…’
‘Because you should know …
we’re very easy here … Isn’t that so, Yan? … Look at him! He
says yes but he doesn’t understand a word … I love ’em, these Nordic
boys!’
She tasted the salad, added a dash of olive
oil with a fruity aroma. There was no cloth on the table, which wasn’t very clean.
There was a staircase in the kitchen which must have led up to another floor. In the
corner there was a sewing machine.
The courtyard was filled with sunlight, so
much so that the window was a dazzling rectangle and by contrast the interior felt like
a cold, gloomy space.
‘You can ask me questions …
Sylvie knows everything … and as for Yan …’
‘Have you had this bar
long?’
‘Maybe fifteen years … I was
married to an Englishman, a former acrobat, so we had all the English sailors come here,
as well as music-hall performers … My husband drowned nine years ago at the
regatta … He raced
for a baroness who has three boats which you
probably know …’
‘And since then?’
‘Nothing! I held on to the house
…’
‘Do you get much business?’
‘I don’t care about that
… It’s mainly friends, like Yan, like William … They know that
I’m on my own and like company … They come and share a bottle or else bring
rockfish, a chicken, and I rustle something up …’
She topped up the glasses, and noticed that
Maigret didn’t have anything to drink.
‘You should get the inspector a
drink, Sylvie.’
Sylvie got up without a word and went to
the bar. She was naked under her dressing gown. Her feet were bare in sandals. She
brushed against Maigret as she passed without apologizing. While she was at the bar, the
other woman murmured:
‘Don’t mind her … She
adored William … She’s taking it very hard.’
‘Does she sleep here?’
‘Sometimes she does, sometimes she
doesn’t.’
‘What does she do?’
The woman gave Maigret a reproachful look.
She seemed to be saying: ‘Do you, a detective chief inspector from the Police
Judiciaire, need to ask that question?’
She added immediately:
‘Oh! She’s a quiet girl, not a
bad bone in her body …’
‘Did William know?’
That look again. Had she got Maigret wrong?
Did he not understand anything? Did he need everything spelled out?
Yan had finished eating.
He was waiting to speak, but she read his thoughts.
‘Yes, you can go, Yan … Are you
coming this evening?’
‘If the owners go to the
casino.’
He got up, seemed unsure about the
traditional niceties. But, as the woman offered him her forehead, he planted a
mechanical kiss, blushing because of the presence of Maigret. He met Sylvie on her way
back with a drink.
‘You’re leaving?’
‘Yes …’
And he kissed her in the same way, offered
Maigret a strange salute, made a quick getaway and literally dived into the street while
adjusting his cap.
‘That boy doesn’t like going
out on the town like most yacht sailors … He’d rather come here
…’
She too had finished eating now. She made
herself comfortable, both elbows on the table.
‘Could you pass the coffee,
Sylvie?’
You could barely hear any sound from the
street. Without that rectangle of light, it would have been impossible to say what hour
of the day or night it was.
An alarm clock in the middle of the
mantelpiece marked the passage of time.
‘So what is it you want to know
exactly? … Your good health … This is some of William’s whisky
…’
‘What do people call you?’
‘Jaja … Or Big Jaja when they
want to tease me …’
And she looked at her enormous bosom, which
was resting on the table.
‘Have you known
William long?’
Sylvie had returned to her seat, chin
resting in her hand, still not taking her eyes off Maigret. The sleeve of her dressing
gown trailed in her food.
‘I’d say almost for ever. But I
only learned his surname a week ago … I
Janwillem van de Wetering