Chief Inspector Maigret Visits London by Margaret de Rohan

Author:Margaret de Rohan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd

Chapter Seventeen

She left Jacques in the coffee shop with Debbie, untied Inky’s lead from the lamppost, and walked home. For most of the time she was on the verge of tears, and quite unaware that passers-by were staring at her, except when an old lady caught hold of her arm, and asked her if she needed help. Megan shook her head, and moved quickly on her way. Please, please, she prayed, don’t let it be true that Genevieve Evremond has the same thing that killed her mother.

When she reached the family home she phoned Chief Inspector Scott at Scotland Yard.

‘I need you to do something for me,’ she said.

‘Mrs Lisle,’ he replied, ‘I’ve already spoken to Chief Inspector Maigret this morning. The poor man is sick with worry about your habit of getting involved in police matters at the drop of a hat, and I don’t believe… ’

‘I think I should remind you, Chief Inspector Scott, that it was actually you who got me involved in police matters when you asked me to spy on Nichole Vachon.’

‘You have a point there. Yes, that’s a fair point, I must say. Er… yes, it’s a fair point… ’

‘So now I’m asking you to help me,’ she interrupted.

‘What do you want me to do? I can’t promise you the blasted moon, but I might be able to help with the odd small star or three.’

‘That’s all I ask. It seems that your chief suspect, James Evremond… ’

‘Out of curiosity: do you actually know everything about this particular case, Mrs Lisle?’

‘Just about. Surely you realise that Philippe and I have no secrets from each other? What did you expect?’

‘Get on with it – I haven’t got all blasted day!’

‘It seems that James Evremond’s wife died three or four years ago. Could you please find out what she died from?’ ‘Why?’

‘No, Chief Inspector, that’s not how it works. I’ve just given you some information. Now it’s your turn. When you give me the answer to my question, I will tell you more.’

‘I hope Philippe Maigret knows exactly what he’s taking on with you,’ he muttered, half in exasperation, half in grudging admiration. ‘And I also hope you know that withholding information from the police is a serious criminal offence.’

‘I think he’s beginning to get an idea,’ she said, choosing to ignore the chief inspector’s second sentence as she ended the conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, he phoned with her answer.

‘Rosemary Evremond died from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,’ he said, without the usual pleasantries. ‘Do you know what that is?’

‘Not really, but I know it’s serious. Is it hereditary?’

‘Why would you ask that?’

‘Because it might be that James Evremond’s daughter, Genevieve, has it too.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone. ‘Would you mind telling me how you came by that info?’

‘Yes, I actually would mind. You have your sources and I have mine.’ Another sharp intake of breath followed from the other end of the line.

‘It’s a cancer of the blood, it’s not

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