Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London Read online

  ‘Alright, alright, keep your hair on. Let’s say that, for the time being, I accept that this man is somehow part of a criminal conspiracy: then I have to ask the question, ‘Why?’ Why would he do it? What’s in it for him? And the same goes for the large donation he’s just made to this gallery. Wouldn’t he be more likely to keep a low profile, rather than having his photo splashed across the page of a newspaper?’

  ‘He might do the one for a very good reason – as yet unknown – and the other to buy more respectability, which is always an excellent way to disguise wrong-doing. Have you never heard the expression ‘the truth is stranger than fiction’, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Of course I have. But in my experience it’s never been this strange, nor had so much flaming fiction. Isn’t it more likely that this Debbie woman is mistaken?’

  ‘Anything is possible, Chief Inspector, but James Evremond has… ’

  ‘And that’s another blasted thing,’ Clive Scott said, ‘correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Evremond a French name? That’s a further French connection that I find unsettling. I don’t like all these coincidences.’

  ‘Yes, it is. Evremond is a French name with an illustrious history. But I, too, am wary of coincidences. In my experience there’s always a sensible explanation for every one of them.’

  ‘I agree. Of course there is another possible explanation,’ Clive Scott mused. ‘Perhaps James Evremond himself is just an innocent bystander. Maybe someone passed these notes to him, and he, not realising they were counterfeit, simply passed them on to someone else?’

  ‘And where might this innocent bystander have come by the notes?’ Philippe Maigret asked.

  ‘Anywhere, at all: maybe he went to the races or the football, or won a bet, or bought something in a shop. Anywhere, the possibilities are limitless.’

  ‘Is that really what your instinct is telling you, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘No, it’s blasted-well not!’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear that, otherwise I would be worried. I think, Chief Inspector that your instincts are telling you exactly what my instincts are telling me.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Which is that, however unlikely it seems that a man like James Evremond would be involved in a criminal conspiracy, that’s exactly what has happened,’ Philippe Maigret said.

  ‘And in the murder of Serge Vachon, and the attempted murder of Inspector Martin too?’

  ‘Yes, and that too,’ Philippe Maigret replied. Then he sighed one his legendary long sighs before he spoke again. ‘And that, God help us, too. But do you really believe that Georges Martin was the intended target? I don’t.’

  ‘It was Nicole Vachon?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I think. And Georges Martin was, unfortunately for him, simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time.’

  ‘It sounds to me like someone was tidying up loose ends.’

  ‘D’accord, Chief Inspector. I believe that when it was discovered that Serge was two counterfeit £20 notes short, because Nicole had spent them, someone decided to eliminate both of them. And that’s how Serge ended up in the Thames, and Nicole was almost killed by a car.’

  ‘It’s a pretty damn ruthless way to do business,’ Clive Scott said.

  ‘Yes, it certainly is that, which means there must be a great deal at stake if these people are prepared to go to such lengths to cover their tracks.’

  ‘And it also means Nicole Vachon is still in danger.’

  ‘Yes she is. However, as she returns to Paris tomorrow, she will be my problem, not yours. She’s taking her husband’s body back to bury him. The paper work will be finished later today.’

  ‘So we should keep an eye on James Evremond in the meantime?’

  ‘I would. I’d have someone on his tail for the next few days to see where he goes, and who he meets. And with plenty of photographic evidence as well. I’d also have a quiet word, very quiet, because we don’t want the plotters to be tipped off by anything they may learn through the media, with the London banks, warning them to be on the look-out for these fake notes.’

  ‘I’ll do it, and hang the blasted budget. But I can only do it for a few days; the financial plan won’t stretch further than that.’

  ‘Bon. Thank you Chief Inspector Scott, you’ve set my mind at rest now.’

  ‘When do you return to Paris?’

  ‘I also return tomorrow, after Georges has been discharged from St Mary’s. We fly by air ambulance, then Georges will be admitted to hospital in Paris for further treatment, followed by physiotherapy.’

  ‘Mrs Lisle will go with you?’

  There was another long sigh. ‘No, she will not, Chief Inspector. And that’s a very sore point with me, so best not to pursue the matter. But now I must say au revoir, because I understand that a car has arrived to take me, and my former wife, to the morgue for the formal identification of Serge Vachon’s body. It is a responsibility that I do not relish, but I must go with her.’

  ‘I wish you luck, Chief Inspector Maigret.’

  ‘Thank you. I have a feeling I might need it.’

  But, in fact, Nicole Vachon behaved impeccably from the moment she saw Philippe Maigret. There were no more histrionics and very few tears, except when she had to say the words, ‘yes, this is my husband Serge Vachon.’ Then the tears began to slide silently down her cheeks, and she swayed a little, as if she might faint again. Philippe put his arms around her to hold her steady, and was rewarded with a teary smile.

  ‘Merci, Philippe,’ she whispered, then turned on her heel, and walked quickly out of the room.

  Later that day Philippe again tried to convince Megan that she should return to Paris with him, but she would not.

  ‘But why won’t you come?’ he asked. ‘Jacques will stay on with Max and his family, even though we know Nicole was not threatening him, because her dog’s name really is Max. So everyone will be safe, but I’ll be unhappy, because I’ll be in Paris, while you’re in London.’

  ‘There’s still the counterfeit money Max found, and the man who’s been asking questions about him. And that’s a big worry.’

  ‘Jacques will take care of that – that’s why he’s staying in London, so there’s no reason why you can’t come.’

  ‘It’s only for a little while, Philippe. Then I’ll be in Paris all the time. I can’t leave London yet, not while I’m worried about Max. It’s his half term, the week after next, and I’ve been thinking I might try to bring him to Paris with me, as I did with Celia.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Philippe, pleased by this unexpected news. ‘And of course I have plenty of space in my apartment for both of you.’

  ‘No, love. I wouldn’t stay with you this time, not with Max. It wouldn’t be right. I thought we’d stay at the Hotel Celeste again. It’s good there, and the people are… ’

  ‘Megan, Megan, Megan,’ he sighed, shaking his head. ‘Do you want to break my mother’s heart? It’s bad enough that you don’t want to stay with me… ’

  ‘I didn’t stay that I didn’t want to stay with you; just that it wouldn’t be appropriate with… ’

  ‘It was appropriate enough before.’ ‘Yes… well… that was then, and this is now. Things change, Philippe.’

  ‘Apparently so.’

  Oh dear, it looks like another dark mood is about to descend on him, she thought. ‘However, I would be happy to stay with Louise, if that would not be inconvenient for her,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Bon. So it’s all settled then, you know maman will be delighted to have you stay. She looks on you as the daughter she never had,’ he said, perking up immediately.

  I can see I’ll have to nip this tendency for emotional blackmail in the bud sometime, Megan thought. But it will have to wait. We have enough to deal with right now.

  ‘There’s one more thing I don’t understand about this whole conspiracy, and counterfeit money business,’ she said as they were about to eat their dinner. ‘If Serge was killed, and an attempt w
as made on Nicole’s life, just because she passed two of the notes in Little Venice, how come this James Evremond did the same thing and yet he’s still alive?’

  ‘Maybe because he’s the criminal mastermind, so he’s calling the shots.’

  ‘But if he is, why would he compromise himself in that way?’

  ‘Perhaps because he’s an arrogant psychopath who thinks he can get away with anything, because he’s so clever.’

  ‘Or maybe he believes he has the devil on his side.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I’ve been talking with David Wainwright. You know he has a degree in psychology?’

  ‘I hope you didn’t tell him about the counterfeit money that Max found, and the pentacle that was at the scene. Scotland Yard wants to keep that quiet at present, and I agree with that decision.’

  ‘I’m afraid I did, Philippe. But Dave won’t say anything – he knows it’s all hush-hush. He promised he wouldn’t, and anyway he’s a priest so he has to keep things between him and his parishioners strictly private.’

  ‘But you’re not one of his little flock are you?’

  ‘Well… no… at least not in the strictly technical sense of the word.’

  ‘Not in any sense of the word! You’re as fond of bending the truth as Nicole was,’ he said. ‘Why do I keep getting mixed up with women like you? Will I never learn?’

  ‘Oh, pish! Now do you want to hear David’s take on all this, or not? It’s your choice.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘He thinks Serge Vachon’s mood swings might have had something to do with Satanism, and the upside-down pentacle with the money supports that belief.’

  ‘That’s complete nonsense! We can’t be sure that Serge had anything to do with the money Max found, or the pentacle. I don’t believe it for a moment.’

  ‘Easy for you to say, Philippe, but he’s seen people struggling with this kind of thing before, and he says the pattern is very similar.’

  At that moment Philippe’s mobile rang.

  ‘I’ll ignore it, darling,’ he said. ‘All this talk of devil worship has made me hungry. Let’s eat.’

  But the phone continued to ring insistently, so that in the end, he was forced to answer it. It was Jacques.

  ‘This better be important, my friend,’ Philippe said, ‘because I’m about to have my dinner.’

  ‘Sorry, sir, but this is important. At least I think it is.’

  ‘Okay, speak to me.’

  ‘I’ve found another pentacle, the same as all the others.’

  ‘That could have waited until the morning, Jacques.’

  ‘Maybe, sir, but I thought you’d want to know that there was also another cache of money, and it’s even more than Max found.’

  ‘Hmm, well I guess that was worth a phone call,’ his boss said, although he was not convinced, and his stomach was rumbling.

  ‘No, sir, wait – there’s more. This is the really important thing. It was in Dulwich Park, not far from that new gallery.’

  ‘That’s a very public place to hide something this important; they must be getting careless.’

  ‘Not really, Chief. It was fairly high up and hidden in a large knot-hole in a tree. I only discovered it because Inky seemed very interested in the area. I think she must have picked up a scent of some kind, because she kept sniffing around the tree, and didn’t want to leave, even when I called her. And then, when I looked more closely, I saw the pentacle. It was a small one, much smaller than the others I’ve found. You’d have to be actually looking for it to notice it.’

  ‘That’s very good work, Jacques, I’ll contact Chief Inspector Scott tomorrow with this new information. I wouldn’t like to disturb him now while he’s having his dinner,’ Philippe Maigret said pointedly, hoping Jacques would take the hint.

  He did. ‘There’s one more thing, sir, or rather, two. I’ve had a good look at the money, and this time I’d stake my pension that it’s genuine.’

  ‘That’s even more interesting, Jacques. And what’s the second thing?’

  ‘With the money was a photograph of a famous London landmark.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The London Eye, sir, previously known as the Millennium Wheel.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Well, well, well,’ Clive Scott said the next morning, when Philippe Maigret filled him in on the result of Jacques’ detective work. ‘So he thinks the money’s real. And as for the photograph, well… ’

  ‘The possible target for the bombers, if that’s what they are.’

  ‘And the money – what’s your take on that?’

  ‘My guess is that it’s either payment owing for getting rid of Serge, or payment in advance for the next job.’

  ‘I agree. Where is it now?’

  ‘Jacques has it. I told him to wait until he hears from me, then he should take a taxi to Scotland Yard and give it to you for safe-keeping.’

  ‘No need for a taxi, Chief Inspector Maigret, we’ll send a car for him: it’s the least we can do after all his foot-slogging work on behalf of the Met police. He is, as you said, an excellent police officer.’

  ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. But now I must say goodbye, it’s time for me to meet Inspector Martin at St Mary’s. We must not keep the air ambulance waiting. We too, have our budgets.’

  ‘The cost of the air ambulance will be met from Scotland Yard’s contingency fund,’ Clive Scott said firmly. ‘Has the car I sent to Mrs Lisle’s apartment arrived?’

  ‘Yes, it’s been here for a while.’

  ‘Good. Please stay in touch, Chief Inspector Maigret. I have the feeling that your interests, and mine, might be somehow connected.’

  ‘I will. And I agree that there’s a connection. But how and why – well that’s for us to discover, and the sooner the better.’

  Celia, Max and Timmy, with their parents, were already at St Mary’s hospital when Megan and Philippe arrived. They had been given special permission to miss school that morning, which was a source of considerable satisfaction to them. Timmy was clutching his new cricket bat, the one he had left in Georges Martin’s room at that dark time when he was in a coma. Inspector Martin, although still pale and weak, had returned it to Timmy with a touching little ceremony.

  ‘Thank you, my young friend,’ he said, kissing Timmy’s forehead and ruffling his hair the way he’d noticed his boss do to Celia, ‘I have no doubt that this wonderful bat played a big part in my recovery.’

  ‘It did?’ said Timmy, greatly impressed. ‘How, exactly, did it work, Georges?’

  ‘Every time I looked at it, I was reminded that I must get better, so I could prove to you and Max that it might not be impossible for Frenchmen to learn to play cricket.’

  ‘Next time you’re in London,’ Max said, ‘Timmy and me will take you to practise in the nets, Georges. Then you’ll be able to bowl as well as you bat.’

  ‘And afterwards we’ll have a barbecue at our house with crème caramel for pudding.’

  ‘Crème caramel?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Inspector Martin,’ their mother explained, ‘but one I think you’ll enjoy. Ask Philippe. He knows about it.’

  Then they all piled into a mini-van to drive to RAF Northolt, except for Chief Inspector Maigret, who accompanied Georges Martin in the ambulance with the two paramedics. It didn’t take long to drive to South Ruislip; however, when they arrived at RAF Northolt they were surprised to find that Chief Inspector Scott and Sergeant Andy Gillespie were already there, waiting for them.

  ‘You didn’t think we’d let a police hero leave the country without a proper send-off, did you?’ Clive Scott said. ‘I wanted a brass band, with marching girls as well, but the blasted budget wouldn’t stretch that far!’

  ‘No brass band or marching girls necessary,’ Georges Martin said quietly, ‘it’s enough that you’ve all taken the trouble to come to say goodbye to me. Merci, mes amis; your kindness touches my heart.’

  ‘Not at all, not at
all,’ Chief Inspector Scott said, clearing his throat. ‘We just wanted to let you know how much we… er… er… ’

  ‘Value your valuable contribution to policing in London,’ Andy Gillespie interrupted helpfully.

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly right,’ his boss said, clearing his throat again.

  Then the stretcher carrying Inspector Martin was gently loaded on to the aircraft, and the paramedics climbed aboard.

  ‘Remember, no long farewells for us, love,’ Megan said, kissing Philippe. ‘Off you go now, and I’ll see you soon.’

  But the family was not satisfied with this, so a lengthy round of kissing and hugging ensued, which included Clive Scott and Andy Gillespie, until finally Philippe saw the logic of Megan’s remark. Then he hugged her one last time, whispered ‘I’ll call you tonight, darling,’ kissed her emphatically, as he’d done on his arrival at St Pancras a little over a week earlier, then, without a backward glance, strode quickly onto the tarmac, and boarded the aircraft.

  They all watched and waved until the plane was out of sight.

  ‘Time to go home, everyone,’ Chief Inspector Scott said, but Megan Lisle had other ideas. ‘Do you think I might invite myself to your house for a few days?’ she asked the children, as they walked towards the mini-bus.

  ‘Yay!’ Timmy cried, ‘Granny’s coming for a sleep-over.’

  ‘But only if it’s convenient,’ she said to his parents.

  ‘Of course it is,’ his mother said, ‘when should we expect you?’

  ‘How about tea-time; would that be alright?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Now, Jacques,’ Megan said, ‘after we get back to Central London, how would you like to have some lunch with me at one of my favourite restaurants in the high street, and then we could drive down to south-east London together?’

  ‘Merci, Madame, I should enjoy that very much,’ he said.

  Megan raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She knew he was not yet comfortable addressing her by her Christian name. Old habits die hard, she thought, especially with an old-school boss like Philippe Maigret.

  Later, when they were comfortably seated in the restaurant, Megan took a small map out of her bag.