The Two-Penny Bar by Georges Simenon Page A

came and went as they pleased.
    â€˜Your wife not with you, James?’
    â€˜She’s coming with Marcelle and Lili.’
    They took their canoes out of the garage. Someone was repairing a fishing-rod with some silk cord. They all did their own thing until dinnertime. There wasn’t much conversation during the meal, just the odd exchange here and there.
    â€˜Is Madame Basso at home?’
    â€˜What a week she must have had!’
    â€˜What are we doing tomorrow?’
    Maigret was like a spare part. Everyone avoided him, without making it too obvious. When James wasn’t with him, he would wander the terrace or the riverbank alone. When night fell he slipped off to check with the officers who were guarding
the Bassos’ villa.
    There were two of them on duty. They took it in turn to take their meals in a bistro in Seine-Port, two kilometres away. When the inspector arrived, the one who was off duty was fishing.
    â€˜Anything to report?’
    â€˜Not a thing. She keeps herself to herself. Every now and again she takes a tour round the garden. The tradesmen have been calling as usual: the baker at nine, the butcher a short while later, then the greengrocer comes by with his cart
around eleven.’
    There was a light on on the ground floor. They could make out the silhouette of the boy drinking his soup witha serviette tied around his neck. The policemen were stationed in a little wood on the riverbank. The one who was
fishing said:
    â€˜This place is teeming with rabbits. If we weren’t on a job …’
    Opposite, the Two-Penny Bar, where two couples – probably workers from Corbeil – were dancing to the strains of the mechanical piano.
    A Sunday morning like any other at Morsang, with anglers all along the banks, others sitting immobile in green-painted dinghies anchored at both ends, canoes, a couple of sailing-boats.
    It was a well-ordered routine that nothing was going to disrupt.
    The countryside was pretty, the sky was clear, everyone was at peace. Perhaps that’s why the scene was as sickly as an overly sweet dessert.
    Maigret found James dressed in a blue-and-white-striped sweater, white trousers and espadrilles, with an American sailing cap perched on his head. He was sipping a large glass of brandy and water by way of breakfast.
    â€˜Did you sleep well?’
    Maigret noticed one amusing detail: in Paris, he always addressed Maigret with the formal
vous
. Here in Morsang, he used the familiar
tu
for everyone, including the inspector, without even realizing.
    â€˜What are you up to this morning?’
    â€˜I think I’ll drop in on the Two-Penny Bar.’
    â€˜I’ll see you there. Apparently we’ve arranged a get-together there for pre-lunch drinks. Do you want to borrow a canoe?’
    Maigret was the only one in dark city clothes. He was given a small flat-bottomed boat which he had great trouble keeping steady. When he arrived at the Two-Penny Bar, it was ten o’clock in the morning, and there wasn’t a customer in
sight.
    Or rather, there was one, in the kitchen munching on a hunk of bread and a fat sausage. The old woman was saying to him:
    â€˜You want to take better care. One of my lads didn’t look after himself properly and it killed him. And he was bigger and stronger than you!’
    At that moment the customer had a coughing fit and couldn’t swallow his mouthful of bread. As he was coughing, he noticed Maigret standing at the door and he frowned.
    â€˜A bottle of beer!’ said the inspector.
    â€˜Wouldn’t you prefer to sit out on the terrace?’
    No, he preferred the kitchen, with its table scored by knife marks, its rush chairs and its stove on which a large pot was bubbling away.
    â€˜My son has gone off to Corbeil to chase up some bottles of soda water they forgot to deliver. Would you help me open the trapdoor?’
    The trapdoor in the middle of the kitchen was opened to reveal the gaping hole