Monsieur Pamplemousse on the Spot Read Online Free PDF

which makes you long to return.’
    ‘Like the Soufflé Surprise ?’
    ‘Like the Soufflé Surprise . It is, to date, Jean-Claude’s greatest creation. Ask him how he does it and he will shrug his shoulders. Pursue the matter, demand to know what secret ingredient he uses, and he will most likely laugh and change the subject. He will say, “Listen, today must be Wednesday. How do I know? Because I can hear children playing in the distance. It is their half-day.” It is like asking Beethoven how he composed the Ninth Symphony when all he had in front of him was a piano and a blank sheet of paper.’ Albert Parfait tapped his head. ‘The “secret ingredient ” is all up here.’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse found himself reminded of another great restaurant – Pic of Valence. For a long time he had puzzled over the special flavour of their Kir, generously dispensed from a jug. In the end it had turned out to be nothing more complicated than an added dash of Dubonnet. Perhaps Jean-Claude’s “secret ingredient” was as simple. He decided to take the plunge.
    ‘It is because of the soufflé that I am here. Jean-Claude’s soufflé –or rather the lack of it – is the cause of worry in certain quarters.’
    Monsieur Parfait gave him a long, hard look. ‘So I am told. They are worried about their soufflé –I am worried about my son.’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse returned the look in silence. Albert Parfait’s manner belied his words. They were not the actions of a worried man. Since they had met, the conversation had ranged far and wide. To say that the subject of the missing Jean-Claude had been skated around was to put it mildly. It was almost as though the other had been trying not to talk about it. If it wasn’t such a bizarre notion he would have suspected that for some reason or other Monsieur Parfait had been trying to gain time. But time for what? Being patron of Les Cinq Parfaits must have its headaches. By his own account the climb to the top had been long and arduous; but the higher you climb the harder you fall and it was something that could happen overnight. There were precedents.
    The only sign of anxiety had been in the initial handshake . It had been firm but unexpectedly moist. And the moisture had come from within rather than without. Like the rest of the building, Albert Parfait’s office was kept at an ambient temperature of 20°C.
    ‘If you will forgive my saying so, you do not seem unduly disturbed by the news of your son’s disappearance.’
    ‘Sometimes, Monsieur Pamplemousse, appearances are deceptive. Like you, I have spent a lifetime trying to perfect the art of concealing my true feelings.’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse accepted the implied rebuke with equanimity. ‘You know, of course, why I am here?’
    Monsieur Parfait inclined his head. ‘I was informed this evening. We are very fortunate. A happy chance of fate.’ He relaxed a little. ‘Now that we have met I recognise you, of course. I have seen your picture many times in the newspapers. I had thought you were no longer active …’
    ‘I am still called on from time to time.’ Monsieur Pamplemousse got the remark in quickly before the other had time to enlarge on the cause of his early retirement. Italways left him feeling he’d been put at a slight disadvantage. The word ‘Follies’ seemed to bring out the worst in people; add to it evocative words like ‘chorus’ and ‘girls’ and there was no holding them. It was like trying to convince a collector of taxes of the need to research a handbook on refrigeration in the South of France. If he’d been caught dans le costume d’Adam in the Himalayas it would have been a nine-day wonder in the Bombay Times and then forgotten about. In the dressing-room of the Follies – never.
    ‘We thought at first you were from one of the guides. A man eating on his own at Les Cinq Parfaits is a rare occurrence. When we see him testing a little here … savouring a little there … choosing