The Misty Harbour (8 page)

All the same, there was tension in the
air, and even fear – and not just in the air, for there was almost panic in the
mayor's eyes.

And the smile on Big Louis' face
was one of brutish satisfaction.

‘I'll wait for you
outside,' the inspector told him.

But the reply he received was from the
mayor.

‘It was nice seeing you, Detective
Chief Inspector Maigret.'

The inspector left
the study. Hurrying from the kitchen, the maid sullenly showed him to the front door
without a word and closed it behind him.

The road was deserted. In the window of
a house a hundred metres away, Maigret saw a light; there were a few others, but at
long intervals, for the villas on the Riva-Bella road are surrounded by extensive
gardens.

Hands in his pockets, hunched over,
Maigret walked to the front gate and looked out over empty ground, since all that
part of Ouistreham runs alongside the dunes. Beyond the gardens lie only sand and
beach grass.

A form in the darkness; a
voice …

‘That you, inspector?'

‘Lucas?'

They quickly drew together.

‘What are you doing
here?'

Without taking his eyes from the
villa's grounds, the sergeant whispered, ‘The man from the
dredger …'

‘He came out?'

‘He's here!'

‘Has he been here long?'

‘Barely fifteen
minutes … Right behind the house.'

‘Came in over the
fence?'

‘No. It looks as if he's
waiting for someone. I heard your footsteps, so I came to check.'

‘Show me where.'

They went around the garden to the back
of the villa, where Lucas swore softly.

‘What's the
matter?'

‘He's gone.'

‘You're sure?'

‘He was over by the clump of
tamarisks.'

‘You think he went
inside?'

‘No idea.'

‘Stay here. No matter what
happens.'

Maigret ran back to the road. No
one … A ray of light showed at the study window, but the sill was out of
reach.

He hurried back through the garden to
ring at the door. The maid opened it almost immediately.

‘I think I left my pipe in the
study.'

‘I will go and see.'

She left him on the threshold, but as
soon as she had gone he went quietly to the study door and peeked in.

The mayor was still in his chair with
his legs propped up. A small table had been set next to him. And on the other side
of it sat Big Louis.

They were playing draughts.

The ex-con moved a piece and barked,
‘Your turn!'

The mayor, looking up in exasperation at
the maid still hunting for the pipe, exclaimed, ‘You can see for yourself that
it's not here! Tell the inspector he must have left it somewhere else. Your
move, Louis.'

Perfectly at home, Louis called after
her, ‘And then bring us something to drink, Marguerite!'

When Maigret left the villa, Lucas could
tell there was trouble coming. The inspector was ready to explode, with staring eyes
that seemed to see nothing.

‘Didn't find him?'

‘I don't think it's
even worth looking for him. We'd need too many men to hunt down someone hiding
in the dunes.'

His overcoat buttoned all the way up,
Maigret thrust his hands into his pockets and chewed the stem of his pipe.

‘See that gap between the
curtains?' he said, pointing to the study window. ‘And that low wall,
right in front? Well, once you're standing on the wall, I think you could see
into the room.'

Lucas was almost as big as his boss, but
not as tall. He hoisted himself on to the wall with a sigh, checking both ways along
the road to make sure no one was coming.

The wind had picked up at sundown, a sea
wind that strengthened with each passing minute and shook the trees.

‘Anything?'

‘I'm not up high enough.
Fifteen or twenty centimetres short.'

Maigret walked over to a heap of stones
by the road and brought back a few.

‘Try these.'

‘I can see
the edge of the table, but not the people.'

And the inspector went to fetch more
stones.

‘That does
it! … They're playing draughts. The maid's bringing them some
steaming glasses, must be hot grog.'

‘Stay there.'

Maigret began pacing up and down the
road. A hundred metres on: the Buvette de la Marine, then the harbour. A
baker's van went by. The inspector almost stopped it to make sure no one was
hiding inside, but instead he just shrugged.

There are some seemingly simple police
operations that prove impracticable. Hunting for the man who had vanished into thin
air behind the mayor's villa, for example! A search of the dunes, along the
beach, in the harbour and village? Roadblocks everywhere? Twenty policemen would not
be enough. And a smart fellow would slip through the net anyway.

Maigret didn't even know who he
was or what he looked like.

The inspector returned to the wall,
where Lucas was still standing in an awkward position.

‘What are they doing?'

‘Still playing
draughts.'

‘Talking?'

‘Not a peep. The convict has both
elbows on the table and is already on his third grog.'

Fifteen minutes later, something rang
inside the house. Lucas called Maigret over.

‘Phone call. The mayor's
trying to get up … but Big Louis got there first.'

Although they
couldn't hear the conversation, it seemed to have pleased Big Louis.

‘They're done?'

‘Back to the draughts.'

‘Stay there!'

Maigret went off to the bar. A few of
the evening regulars were playing cards and invited the inspector to join them for a
drink.

‘Thanks, not now. Is there a
telephone here, mademoiselle?'

It was on the wall in the kitchen. An
old woman was cleaning fish.

‘Hello! Ouistreham switchboard?
Police! Would you tell me who just called the mayor's villa?'

‘Caen, sir.'

‘What number?'

‘It was 122. That's the
train station café.'

‘Thank you.'

He left the kitchen and for a good long
moment stood lost in thought in the middle of the bar.

Suddenly he murmured, ‘It's
twelve kilometres from here to Caen …'

‘Thirteen!' Delcourt
informed him, having just walked in. ‘And how's it going,
inspector?'

Maigret hadn't heard him.

‘… On a bike, that's
barely half an hour …'

He remembered that the lock workers,
most of whom lived in the village, came down to the harbour on bikes that sat all
day right across from the bar.

‘Would you mind seeing that none
of the bicycles is missing?'

Then
Maigret's brain went into gear and moved smoothly through the chain of
events.

‘Damn! It's my bike
that's gone …'

Unsurprised, the inspector asked no
further questions but returned to the phone in the kitchen.

‘Give me the Caen
police … Yes … Thank you … Hello! Police headquarters?
Detective Chief Inspector Maigret here, Police Judiciaire. Is there still a train
for Paris tonight? … What's that? … Not before
eleven? … No, but listen, please write this down.

‘First, make sure that Madame
Grandmaison – the ship-owner's wife, yes! – did in fact leave for Paris in her
car.

‘Next, find out if any stranger
showed up at Grandmaison's office or residence today … Yes,
that's easy, but there's more. You are taking all this down, right?

‘Finally, check all the garages in
Caen. How many are there? Around twenty? … Then only those renting out
cars will be of interest. Start with the ones close to the train
station … Right! You're looking for someone who rented a car, with
or without a driver, for Paris – or who might have bought a second-hand
car … Hello? Don't hang up, damn it! … The man probably
abandoned a bicycle in Caen.

‘Yes, that's it. But do you
have enough officers to take care of all that? … Good, that's it
then … And as soon as you have any information whatsoever, call me at the
Buvette de la Marine in Ouistreham.'

The harbour men at their aperitifs in
the overheated main room had heard every word. When Maigret walked back in, their
faces were grave, tense with anxiety.

‘You think
my bike …?' began one lock worker, but in vain.

‘A grog!' Maigret called out
curtly.

Gone was the fellow who had smilingly
raised a glass with them all over the past few days. He hardly saw or recognized
them now.

‘The
Saint-Michel
,
she's not back from Caen?'

‘Supposed to be here in time for
the evening tide, but with this weather she may not be able to get out.'

‘A storm?'

‘We're in for some rough
weather at least. And the wind's veering to the north, that's not good
news. Can't you hear?'

And there was a kind of hammering, from
the waves breaking on the jetty pilings. Wind gusts rattled the door.

‘If there's a call for me,
let me know. I'll be about a hundred metres up the road.'

‘Right by the mayor's
house?'

Maigret had a terrible time lighting his
pipe outside. The massive clouds running low across the sky seemed to snag on the
crowns of the poplars lining the road. From five metres away, he couldn't make
out Lucas standing on his wall.

‘Anything?'

‘They've stopped playing
draughts. All of a sudden Louis just swept the pieces off the board as if he were
tired of the game.'

‘What are they doing?'

‘The mayor's slumped in his
chair. The other one's smoking cigars and drinking grogs. He's already
picked a
dozen cigars to pieces, with a
sarcastic look on his face, as if to provoke Grandmaison on purpose.'

‘How many grogs?'

‘Five or six.'

Maigret couldn't see anything but
that thin strip of light down the façade. Some builders going home after work
pedalled past towards the village. Next came a farmer's cart. Sensing a human
presence in the darkness, the driver whipped up his horse and looked back nervously
a few times.

‘The maid?'

‘Haven't seen her. She must
be in her kitchen. Will I be up here much longer? Because in that case, you'd
best get me more stones, so I don't have to stand on tiptoe.'

Maigret brought some. The din of the
ocean was growing louder. All along the beach, the waves must have been almost two
metres high, crashing into white foam on the sand.

Down by the harbour, a door opened and
closed. It was the bar. A figure appeared, trying to see in the darkness, and
Maigret ran over to him.

‘Ah! It's you. You're
wanted on the phone.'

Caen was calling back already.

‘Hello? Detective Chief Inspector?
How did you know! … Madame Grandmaison went through Caen this morning,
heading for Paris. She left at noon, in a car. Her daughter stayed at home in the
care of the governess. And regarding the stranger, you were right. At the very first
garage we checked, the one across from the station, we learned that a man had
arrived by bicycle and wanted to
rent a
car, no driver. They told him that the garage did not arrange that sort of
thing.

‘The man seemed impatient and
asked if he could at least buy a car in a hurry, second-hand if possible, so they
sold him one for twenty thousand francs, which he paid, cash on the barrel.
It's a yellow touring car, bearing the letter W because it was for
sale.'

‘Do they know which way he
went?'

‘The man asked for directions for
the road to Paris through Lisieux and Évreux.'

‘Telephone the national and local
police in Lisieux, Évreux, Mantes and Saint-Germain. Warn Paris that all the
entrances to the city must be watched, especially Porte Maillot.'

‘We're to stop the
car?'

‘And arrest its occupant, yes! Do
you have a description?'

‘From the
garage-owner … A rather tall man, middle-aged, in an elegant,
light-coloured suit.'

‘Same instructions as before:
phone me at Ouistreham as soon as—'

‘Excuse me, sir: it's almost
seven o'clock, and the Ouistreham exchange shuts down at seven. Unless you go
to the mayor's house …'

‘Why is that?'

‘Because the phone number there is
1 and is directly linked at night to Caen.'

‘Send someone to the post office.
If any call coming through their telephone exchange asks for the mayor, listen in on
the conversation. Do you have a car?'

‘Yes, a small one.'

‘That will
be enough to come and alert me. At the Buvette de la Marine, as before.'

Back in the main room, Captain Delcourt
was bold enough to ask, ‘Is it the murderer you're after?'

‘I've no idea!'

The men there could not understand how
Maigret, so cordial and friendly until then, could now be so distant and even
cantankerous. He left without telling them anything. Outside, he plunged again into
the roar of the wind and the sea and had to button his overcoat up tightly,
especially to cross the bridge, which was shaking in the storm.

Standing in front of Joris'
cottage, he hesitated for a moment, then looked through the keyhole. He saw the
kitchen door, its glass panels lit up. Behind them a form went back and forth
between the stove and the table.

He rang. Julie froze, holding a dish,
then set it down, opened the door and came into the front hall.

‘Who is it?' she asked
anxiously.

‘Inspector Maigret!'

She opened the door and stood aside. She
was nervous. Her eyes were still red and she kept glancing fearfully around her.

‘Come in, I'm glad
you're here. If you knew how scared I am, by myself in this house! I
don't think I'll be staying on.'

The inspector entered the kitchen, which
was as clean and neat as always. On the white oilcloth covering the table sat only a
small bowl and some bread and butter. A pot on the stove was giving off a sweet
aroma.

‘Hot chocolate?' exclaimed
the inspector, surprised.

‘I
haven't any heart to cook just for myself … So I made some
chocolate.'

‘Pretend I'm not here. Go
on, eat …'

She fussed a bit, then did fill her bowl
and added big pieces of buttered bread to soak. Staring straight ahead, she ate this
with a spoon.

‘Your brother hasn't come to
see you yet?'

‘No! I don't
understand … I went as far as the harbour, just now, hoping to see him.
When they're at loose ends, sailors always hang around the harbour.'

‘Did you know your brother was a
friend of the mayor?'

She looked at him as if in shock.

‘What do you mean?'

‘They're busy playing
draughts together.'

She thought he was joking and, when
persuaded that he was not, she became frightened.

‘I don't
understand …'

‘Why?'

‘Because the mayor keeps his
distance from people … And he certainly does not like Louis. He's
tried to make trouble for him a few times. He didn't even want to let him live
here.'

‘And with Captain
Joris?'

‘What about him?'

‘Was Monsieur Grandmaison friends
with the captain?'

‘The way he is with everyone! A
handshake in passing. He makes a little joke. A remark about the weather. But
that's all. Sometimes, I already told you this, he would take the captain
along hunting … although that was simply so he wouldn't be
alone.'