Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London Read Online Free Page A

door they came to, in case they were being watched. No one was home. At number two they scored a dozen dog-eared paperbacks mostly written by Philip Pullman or Jeffrey Archer. And a few more were donated at number three. Finally they reached the fourth house which was Nicole’s. This time there was a door bell which they rang. No answer. They rang again.
    â€˜Looks like no one’s home,’ Andy Gillespie said, wiping perspiration off his face.
    â€˜I think someone is. I just saw a curtain twitch upstairs. Ring the bell again, Andy, and remember, you do the talking and I’ll just observe.’
    â€˜Gotcha.’
    He rang the bell again, this time more vigorously and for a longer time.
    â€˜Someone’s coming,’ Megan whispered. ‘This is it: curtain up and best foot forward!’ She could hardly wait to see the woman to whom Philippe Maigret had once been married. Not that she was jealous or anything. Oh, no – not much!
    â€˜Are you Jehovah’s Witnesses or Seventh Day Adventists?’ Nicole asked sharply when she finally opened the door. She had an artist’s brush parked behind her right ear, there was a smudge of red paint on one cheek, and more than a trace of an accent. She had worn well, but she was no beauty, Megan thought.
    â€˜Neither, we’re just plain old Anglicans,’ replied Andy pleasantly. ‘I do hope we haven’t come at a bad time, Madam.’
    â€˜Well actually you have. What do you want?’ By now Andy Gillespie had his foot wedged firmly in the door so it couldn’t be shut in their faces. She looked suspiciously at Megan who remained silent.
    â€˜We’re from St Luke’s, down the road. We wondered if you might have some old books you could donate for our summer fair.’
    â€˜No, I don’t.’
    â€˜Or anything at all, it doesn’t really matter,’ Andy persisted. ‘Perhaps you have some bric-a-brac, or art of some kind. I see you’re an artist; perhaps you might donate some of your own work as a raffle prize?’
    â€˜I feel faint,’ Megan said weakly. ‘It’s the heat. I need a glass of water. I must sit down for a moment.’
    Nicole let them in, but very reluctantly. Why is she so guarded, Megan thought? What’s she hiding? She looked around the room. It was an artist’s studio; light and bright, and it opened on to a small, pretty garden. She sat down on an ancient sofa and looked more carefully at her surroundings, trying to form a photographic image in her mind. There was a painting on an easel which looked like a Parisian street scene, but it was completely
dry, so could not have been responsible for the smudge on Nicole’s face. Megan signalled to Andy who responded by a thumbs up. He’d also noticed that the painting wasn’t wet.
    While she looked, she also listened carefully. I think I heard a floorboard creak upstairs, she thought. Someone else is in the house. She looked at Andy again and tilted her head towards the ceiling. He nodded and gave her the thumbs up signal again. As Nicole brought the water to Megan a dog’s face suddenly appeared at the garden door.
    â€˜Oh, you have a dog!’ Andy said. ‘What variety is he or she?’
    â€˜Who knows? He’s a mixed breed; part this, part that. Heinz 57 varieties one might say!’
    She looked at Megan. It was a strange kind of look: cautious, defiant and jittery, all rolled up in one weird look. Why should she look at me like that? Megan thought. What have I ever done to her?
    â€˜His name is
Max
,’ Nicole said. She called ‘Max, Max,’ and clicked her fingers, but the dog didn’t budge.
    â€˜Looks like he’s not ready to come inside yet,’ Andy said. ‘But we must not take any more of your time. Do you think you have anything for our fair, Madam?’
    â€˜Not now. But if you give me your phone number I might have something in a few