doing it ever since â¦Â Oh sorry: she also
plays cards. I think itâs the only thing that really interests her.â
The screech of rusted iron indicated that the lock gates were being opened. Two mules trudged past the front of the house then stopped a little further on, while an empty barge continued moving, swinging
as it lost way, looking as though it were trying to climb up the bank.
Vladimir, bent double, was baling out the rainwater which threatened to swamp the dinghy.
A car crossed the stone bridge, attempted to drive on to the towpath, stopped, then made several clumsy attempts to turn before coming to a complete stop.
A man dressed all in black got out. Willy, who had got off the bed, glanced out of the window and said:
âItâs the undertaker.â
âWhen is the colonel thinking of leaving?â
âImmediately after the funeral.â
âWhich will take place here?â
âAnywhereâll do! He already has one wife buried near Lima and another now married to a New Yorker who will finish up under six feet of American soil.â
Maigret glanced across at him instinctively, as if he was trying to work out if he was joking. But Willy Marco was perfectly serious, though that little ambiguous spark still flickered in his eye.
âIf, that is, the money draft has come through! Otherwise, the funeral will have to wait.â
The man in black halted uncertainly by the yacht, put a question to Vladimir, who answered without stopping what he was doing, then finally climbed aboard and vanished into the cabin.
Maigret had not seen Lucas come out.
âYouâd better go,â he said to Willy.
Willy hesitated. For a moment, a look of anxiety flitted across his face.
âAre you going to ask him about the necklace?â
âI donât know.â
The moment had passed. Willy, his usual cool self once more, knocked out the dent in his felt hat, waved a goodbye with one hand and went downstairs.
When, shortly after, Maigret followed him down, there were two bargees leaning on the bar nursing bottles of beer.
âYour mateâs on the phone,â said the landlord. âAsked for a Moulins number.â
A tug sounded its hooter several times in the distance. Maigret counted mechanically and muttered:
âFive.â
On the canal it was business as usual. Five barges approaching. The lock-keeper, wearing clogs, emerged from his house and made for the sluices.
Lucas came out of the phone booth. His face was red.
âWhew! That was hard work â¦â
âWhat is it?â
âThe colonel told me his wifeâs maiden name was Marie Dupin. For the wedding, she produced a birth certificate with that name on it issued at Moulins. Now Iâve just phoned them there, pulling rank â¦â
âAnd?â
âThereâs only one Marie Dupin on their register. She is forty-two years old, has three children and is married to a man called PiedbÅuf, who is a baker in the high street.
The clerk in the
town hall I talked to said she had seen her serving in the shop only yesterday. Apparently she weighs all of 180 pounds.â
Maigret said nothing. Looking like a well-to-do bystander with time on his hands, he wandered over to the lock without another thought for his companion and followed every stage of the operation closely. All the while, one thumb angrily tamped
down the tobacco in his pipe.
A little later, Vladimir approached the lock-keeper. He touched his white forage cap with one hand and asked where he could fill up with fresh water.
5. The YCF Badge
Maigret had gone to bed early, while Inspector Lucas, who had his orders, went off to Meaux, Paris and Moulins.
When he left the bar, there had been three customers, two bargees and the wife of one of them who had joined her husband and was sitting in a corner, knitting.
The atmosphere was cheerless and heavy. Outside, a barge had tied up less than two metres from
plays cards. I think itâs the only thing that really interests her.â
The screech of rusted iron indicated that the lock gates were being opened. Two mules trudged past the front of the house then stopped a little further on, while an empty barge continued moving, swinging
as it lost way, looking as though it were trying to climb up the bank.
Vladimir, bent double, was baling out the rainwater which threatened to swamp the dinghy.
A car crossed the stone bridge, attempted to drive on to the towpath, stopped, then made several clumsy attempts to turn before coming to a complete stop.
A man dressed all in black got out. Willy, who had got off the bed, glanced out of the window and said:
âItâs the undertaker.â
âWhen is the colonel thinking of leaving?â
âImmediately after the funeral.â
âWhich will take place here?â
âAnywhereâll do! He already has one wife buried near Lima and another now married to a New Yorker who will finish up under six feet of American soil.â
Maigret glanced across at him instinctively, as if he was trying to work out if he was joking. But Willy Marco was perfectly serious, though that little ambiguous spark still flickered in his eye.
âIf, that is, the money draft has come through! Otherwise, the funeral will have to wait.â
The man in black halted uncertainly by the yacht, put a question to Vladimir, who answered without stopping what he was doing, then finally climbed aboard and vanished into the cabin.
Maigret had not seen Lucas come out.
âYouâd better go,â he said to Willy.
Willy hesitated. For a moment, a look of anxiety flitted across his face.
âAre you going to ask him about the necklace?â
âI donât know.â
The moment had passed. Willy, his usual cool self once more, knocked out the dent in his felt hat, waved a goodbye with one hand and went downstairs.
When, shortly after, Maigret followed him down, there were two bargees leaning on the bar nursing bottles of beer.
âYour mateâs on the phone,â said the landlord. âAsked for a Moulins number.â
A tug sounded its hooter several times in the distance. Maigret counted mechanically and muttered:
âFive.â
On the canal it was business as usual. Five barges approaching. The lock-keeper, wearing clogs, emerged from his house and made for the sluices.
Lucas came out of the phone booth. His face was red.
âWhew! That was hard work â¦â
âWhat is it?â
âThe colonel told me his wifeâs maiden name was Marie Dupin. For the wedding, she produced a birth certificate with that name on it issued at Moulins. Now Iâve just phoned them there, pulling rank â¦â
âAnd?â
âThereâs only one Marie Dupin on their register. She is forty-two years old, has three children and is married to a man called PiedbÅuf, who is a baker in the high street.
The clerk in the
town hall I talked to said she had seen her serving in the shop only yesterday. Apparently she weighs all of 180 pounds.â
Maigret said nothing. Looking like a well-to-do bystander with time on his hands, he wandered over to the lock without another thought for his companion and followed every stage of the operation closely. All the while, one thumb angrily tamped
down the tobacco in his pipe.
A little later, Vladimir approached the lock-keeper. He touched his white forage cap with one hand and asked where he could fill up with fresh water.
5. The YCF Badge
Maigret had gone to bed early, while Inspector Lucas, who had his orders, went off to Meaux, Paris and Moulins.
When he left the bar, there had been three customers, two bargees and the wife of one of them who had joined her husband and was sitting in a corner, knitting.
The atmosphere was cheerless and heavy. Outside, a barge had tied up less than two metres from