Maigret and the Tramp

by Georges Simenon

  ‘No, monsieur, I’m not playing that game. You just have to read the paper again.’

  ‘And what if I find out that your statement isn’t accurate?’

  ‘Well, that’s up to you.’

  ‘You saw the two men from the car come back from under Pont Marie?’

  ‘Read the statement.’

  ‘They say they didn’t go past your barge.’

  ‘People can say what they like, right?’

  ‘They also say they didn’t see anybody on the bank, and that all they did was throw a dead dog in the river.’

  ‘It’s not my fault if they call it a dog.’

  The young woman came back without the child, whom she must have put to bed. She said a few words in Flemish to her husband. He nodded, and she started straining the soup.

  The barge was slowing down. Maigret wondered if they had already arrived, but through the window he soon saw a tugboat, followed by three barges, laboriously moving upstream. They passed under a bridge.

  ‘Does this boat belong to you?’

  ‘It’s mine and Anneke’s.’

  ‘Isn’t your brother a co-proprietor?’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Doesn’t he own a share of it?’

  ‘No, monsieur. The boat is mine and Anneke’s.’

  ‘In other words, your brother is your employee?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur.’

  Maigret was getting used to his accent, and to his endless repetition of ‘monsieur’ and ‘right?’ It was clear, from the way the young woman looked at them, that she only understood a few words of French and was wondering what on earth these two men were saying to each other.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘About two years.’

  ‘Did he work on another boat before that? In France?’

  ‘Like us, he worked in Belgium and France. It depends on the cargo.’

  ‘Why did you send for him?’

  ‘Because I needed someone, right? It’s a big boat, you know.’

  ‘And before that?’

  ‘Before what?

  ‘Before you sent for your brother?’

  Maigret was advancing only little by little, looking for the most innocent questions in order to avoid his interlocutor taking offence again.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Was there someone else helping you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Before answering, he had glanced at his wife, as if to make sure she hadn’t understood.

  ‘Who was he?’

  Jef refilled the glasses, to give himself time to think.

  ‘It was me,’ he finally declared.

  ‘You were the hand?’

  ‘I was the mechanic.’

  ‘Who was the skipper?’

  ‘I wonder if you really have the right to ask me all these questions. A man’s private life is his own business. And I’m Belgian, monsieur.’

  The more heated he became, the stronger his accent.

  ‘It’s not what I call manners. All this is my business, and just because I’m Flemish doesn’t mean you can play about with my things.’

  It took Maigret a few moments to grasp the meaning of this expression, and he couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘I could come back with an interpreter and question your wife.’

  ‘I won’t allow Anneke to be bothered.’

  ‘You’ll have to if I bring an order from the judge. I’m wondering now if it would be simpler to take the two of you back to Paris.’

  ‘And what would become of the boat? No, I’m sure you have no right to do that.’

  ‘Why don’t you just answer my questions?’

  Van Houtte lowered his head a little and threw Maigret a sly look, like a schoolboy plotting a prank.

  ‘Because it’s none of your business.’

  So far, he had been right. Maigret had no serious reason to harass him like this. He was following his intuition. Coming on board near Juziers, he had been struck by the bargee’s attitude.

  He wasn’t exactly the same man he had been in Paris. Jef had been surprised to see Maigret on the riverbank and he had had a strong reaction. Since then, he had remained suspicious, withdrawn, without that gleam in his eye, that sense of humour he had demonstrated on Quai des Célestins.

  ‘Do you want me to take you back?’

  ‘You’d have to have a reason. There are laws.’

  ‘The reason is that you’re refusing to answer routine questions.’

  They could still hear the gasping of the engine and glimpse Hubert’s long legs standing by the helm.

  ‘Because you’re trying to confuse me.’

  ‘I’m not trying to confuse you, only to establish the truth.’

  ‘What truth?’

  He kept advancing and retreating, one moment sure of his rights, the next visibly worried.

  ‘When did you buy this barge?’

  ‘I didn’t buy it.’

  ‘But it does belong to you?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur, it belongs to me and it belongs to my wife.’

  ‘In other words, it was by marrying her that you became the owner? The boat was hers?’

  ‘Is that so remarkable? We were married legally, in front of the mayor and the priest.’

  ‘Before that, her father was the skipper of the Zwarte Zwaan?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur. Old Willems.’

  ‘Didn’t he have any other children?’

  ‘No, monsieur.’

  ‘What happened to his wife?’

  ‘She’d been dead for a year.’

  ‘Were you already on board?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Willems hired me when his wife died. That was at Oudenaarde.’

  ‘Were you working on another barge?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur. The Drie Gebrouders.’

  ‘Why did you change?’

  ‘Because the Drie Gebrouders was an old barge that almost never came to France and mostly carried coal.’

  ‘And you don’t like carrying coal?’

  ‘It’s dirty.’

  ‘So you’ve been on this boat for about three years. How old was Anneke at the time?’

  Hearing her name, she looked at them curiously.

  ‘Eighteen, right?’

  ‘Her mother had just died.’

  ‘Yes, monsieur. At Oudenaarde, I already told you.’

  He listened to the noise of the engine, looked at the bank, then went and said a few words to his brother, who was slowing down to pass under a railway bridge.

  Patiently, Maigret picked up the thread, tenuous as it was.

  ‘Until then, the boat had been a family affair, but with the mother dead, they needed someone. Is that correct?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘You were in charge of the engine.’

  ‘The engine and all the rest. On a barge, you have to do everything.’

  ‘Did you immediately fall in love with Anneke?’

  ‘That’s a personal question, right, monsieur? It’s my business and it’s her business.’

  ‘When did you get married?’

  ‘Next month will make two years.’

  ‘When did Willems die? Is that his picture on the wall?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him.’

  ‘When did he die?’

  ‘Six weeks before the wedding.’

  More and more, Maigret had the impression that he was advancing at a discouragingly slow pace, going round in ever smaller circles, and he needed to summon all his patience in order not to scare Van Houtte.

  ‘Had the banns been published by the time Willems died?’

  ‘Where we come from, the banns are published three weeks before the wedding. I don’t know how it is in France.’

  ‘But the wedding was already planned?’

  ‘Presumably, since we got married.’

  ‘Would you like to ask your wife that question?’

  ‘
Why would I ask her a question like that?’

  ‘If you don’t, I’ll be obliged to ask the question myself through an interpreter.’

  ‘Well, then …’

  He was about to say: ‘Do it!’

  And Maigret would have been quite ill at ease. They were in Seine-et-Oise, where he had no right to conduct such an interrogation.

  Luckily, Van Houtte thought better of it and spoke to his wife in their language. She blushed, surprised, looked at her husband, then at her guest, and said something which she accompanied with a slight smile.

  ‘Do you mind translating?’

  ‘What she’s saying is that we’d been in love for a long time.’

  ‘For nearly a year, by then?’

  ‘Almost immediately.’

  ‘In other words, it started as soon as you were living on board.’

  ‘What’s wrong with—’

  ‘What I’m wondering is whether Willems knew about it,’ Maigret cut in.

  Jef didn’t reply.

  ‘I suppose that at first anyway, like most lovers, you hid it from him?’

  Once again, Jef looked outside.

  ‘We’re nearly there. My brother needs me on deck.’

  Maigret followed him up there, and indeed, they could see the quayside at Mantes-la-Jolie, the bridge, a dozen barges moored in the small harbour.

  The engine turned in slow motion. When they put it in reverse, there were big bubbles around the tiller. People were looking at them from the other boats, and it was a boy of about twelve who caught the mooring rope.

  It was obvious that the presence of Maigret, in his city suit, a hat with a brim on his head, excited curiosity.

  From one of the barges, someone called to Jef in Flemish, and he replied in the same language, still concentrating on the manoeuvre.

  On the quayside, next to the little black police car, and not far from a huge pile of bricks, Inspector Neveu was standing, smoking a cigarette.

  ‘I hope you’ll leave us in peace now? It’s nearly time for supper. People like us get up at five in the morning.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘What question?’

  ‘You haven’t told me if Willems knew about your relationship with his daughter.’

  ‘Did I marry her or not?’

  ‘You married her once he’d died.’

  ‘Is it my fault he died?’

  ‘Was he ill for a long time?’

  They were again standing in the stern of the boat, and Hubert was listening to them with a frown on his face.

  ‘He was never ill in his life, unless it’s an illness to be drunk every night.’

  Maigret might have been mistaken, but it seemed to him that Hubert was surprised by the turn their conversation had taken and was looking at his brother strangely.

  ‘Did he die of delirium tremens?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The way most drunks end up. They have an attack that—’

  ‘He didn’t have an attack. He was drunk and he fell.’

  ‘In the water?’

  Jef didn’t seem to appreciate the presence of his brother, who was still listening to them.

  ‘In the water, yes.’

  ‘Did this happen in France?’

  He nodded.

  ‘In Paris?’

  ‘That’s where he drank the most.’

  ‘Why?

  ‘Because he’d meet up with a woman, I don’t know where, and they’d both spend part of the night getting drunk.’

  ‘Do you know this woman?’

  ‘I don’t know her name.’

  ‘Or where she lives?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you saw her with him?

  ‘I met them, and once I saw them go into a hotel. There’s no point telling Anneke.’

  ‘Doesn’t she know how her father died?’

  ‘She knows how he died, but she’s never been told about the woman.’

  ‘Would you recognize her?’

  ‘I might. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Was she with him when he had his accident?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, because I wasn’t there.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘In my bed.’

  ‘And Anneke?’

  ‘In her bed.’

  ‘What time was it?’

  He replied reluctantly, but he replied.

  ‘Past two in the morning.’

  ‘Did Willems often come back that late?’

  ‘In Paris, yes, because of that woman.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I told you. He fell.’

  ‘Crossing the gangplank?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Was it in summer?’

  ‘No, in December.’

  ‘Did you hear the noise when he fell?’

  ‘I heard something hit the hull.’

  ‘Any cries?’

  ‘He didn’t cry out.’

  ‘Did you rush to help him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Without taking time to get dressed?’

  ‘I put on a pair of trousers.’

  ‘Did Anneke also hear?’

  ‘Not immediately. She woke up when I went up on deck.’

  ‘When you went up, or when you were already there?’

  Jef’s eyes filled with something close to hate.

  ‘Ask her. How do you expect me to remember?’

  ‘Did you see Willems in the water?’

  ‘I didn’t see anything at all. I could only hear movement.’

  ‘Could he swim?’

  ‘He knew how to swim. But I suppose that time he couldn’t.’

  ‘Did you get in the lifeboat, as you did on Monday night?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur.’

  ‘Did you manage to get him out of the water?’

  ‘Not before at least ten minutes went by, because every time I tried to grab hold of him, he would go under.’

  ‘Was Anneke on deck?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur.’

  ‘So by the time you fished him out, he was dead?’

  ‘I didn’t know yet that he was dead. What I know is that he was purple.’

  ‘Did you call a doctor, the police?’

  ‘Yes, monsieur. Do you have any more questions?’

  ‘Where did it happen?’

  ‘In Paris, I told you.’

  ‘Where in Paris?’

  ‘We’d loaded wine in Mâcon and we were unloading it on Quai de la Rapée.’

  Maigret managed to show no surprise, no satisfaction. It was as if he suddenly became more affable, as if his nerves were no longer on edge.

  ‘I think I’ve almost finished. Willems drowned one night on Quai de la Rapée, when you were sleeping on board and his daughter was also asleep. Is that it?’

  Jef blinked.

  ‘About a month later, you married Anneke.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been decent to live together on board without getting married.’

  ‘When did you send for your brother?’

  ‘Immediately. Three or four days after …’

  ‘After your wedding?’

  ‘No. After the accident.’

  Although the sun had disappeared behind the pink roofs, it was still light, with a slightly unreal, almost disturbing brightness.

  Hubert was still standing motionless by the helm, seemingly lost in thought.

  ‘I don’t suppose you know anything?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About what happened on Monday evening?’

  ‘I was busy dancing in Rue de Lappe.’

  ‘What about the death of Willems?’

  ‘I was in Belgium when I got the telegram.’

  ‘Have we finished yet?’ Jef Van Houtte asked impatiently. ‘Can we go and have our supper?’

  To which Maigret replied very calmly, in a detached ton
e:

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  That caused a shock. Hubert quickly raised his head and looked, not at Maigret, but at his brother. As for Jef, he asked, more aggressively than ever:

  ‘And do you mind telling me why I can’t have my supper?’

  ‘Because I’m planning to take you back to Paris.’

  ‘You have no right to do that.’

  ‘I could send for a summons. It’d be here in an hour, signed by the examining magistrate.’

  ‘Why, may I ask?’

  ‘So that we can continue this interrogation elsewhere.’

  ‘I’ve said what I had to say.’

  ‘And also so that I can bring you face to face with the tramp you pulled out of the Seine on Monday night.’

  Jef turned to his brother as if appealing to him for help.

  ‘Hubert, do you think the inspector has the right …’

  But Hubert said nothing.

  ‘Are you going to take me in your car?’

  He had spotted it on the quayside, with Neveu next to it, and he pointed.

  ‘And when will I be allowed to get back to my boat?’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

  ‘And if not tomorrow?’

  ‘In that case, there’s a good chance you’ll never come back.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  He clenched his fists, and for a moment Maigret thought he was going to throw himself on him.

  ‘What about my wife? And my child? What are all these stories you’re making up? I’ll inform my consul.’

  ‘That’s your privilege.’

  ‘This is a joke, right?’

  He still couldn’t believe it.

  ‘You can’t just come to a man’s boat and arrest him when he’s done nothing.’

  ‘I’m not arresting you.’

  ‘What else do you call it?’

  ‘I’m taking you to Paris to confront you with a witness who can’t be moved.’

  ‘I don’t even know the man. I pulled him out of the water because he was calling for help. If I’d known …’

  His wife appeared and asked him a question in Flemish. He replied volubly. She looked at the three men in turn, then spoke again. Maigret would have sworn that she was advising her husband to follow him.

  ‘Where are you planning to let me sleep?’

  ‘We’ll give you a bed at Quai des Orfèvres.’

  ‘In prison?’

  ‘No. At the Police Judiciaire.’

  ‘Can I at least change my clothes?’

  Maigret let him do so, and he disappeared below deck with his wife. Left alone with Maigret, Hubert still said nothing, just looked vaguely at the passers-by and the cars on the riverbank. Maigret said nothing either. He felt exhausted after this meandering interrogation, during which, discouraged, he had constantly thought he would get nowhere.