Free Monsieur Pamplemousse on the Spot by Michael Bond

page after page. Not until he was completely satisfied did he lay down his pen and even then he tore up the used sheets and transferred the distillation of his findings to a fresh page before reading it out loud.
    ‘What we are looking for,’ he intoned to his captiveaudience of one, ‘and there cannot be many in this world who fit the description, is an illiterate English female compositor, who stands about 168 centimetres tall, and is possessed of a balcon of such largeness and generosity, of such roundness and hardness, that it almost defies belief.’
    Ignoring the snore which came from the direction of the wheelbarrow, Monsieur Pamplemousse tore the sheet off the pad and placed it carefully beneath the glass on the bedside table. Well pleased with the result of his evening’s work, he turned out the light and closed his eyes.
    One thing was for certain: given the opportunity, he would be able to identify them again anywhere, anytime, anyplace. They were indelibly and disturbingly etched on his memory.
    He had another flash of inspiration before sleep finally overtook him. He remembered where he’d seen the subject of the photograph before. It was the girl who had been sitting all alone in the restaurant that evening.

4
TAKING THE WATERS
    ‘I am looking, Monsieur, for a woman with exceptionally large doudounes. Large, firm and of coconut-like hardness. A woman who is not averse to exposing them to the world …’
    ‘Aren’t we all, Pamplemousse, aren’t we all.’ The Director sounded tired, as though he had been up all night. ‘May I remind you that you are in the Haute-Savoie, not St. Tropez.’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse decided to ignore the interruption. ‘They belong,’ he continued, ‘to someone who works, or has worked, in the printing trade. Possibly someone who has a grudge. I am told there is a great deal of redundancy in the industry. Competition from the Orient is severe.’
    ‘Pamplemousse!’ The Director’s voice cut in again. ‘Why is it that whenever you are on a case there is always a woman involved? Sooner or later sex rears its ugly head. Usually it is sooner rather than later.’
    ‘ Cherchez la femme, Monsieur . It is my experience in life that there is always a woman involved. Man has a great and undying and unquenchable need for woman. It has been so ever since the Garden of Eden. You could say, Monsieur, that were I to find this woman I would be well on the way to solving the problem.’
    From the silence at the other end he felt that he had scored a point, and from the length of that silence it was not just an outer or a magpie, but a bullseye; a direct hit.
    ‘No, Pamplemousse, I would not say that. You are saying it. The choice of words is yours.’ There was a noteof acerbity in the voice, and yet Monsieur Pamplemousse felt there were also overtones of respect; respect and some other quality he couldn’t quite define. A whisker of apprehension perhaps?
    ‘May I ask you something, Aristide?’ The Director was clearly about to change his tune.
    ‘ Oui , Monsieur .’
    ‘It is only a small thing, of little importance I’m sure. But it kept me awake last night wondering.’
    ‘Please ask anything you wish, Monsieur .’
    ‘Why were you pushing Pommes Frites about the gardens of Les Cinq Parfaits in a wheelbarrow last night? Has he suffered some kind of injury?’
    ‘Shall we say, Monsieur, that he is indisposed.’
    ‘Nothing serious, I trust?’
    Monsieur Pamplemousse glanced towards the subject of their conversation. It was hard to say. Pommes Frites hadn’t visibly moved from where he’d been deposited some ten or eleven hours previously. Nevertheless there was some improvement; he appeared to be regarding the outside world through at least one half-open, if decidedly lack-lustre eye which could only be interpreted as a step in the right direction. His jowls gave an occasional twitch.
    ‘It is difficult to form an opinion, Monsieur .’
    ‘You must seek medical