Monsieur Pamplemousse on Probation Read Online Free Page A

not in a three Stock Pot establishment in line for our supreme accolade of a
Chapeau d’Or.
’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse took the implied reproof in good part. The Director was right, of course. Standards must never be allowed to slip; not for a second, otherwise they were all wasting their time. It made a mockery of the whole thing.
    Reputations built up over the years could be destroyed in a moment.
    ‘Now, there is Loudier.’
    ‘How is he,
Monsieur
?’
    ‘He has been offered counselling, but so far he has refused it.’
    It was a cruel twist of fate. It was poor oldLoudier, the
doyen
of the Inspectors and now nearing retirement, who had been largely responsible for putting Monsieur Dulac’s name forward for the award of his first Stock Pot. In those days the hotel had been known simply as the Hôtel Moderne. Then Dulac had called it after his grandfather, Prosper Dulac. It wasn’t until the award of the third Stock Pot that it had become plain Dulac and by that time he was already in grand new premises just outside the village.
    After the affair of the lettuce leaf it was Loudier who had been sent to give the establishment a final pre-publication check. It had been largely meant as a treat on the Director’s part, but he had returned in haste to recount a particularly nasty experience with a worm.
    ‘Is it true he found it in his
salade parmentière, Monsieur?
’
    ‘Worse, Pamplemousse. It was half a
lumbricidae.
A large one, clearly fresh from the
jardin
.’
    ‘Which end,
Monsieur
?’
    ‘The end is immaterial, Pamplemousse. A worm is a worm. Not wishing to reveal his identity, Loudier managed to contain himself until he was outside where he deposited it whence it came from. The mark of a true professional.’
    ‘You mentioned killing several birds with one stone,
Monsieur
,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse,quickly changing the subject. ‘Do I take it there is another
oiseau
to be slain?’
    ‘Ah, yes, Aristide.’ The Director made play of pretending he had forgotten. ‘Thank you for reminding me. Rather than drive down in your
deux chevaux,
which may well be under scrutiny by the media, I wonder if you could possibly do an old friend of mine a small favour?
    ‘It is a matter of finding someone reliable to deliver what is known as a “Twingo” to an address in Roanne. I’m sure you know the model. They are currently all the rage; much in demand by the “in” set. Every other car parked outside the boutiques in the avenue Montaigne seems to be one.’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse hesitated. ‘And after I have delivered it,
Monsieur
? It is still another fifty kilometres or so to Pouligny.’
    The Director brushed the problem aside. ‘You can either hire a car to complete the journey or else use a taxi. Either way, at the end of your stay you and Pommes Frites can return to Paris by train.’
    ‘When would you like me to leave,
Monsieur
?’
    Monsieur Leclercq glanced down at his watch. ‘Now seems as good a time as any, Pamplemousse.’
    ‘Now?’ Monsieur Pamplemousse sat bolt upright. ‘But I haven’t even unpacked from my last trip.’
    ‘So much the better,’ said the Director unfeelingly. ‘Procrastination is the thief of time. The sooner youset off the better. I suggest tomorrow morning at the very latest.’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse considered the matter for a moment or two. He was aware of how fortunate he was. On the other hand everything was happening much too quickly for his liking. When he’d arrived at the office that morning, he hadn’t known quite what to expect. What he certainly hadn’t bargained for was going off on his travels again quite so soon. Doucette would not be pleased.
    From somewhere he heard a disembodied voice saying, ‘Of course,
Monsieur
.’
    The Director looked relieved as he rose from his chair. Clearly the whole thing had been preying on his mind.
    ‘I would prefer it if you didn’t mention this to anyone, Aristide. It might be misconstrued in some