The Flemish House (14 page)

‘Really?'

‘But to go from there to saying
that he had his sister killed to get the damages …'

‘It would be appalling!'
sighed Madame Peeters, who was put off her food by the conversation.

‘You knew him quite well,
didn't you?' said Maigret turning towards Joseph.

‘I used to spend a bit of time
with him a long time ago …'

‘Before the birth of the child,
isn't that right? You went on outings together a number of times … If
I'm not mistaken, your sister even went with you to the caves at …'

‘Really?' said Madame
Peeters with astonishment, turning towards her daughter. ‘I didn't know
that.'

‘I don't remember!'
said Anna, who had gone on eating, and whose eyes were fixed on the inspector.

‘It doesn't matter, anyway …
But what was I saying? Would you please pass me a slice of tart, Mademoiselle Anna?
No, not with fruit … I'm staying true to your magnificent rice tart … Did you
make it yourself?'

‘She did!' her mother
asserted hastily.

And silence fell suddenly, because
Maigret wasn't saying anything, and no one dared to speak. The sound of
chewing could be heard. The inspector dropped his fork on the ground and had to bend
down to pick it up. As he did so, he saw that Marguerite's finely shod foot
was resting on Joseph's.

‘Inspector Machère is a
resourceful chap!'

‘He doesn't seem very
clever!' Anna articulated slowly.

And Maigret gave her a complicit
smile.

‘So few people look intelligent!
For example, if I'm in the presence of a possible culprit, I make a point of
acting like an imbecile …'

It was the first time that Maigret had
spoken in a way that might have seemed confidential.

‘Your forehead can't
change!' Doctor Van de Weert hurried to declare politely. ‘And, for
someone who's done a little phrenology … For example, I'm sure you have
a terrible temper …'

Lunch was coming to an end at last. The
inspector was the first to push his chair back. He then picked up his pipe, which he
set about filling.

‘Do you know what you should do,
Mademoiselle Marguerite? Sit down at the piano and play us “Solveig's
Song” …'

She hesitated and looked at Joseph,
seeking his advice, while Madame Peeters murmured:

‘She plays so well! And she
sings!'

‘There's only one thing I
regret: it's that Mademoiselle Maria's sprain stops her from being with
us … For my last day …'

Anna quickly turned her head in his
direction.

‘Are you leaving soon?'

‘This evening … I'm not a
man of leisure … Besides, I'm married, and my wife's getting impatient
…'

‘And Inspector Machère?'

‘I don't know what
he'll decide … I suppose …'

The shop bell rang. There were hurried
steps, then knocking at the door.

It was Machère himself, very
agitated.

‘Is the detective chief inspector
here?'

He hadn't seen him straight away,
surprised to find himself in the middle of a family reunion.

‘What is it?'

‘I need to talk to you.'

‘Will you excuse me?'

And he went with Machère to the shop,
where he leaned on the counter.

‘How I loathe those
people!'

Machère, on edge, jutted his chin
towards the dining-room door.

‘Just the smell of their coffee
and their tart …'

‘Is that what you wanted to tell
me?'

‘No! I've got news from
Brussels … The train arrived on time …'

‘But the bargeman wasn't on
it!'

‘You knew that?'

‘I suspected as much! Did you
think he was an idiot? I didn't. He must have got off at a little station
somewhere and caught another train and then another … Tonight he could be in
Germany, perhaps in Amsterdam, perhaps even in Paris …'

But Machère looked at him with a
chuckle.

‘If he had any money!'

‘What do you mean?'

‘That I've made my
inquiries. The man's name is Cassin. Yesterday morning he couldn't
settle his bill in the bistro, and they refused to serve him … Better than that! He
owed money to everybody … To the point that the shopkeepers had decided not to let
him leave on his boat …'

Maigret looked at his companion with
total indifference.

‘And?'

‘I didn't stop there. And it
was hard, because it's Sunday, and most people aren't at home … I went
all the way to the cinema to question certain people …'

Maigret, smoking his pipe, was amusing
himself by putting weights on both trays of the scales, trying to make them
balance.

‘I discovered that Gerard Piedboeuf
borrowed 2,000 francs, yesterday, giving as guarantee his father's signature,
because no one wanted his …'

‘Did they meet?'

‘Indeed! A customs man saw Gérard
Piedboeuf and Cassin walking along the bank together, over by Belgian customs
…'

‘What time was it?'

‘Just after two …'

‘That's perfect!'

‘What's perfect? If
Piedboeuf gave money to the bargeman …'

‘Beware of leaping to conclusions,
Machère! It's very dangerous to try to conclude …'

‘Nevertheless, the man, who
hadn't a penny to his name in the morning, left by train in the afternoon,
with money in his pocket. I went to the station. He bought his ticket with a
thousand-franc note … Apparently he had more …'

‘Or
one
more?'

‘Maybe more, maybe one more … What
would you do in my position?'

‘Me?'

‘Yes.'

Maigret sighed, knocked his pipe against
his heel to empty it and pointed to the dining-room door:

‘I'd come and get a good
glass of genever … Particularly if someone was going to play us a piece on the
piano!'

‘That's all that
…'

‘Let's go! Come on … You
have nothing more to
do in town at this hour of day …
Where's Gérard Piedboeuf?'

‘At the Scala cinema, with a girl
from the factory.'

‘I bet they've taken a
box!'

And Maigret, with a silent laugh, pushed
his colleague towards the drawing room, where dusk was beginning to blur the
outlines of things. A wisp of smoke rose slowly from Van de Weert's armchair.
Madame Peeters was in the kitchen, doing the washing-up. Marguerite, at the piano,
was nonchalantly moving her fingers back and forth on the keys.

‘You really want me to
play?'

‘I'd love you to … Sit here,
Machère …'

Joseph was standing up, his elbow
resting on the mantelpiece, his eye fixed on the grimy window.

Her voice lacked firmness. Marguerite
struggled to reach the top notes. Twice she missed her chords.

Anna wasn't there any more. She
wasn't in the kitchen, where Madame Peeters could be heard coming and going,
making as little noise as possible out of respect for the music.

Marguerite couldn't see the
gloomy figure of Joseph, who had let his cigarette go out.

Now that night was falling, the coal-nut
fire cast a purple glow on the room, particularly the painted feet of the table.

To the great amazement of Machère, who
didn't dare move, Maigret left so discreetly that no one noticed. He climbed
the stairs without making a single step creak and found himself in front of two
closed doors.

The landing was already in almost
complete darkness. Only the doorknobs, being made of porcelain, appeared as two
milky patches.

At last the chief inspector put his
pipe, still lit, in his pocket, turned one of the doorknobs, went inside and closed
the door behind him.

Anna was there. Because of the curtains,
the room was darker than the dining room. There was a kind of grey dust floating in
the air, denser in the corners.

Anna didn't move. Hadn't she
heard anything?

She was at the window, against the
light, her face turned towards the twilit landscape of the Meuse. On the opposite
shore, lights had been lit, which cast bright rays into the chiaroscuro.

From behind, it looked as if Anna was
crying. She was tall. She looked more vigorous, more of a ‘statue' than
ever.

And her grey dress actually seemed to
fade into the background.

A floorboard, just one, creaked when
Maigret was no more than a foot from the girl, but it didn't make her
start.

Then he put his hand on her shoulder,
with surprising gentleness, sighing like a man who can finally allow himself to
speak in confidence:

‘So here we are!'

She turned towards him, all at once. She
was calm. Not a wrinkle broke the severe harmony of her features.

Nothing but her throat, which swelled
slightly, slowly, under a mysterious inner pressure …

The notes of the piano reached them
clearly, and they could hear all the syllables of ‘Solveig's
Song'.

And two clear eyes sought
Maigret's eyes, while lips that had almost parted in a sob stiffened like the
rest of Anna's body.

‘What are you doing
here?'

Strangely, the tone wasn't
aggressive. Anna looked at Maigret with annoyance, perhaps with horror, but not with
hatred.

‘You heard what I said just now.
I'm leaving this evening. We have been living in very close proximity for some
days.'

And he looked around at the two
girls' bed, the polar-bear skin that they used as a rug, the wallpaper with
little pink flowers, the mirrored wardrobe that now reflected only the shadows of
night.

‘I didn't want to leave
without having one last conversation with you …'

The rectangle of the window formed
something like a screen on which the figure of Anna appeared, less resolute with
each passing minute. And Maigret spotted a detail that he hadn't noticed
before. An hour before, he couldn't have said how her hair was done. He knew
now. Her long hair, tightly braided, rested against the back of her neck in a heavy
coil.

‘Anna!' cried Madame
Peeters' voice in the corridor below.

The piano had fallen silent. The
disappearance of the two people had been noticed.

‘Yes! I'm here …'

‘Have you seen Inspector
Maigret?'

‘Yes! We're coming down
…'

To answer, she had walked towards the
door. She came back towards her companion, very serious, her expression dramatically
steadfast.

‘What do you have to say to
me?'

‘You know!'

She didn't look away. She went on
looking at him ardently, her hands folded over her belly in a pose that was already
that of an old woman.

‘What are you going to
do?'

‘I told you: go back to Paris
…'

Then, however, her voice thickened.

‘What about me?'

It was the first time he had ever been
aware of an emotion in her. She was aware of it herself. And, probably to help
herself overcome her unease, she walked to the light switch and turned it on.

The light had a yellow silk shade and
lit only a circle two metres in diameter on the floor.

‘First of all I have to ask you a
question!' said Maigret. ‘Who provided the money? You had to move fast,
didn't you, to put funds together in a few minutes. The bank was shut.
I'm sure you don't keep large amounts of money in the house. You
haven't got a telephone …'

It was slow. The silence around them was
unusually intense.

And Maigret went on breathing in that
quiet, lower-middle-class atmosphere. There was a faint murmur of
voices below, Dr Van de Weert stretching his short legs towards the stove, Joseph
and Marguerite looking at each other in silence. Machère, who must have been getting
impatient, and Madame Peeters picking up some embroidery or filling glasses of
genever.

But Maigret kept finding Anna's
clear eyes, and she finally spoke:

‘It's Marguerite
…'

‘Did she have money at her
house?'

‘Money and shares. She herself
takes care of the share of the fortune left to her by her mother.'

And Anna repeated:

‘What are you going to
do?'