Inspector Cadaver by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page A

part of the world.
    ‘Have you heard anything about the
cap?’
    ‘What cap? Ah, yes. I’d lost the
thread. I vaguely remember hearing something … Is it true, though? Has it really
been found? That’s the key, isn’t it?’
    It wasn’t the key, no. The
girl’s confession, for instance, was just as significant as the discovery of the
cap. But could one use that confession?
    Five minutes later, Maigret was ringing the
doctor’s doorbell. A petite maid told him at first that the practice didn’t
open for an hour, but when he insisted, she showed him into a garage, where a strapping,
red-faced fellow was repairing a motorcycle.
    The usual refrain:
    ‘Detective Chief Inspector Maigret
… Police Judiciaire … In an entirely unofficial capacity …’
    ‘Let’s go into my consulting
room and I’ll wash my hands.’
    Maigret waited near the
articulated table covered with an oilcloth that was used for examining patients.
    ‘So you’re the famous Detective
Chief Inspector Maigret. I’ve heard a great deal about you. I have a friend
thirty-five kilometres away who follows all the news avidly. If he knew you were in
Saint-Aubin, he’d drop everything … You were in charge of the Landru case,
weren’t you?’
    He had lighted on one of the few cases in
which Maigret hadn’t played a part.
    ‘To what do we owe the honour of your
presence in Saint-Aubin? Because it certainly is an honour … You’ll have a
glass of something, I trust … One of my little ones happens to be sick, and
we’ve put him in the sitting room because it’s warmer. That’s why
I’m seeing you here … A little glass, eh?’
    He was true to his word. Maigret got his
little glass and not a drop more.
    ‘Retailleau? A nice lad. I think he
was a good son. At any rate, his mother, who is one of my patients, never complained
about him. She is quite something, that woman. She deserved a very different life. She
was from a good family, you know. We were extremely surprised when she married Joseph
Retailleau, who was just a worker at the dairy …
    ‘Étienne Naud? He’s a
character. We go shooting together. He’s a first-rate shot … Groult-Cotelle?
No, you wouldn’t say he was a marksman, but that’s because he’s very
short-sighted …
    ‘So you already know everyone …
Have you met Tine too? You haven’t made Tine’s acquaintance yet? Notice therespect with which I utter that name, like everyone in Saint-Aubin.
Tine is Madame Naud’s mother. Madame Bréjon, if you’d rather. She has a
son who’s an examining magistrate in Paris. Of course, you must know him …
She was born a La Noue herself, one of the great Vendée families. She doesn’t
want to be a burden on her daughter and son-in-law, and she lives alone, near the church
… At eighty-two, she is still hale and hearty, and she is one of my most
incorrigible patients …
    ‘Are you staying a few days in
Saint-Aubin?
    ‘What? The cap? Oh, yes! No, I
haven’t heard anything about it myself … Well, I did hear some vague rumours
…
    ‘You understand, all this is a bit
after the fact. If I had known at the time I would have performed a post-mortem. But put
yourself in my position. I’m told the poor boy has been run over by a train. I
establish that he has indeed been run over by a train and so, naturally, I write my
report to that effect.’
    Maigret glowered. He could have sworn that
they were all in collusion, that, whether surly or breezy like the doctor, they were all
batting him back and forth like a ball while exchanging knowing winks.
    The sky has almost cleared. There are
reflections in all the puddles and the mud is glistening in places.
    Once again the inspector sets off along the
main street – whatever it’s called; he hasn’t seen yet, but he’s
pretty sure it will be Rue de la République – and thinks he might as well go
into the Trois Mules opposite the Lion d’Or, where he had been made so unwelcome
that morning.
    The parlour is lighter,
with