Liberty Bar (12 page)

It wouldn't be Monsieur Petitfils
whose services they would call on, but those of notaries, lawyers, barristers
…

‘I'll let you get on …
I'll come by and see you tomorrow …'

His taxi was waiting at the gate. He sat
down without giving an address, and the driver waited, holding the door open.

‘Cannes …' Maigret
finally said.

And it was the same thoughts that passed
through his mind:

‘Brown was murdered!'

‘No dramas!'

Damn Brown! If the wound had been in his
chest, you could have believed that he killed himself to spite everyone. But you
don't stab yourself in the back, for heaven's sake!

He was no longer the one who intrigued
Maigret. The
inspector felt that he knew him as well as if he had been
a lifelong friend.

First of all, William in Australia …
A rich, well-brought-up boy, a little shy, living with his parents, marrying someone
suitable when the time comes and having children …

This Brown was fairly similar to Brown
Junior … He might experience some vague melancholy or troubling desires, but he no
doubt put them down to a passing phase and managed to get them out of his system.

The same William in Europe … The
dykes finally bursting … He could no longer keep everything repressed … He
was driven crazy by all the possibilities on offer to him …

And he became a regular on this boulevard
that runs from Cannes to Menton … A yacht in Cannes … Baccarat games in Nice
… The lot! … And an overwhelming apathy at the thought of returning
back
home
…

‘Next month, maybe
…'

And the following month it was exactly the
same!

So they cut off his allowance. The
brother-in-law kept an eye on things. All the Brown family and all their hangers-on
defended themselves!

He was incapable of leaving his boulevard,
the sweet atmosphere of the Côte d'Azur, the indulgence, the easiness …

No more yacht. A small villa …

In the world of women he had to lower his
standards too, and so he ended up with Gina Martini.

A certain disgust … A need for
disorder and listlessness … The villa at Cap d'Antibes is still too
bourgeois …

He discovered the
Liberty Bar … Jaja … Sylvie …

And he continued the legal action, back
home, against the Browns who had stayed on the rails, to get under their skin … He
used his will to make sure he continued to do so after his death … Whether he was
right or wrong was of no concern to Maigret. Yet the inspector couldn't help
comparing the father with the son, Harry Brown, so proper and self-possessed, who knew
how to keep things in perspective.

Harry didn't like mess!
Nevertheless, Harry had troubling needs.

And he installed a mistress in Cap Ferrat
… A very respectable, well-mannered mistress, a widow or divorcee, discreet
…

Even at his hotel no one was supposed to
know that he stayed out all night!

Order … Mess … Order …
Mess …

Maigret was the umpire, as he had the
famous will in his pocket!

He could at any moment allow four women to
enter the fray!

What a singularly extraordinary picture
that would make: these four women of William Brown arriving over there. Jaja with her
sensitive feet, her swollen ankles, her sagging breasts … Sylvie, who in private
can bear to wear nothing but a dressing gown over her skinny body …

Then the older Martini, with her cheeks
caked in make-up! The younger one with her distinctive smell of musk.

They drove along the famous boulevard. The
lights of Cannes were visible ahead.

‘No
dramas!'

The taxi pulled up in front of the
Ambassadeurs, and the driver asked:

‘Where do you want me to take
you?'

‘Nowhere! Here's
fine.'

Maigret paid. The casino was lit up. A
number of chauffeur-driven cars were arriving, for it was nearly nine in the
evening.

And twelve casinos were similarly lighting
up along the stretch between Cannes and Menton! And hundreds of luxury cars …

Maigret went on foot to the small
sidestreet, where he found the Liberty Bar closed. No lights on. No light anywhere
except that of the streetlamp shining through the window, throwing a murky light on the
zinc counter-top and the fruit machine.

He knocked and was amazed at the din it
made in the small street. Straight away the door behind him opened, the one to the bar
across the street. The waiter called out to Maigret.

‘Are you looking for
Jaja?'

‘Yes.'

‘Who should I say
…?'

‘The inspector.'

‘In that case, I have a message for
you … Jaja will be back in a few minutes … She asked me to tell you to wait
… If you'd like to come in …'

‘No, thank you.'

He was happier pacing up and down. He
didn't like the look of the handful of customers in the bar across the
street. A window opened somewhere. A woman, who had heard the noise,
asked timidly:

‘Is that you, Jean?'

‘No!'

And Maigret, who had paced the street from
one end to the other, repeated to himself:

‘Above all, we need to find out who
killed William!'

Ten o'clock … Jaja still
hadn't arrived … Each time he heard footsteps he quivered in anticipation
that his wait was coming to an end … But it wasn't her …

His horizon was a badly paved street fifty
metres long and two metres wide; the illuminated window of one bar, the dark gloom of
the other …

And the old, teetering buildings, their
windows that weren't even rectangular any more.

Maigret went into the bar across the
street.

‘Did she say where she was
going?'

‘No! Would you like something to
drink?'

And the customers, who had been told who
he was, looked at him from head to toe!

‘No, thank you!'

He started walking again, as far as the
corner of the street, the border between this shady world and the brightly lit quayside,
buzzing with everyday life.

Ten thirty … Eleven o'clock
… The first café round the corner was called Harry's Bar. That's where
Maigret had phoned from that afternoon when he was with Sylvie. He went in and made for
the cabin.

‘Could you give me the police?
… Hello! … Police? … This is Detective Chief Inspector Maigret …
Have
the two persons I delivered to you earlier received any
visitors?'

‘Yes … A large woman
…'

‘Whom did she see?'

‘First the man … Then the
woman … We weren't sure what to do … You didn't leave any
instructions …'

‘How long ago?'

‘A good hour and a half … She
brought cigarettes and cakes …'

Maigret hung up, worried. Then, without
pausing for breath, he asked for the Provençal.

‘Hello! … This is the police
… Yes, the inspector you saw earlier … Could you tell me whether Monsieur
Brown has received any visitors?'

‘A quarter of an hour ago … A
woman … Somewhat badly dressed …'

‘Where was he?'

‘He was having a meal in the dining
room … He took her up to his room …'

‘Has she gone?'

‘She came down just as you
rang.'

‘Very fat, quite
common-looking?'

‘That's the one.'

‘Was she in a taxi?'

‘No … She left on foot
…'

Maigret hung up, sat down in the bar and
ordered sauerkraut and beer.

Jaja saw Sylvie and Joseph … She was
given a message for Harry Brown … She is coming back by bus, which would take half
an hour …

He ate and read the
newspaper he found lying on the table. There was an item about two lovers who had
committed suicide in Bandol. The man was married, in Czechoslovakia.

‘Would you like some
vegetables?'

‘No, thank you! What do I owe you?
… No, wait! … Another beer – stout …'

And five minutes later he was walking down
the street again, past the darkened window of the Liberty Bar.

The curtain would be going up at the
casino now. Gala evening. Opera. Dance. Supper. Dancing. Roulette and baccarat
…

Along the whole sixty kilometres. Hundreds
of women would be watching the diners. Hundreds of croupiers would be watching the
gamblers! And hundreds of gigolos, dancers and waiters would be watching the women
…

And then hundreds of businessmen, like
Monsieur Petitfils, with their lists of villas for sale or rent, watching the winter
visitors …

Here and there – in Cannes, Nice or Monte
Carlo – a part of town less well lit than the others, with narrow sidestreets, odd,
run-down buildings, shadows flitting along the walls, old women and youths, fruit
machines and back rooms …

Still no Jaja! Ten times Maigret started
when he heard footsteps. In the end he couldn't face walking in front of the bar
across the road, where the waiter was watching with amusement.

And during this time, thousands, tens of
thousands, of sheep would be munching the Browns' grass on the
Browns' estate tended by the Browns' shepherds … Tens of thousands
of sheep about to be sheared – because it would be daytime now in the antipodes – the
wool loaded on to wagons and shipped in huge cargos …

And the sailors, ship's officers,
captains …

And all these ships coming to Europe, the
officers checking the thermometers (to ensure the optimum temperature for the cargo),
and the brokers in Amsterdam, London, Liverpool, Le Havre, discussing the price
…

And Harry Brown, at the Provençal,
receiving cables from his brothers, his uncle and telephoning his agents …

When he was looking through the paper
earlier, Maigret had read:

The Commander of the Faithful, the leader
of Islam, has married his daughter to Prince …

Followed by:

Great celebrations in India, Persia,
Afghanistan …

And then:

A large dinner was mounted in Nice, at
the Palais de la Méditerranée, where the eye-catching …

The daughter of the high priest getting
married in Nice … A wedding on the sixty-odd-kilometre boulevard while back home
hundreds of thousands of people …

But still no Jaja! Maigret knew every
paving slab and
every house front on the street. A little girl with
her hair in pigtails was doing her homework next to her window.

Had the bus had an accident? Did Jaja have
to go somewhere else? Was she running away?

Pressing his forehead to the window of the
bar, Maigret could see the cat licking its paws.

And more snippets remembered from the
newspaper:

It is reported from the Côte d'Azur
that S. M., the king of …, has arrived at his property in Cap Ferrat, accompanied
by …

News of the arrest of M. Graphopoulos,
who was apprehended in a baccarat room having just won more than five hundred thousand
francs by using a false card shoe …

Then a short sentence:

The deputy director of police is
compromised.

Good grief! If William Brown succumbed,
is some poor guy on two thousand francs a month supposed to be a hero?

Maigret was furious. He had had enough of
waiting! Above all, he had had enough of the atmosphere of this place, which rubbed him
up the wrong way.

Why had he been given a ridiculous order
like: ‘No dramas'?

No dramas? … What if he produced a
will, a genuine, incontestable will? … And sent the four women off over there?

Footsteps … He didn't even
turn round! … A few
moments later, a key turned in a lock and a
sickly voice sighed:

‘Ah, there you are.'

It was Jaja. A tired Jaja, whose hand
shook as it held the key. A Jaja dressed to the nines, mauve overcoat and oxblood-red
shoes.

‘Come in … Wait …
I'll turn the lights on …'

The cat purred as it rubbed against her
swollen legs. She searched for the light switch.

‘When I think about poor Sylvie
…'

Finally, she managed to turn on the light.
Now they could see. The waiter in the café across the street had his ugly face glued to
the window.

‘Come in, please … I'm
exhausted … All this emotion …'

And the door to the back room opened. Jaja
went straight to the fire, which was burning red, half closed the damper, moved a
pot.

‘Sit down, inspector … Just
give me time to change and I'll be with you …'

She hadn't yet looked him in the
face. With her back turned to Maigret, she repeated:

‘Poor Sylvie …'

And she climbed the stairs to the
mezzanine and continued talking as she changed, her voice a little higher-pitched.

‘A good girl … If she had
wanted to be. But they are the ones who always end up paying the price for others
… I'd told her …'

Maigret had sat down in front of the
table, where there were some leftover cheese, pâté de tête, sardines.

Above his head he could
hear the sound of Jaja taking off her shoes and dragging some slippers towards her.

Then the jig she danced to get her
trousers off without sitting down.