Chapter 2 Chapter two
McGarry carefully drew a rectangle like a primary school student, and drew a cross in the middle of the rectangle.He tilted his head slightly forward and pouted while looking at his work.The rectangle represents the Floria's bar, and the cross represents Pepido.On top of the rectangle, McGregor drew a smaller rectangle: that was the office.In the office, he ended up adding a dot, representing a pistol.
This picture is useless, it doesn't explain anything.This case is not a geometry problem.However, McGregor insisted on doing so. He waved the picture into a ball and drew it again on another piece of paper.
But at this time, he no longer considered the meanings represented by the rectangle and the cross.He turned his head sideways, concentrating on a certain sentence he heard just now, a certain look in his eyes, and a demeanor of someone he just discovered by accident.
He sat alone at the end of the New Bridge Restaurant where he used to sit.He didn't know if he should have come here, but it was too late to think about it now.Those present had already seen him, and the boss had already shook hands with him.
"The chickens and rabbits at home are fed quite fat, right?"
McGarry sat by the window, gazing at the new bridge, rosy in the sun, at the broad stone steps of the courthouse and the gates of the jail.The boss was holding a white towel under his arm, and his face was full of spring breeze. He wanted to look more courteous, and chatted with his regular customers a few more words:
"You're having a great time! This time, I must be back to see my old colleagues!"
The plainclothes police assigned to the roads and apartment complexes continued their old habit of stopping by the hotel to play cards before setting off.Some of the young McGregors didn't know each other. After paying their respects to him, the old plainclothes immediately chatted with the new partners in a low voice.
McGarry had just finished drawing the first rectangle and the first cross.Time passed quickly, and it was time for an aperitif.A dozen or so police officers came to the restaurant for dinner.Luca, who had solved many cases with Sergeant McGregor, walked up to him with an unnatural expression on his face.
"How are you, sir? You have come to Paris to relax, have you not?"
McGregor didn't say anything, took a puff of cigarette, and before taking a second puff, he asked in a low voice:
"What did Amadeo say?"
It is futile to lie to him.He could read the expressions on people's faces, and he knew enough of the Police Department to guess what was going on.It was now noon, and Philip had not yet appeared at the hotel.
"You know Sergeant Amadillo very well. He has encountered some troubles at work recently. He doesn't cooperate well with the prosecutor's office..."
"What did he say?"
"Of course, he said you were in Paris and that you wanted to--"
"I got it: he said 'I want to show off'."
"I should go." Luca stammered, looking a little flustered.
McGarry ordered another half-liter of beer and continued to concentrate on drawing his rectangle, while most of the tables were talking about him at the moment.
McGarry ate his lunch in his old seat, the sun hitting his chair just in time.The judicial photographer also dined at a table not too far away.McGarry sipped his coffee, pencil in hand, and repeated to himself:
"Here's Pepido, lying between two rows of desks. The murderer has nowhere to hide, he can hide anywhere. When he fired, he didn't expect Philip, a fool, to be there, and then he went to the office to think. He took something away. He had just put the gun on the table when he heard a noise and hid again. Anyway, the two of them were playing hide-and-seek afterwards..."
That is the way things are in general, and there is no need for any other explanation.The murderer slipped to the door at last, and ran out into the street without being noticed, while Philip was wasted in the hall.
There's nothing special about the way things are going, any fool in the situation would do it.But the next move was very fierce: find someone to give false testimony, and put the charge on Philip's head.
Sure enough, in a short while, all this came true.The murderer found his accomplice on a quiet street late at night.The fellow bumped Philippe on purpose as he was going out, and then ran towards the policeman who was on duty in the Place Blanchet.
"Hey, Mr. Police, I just saw a guy come out of Floria's Bar, as if he did something bad, sneaked away before he even had time to close the door."
McGarry didn't have to watch his colleagues drinking beer in the restaurant carefully to understand what the old plainclothes was whispering to the young policeman:
"Have you ever heard of Sheriff McGarry? Here it is!"
Amadeo, who didn't like him, must have threatened in the aisle of the judicial police station:
"He wants to show off. Well, we'll see!"
It was already four o'clock in the afternoon, and Philip had not come yet.Newspapers were published, each carrying a detailed account of the case, including the confession of Philip, an undercover policeman.This is another trick played by Amadeo.
At the Police Headquarters, people were busy making phone calls, checking files, listening to witnesses and whistleblowers.
McGregor curled up in the chair, his nostrils trembling slightly, and continued to draw a few pictures with a pencil enduring his temper.
He was determined to catch Pepido's murderer at all costs. However, he was not so at ease now, a little timid, and he was not sure whether he would succeed.He silently observed the young plainclothes policeman, wondering what they thought of him.
At a quarter to six Philip arrived at last.For a few minutes he stood in the dining room, as if dazzled by a strong light.When he sat down next to McGregor, he tried to put on a smile and mumbled:
"It's really long!"
He was exhausted and rubbed his forehead with his hands, as if he wanted to tidy up the messy thoughts in his head a little.
"I just came from the prosecutor's office, and the examining judge interrogated me for an hour and a half. He first made me wait in the aisle for a full two hours."
Everyone in the restaurant was watching them.McGarry looked at the customer opposite as Philip told what had happened to him.
"You know, Uncle, it's a lot more serious than we thought."
Every word resonated with the Sheriff.He knew Judge Gastangbitt, a short Basque, cautious above him, defiant below him.He always weighed his words carefully, and he had to think about every sentence for several minutes before he said it. The expression on his face seemed to say:
"Is there anything else you can say about that?"
McGarry was also familiar with the upstairs corridors of the prosecutor's office, which were always crowded with defendants guarded by gendarmes, with impatient witnesses and weeping women sitting on benches.It was on purpose to keep Philip waiting there so long.
"The judge told me to do nothing and told me not to go anywhere until the preliminary hearing was over. I should treat myself as a person on hiatus, at his disposal."
The busiest time of the day at the New Bridge Restaurant is here: during the evening aperitif, the hotel is always full of people.Every table is full of people, and the smoke rises slowly from the pipes and rolls.Newcomers greeted McGregor from afar.
Philip dared not look at anyone, not even his uncle who was beside him.
"I'm so sorry, Uncle."
"What else happened?"
"It was thought, of course, that Floria's bar would be closed for at least a few days, but that's not the case at all. There was a flurry of phone calls today, and some mysterious intervention. It seems that Floria has Sold to someone else two days ago, Pepido is no longer the owner. The person who bought the bar has played some tricks, so tonight, the bar will open as usual."
McGregor frowned. I don't know if it was because of the news he just heard, or because Sheriff Amadeo walked into the hotel with a colleague?They sat down at the other end of the restaurant.
"Gordyt," McGregor called out suddenly.
Gorday is a plainclothes police officer who manages the weather. He and McGregor are separated by two tables and are playing cards with others.He turned around, playing cards in his hand, with a very hesitant look on his face.
"When will you finish playing!"
The former police chief crumpled up all the drawings and threw them on the ground.He drank the beer in his glass, wiped his lips, and looked in the direction of Amadeo.
Amadeo heard McGregor's voice, and as he watched what was happening at the end, he mixed some water with the Perno.Godet finally came over bewildered.
"Have you anything to say, Mr. Sheriff?"
"Hello, buddy!" McGregor said, shaking his hand. "I just want to know a simple situation. Are you still working in the weathering brigade? That's good! Can you tell me if you saw Ka Ruo in the office this morning?"
"Let me see. By the way, he was here about eleven o'clock."
"Thank you, brother."
That's it!McGregor looked at Amadeo, and Amadeo looked at McGregor, and the two looked at each other.Armadayo looked a little embarrassed, but McGregor restrained his smile.
Philip dared not interrupt.This one seems to have taken things up a notch.The strangeness inside is beyond his comprehension, he can't even touch the edges.
"Gordet!" another voice called.
This time, all the police officers sitting were shocked. Everyone watched in horror as the plainclothes policeman stood up again, still holding the cards in his hand, and walked towards Sergeant Amadillo.
There is no need to listen to what they have to say.One can imagine.Amadeo must have said:
"He asked you what's going on"
"Did you see Caro this morning?"
McGarry lit his pipe, let the match burn to the end, rose to his feet and yelled:
"waiter!"
He stood upright, waiting for the waiter to give him change, and at the same time glanced around deliberately.
"Where are we going?" as they walked out of the hotel.Philip asked.
McGregor turned his face away, as if surprised that Philip was beside him.
"Well, you go to bed," he said.
"And you, uncle?"
McGarry shrugged, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and walked away without making a sound.It was the most useless day of his life, spent hours alone in a corner.He felt old, lacking vigor and energy, and empty-headed.
The gap in physical strength and energy has long been created.But now that a small spark of enthusiasm had burst forth, it must be exploited at once.
"Let's see, fuck it!" McGregor muttered to cheer himself up.
Normally, he would have been reading the newspaper by the lamp at this time, with his legs resting comfortably by the fireplace.
"Do you come to Paris often?"
McGregor propped his elbows on the counter in Floria's bar, shook his head, and just said perfunctorily:
"Well! Let's put it this way..."
His mood returned, but he didn't smile, he just felt good inside.He has a knack of not losing one bit of his outward dignity and majesty when he is happy in his heart.A woman sitting next to him asked him to buy her a drink, and he nodded in agreement.
If two years ago, a prostitute would never fail to see what he was doing.The velvet coat he was wearing now, the fine black serge suit, and the neatly tied tie did not help to identify him.If she took him for a provincial coming to Paris to eat and drink, it was because he had really changed.
"Something must have happened here?" he asked quietly.
"Someone beat the boss to death, just last night."
She also misunderstood his gaze, she thought his gaze was full of excitement and enthusiasm, how could she know that his mood was far more complicated than this!McGarry is back in this long-lost world.He didn't know the young woman, but he knew her well.He could conclude that she had not registered with the Police Headquarters as required, and that she must have filled her passport as an actress or dancer or something.As for the waiter who served them, McGregor could literally recite his anthropometric record card.The woman in charge of the cloakroom, on the other hand, was right, trying desperately to find out who he was in her memory as she greeted him apprehensively.
At least two of these waiters had been called to his office by McGregor in the past to investigate cases like the murder of Pepido.
He ordered a glass of brandy with water, and looked aimlessly at the lobby between the bars, his eyes subconsciously falling on the place where the cross was drawn on the picture just now.Some customers who had read the papers were inquiring about the situation, and the waiter introduced them, showing them the place behind the fifth table where the body had been found.
"A bottle of champagne for the two of us, would you agree?"
"No, my baby."
The woman was only a short distance away from guessing him, and at least he had aroused her curiosity.And now McGarry was watching the new boss, a blond young man he had known in the past as manager of a dance hall in Montparnasse.
"Will you take me home?"
"Okay, stay a little longer."
He used this time to walk into the washroom, trying to figure out where Philip might have hidden himself.He caught a glimpse of the office with the half-open door at the far end of the bar.But all this meant little to him.Because of the environment in this area, he knew it well before he set foot on the Rue Fontaine again.The same goes for the characters, who can point out what everyone does by simply walking around the hall.
"There's a couple of newlyweds from the South eating and drinking at this table, and this drunk guy's a German. He's going to have to lose his wallet tonight. There's a criminal over there. The male dancer, who must have had some sachets of cocaine hidden in his pocket, was in partnership with the bar owner, who had been in prison for three years. This fat brown-haired woman had been with ten gangs at the Maximus Café. Years later, she ended her singing career in Montmartre..."
He went back to the hall again.
"Can I have another cocktail?" the woman asked, although he had already bought her one.
"What's your name?"
"Fernant."
"What were you doing last night?"
"I was with three lads, young men from rich families, who wanted to smoke ether. They took me to a hotel in the Rue Lorette-de-Notre-Dame..."
McGarry was not at all interested in what she was telling, he could just go on with the story.
"We went in turns to the pharmacy in the rue Montmartre and each bought a vial of ether. I don't remember exactly what happened after that. We got undressed, but they didn't even look at me, There were four of us lying on the same bed. They all smoked ether, and one of them sat up and said in a particularly comical voice:
"'Oh! There are some angels in the closet... how cute they are!...Let me catch 'em...'
"He tried to get up, but he fell on the rug instead. As for me, the smell made me churn. I asked them if that was all they wanted me to do, and then I started again. I put on my clothes. But I still thought it was fun. On the pillow, between the heads of the two boys, I found a bedbug. I also heard one of them say in sleep:
"'I've got a bug in front of my nose!'
"'Well, I have one here too!' sighed the other.
"Then they stopped moving and looked sideways at each other's faces foolishly."
She drank her cocktail in one gulp and said loudly:
"These crazy ones!"
However, she began to worry a little.
"Are you keeping me tonight? Say it!"
"Okay! Okay!" McGregor replied.
There is a curtain between the bar room and the cloakroom at the entrance, and McGregor can see the outside situation through the gap in the curtain from his seat.He suddenly jumped off the high stool and took a few steps forward.A man who had just walked through the door asked the cloakroom caretaker softly:
"Anything new?"
"Hello, Mr. Caro!"
McGregor went up to meet him, his hand in his coat pocket, his pipe in his mouth.With his back turned to him, the other party turned around slowly when someone greeted him, looked McGregor from head to toe, and muttered:
"It's you, you're here!"
There is a red curtain behind them, and behind the curtain, the band is playing.The gatekeeper was pacing up and down the open doorway into the cold street.This Mr. Caro hesitated for a while, considering whether he should take off his overcoat.
Fernant was worried, poked his head out for a look, and then retracted immediately.
"Shall we have a bottle of wine together?"
Caro finally made up his mind, handed the coat to the cloakroom, and fixed his eyes on McGregor.
"Well, if you want." McGregor accepted the invitation.
The boss gave them a seat very graciously.The newcomer whispered without even looking at the wine list:
"A bottle of 1926 Mumm Press!"
Instead of a tuxedo, he wore an iron-gray suit that, like McGarry's, was poorly cut.He hadn't even shaved, and his cheeks were covered with a livid gray beard.
"I thought you were retired."
"I thought so too!"
This sentence didn't seem to make much sense on the surface, but Caro frowned, and he made a gesture for the girl who sold cigars and cigarettes to come.Fernand stared at them with wide eyes at the counter, while the young Albert, the owner of the bar, didn't know whether he should come forward or not.
"Smoking a cigar?"
"Thank you." McGregor politely refused, while emptying out the ash in the pipe.
"Are you going to be staying long in Paris?"
"Until Pepido's murderer is brought to justice."
They talked in low voices.Nearby customers in casual dresses were playing games of cotton balls and rolls of colored paper, while saxophone players weaved between the tables, playing music in earnest.
"Did they invite you back to solve the case?"
Germain Carot had a long, dull face, with thick musty-brown eyebrows.It was the last person McGregor wanted to see in this carnival.He spoke slowly and calmly, reading every word he said for the other person's reaction.
"I came by myself, no one asked me to come."
"Then you did it in your own interest?"
"You are right."
They don't seem to be doing anything great.Fernand thought, her companion must have met Karo on a very accidental occasion.
"When did you buy this bar?"
"Floria? You are mistaken. It is Albert's."
"Just as it used to be Pepido's."
Caruo didn't deny it, just smiled lightly, and turned away the waiter who poured champagne for him.
"Other than that?" he asked, as if looking for a topic.
"How can I see that you are not there?"
Ka Ruo smiled again, more indifferent than the first time, he had no aversion to such a question, and replied like an endorsement:
"Last night, I had a cold, and I went to bed at nine o'clock. The housekeeper, who also serves as my maid, brought me a glass of strong wine mixed with hot sugar water, and waited for me to drink it by the bedside."
Neither of them paid any attention to the uproar that surrounded them like a wall, they were both so used to it.McGarry was smoking a pipe, the other a cigar.
"Do you still drink Pug mineral water?" the ex-sheriff asked as Caro poured him champagne.
"Yes, it's still the old rules."
They sat facing each other like fortune tellers, their faces somber and serious.A small woman at the next table, not knowing what they were doing, tried throwing cotton balls at their noses.
"You got permission to reopen so quickly!" McGarry said emphatically between two puffs.
"I get on pretty well with the people at Police Headquarters."
"There's a ignorant lad who foolishly got himself into this case, you know?"
"I read it in the newspapers. A policeman hiding in the lavatory beat Pepido to death in a moment of panic."
The band played jazz pieces one after another.A very drunken Englishman walked past McGarry and said in a low voice:
"Sorry."
"You are welcome."
Fernand looked at McGregor with sad eyes from the counter, and he only smiled back.
"Young policemen are not very cautious." Caro sighed.
"I said the same to my nephew."
"Your nephew is also interested in these questions?"
"The young man hiding in the wash room is him."
Caro's face will not turn pale, because it is chalky.But he hastily took a sip of mineral water, and then wiped his mouth.
"It's bad luck, isn't it?"
"That's what I told him too."
Fernand pointed to the hour hand with his chin, it was half past one in the middle of the night.McGarry motioned to her that he would be over in a minute.
"I wish you well!" said Caro.
"hope u healthy!"
"Your countryside is beautiful, isn't it? Because I heard you live in the country."
"Well, it's beautiful."
"The climate of winter in Paris is unhealthy."
"You are right, Pepido was murdered."
"Well, don't worry about it!" Ka Ruo dissuaded, because he saw McGregor opening his wallet and preparing to pay.
McGregor put fifty francs on the table anyway, then stood up and said:
"goodbye!"
He went up to the counter and whispered to Fernand:
"follow me."
"Have you paid?"
On the street, she was too embarrassed to take his arm.McGarry, as usual, put his hands in his pockets and walked forward with long and slow steps.
"You know Karo?" She dared to ask him after breaking through the barrier of using "you" to refer to McGregor.
"He's from my hometown."
"I tell you, be on your guard against him! He's a weird guy, not quite normal. I'm telling you this because I think you look like a nice guy."
"Have you ever slept with him?"
Fernand took two steps forward to catch up with McGarry, and she replied simply:
"He doesn't sleep with women!"
Mrs. McGarry was asleep at the Moen's house at the moment, which smelled of burning wood and goat's milk.Philip, too, finally fell asleep in his bedroom in the Dum Street apartment, his glasses on the bedside table.
Notes:
Notes: