A Crime in Holland (16 page)

‘Would you stay here for a moment? I'm going to accompany Beetje Liewens outside, as Popinga did. Madame Popinga will go up to her room and so will Any and Professor Duclos. I would ask them just to do exactly what they did the other night.'

And turning to Beetje:

‘Come along, please.'

It was cool outside. Maigret went round the building to the shed containing Popinga's bike and two women's bicycles.

‘Take one of these.'

Then, as they rode calmly along the towpath towards the timber yard:

‘Who suggested stopping?'

‘Conrad.'

‘He was still in a jolly mood?'

‘No. As soon as we got outside, I saw that he was getting sad.'

They had reached the stacks of timber.

‘Let's stop here. Was he in an amorous mood?'

‘Yes and no. He was unhappy. I think it was because of the brandy, It cheered him up at first. He put his arms round me here. He said he was miserable, that I was a sweet little girl. Yes, those were his words, a sweet little
girl, but I'd come along too late, and if we didn't take care, this would end in tears.'

‘And the bikes?'

‘We leaned them up here. I thought he was going to cry. I'd seen him like that before, when he'd had too much to drink. He said he was a man, so it wasn't so important for him, but a girl like me shouldn't throw away her life by having an affair. Then he swore that he was fond of me, but he didn't have the right to ruin my life, that Barens was a nice boy, and that I'd be happy with him at the end of the day.'

‘And then?'

She breathed in deeply. Then she burst out:

‘I shouted at him that he was a coward and I went to get on my bike.'

‘What did he do?'

‘He grabbed the handlebars. He tried to stop me. He said: “Let me explain … It's not because of me … It's …”'

‘And what did he explain?'

‘Nothing. Because I said if he didn't let go of me, I'd scream. He let me go. I pedalled off. He came after me, still talking … But I was going faster. All I could hear was him saying: “Beetje, Beetje, wait, listen!”'

‘And that's all?'

‘When he saw me reach the farm gate, he turned back. I looked behind me. I saw him bending over his bicycle, looking very sad.'

‘And you ran back to him?'

‘No! I hated him because he wanted me to marry Barens. He wanted a quiet life, didn't he? But then just as I was
going in, I realized I didn't have my scarf. Someone might find it. So I went back to look for it. I didn't meet anyone. But by the time I finally got home, my father wasn't there. He came in later. He didn't say good night to me. He was looking pale and his eyes were angry. I thought he had been spying on us, and that perhaps he'd been hiding behind the timber stack. Next day, he must have searched my room. He found Conrad's letters, because I didn't see them after that. Then he shut me in.'

‘Right. Come.'

‘Where to?'

He didn't even reply, but cycled back to the Popinga house. There was a light in Madame Popinga's window, but she could not be seen.

‘You think
she
did it?'

The inspector was muttering to himself:

‘He came back this way, he was worried. He got off his bike, probably about here. He went round the house, wheeling the bike. He knew his peace of mind was threatened, but he was incapable of running away with his mistress.'

And then, suddenly:

‘Stay here, Beetje.'

Maigret wheeled the bike along the path around the house. He went into the courtyard and towards the shed, where the varnished boat was a long silhouette.

Jean Duclos's window was lit up. The professor could be glimpsed sitting at a small table. Two metres along was the bathroom window, open, but in darkness.

‘He probably wasn't in a hurry to go inside.' Maigret
was still talking to himself. ‘He bent down to push the bike in under cover.'

Maigret fidgeted. He seemed to be waiting for something. And something did happen, but unexpectedly. A little noise up above, at the bathroom window, a metallic click – the sound of a revolver firing a blank.

And then immediately, there was the sound of a struggle, and of two bodies falling to the ground.

Maigret went into the house through the kitchen door, ran upstairs and into the bathroom, where he switched on the light.

Two shapes were wrestling on the floor: Pijpekamp and Barens, who was the first to give up, as his right hand opened and dropped the revolver.

‘You idiot!'

Those were Maigret's first words, as he literally picked up Barens from the floor and held him upright, supporting him for a second, otherwise the young man would no doubt have fallen over again. Doors opened. Maigret thundered:

‘Everyone downstairs!'

He was holding the revolver, handling it without precautions, since he had himself replaced its bullets with blank cartridges.

Pijpekamp was brushing down his dusty jacket with the back of his hand. Jean Duclos asked, pointing to Barens:

‘Was it him?' The young naval cadet looked pitiful, not so much a hardened criminal, more a schoolboy caught out in some misdemeanour. He dared not meet anyone's eye, and didn't know what to do with his hands or where to look.

Maigret switched on the lights in the parlour. Any was the last to enter. Madame Popinga refused to sit down, and one sensed that under her dress her knees were trembling.

Then, for the first time, they saw the inspector looking awkward. He filled his pipe, lit it, let it go out, sat down in an armchair, but immediately stood up again.

‘I have become involved in a case that has nothing to do
with me,' he began hurriedly. ‘A French citizen was a suspect, and I was sent to shed light on the matter.'

He relit his pipe to give himself time to think. He turned to Pijpekamp.

‘Beetje is outside, as are her father and Oosting. We must either tell them to go home, or to come inside. It depends. Do you want everyone to know the truth?'

The Dutch inspector went to the door. A few moments later, Beetje came in, timid and shamefaced, then Oosting with his obstinate expression, and finally Liewens, pale and wild-eyed.

Then they watched as Maigret opened the door into the dining room. They heard him feeling around in a cupboard. When he came back, he was holding a bottle of cognac and a glass.

He drank alone. His expression was grim. Everyone was standing around him and he seemed reluctant to speak.

‘Do
you
want to know, Pijpekamp?'

And suddenly:

‘Well, there's no help for it! No help for it, even if your method is the right one. We're different countries, different people. We have different climates. When
you
sense a family drama, you leap on the first bit of evidence that lets you explain away the crime. It must have been committed by some foreign seaman. That would be preferable perhaps, from the point of view of public morale. No scandal! No bad example being set by the bourgeoisie to the lower classes. Only
my
problem is I can still see Popinga, in this very room, turning on the wireless and dancing under the very eyes of his murderer.'

And he muttered crossly, without looking at anyone:

‘The revolver was found in the bathroom. So the shot came from inside the house. Because it would be ridiculous to assume that the killer, after committing the crime, had the presence of mind to aim at a half-open window and throw the weapon inside. Let alone go and put a cap in the bath and a cigar in the dining room.'

He began pacing up and down, still avoiding looking anyone in the eye. Oosting and Liewens, neither of whom could understand what he was saying, were gazing at him intently, trying to guess what he was driving at.

‘The cap, the cigar butt, and then the revolver taken from Popinga's own bedside table – it was all too much. Do you see? Someone wanted to provide too much evidence. To cause too much confusion. Oosting, or someone like him from outside, might have left half those clues, but not everything.

‘Therefore, there was premeditation. Therefore, a desire to escape punishment.

‘So we simply have to proceed by elimination. We can eliminate the Baes, first of all. What reason could he possibly have to go into the dining room and drop a cigar, then go up to the bedroom to look for the revolver, and finally to leave a cap in the bath?

‘Next we can rule out Beetje, who in the course of the evening never once went upstairs, couldn't have left the cap, and couldn't even have taken it from the boat, because she was walking back from the lecture with Popinga.

‘Her father could well have killed Popinga, after surprising him with his daughter. But by that stage, it was
too late for him to gain access to the bathroom.

‘Then there is Barens. He didn't go upstairs either. He didn't steal the cap. He was jealous of his tutor, but an hour beforehand, he had no certainty of what he suspected.'

Maigret stopped talking, and knocked out his pipe on his heel without worrying about the carpet.

‘So that's all. It leaves us a choice between Madame Popinga, Any and Jean Duclos. There is no evidence against any of them. But it's not materially impossible for any of them to have done it either. Jean Duclos came out of the bathroom holding the revolver. We could take that as a sign of his innocence. Or it could be a very clever double bluff. But since he walked back from town with Madame Popinga, he couldn't have stolen the cap. And Madame Popinga, by the same token, being with him, couldn't have done it either.

‘The cap could only have been taken by one of the last couple, Barens or Any. And just now, on the way here, I had it confirmed that Any remained alone for a moment or two alongside Oosting's boat.

‘As for the cigar, let's not bother about it. Anyone could pick up an old cigar end anywhere.

‘So, of all those who were here the night of the crime, Any is the only person who stayed upstairs without any witnesses, and who, we also know, had been into the dining room.

‘But she had a cast-iron alibi concerning the crime.'

And Maigret, still avoiding looking at anyone, placed on the table the plan of the house drawn by Jean Duclos.

‘Any could only have reached the bathroom by going
through either her sister's bedroom or that of the French visitor. A quarter of an hour before the murder, she was in her own room. How could she get into the bathroom?
And how could she be sure to be able to pass through one of the two bedrooms at the right moment?
Don't forget that she has not only studied the law but also forensic science. She's discussed them with Duclos. They talked together about the possibility of a crime which could be committed with mathematical impunity.'

Any, standing very upright and pale in the face, was nevertheless in control of herself.

‘Now I will embark on a digression. I'm the only person here who didn't know Popinga. I have had to construct my idea of him from other people's evidence. He was keen to enjoy himself, but equally he was intimidated by his responsibilities and especially by received standards of proper behaviour. One day, in a jolly mood, he made advances to Beetje. And she became his mistress. Principally because
she
wanted it. I questioned the maid just now. And we know that he snatched kisses from her too, casually, in passing. But it didn't go any further, because he got no encouragement.

‘In other words, he was a man attracted to all women. He was capable of taking small risks. A kiss in the corner, the odd caress. But above all, he was keen to ensure his own safety.

‘He'd been an ocean-going captain. He'd known the delights of shore leave with no consequences. But he was also a servant of the Dutch Crown, and he wanted to hold on to his position, his house and his wife.

‘He was a mixture of appetites and repression, imprudence and caution.

‘Beetje, only eighteen years old, didn't understand that, and she believed he was ready to run away with her.

‘Any lived in close proximity with him. Never mind that she is not particularly beautiful, she's a woman. A mystery therefore … and one day …'

The silence around him was painful.

‘I'm not suggesting that he became her lover. But with Any, too, he was imprudent enough to make advances. She believed him. And she conceived a passion for him, though not as blind a passion as that of Madame Popinga. So here they were, all living together: Madame Popinga, suspecting nothing, Any more withdrawn, more passionate, more jealous and more subtle.

‘She guessed he was having an affair with Beetje. She sensed the presence of the enemy. Maybe she even looked for the letters and found them.

‘She could tolerate sharing him with her sister. But she couldn't accept this pretty girl brimming with good health who was talking of running away.

‘She decided to kill.'