The Two-Penny Bar Read Free

up on a potholed road along the bank of the Seine.
Mon Loisir
    That was the name of the villa, on the river between Morsang and Seine-Port. It looked newly built, bricks still shiny, the paintwork fresh, flowers in the garden that looked as if they had been washed that morning. A diving-board over the river,
rowing-boats by the bank.
    â€˜Do you know the area?’ Maigret asked his driver.
    â€˜A bit …’
    â€˜Is there somewhere to stay around here?’
    â€˜In Morsang, the Vieux-Garçon … Or further on, at Seine-Port, Chez Marius …’
    â€˜And the Two-Penny Bar?’
    The driver shrugged.
    The taxi was too conspicuous to stay there much longer by the roadside. The Bassos had unloaded their car. No more than ten minutes had elapsed before Madame Basso appeared in the garden dressed in a sailor’s outfit, with an American naval
cap on her head.
    Her husband must have been more eager to try out his fancy dress, for he appeared at a window buttoned up in an improbable-looking frock coat, with the top hat perched on his head.
    â€˜What do you reckon?’
    â€˜Shouldn’t you be wearing the sash?’
    â€˜What sash?’
    â€˜Mayors all wear a tricolour sash …’
    Canoes glided slowly by on the river. In the distance, a tug blew its siren. The sun was sinking behind the trees on the hillside further downstream.
    â€˜Let’s try the Vieux-Garçon!’ said Maigret.
    The inn had a large terrace next to the Seine. Boats of all sorts were moored to the bank, while a dozen or so cars were parked behind the building.
    â€˜Do you want me to wait for you?’
    â€˜I don’t know yet.’
    The first person he met was a woman dressed all in white, who almost ran into him. She was wearing orange blossom in her hair. She was being chased by a young man in a swimming-costume. They were both laughing. Some other people were observing
the scene from the front steps of the inn.
    â€˜Hey, keep your dirty paws off the bride!’ someone shouted.
    â€˜At least until after the wedding!’
    The bride stopped, out of breath, and Maigret recognized the lady from Avenue Niel, the one who visited the apartment with Monsieur Basso twice a week.
    A man in a green rowing-boat was putting away his fishing tackle, his brow furrowed, as if he were performing some delicate and difficult operation.
    â€˜Five Pernods, five!’
    A young man came out of the inn, his face plasteredwith greasepaint and rouge. He was made up to look like a freckly, ruddy-cheeked peasant.
    â€˜What do you think?’
    â€˜You should have red hair!’
    A car arrived. Some people got out, already dressed up for the village wedding. There was a woman in a puce silk dress which trailed along the ground. Her husband had stuffed a cushion under his waistcoat to simulate a paunch and was wearing a
boat chain that was meant to look like a watch chain.
    The sun’s rays turned red. The leaves on the trees barely stirred. A canoe drifted downstream; its passenger, stripped to the waist, sat at the back, doing no more than lazily steer it with a paddle.
    â€˜What time are the carriages due to arrive?’
    Maigret hung around, feeling out of place.
    â€˜Have the Bassos arrived?’
    â€˜They passed us on the way!’
    Suddenly, someone came and stood in front of Maigret, a man of about thirty, already nearly bald, his face made up like a clown’s. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes. He spoke with a pronounced English accent:
    â€˜Here’s someone to play the notary!’
    He wasn’t completely drunk. He wasn’t completely sober, either. The rays of the setting sun turned his face purple; his eyes were bluer than the river.
    â€˜You’ll be the notary, won’t you?’ he asked with the familiarity of a drunkard. ‘Of course you will, old chap. We’ll have a great time.’
    He took Maigret’s arm and added:
    â€˜Let’s have a