‘My apologies for not putting you in the picture earlier,
but you'll see in a minute that it wasn't possible. The crime was
committed on Wednesday, wasn't it? Right. Well on Monday, I was in my office,
Quai des Orfèvres in Paris, when I was handed the business card of a certain
Graphopoulos. As usual, before seeing him, I phoned the immigration office to find
out who he was. They didn't have anything on him. Graphopoulos had only just
arrived in Paris. In my office, he gave me the impression of a man who was extremely
anxious. He explained that he travelled a good deal, that he had reason to believe
that his life was in danger, and he asked how much it would cost to be guarded day
and night by a police inspector.

‘We often get these requests, so I
quoted him a rate. He insisted that he needed someone of senior rank, but on the
other hand he replied evasively to my question about the kind of danger he was in,
and who his potential enemies might be. He gave his address as the Grand Hôtel, and
that evening, I sent round the inspector he had asked for. Next day, I found out
more about him. The Greek embassy told me that he was the son of a wealthy banker in
Athens, and that he travelled all over Europe
living like a playboy. I expect you took him for a
run-of-the-mill chancer.'

‘Yes, we did. Are you sure
that—?'

‘Wait. On Tuesday evening, the
inspector sent to protect Graphopoulos told me with the utmost concern that our man
had spent all his time trying to lose him. Little tricks, the kind we all know,
going into a house by the front door and out through the back, taking a succession
of taxis or public transport. And he also said Graphopoulos had bought a plane
ticket for a flight to London on Wednesday morning. I can tell you that the idea of
going to London, especially by plane, appealed to me, so I took over the protection
myself.

‘Well, on Wednesday morning,
Graphopoulos left the Grand, but instead of going to Le Bourget, he had himself
driven to the Gare du Nord, and there he bought a rail ticket to Berlin. We
travelled in the same dining car. I don't know whether he recognized me. He
certainly didn't speak a word to me.

‘When the train reached Liège, he
got out. So I followed him. He took a room in the Hôtel Moderne, so I took one next
to his. We both dined in a restaurant behind the Theatre Royal.'

‘Ah, that'll be La
Bécasse,' Delvigne interrupted. ‘You get a good meal there.'

‘Yes, especially the kidneys
liègeoise
, you're right. And I had the impression that it was the
first time that Graphopoulos had set foot in Liège. He got the name of the hotel
from the station. And the people at the hotel sent him to La Bécasse. And then the
doorman at the restaurant talked to him about the Gai-Moulin.'

‘So he ended
up there by chance,' said Delvigne thoughtfully.

‘I don't know that for sure.
I went into the nightclub a little after him. One of the club's dancers was
sitting at his table, as you might expect. In fact I was very bored, because I hate
that kind of place. My first thought was that he'd take her back to his room.
So when I saw her go out alone, I went with her, and put a few questions to her. She
said it was the first time she'd seen the stranger, that he'd asked her
to rendezvous with him later, but she said she wasn't going to go, and added
that he was boring. And that's all. I came back. The club owner was on his way
out with the waiter. So I assumed that Graphopoulos had left while my back was
turned, and I looked for him in the nearby streets. I went as far as the hotel, to
check whether he'd gone back there. And when I returned to the Gai-Moulin, the
doors were shut and there was no light inside. In short, I got nowhere at all. But I
didn't see it as a disaster. I asked a policeman if there were other
nightclubs open, and he named four or five, which I conscientiously visited, but
with no sign of my Greek.'

‘Extraordinary,' murmured
Delvigne.

‘Wait! I could have come to you
and pursued my inquiry in cooperation with the Liège police. But since I'd
been seen at the Gai-Moulin, I preferred not to alert the murderer. There are only a
few possible suspects. I started with the two youngsters, whose nervousness I had
noticed. That led me to Adèle, and the dead man's cigarette-case. You rushed
things, though. You arrested Jean Chabot. Delfosse escaped. General confrontation.
But I only
learned about all that from the
papers. And at the same time, I discovered I was wanted myself, as a suspect.
That's all. So I took advantage of that.'

‘Took advantage?'

‘A question, first. Do you think
those boys are guilty?'

‘To be honest—'

‘Good, I see you don't.
Nobody does, and the murderer realizes that any minute now you'll be looking
elsewhere. So he's taking precautions, and we shouldn't expect him to
make silly mistakes. On the other hand, there's a big presumption against the
“man with broad shoulders”, as the papers call him. So the man with
broad shoulders has contrived to get himself arrested, in rather dramatic
circumstances. Everyone will think the real culprit was taken into custody this
evening. We need to reinforce that opinion. Tomorrow, people will hear that
I'm in Saint-Léonard and that a confession is confidently expected.'

‘And you really want to go to
prison?'

‘Why not?'

Delvigne found it hard to take this
in.

‘Of course you would be able to
move about freely.'

‘Not at all! On the contrary
I'd like you to have me subjected to the strictest conditions!'

‘You have an odd way of going
about things in Paris!'

‘No, no. It's as I told you,
the culprit or culprits need to think they are out of danger. If there is a
culprit …'

This time the Belgian with the ginger
moustache really did give a start.

‘What do you mean! You're
surely not insinuating that
Graphopoulos
bashed his own head in, jumped into a large basket, and got someone to carry it to
the park!'

Maigret's big eyes were full of
innocence.

‘You never know, do
you?'

And as he filled his pipe:

‘Time for you to have me escorted
to prison now. But first, we'd better agree between ourselves a certain number
of points. Would you be good enough to take notes?'

He spoke quite simply. There was even a
little humility in his tone of voice. But all the same he was quite unambiguously
taking charge of the investigation, without seeming to.

‘Go ahead.'

1. Monday: Graphopoulos asks for protection from the Paris police.
   
2. Tuesday: he tries to shake off the inspector who is meant to be watching
   over him.
   
3. Wednesday: after buying an air ticket for London, he gets a rail ticket for
   Berlin but leaves the train at Liège.
   
4. He doesn't seem to know the town at all, and ends up at the Gai-Moulin
   where he does nothing of an exceptional nature.
   
5. When I accompany the dancer out, there are still four other people in the
   club: Chabot and Delfosse, hiding on the cellar steps; the owner and Victor
   in the bar area.
   
6. When I return, the owner and Victor are on their way out, locking up. Chabot
   and Delfosse, by their own account, are still there.
   
7. The young men claim they came out of the cellar a quarter of an hour after
   the club was closed, and that by then Graphopoulos was dead.
   
8. If that is true, then the crime could have been committed while I was
   accompanying the dancer down the street. And in that case, it would have
   been committed by Génaro and Victor.
   
9. If it is not true, then the murder could have been committed at that time by
   Delfosse and Chabot themselves.
   
10. Chabot could be lying, and if so, nothing proves the murder took place
    inside the club.
    
11. The murderer might have moved the body himself, but it is also possible that
    transport was provided by someone else.
    
12. Next day, Adèle is in possession of the cigarette-case, but she says it was
    given her by Delfosse.
    
13. The statements by Génaro, the dancer and Victor all agree in contradicting
    the allegations of Chabot.
    

Maigret stopped speaking and puffed a
few times on his pipe, as his companion looked up anxiously.

‘Never heard the like!' he
murmured.

‘What do you mean?'

‘It's so complicated, this
case, when you look at it in detail.'

Maigret stood up.

‘Time for bed! Are the mattresses
comfortable in Saint-Léonard?'

‘You really want to go there,
then?'

‘Oh, by the way, I'd quite
like to have the cell next to the
kid
Chabot. Tomorrow, I'll probably ask you to stage a meeting with
him.'

‘Perhaps we'll have found
his friend Delfosse by then.'

‘No matter.'

‘Do you really think they're
innocent? The examining magistrate won't hear of letting anyone go. And now I
think of it, I'll have to tell him the truth about you.'

‘Well, leave it as long as you
can, if possible. What's going on outside?'

‘Journalists, I expect. I'm
going to have to make a statement to the press. Who shall I say you are?'

‘I have no identity! An unknown
person. No papers on me at all.'

Chief Inspector Delvigne was still
uneasy in his mind. He continued to steal glances at Maigret, his anxiety tinged
with admiration.

‘I don't understand any of
this!'

‘Neither do I.'

‘It's almost as if
Graphopoulos came to Liège to get himself killed. And while I think of it,
it's high time to inform his family. I'm seeing the Greek consul
tomorrow morning.'

Maigret had picked up his bowler hat,
and was ready to leave.

‘Don't treat me too politely
in front of the press,' he advised.

The chief inspector opened the door. In
the outer office half a dozen reporters were clustered round a man whom Delvigne
recognized.

It was the manager of the Hôtel Moderne
who had been in earlier that afternoon. He was talking animatedly to the
journalists, who were taking notes.
Suddenly, he turned round and saw Maigret. His face flushed crimson, and he pointed
at him.

‘But that's him!' he
cried. ‘There's no doubt about that!'

‘I know. He has just admitted he
stayed at the hotel.'

‘And did he also admit he took the
basket?'

Delvigne looked uncomprehending.

‘What basket?'

‘Well, the laundry basket, for
heaven's sake! With the kind of staff we have these days, I might never have
noticed.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Here's what I mean. On
every landing in the hotel, there's a big wicker basket for dirty linen. Well,
just now, they came back from the laundry, and I noticed myself that one of them was
missing. The one from the third floor. I asked the chambermaid. She claims she
thought they'd taken it for repairs because the lid didn't fit
properly.'

‘What about the linen?'

‘Well, that's the
extraordinary thing! The linen from there had been put in the second-floor
basket.'

‘Are you sure that your basket is
the one that was used to move the corpse?'

‘I've just got back from the
morgue, where they showed it to me.'

He was panting. He couldn't get
over being so closely involved in the affair. But the person most affected was Chief
Inspector Delvigne, who dared not even look at Maigret. He forgot about the
reporters and their previous agreement.

‘What have
you got to say about that?'

‘Nothing,' said Maigret,
imperturbably.

‘Look here,' said the hotel
manager. ‘He could have taken the basket out without being seen. To get in at
night, you ring the bell, and the porter operates the cord without getting out of
bed. But to let yourself out, you just have to turn the door handle.'

One reporter handy with his pencil was
making a rapid sketch of Maigret, whom he represented with heavy jowls and as
unsavoury an appearance as possible.

Delvigne ran his hand through his hair
and blurted out:

‘Come back into my office a
minute.'

He didn't know where to look. A
reporter asked him:

‘Has he confessed?'

‘No comment!'

And Maigret replied calmly:

‘I warn you that I do not intend
to answer any more questions.'

‘Girard, bring the car
up!'

‘Should I sign a statement,'
the hotel manager was asking.

‘Presently!'

Chaos. And all the while Maigret simply
stood smoking his pipe and looking round at those present, one after another.

‘Handcuffs?' Girard
asked.

‘Yes. No. Come over here,
you.'

He was in a hurry to be alone in the car
with his opposite number.

As they drove through the deserted
streets, he asked, almost begging:

‘What do you
think that means?'

‘What?'

‘This business about the laundry
basket. That man is virtually accusing you of having taken a wicker basket from the
hotel. The one they found the corpse in.'

‘Yes, he did seem to be
insinuating that.'

The word ‘insinuating' had a
delicious irony to it, considering the passionate exclamations of the hotel
manager.

‘Is that true?'

Instead of replying, Maigret went
on:

‘The basket must have been taken
out either by Graphopoulos or by me. If by Graphopoulos, you must admit it's
astonishing. A man who takes the trouble to fetch his own coffin.'