Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London by Margaret de Rohan Page B

Andy. And if you tell me you do, I’ll be very worried about your future in this unit.’
    â€˜Who’s going to break the news to Nicole Vachon, guv?’ Andy asked, deciding it was time to change the subject before his career suffered any further damage.
    â€˜I’d like it to be Maigret, he’d be the logical person to do it, but I doubt he’ll go for it. He seems keen to avoid his ex-wife as much as possible, and I know for a fact that he hasn’t left St Mary’s since he heard his mate was there: he’s even been sleeping in the same room as Georges Martin.’
    Chief Inspector Scott was right. Philippe Maigret would, most definitely, not inform Nicole that Serge was dead.
    â€˜Non non et non,
’ he said when he was asked, and we know that means never in a million years!
    Not even Megan Lisle could persuade him to change his mind, although she tried very hard.
    â€˜Megan, I will not leave this hospital again until Georges comes out of his coma. Please understand that I feel very strongly about this matter, and do not ask me again. I would do the same if it were Jacques who had been injured instead of Georges. These men are my team, my colleagues, my
friends, and I do not desert them in their hour of need.’
    â€˜You’re right, darling,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry I asked.’ Then she put her arms around him, kissed him, and shed a few more tears for Georges Martin.
    So the unenviable job of breaking the news to Nicole fell to the Chief Inspector and Sergeant Andy Gillespie, as they had feared that it would. But they had not anticipated Nicole’s reaction. First she had an attack of hysteria, then having ‘completely worn herself out’ (as Clive Scott unsympathetically remarked), she fainted. When she recovered consciousness there were more tears, and so inconsolable was she that they dared not tell her that she would be required to identify Serge’s body.
    â€˜I want Philippe,’ she cried again and again. ‘Get Philippe here. I need him. Why isn’t he here already? Tell him to come. He
must
come!’
    â€˜Father Wainwright’s on his way, Nicole,’ Clive Scott said gently. ‘He and his wife will be here in a few minutes.’
    â€˜I don’t want them! I want Philippe. Get him here now!’ she sobbed. But Philippe Maigret would not come.
    â€˜You must,’ Megan had urged at the beginning. ‘At a time like this it’s the least you could do.’
    â€˜No, absolutely not: my place is here with Georges.’
    â€˜Sweetie, he doesn’t even know you’re here.’
    â€˜But Iknow I’m here and that’s what matters. And here I’ll stay until Georges comes out of the coma. And that’s final, Megan, so please don’t mention the subject again.’ But of course she did.
    Meanwhile, Jacques, having visited Georges Martin twice at the hospital with the children, had decided that the best way he could help was to find out more about the counterfeit money, which might lead to the people behind the conspiracy.
    He had already established a pattern: every day, after tempting the children out of bed with the smell of his delicious breakfast crepes wafting up the stairs, he walked them to school with Inky by his side . Every day he trawled the neighbourhood looking for more upside-down pentacles. He found two, but no money. Then he gradually widened his search into the surrounding areas, looking for more. Or for whatever clues he could find. When he and Inky were exhausted from the walking, they sat in friendly bakeries or coffee shops, usually in Dulwich, Jacques drinking more coffee than was good for him, and pretending to read the newspaper, while Inky slept at his feet. And all the time he was watching, listening, observing, until one day the sleuthing paid a dividend.
    â€˜Can you imagine it? And in a respectable area like this,’ he heard the shopkeeper say to