Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London Read online

  Nicole let them in, but very reluctantly. Why is she so guarded, Megan thought? What’s she hiding? She looked around the room. It was an artist’s studio; light and bright, and it opened on to a small, pretty garden. She sat down on an ancient sofa and looked more carefully at her surroundings, trying to form a photographic image in her mind. There was a painting on an easel which looked like a Parisian street scene, but it was completely dry, so could not have been responsible for the smudge on Nicole’s face. Megan signalled to Andy who responded by a thumbs up. He’d also noticed that the painting wasn’t wet.

  While she looked, she also listened carefully. I think I heard a floorboard creak upstairs, she thought. Someone else is in the house. She looked at Andy again and tilted her head towards the ceiling. He nodded and gave her the thumbs up signal again. As Nicole brought the water to Megan a dog’s face suddenly appeared at the garden door.

  ‘Oh, you have a dog!’ Andy said. ‘What variety is he or she?’

  ‘Who knows? He’s a mixed breed; part this, part that. Heinz 57 varieties one might say!’

  She looked at Megan. It was a strange kind of look: cautious, defiant and jittery, all rolled up in one weird look. Why should she look at me like that? Megan thought. What have I ever done to her?

  ‘His name is Max,’ Nicole said. She called ‘Max, Max,’ and clicked her fingers, but the dog didn’t budge.

  ‘Looks like he’s not ready to come inside yet,’ Andy said. ‘But we must not take any more of your time. Do you think you have anything for our fair, Madam?’

  ‘Not now. But if you give me your phone number I might have something in a few days.’

  Nice try, lady, Andy thought, but we’re a step ahead of you. He handed her a business card which Scotland Yard had printed for him earlier that morning. It had both his actual mobile number, and a specially designated Scotland Yard landline number, which would be answered by a policewoman pretending to be his wife if Nicole called.

  Then they left, happy to escape the toxic atmosphere that seemed to fill the house, and desperate for a cup of coffee. But first they had to knock on the rest of the doors in that Maida Vale development, because this time they knew, without a shadow’s shadow of a doubt, that they would be watched.

  ‘Phew,’ said Andy Gillespie when they were out of earshot, ‘I’m certainly relieved that’s over. I was worried about whoever was upstairs. I think we’re lucky to have escaped still wearing our skin!’

  ‘Definitely, but it was worth it. I have lots of stuff to tell your chief inspector when we’re debriefed.’

  ‘Debriefed,’ Andy repeated with a chuckle. ‘Hark at you! You need to mix with a better class of person, Megan, there’s far too much police influence in your life at present.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right, Andy,’ she laughed. ‘But I fear it’s too late for me.’

  Once they were safely in Elgin Avenue again they fell into each other’s arms, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

  ‘Oh my great-grandfather’s whiskers,’ Andy Gillespie said. ‘What a weird experience! I didn’t think she was ever going to let us in. Not even with my foot halfway in the door.’

  ‘Why do you think I suddenly felt faint?’

  ‘You’re a class act, Mrs Lisle.’

  ‘And so are you, Father Gillespie. But let’s never, ever give an encore performance!’

  ‘I agree!’

  However, before very long, they would be called on to do exactly that.

  Chapter Five

  The car, with the two chief inspectors inside, was waiting for them around the next corner. They jumped in and the car sped off towards a coffee shop far enough away from Maida Vale to risk crossing paths with Nicole Vachon again.

  ‘I tell you, boss, I’ve never met anyone with such cold eyes as that woman had. She gave me the screaming jimmies,’ Andy Gillespie confessed, between sips of cappuccino.

  ‘Sounds like you met the real Nicole,’ Philippe said. ‘They thought I didn’t know, but at HQ they called her The Ice Queen, and never was there a more appropriate name.’

  ‘Even the poor damn dog was afraid of her. She called him, but he wouldn’t come to her,’ Andy said.

  ‘This is not a game, is it? I treated it as if it was one… but now I see that… it’s really, truly, real… ’

  Philippe was speaking to her but his voice was coming from a far-off planet. Or maybe, it was from somewhere deep under the sea. She couldn’t hear him properly, and it was hard for her to breathe. ‘Darling, are you alright?’ he asked again.

  ‘The reason the dog didn’t come was because… and… of course that’s why she looked at me that way. How could I have been so stupid? Now I’ve put everyone in danger.’

  ‘Megan, we’re not following you.’

  ‘The dog wasn’t afraid of her, Andy. The reason he didn’t come is that his name isn’t Max!’

  ‘But why would she say that it was, if it wasn’t?’

  ‘She did it to warn me off. She must know who I am. For all I know she knows everything there is to know about me!’

  ‘Max is your grandson’s name,’ Philippe said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But how could she possibly know that, or anything else about you and your family?’ Andy Gillespie asked.

  ‘Perhaps she’s been in touch with your mother, Philippe, and… ’

  ‘Never in a million years! Maman would never speak to her. She disliked her from the moment they met.’

  ‘Perhaps someone else in Paris would speak to her?’ Andy persisted.

  Philippe shrugged. ‘Maybe they would. Who knows?’

  ‘And maybe we weren’t the only ones who were watching the arrivals at St Pancras on Friday night,’ Chief Inspector Scott said. ‘Perhaps someone else saw you get off the Eurostar just like we did, Chief Inspector Maigret. Is there any chance your ex-wife was there and saw you?’

  ‘How should I know? I was looking for Megan not Nicole. I didn’t even know she was living in London until you told me.’

  ‘Philippe, this is all your fault! You got us into this mess and now it’s up to you to get us out of it!’ ‘How can you say that, Megan? I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near Scotland Yard if you hadn’t made me accept the invitation to lunch.’

  ‘And it’s very unkind of you to mention that fact now.’

  ‘Enfants, enfants, play nicely,’ the Met chief inspector said. ‘Instead of allocating blame let’s concentrate on what we should do next.’

  ‘I can tell you exactly what you should do next! You should put a police guard on Max and his family to keep them safe until all this – whatever it turns out to be – is over and done with.’

  ‘I can’t commit the Met to that kind of expense, not without some compelling evidence. And maybe not even then, what with budget cuts and people losing their jobs. It’s just not possible,’ Clive Scott said.

  ‘Well, maybe you can’t. But Chief Inspector Maigret certainly can. Philippe, I want Georges Martin and Jacques on the next Eurostar out of Paris. They will keep Max safe.’

  ‘Megan, I can’t… ’

  ‘Don’t tell me what you can’t do. I’m only interested in what you can do. And if you have to pay for them out of your own pocket rather than your wretched police budget then just do it.’

  Inspector Georges Martin and Jacques didn’t actually arrive on the next Eurostar because that proved to be impossible, even with the amount of official string-pulling, and calling in of overdue favours, that Philippe Maigret did over the next two hours. Nor even on the one after that. But in less than twenty-four hours they were both in London.

  ‘Thank you, Philippe,’ Megan said, as they watched the new arrivals come through the gates at St Pancras. ‘I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done. I know it wasn’t easy. How long can they stay?’

  ‘When I leave they’ll come with me.’

  ‘On Sunday – you all have to leave on Sunday?’

  ‘We’ll see. I’m still working
on that little problem. There are a few more favours yet that I’m owed, and a few more strings to yank, so don’t worry, my love. I’ve had a lot of practice pulling rabbits out of hats like this one.’

  ‘I owe you big time for this, don’t I?’

  Megan doesn’t even begin to know the half of it, he thought, which is probably just as well. ‘And don’t think I won’t enjoy collecting on the debt,’ he replied cheerfully.

  In a spirit of the previously mentioned entente cordiale the Metropolitan Police had promised Chief Inspector Maigret, and his two-man team, their “full cooperation within previously demarcated and historic international policing agreements” which sounded like a deliberate oxymoron, if not total rubbish. And indeed it was since, in the event of an almighty cock-up, which was a definite possibility as no one knew how this arrangement would work, it supplied a ‘Get out of jail free’ pass for everyone, up to, and including Uncle Tom Cobley of Widecombe Fair fame.

  Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me your grey mare.

  All along, down along, out along lee.

  For I want for to go to Widecombe Fair,

  With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney,

  Peter Davy, Dan’l Whiddon, Harry Hawke,

  Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all,

  Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

  Megan attempted to explain the folk song to Philippe, but admitted defeat when it seemed even more challenging than the idea of collecting old books for parish fairs. Some things, she decided, just did not translate well.

  The night before Inspector Martin and Jacques arrived in London Megan drove Philippe down to south-east London to meet Celia’s family for the first time.

  As they were packing an overnight bag Megan asked ‘Do you have any… er… means of being armed, Philippe?’

  ‘Of course I don’t, Megan! What do you think I am? Some damned mercenary?’

  ‘Not even the small revolver you sometimes wear strapped to the inside of your leg?’

  ‘How did you… ?’ These words were followed by one of Philippe’s famous long sighs. ‘No, not even that. Megan you’ve seen me dressing and undressing. Have you ever seen any sign of a weapon?’ he asked earnestly, then wondered why she collapsed into helpless laughter. ‘Now what have I said?’

  ‘Oh, love,’ she said, wiping the tears from her eyes, ‘sometimes you are just so unintentionally funny.’

  Hmm, technically I haven’t lied to her, Philippe thought. I actually don’t have that revolver with me yet. And there’s no need to tell her that I’ve asked Georges to bring it with him. Not yet.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Do you think they’ll like me?’ Philippe asked, as Megan drove over Vauxhall Bridge and pointed out the MI6 building on the Albert Embankment to him. ‘Of course they will. How could they not when you’re so totally lovable, even if a little weird sometimes.’

  ‘I think I’m going to take that as a compliment,’ he laughed, ‘we poor foreign beggars can’t be choosers!’

  It was nearly 4 o’clock when they arrived at the family house near Dulwich. The children were hovering in the front garden, waiting for their arrival so they could have tea and cake. For once in her life, Granny Meg was almost ignored in favour of the exotic new arrival.

  ‘Hi, sweetie pie,’ Philippe Maigret said, kissing Celia on her forehead while he ruffled her hair. He’d done the same thing at Gare du Nord when she and Megan had left Paris, except that then he’d said au revoir.

  ‘Are you actually a proper policeman?’ Max asked, as they shook hands.

  ‘Have you actually got your gun with you?’ Timmy asked, as he followed suit.

  ‘Yes, I am. And no, I haven’t,’ Philippe replied.

  ‘What about your handcuffs then? Have you at least brought them?’ Timmy’s friend, Luke asked.

  ‘Afraid not, young man, I left them behind in Paris.’

  ‘Don’t be such babies you lot,’ Celia scolded. ‘Let him get into the house before you start with your stupid questions!’

  ‘Merci, ma cherie,’ he said bending down to pat Inky, the family’s black Labrador, who had decided it was time for her to get in on the act too.

  After they had finished their tea Max asked, ‘Do you know how to play cricket, sir?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Max, but I’m happy for you to teach me sometime. And please – when I’m with family and friends I’m just Philippe, not sir.’

  ‘How about having a lesson right now, Philippe?’ Max said, striking while the iron was hot.

  ‘Oh Max, leave Philippe alone,’ his mother said.

  ‘It’s alright, Madame. Now is fine by me, and I see I’m not needed in the kitchen anyway.’

  ‘Good,’ said Max leading the way into the garden, ‘because I have something to tell you and I don’t want anyone else to hear.

  ‘What is it, Max?’ Philippe said as they were setting up the stumps.

  Max looked around carefully. ‘Are you really a detective? Do you solve crimes and other cool stuff like that?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a detective. And I do try to solve crimes, although, between you and me, I’m not always successful.’

  ‘Do you shoot people?’

  ‘Not if I can help it!’

  ‘But have you ever actually killed anyone?’

  ‘Max, I’m being Philippe now. Remember? When I’m Chief Inspector Maigret I sometimes have to do things I don’t like, including answering difficult questions. But when I’m ‘just Philippe’ I can please myself. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?’

  ‘I’ve found something important and now a strange man is hanging around my school, asking questions about me.’

  ‘And it’s scary, oui?’ Max nodded. ‘Have you told your parents?’ Max shook his head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because… because… when I found the stuff I was somewhere I wasn’t meant to have been.’

  ‘Fair enough, Max, none of us likes to get into trouble if we can help it. But if you tell me, I can’t promise that I won’t tell them; not if I think it’s something they should know. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bon, now exactly what was the stuff you found?’

  Max looked around carefully again, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of £20 notes. Philippe examined it carefully, fingering the paper, and smelling it. The notes were good, very good. But he had no doubt they were also counterfeit.

  ‘Is this all there is, Max?

  ‘No, there’s a lot more. I hid the rest of it in the old au pair’s room.’

  ‘And she didn’t see you do it?’

  ‘Who didn’t?’

  ‘The elderly lady, of whom you just spoke.’

  ‘No, Philippe, I meant it was the au pair’s room when we had an au pair! We don’t have one now.’

  Mon Dieu, now even the children are confusing me. Will I never understand the syntax of this language, he thought. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said.

  Max led the way upstairs to the top floor next to the room in which he and Timmy slept. He reached into the space at the back of the large wardrobe standing against one wall, retrieved a black leather briefcase, and gave it to Philippe Maigret. Inside, in neat bundles, was a large amount of money, all the same as the £20 notes that Max had given him earlier. He estimated that there was over £10,000 in all. All counterfeit.

  Philippe thumbed through some of the bundles and saw that each note began with the letters EE followed by the same seven sequential numbers. Only the end number was different: it was either a 1 or a 7, indicating that two different sets of plates had been used to make the forgeries.

  ‘Is this all of it now, Max?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you spent any of it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s good, because if you had, you might be in trouble. This money is not real. It’s counterfeit. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘Is it like Monopoly money?’

  ‘Not really. It’s b
een made to look real, to fool people. But when someone gets one of these notes they’re actually being robbed, because it is not what is known as “legal tender”. Can you see how the end number of all the notes in this bundle is a one? And in this bundle it’s a seven?’ Philippe said, flicking through the two bundles. ‘Real money, genuine money, has a different number on each and every note.’

  ‘Well, why don’t the crooks make it the proper way?’

  Philippe smiled. ‘Because that would cost too much, so it would defeat their purpose. Have you shown any of it to your friends, or told anyone else about it?’

  ‘No, you’re the only one I’ve told.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask your parents to take the briefcase to the police?’ Philippe asked.

  ‘I was going to at first. Then the man started hanging around the school and I got scared and I didn’t know what to do. But when Granny said you were coming to see us I thought I’d wait to show it to you. You’re the police, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes, Max, but only when I’m in France, not in England. Never mind, I’m sure we can sort this out without too many problems. If I walk you to school tomorrow morning will you show me exactly where you found the briefcase?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Can Inky come with us? She always does, and she was with me when I found the money. Actually she was the one who really found it. Are you going to tell my Mum and Dad?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. But I will tell your Granny.’

  Max pulled a face. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she and I have promised that we won’t have any secrets from each other,’ he said. His conscience reminded him that Georges Martin was bringing a revolver from Paris which he had neglected to mention to Megan. I will tell her soon, he promised his conscience. When I decide she actually needs to know.

  The announcement, at breakfast the next morning, that Philippe would walk to school with Max and Inky, while Celia and Timmy would be driven in Granny’s car – which was usually considered a treat – triggered the most almighty kerfuffle in the household. Celia protested that she should be allowed to walk with Philippe too, since she had known him longer than anyone else except Granny. Timmy shouted and fumed and then joined Celia in a major sulky strop. Or was it a stroppy sulk? No one could be entirely sure but it was not pretty.