Inspector Cadaver by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online

fellow, who was delighted to have shut the Parisian
up.
    Maigret was outside in minutes, back to
square one, or rather now certain that no one was going help him discover the truth.
    And if no one wanted the truth, what had he
come here for? Wouldn’t it be better to go back to Paris and tell Bréjon,
‘There it is … Your brother doesn’t want there to be an investigation
into the affair. No one in thetown does. I’ve come back. They
gave me a first-rate dinner …’
    A gilt plaque indicated the notary’s
residence, which must have been the one belonging to Bréjon’s father and his
sister, now Madame Naud. It was a large grey-stone building and, against the damp grey
of the sky, it looked as eternal and inscrutable as the rest of the town.
    He passed the Lion d’Or. The landlady
was in conversation with someone, and he sensed they were talking about him, standing by
the window to get a better view.
    A cyclist approached. Maigret recognized him
but didn’t have time to turn around. It was Alban Groult-Cotelle, who was cycling
back from the Nauds’. He jumped off his bike.
    ‘I’m so glad to run into you. My
house is just around the corner. Will you do me the pleasure of coming and having a
drink? You must … My house is a very modest affair, but I do have a few bottles of
vintage port.’
    Maigret followed his lead. He didn’t
have high hopes but anything was better than dragging himself around the streets of this
hostile town.
    The house was huge. It looked attractive
from a distance, solid and stocky, like a bourgeois fortress with its black railings and
high slate roof.
    Inside, everything smelled of meanness and
neglect. The sulky maid looked really unkempt and yet, from their eye contact, Maigret
gathered that Groult-Cotelle was sleeping with her.
    ‘Excuse the mess. I’m a
bachelor, living on my own. Apart from books, I don’t really have any interests,
so …’
    So the wallpaper was damp
and peeling off the walls, the curtains were grey with dust, and Maigret had to test
three or four chairs before finding one that stood securely on all four feet. Probably
to save wood, only one room in the house was heated, on the ground floor, and this
served as drawing room, dining room and library. There was even a divan on which he
suspected his host slept more often than not.
    ‘Please, do sit down. It really is a
shame you’re not visiting in summer, when our town is rather more presentable
… What do you think of my friends, the Nauds? What a lovely family they are! I
know them well. You won’t find a better man than Naud. Not a very deep thinker
perhaps. Perhaps a shade pleased with himself. But so guileless, so sincere. He is very
rich, you know?’
    ‘And Geneviève Naud?’
    ‘A charming girl … Not
overwhelmingly so … Yes, charming’s the word …’
    ‘I suppose I’ll get the chance
to see her. She’ll only be temporarily indisposed, won’t she?’
    ‘I daresay … I daresay …
Young girls, eh? Your health …’
    ‘You knew Retailleau?’
    ‘By sight. His mother is apparently a
very fine woman … If you were staying a while, I’d show you round, because
you really can find some interesting people here and there, in the villages … My
uncle, the general, used to say that the countryside, especially where we are in the
Vendée …’
    Useless! If Maigret had let him,
Groult-Cotelle wouldhave recited the histories of every local family
from scratch.
    ‘I have to be on my way
…’
    ‘Your investigation, that’s
true. Is it getting anywhere? Do you have hopes? In my opinion, you need to get your
hands on the person who is behind all these false rumours …’
    ‘Do you have any ideas?’
    ‘Me? Hardly! Don’t go supposing
I’ve got an inkling about this business, will you now. I’ll probably see you
this evening because Étienne has invited me to dinner, and, unless I’m too
busy …’
    Busy doing what, for goodness’ sake?
Words seemed to mean something different in this