The Flemish House (12 page)

In the sumptuously tiled corridors,
sliding footsteps, sometimes whispers. At last, very soft and far away, the sound of
an organ playing.

The people at the Quai des Orfèvres
would probably have been surprised to see a Maigret very much at his ease. When the
Mother Superior came in, he greeted her discreetly, calling her by the name that one
must give to the Ursulines, namely:

‘Reverend Mother …'

She waited, hands on her hips.

‘Sorry to disturb you, but
I'd like to ask your permission to visit one of your teachers … I know the
rules forbid it … None the less a person's life – or at least their liberty –
depends on it …'

‘Are you from the police as
well?'

‘I think you received a visit from
an inspector?'

‘A gentleman who said he was from
the police, who made some noise and left shouting that we'd be hearing from
him again …'

Maigret apologized for him, remained
calm, polite and deferential. He uttered a few deft phrases, and a short time later
a lay sister was instructed to tell Maria Peeters that there was someone to see
her.

‘A girl of great merit, I think,
Reverend Mother?'

‘I have only the very best things
to say of her. At first the chaplain and I didn't want to take her because of
her parents' trade … Not the grocery … But the fact that they serve drink … We
passed over that, and we can only congratulate ourselves … Yesterday, coming down
the stairs, she twisted her ankle, and since then she's been in bed, very
downcast, because she knows it's causing us trouble …'

The lay sister came back at last.
Maigret followed her along endless corridors. He met several groups of pupils all
dressed in the same way: black dress with little pleats and blue silk ribbon around
their necks.

At last, on the second floor, a door
opened. The lay sister asked if she should stay or go.

‘Leave us, sister …'

A very simple little room. Oil-painted
walls, decorated with religious lithographs in black frames and a big crucifix.

An iron bed. A thin figure barely
visible under the covers.

Maigret couldn't see a face. No
one said anything to him. Once the door had closed he stayed motionless for a while,
embarrassed by his wet hat, his thick coat.

At last he heard a muffled sob. But
Maria Peeters still hid her face in the blankets, and stayed turned towards the
wall.

‘Don't be upset …' he
murmured mechanically. ‘Your sister Anna must have told you that I come as a
friend …'

But that did nothing to calm the girl.
On the contrary! Her body was agitated now by real nervous spasms.

‘What did the doctor say? Are you
to stay in bed for a long time?'

It was awkward, talking to an invisible
person like that. Particularly given that Maigret didn't even know her!

The sobs came less quickly. She must
have been regaining her composure. She sniffed, and her hand looked for a
handkerchief under the pillow.

‘Why are you so nervous? The
Mother Superior was just telling me how highly she thinks of you!'

‘Leave me alone!' she
pleaded.

And at that moment there was a knock on
the door, and the Mother Superior came in as if she had been waiting for the moment
to intervene.

‘Sorry! I know that our poor,
sensitive Maria …'

‘Has she always been like
this?'

‘She is a delicate character …
When she knew that her sprain was going to immobilize her, and that she
wouldn't be able to take a class for at least a week, she fell into despair …
Show us your face, Maria …'

And the girl shook her head in vehement
denial.

‘We know, of course,' the
Mother Superior continued, ‘about the accusations that people are making about
her family. I have held three masses that the truth may soon emerge … I've
just been praying for you again at benediction, Maria …'

At last she showed her face. A thin
little face, very pale, with red marks produced by fever and tears.

She didn't look at all like Anna,
but more like her mother, having inherited her features, fine but unfortunately so
irregular that she could not pass for pretty.
Her nose was too
long and pointed, her lips wide and thin.

‘Please forgive me!' she
said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I'm too nervous … To
think I've been lying here while … Are you Detective Chief Inspector Maigret?
Have you seen my brother?'

‘I left him less than an hour ago.
He was at your house, with Anna and your cousin Marguerite …'

‘How is he?'

‘Very calm … He's confident
…'

Was she going to start crying again? The
Mother Superior encouraged Maigret with a look. She was happy to see him talking
like that, with a calm authority that could only make a favourable impression on an
invalid.

‘Anna told me you had decided to
take the veil …'

Maria was crying again. She didn't
even try to hide it. She took no interest in her appearance and showed her face,
glistening and swollen.

‘It's a decision we've
been waiting for her to take for a long time,' the Mother Superior murmured.
‘Maria belongs more to religion than to the world …'

Her fit began again, the sobbing burst
painfully from her slender throat. And her body was still agitated, her hands
clutching the covers.

‘You see that I did the right
thing, earlier, not to let that gentleman up!' the nun said in a low
voice.

Maigret was still standing up, in his
overcoat, which made him even bulkier. He looked at the bed and that girl in such a
state.

‘Has the doctor seen
her?'

‘Yes … He says the sprain is
nothing … The most serious thing is the fit of nerves that came after it … Do you
think we should leave her alone? Calm down, Maria … I'm going to send Mother
Julienne, who will stay close to you …'

The last image that Maigret caught was
the whiteness of the bed, the sparse hair on the pillow and an eye that stared at
him as he walked backwards towards the door.

In the corridor, the Mother Superior
spoke quietly as she slipped along the waxed floor.

‘She has never enjoyed very good
health … This scandal has taken its toll on her nerves, and I'm sure
it's because of her agitation that she fell down the stairs … She's
ashamed for her brother, for her family … She has told me several times that after
that the order won't allow her in … For hours at a time she remains prostrate,
staring at the ceiling, without taking the slightest nourishment … Then, for no
apparent reason, another fit will break out … We're giving her injections to
try to restore her …'

They had reached the ground floor.

‘Can I ask you what you think of
this business, inspector?'

‘You can, but I would be
embarrassed to give you an answer … In all conscience, I must tell you that I
don't know anything … Not until tomorrow …'

‘You think that tomorrow
…?'

‘All I can do, Reverend Mother, is
thank you and apologize for this visit … Perhaps I might take the liberty of phoning
you to ask you for news?'

At last he was outside. He was breathing
fresh air,
saturated with rain. He found his taxi waiting beside
the pavement.

‘To Givet!'

He stuffed his pipe to the brim and
almost lay down at the back of the car. At a turn in the road, near Dinant, he
spotted a signpost:

Rochefort Caves …

He had no time to read the number of
kilometres. He only looked into the darkness of a side road. And he imagined a fine
Sunday, a train full of tourists, two couples: Joseph Peeters and Germaine Piedboeuf
… And Anna and Gérard …

It must have been hot … On the way back,
the travellers probably had their arms full of wild flowers …

Anna on the bench, wounded, emotional,
upset, perhaps watching the expression of the man who had just changed her whole
being …?

And Gérard, very cheerful, playful,
cracking jokes, unable to understand that a serious, almost defining event had taken
place that afternoon …

Had he tried to see her again? Had the
affair continued?

‘No!' Maigret replied to
himself. ‘Anna understood! She had no illusions about her companion! The very
next day, she must have avoided him …'

And he imagined her keeping her secret,
perhaps fearing for months the consequences of that embrace, and nurturing for men,
for all men, a wild hatred.

‘Do you want me to drive you to
your hotel?'

Already at Givet, the Belgian border and
its guard in khaki, the French border, the barges, the Flemish house, the muddy
quay.

Maigret was surprised to find something
heavy in his pocket. He plunged his hand in, and found the hammer, which he had
stopped thinking about.

Inspector Machère, who had heard the car
stopping, was in the doorway of the café and watched Maigret paying the driver.

‘Did they let you in?'

‘Of course!'

‘I'm amazed! Because if you
want to know what I think, I'll tell you I was sure she wasn't there
…'

‘Where would she have
been?'

‘I don't know … I
don't understand any more … Particularly since the hammer … Do you know who
came to see me?'

‘The bargeman?'

And Maigret, who had come into the café,
ordered a beer and sat down in the corner near the window.

‘Almost! In the end, it's
more or less the same thing … It was Gérard Piedboeuf who came … I had driven around
all the stations … I hadn't found anything …'

‘And did he reveal your
man's hiding place?'

‘He told me, at any rate, that
he'd been seen taking the 4.15 train at Givet station … That's the train
that goes to Brussels …'

‘Who saw him?'

‘A friend of Gérard … He suggested
bringing him to me …'

‘Shall I lay two places?'
asked the landlord.

‘Yes … No … It doesn't
matter …'

Maigret greedily drank his beer.

‘Is that all?'

‘Don't you think it's
enough? If he really was seen at the station, it means he isn't dead … And
especially that he's on the run … If he is on the run …'

‘Obviously!'

‘You think the same thing as I
do!'

‘I don't think anything at
all, Machère! I'm hot! I'm freezing! I think I've caught a bad
cold … Right now, I'm dithering over whether I'm going to go to bed
without eating … Another beer, please! … In fact, no! A hot toddy … With lots of rum
…'

‘Did she really have a
sprain?'

Maigret didn't reply. He was
gloomy. One might almost have said that he was worried.

‘I suppose the examining
magistrate must have given you a blank arrest warrant?'

‘Yes … But he advised me to be
very prudent, because of the mentality in small towns. I'd rather phone him
before doing anything definitive.'

‘And what are you going to
do?'

‘I've already sent a
telegram to the criminal investigations department in Brussels, to arrest the sailor
when he gets off the train. I'll have to ask you to give me back the
hammer.'

To the great surprise of the few
customers, Maigret took the object out of his pocket and put it on the marble
tabletop.

‘Is that all?'

‘You'll also have to hand it
in, because you're the one who found it.'

‘Not at all! Not at all! As far as
everyone's concerned, you're the one who found it.'

Machère's eyes shone with joy.

‘Thank you. It's valuable
for my promotion.'

‘I've laid two places near
the stove!' the landlord announced.

‘Thank you! I'm going to
bed! I'm not hungry …'

And Maigret went up to his room, after
shaking his colleague's hand.

Perhaps he had caught a cold by walking
around for two days wearing damp clothes, because he hadn't brought his spare
suit.

He lay down like a man exhausted. For a
good half-hour he struggled against the vague images that passed across his retina
in a wearying cadence.

However, on Sunday morning he was the
first one up. In the café, he found only the waiter who was lighting the percolator,
filling the upper part with ground coffee.

The town was still asleep. Dawn was just
succeeding night, and the street lamps were still lit.

On the river, on the other hand, they
were calling from one barge to another, they were throwing cables, and a tug moved
to the head of the line.

A new train of boats set off towards
Belgium and Holland.

It wasn't raining. But the fog
left droplets of water on his shoulders.

The bells of a church were ringing,
somewhere. A light at a window in the Flemish house. Then the door opening up.
Madame Peeters closing it carefully again and leaving on hasty feet, clutching a
missal wrapped in cloth.

Maigret spent the whole morning outside,
just occasionally going into a café to have a glass of alcohol and warm himself up.
People who knew said it was going to freeze, and that it would be a disaster for the
regions flooded when the river broke its banks.

At half past seven, Madame Peeters, back
from mass, drew back the shutters of the shop and, in the kitchen, lit her fire.

It was not until about nine
o'clock that Joseph appeared in the doorway for a moment, without a false
collar, not yet washed or shaved, his hair dishevelled.

At ten o'clock, he set off for
mass with Anna, who was wearing a new beige woollen coat.