Maigret and the Man on the Boulevard (14 page)

“It was a tragic loss for me.”

“Have you ever been up for trial at the Assizes?”

“No. Only in the lower courts. Several times.”

“Well, I may as well tell you that juries as a whole don't much care for clowning, especially from a man with your record. Nothing is more calculated to persuade them that you are the only person who would know where to find Monsieur Louis at all times of day, and the only one with a motive for murder.”

“In that case, they must be a lot of idiots.”

“That's all I have to say to you. It is now half-past twelve. We are both here in my office. At one o'clock Judge Coméliau will be back in his chambers.

“As soon as he arrives, I'll hand you over to him, and he will deal with you as he thinks fit.”

“Isn't he a little dark man, with a toothbrush mustache?”

“Yes.”

“He and I have met before. He's a right so-and-so. Come to think of it, he can't be all that young any more. What if I say I don't want to see him?”

“It rests entirely with you, as you very well know.”

Fred the Clown heaved a long sigh.

“You don't by any chance happen to have a spare cigarette?”

Maigret took a packet from his drawer, and held it out to him.

“Have you a match?”

He smoked for a while in silence.

“I don't suppose you keep any liquor in here?”

“Are you going to come clean?”

“I'm not sure yet. I'm still considering whether there's anything I can usefully say.”

This might turn out to be a very long session. Maigret knew his sort. On impulse, he went across to the door leading to the Inspectors' Duty room, and called out:

“Lucas! Do me a favor. Go to the Quai de Valmy, and find a woman called Françoise Bidou. I want her brought here.”

At this Fred the Clown wriggled in his chair, and held up his hand like a schoolboy in the classroom.

“You wouldn't do that to me, chief superintendent!”

“Will you talk?”

“It would help a lot if I could have a little something to drink.”

“Hold on, Lucas. Don't go until I tell you.”

And to Jef:

“Are you afraid of her?”

“You promised to give me a drink.”

Maigret shut the door, went to the cupboard, and got out the bottle of liqueur brandy that he always kept there. He poured a small tot into a tumbler.

“Aren't you going to join me?”

“Well, what have you to say?”

“Ask me whatever questions you like. I'd be obliged if you would take note that I am making no attempt to impede the course of justice, as the lawyers put it.”

“Where did you first meet Monsieur Louis?”

“On a bench in the Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle.”

“How did you strike up an acquaintance with him?”

“The way one does, sitting next to someone on a bench. I remarked on the weather, and he agreed that it was cold for early spring, but said that it was milder than it had been the week before.”

“Would this have been about two and a half years ago?”

“Something like that. I didn't make a note of the date in my diary. We met every day on the same bench after that. He seemed glad to have someone to talk to.”

“Did he mention that he was out of work?”

“By degrees, he told me the whole story of his life. He said he'd been twenty-five years with the same firm, and that the boss had then decided, without a word of warning to anyone, to close down the business. He said he hadn't dared tell his wife—just between ourselves, she sounds like a right cow—and she believed he was still working at the same job. I fancy it was the first chance he'd had of getting it all off his chest, and it was a great relief to him.”

“Did he know who you were?”

“All I told him was that I used to be a circus performer.”

“And then?”

“What exactly do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“I'd be obliged if you'd first take another look at my file and tot up the number of convictions. What I want to know is whether this new charge is likely to get me transported. I shouldn't care for that.”

Maigret did as he asked.

“Unless the charge is murder, you're still two short of the requisite number of convictions.”

“That's what I thought. I wasn't sure your total would tally with mine.”

“What was the racket? Stealing?”

“It wasn't as simple as that.”

“Whose idea was it?”

“His, of course. I haven't the wits to dream up a scheme like that. Don't you think I've earned another little tot?”

“When I've heard all you have to tell me.”

“That's going to take a long time. Well, you leave me with no choice but to cut it as short as possible.”

The chief superintendent yielded, and poured him another mouthful of brandy.

“As a matter of fact, it was the bench that first gave him the idea.”

“How do you mean?”

“As he spent most of his time sitting on a bench, usually the same bench, he began to take notice of his surroundings. Do you, by any chance, know the shop in the boulevard where they sell raincoats?”

“I know the one you mean.”

“The bench where Louis usually sat was just opposite. So, almost without realizing it, he became very familiar with the comings and goings in the shop and the habits of the employees. And that's what put the idea into his head. When you have the whole day before you, and nothing to do, you get to thinking. You plan projects, even projects that haven't a hope of being realized. One day, he began telling me about one of these projects of his, just to pass the time. That particular shop is always very crowded. It sells nothing but raincoats, of every shape and size, raincoats for men, women and children. The children's raincoats are tucked away in a corner. And there are more on the first floor. On the left of the building, as with so many in that district, there is a little cul-de-sac leading on to a courtyard.

“Would you like me to draw you a plan?” he suggested.

“Not now. Go on.”

“Louis said to me:

“‘I'm surprised no one has ever robbed the till. It would be the easiest thing in the world!'”

“You couldn't wait to hear more, I daresay.”

“Naturally, I was interested. He explained to me that at about twelve, or a quarter past at the latest, everyone was turned out of the shop, and the employees all went off to lunch. And that included the boss, a little old man with a wisp of a beard, who always lunched at the Chope du Nègre, not far from where we were sitting.

“‘Suppose one of the customers were to stay behind and get locked in?'

“Don't say it couldn't be done. My first reaction, too, was that it was impossible. But Louis had been studying the layout of the shop for weeks. The staff never bothered to look in all the dark corners and behind the racks of raincoats, to satisfy themselves that there was no one left in the shop. It never occurred to them that anyone might stay behind on purpose, see?

“Everything turned on that. The boss was always the last to leave, locking the door carefully behind him.”

“And you were the one to stay behind, I suppose? And after that, all you had to do was force the lock and slip away with the takings?”

“You're quite mistaken. And that's what made it such a lark. Even if I'd got caught, they wouldn't have found a shred of evidence. Admittedly, I did empty the till. After that I went into the lavatories. Next to the urinals, there is a tiny skylight too small even for a child of three to squeeze through, but quite big enough for throwing out a parcel containing bank notes. It overlooks the courtyard. As if by sheer chance, Louis was passing by underneath, and he picked up the parcel. As for me, all I had to do was wait until the staff returned, and there were enough customers in the shop for me to slip out unnoticed, by the way I came in. Which is what I did.”

“How did you share out the money?”

“Fifty-fifty, like brothers. The hardest thing was to persuade Louis to make up his mind. The whole plan was just an imaginative exercise to him. He took a pride in it, the way a painter does in his work. When I first suggested that we should put it into practice, he was shocked. What finally tipped the scales was the thought of having to tell his wife that he was totally broke. You will have noticed that the plan had one further advantage. It's true that, having admitted the offense, I shall be convicted of theft, but as there's no question of breaking and entering, that will mean, if I'm not mistaken, two years lopped off my sentence.”

“I'll have a look at the Criminal Code later.”

“Well, I've told you all there is to tell. Louis and I did very nicely out of it, and I have no regrets. The proceeds of that little venture kept us going for over three months. Well, to be perfectly frank, my share didn't last quite that long, on account of all those broken-down hacks, but Louis used to slip me a banknote from time to time.

“When we realized we were coming to the end of our resources, we moved to a different bench.”

“With the intention of planning another job?”

“Well, why not? The scheme was an excellent one, and there was no point in trying anything new. Now that you know the trick, you only have to look at the files to spot all the jobs I brought off by getting myself locked into a shop. The next time, it was a shop that sold electrical goods, in the same boulevard, but a bit higher up. There was no cul-de-sac, but the back of the shop overlooked the courtyard of the building opposite, which was just as good. In that district, the lavatories nearly always have a small window or vent overlooking a courtyard or passageway.

“I was only caught once, by a salesgirl opening a cupboard in which I was hiding. I pretended to be drunk and incapable. She called the manager, and the two of them hustled me out, threatening to call the police if I didn't clear off.

“Now will you be so good as to explain what possible motive I could have had for killing Louis? We were buddies. I even introduced him to Françoise, to reassure her, because she was beginning to wonder what I was up to. He brought her a box of chocolates, and she thought him most distinguished.”

“Did you pull off a job last week?”

“It was in all the papers. A dress shop in the Boulevard Montmartre.”

“I take it that, when Louis was killed, he was in the cul-de-sac to check that there was a suitable window at the back of the jeweler's overlooking the courtyard?”

“Very likely. He was always the one to case the joint, because of his respectable appearance. People tend to be more suspicious of a man like me. Even when I'm dressed up to the nines, they look sideways at me.”

“Who killed him?”

“Why ask me?”

“Who could have had a motive for killing him?”

“I don't know. His wife, maybe.”

“Why should his wife have wanted to kill him?”

“I told you she was a right cow. Supposing she found out that he'd been cocking a snook at her for over two years, and that he had a lady friend…”

“Do you know her?”

“He never introduced me to her, but he often talked about her, and I saw her once or twice from a distance. He was very fond of her. He was a man who needed affection. Well, come to think of it, don't we all? I've got my Françoise. I daresay you've got someone of your own too. They got on very well. They used to go to the cinema, or else they'd go into a café and chat.”

“Did she know what was going on?”

“I'm sure she didn't.”

“Who did know?”

“I did for a start.”

“That's obvious.”

“His daughter, possibly. He worried a lot about his daughter. He said that the older she got, the more like her mother she was. She was always badgering him for money.”

“Did you ever go and see him in the Rue d'Angoulême?”

“Never.”

“But you knew the house?”

“He pointed it out to me.”

“Why did you never go in?”

“Because I didn't want to spoil things for him. His landlady thought him a very respectable man. If she'd seen me…”

“What if I were to tell you that we've found your fingerprints in his room?”

“I would reply that fingerprints are a load of tripe.”

He talked as if he hadn't a care in the world. He believed he was on a winning streak. Every now and then, he would take a quick look at the bottle.

“Who else knew?”

“See here, chief superintendent, I am what I am, but I've never grassed in all my life.”