Читать книгу The Predator of Batignolles: 5th Victor Legris Mystery - Claude Izner - Страница 12

The Église Sainte-Marie-des-Batignolles with its triangular pediment and Doric columns was reminiscent of a Greek temple. Beside it, an ornamental grotto, a waterfall and a tiny stream were laid out in an oasis of greenery which overlooked the railway tracks. Frédéric Daglan strolled around the miniature lake where a few ducks were splashing. Slung over his shoulder was a case with a faded coat of arms on its flap depicting a blue and gold leopard passant. He reflected on the situation: two hundred francs was a lot for stealing a few cigar holders, even if they were made of amber. What was that fat pig cooking up? He would have him tailed – he had to cover myself.

He stopped next to a park keeper’s hut. An elderly veteran in a shabby uniform gave him a military salute.

‘Good afternoon, Monsieur Daglan.’

‘Good afternoon, Brigadier Clément. How’s life treating you? Any pickings today?’

‘A teat, a stick without its hoop, a knitting needle and a comic. Oh, Monsieur Daglan, the worst thing is not being able to sit down! They’re giving me the chop, you know. They say I’m too old, even though I do my job properly. After fifty you’re a burden on the state. I’ll be gone by the end of August. The missus is worried sick, what with our boy scarcely earning his crust at the Gouin machine shop, and a growing girl at home! We’ll just have to manage on the small pension they give me. By the way, the missus said to thank you for the cherries. They’re very dear this year so she was pleased as punch. She plans to make jam out of them and a special jar of cherries in brandy for you.’

‘Don’t mention it – they cost me nothing.’

‘Are you going to work, Monsieur Daglan?’

‘Yes, I’m going to write out the evening menus. It’s pretty straightforward. The taverners give the leftovers from lunch another name and, hey presto, tuna in sauce verte becomes tuna mayonnaise, tomatoes in butter sauce turn into stuffed tomatoes, and so on.’

Daglan slipped the old man a coin.

‘Here’s a little something for you, Père Clément. And don’t worry, you won’t need to hock any of your belongings while I’m around.’

‘Oh no, Monsieur Daglan, no charity, please!’

‘Charity, Père Clément? Do you want to hurt my feelings? The path of life is strewn with obstacles. Somebody helped me once – now it’s my turn.’