Liberty Bar by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page B

typewriter, and an irritable voice:
    ‘Come in!’
    Maigret found himself face to face with
     Brown Junior, the one in charge of the European branch of the wool firm.
    Ageless. Maybe thirty, but then again,
     maybe forty. A tall, thin man, with chiselled features, close-cropped hair,dressed in a smart suit, a pearl tiepin in his black tie with a white
     stripe.
    Not a hint of disorder or unpredictability.
     Not a hair out of place. And not the slightest reaction at the sight of his visitor.
    ‘Could you bear with me for a moment?
     Please take a seat.’
    There was a typist sitting at the Louis XV
     table. A secretary was talking in English on the telephone.
    And Brown was just finishing dictating a
     cable, in English, which was to do with damages because of a dockers’ strike.
    The secretary called out: ‘Mister
     Brown,’ and handed him the phone.
    ‘Hello! … Hello! …
     Yes!’
    He listened for a while, without a word of
     interruption, then hung up, saying as he did so:
    ‘No!’
    He pressed an electric bell button and
     asked Maigret:
    ‘A port?’
    ‘No, thank you.’
    But as the maître d’hôtel turned up,
     he ordered anyway:
    ‘One port!’
    He did this in a totally calm way, with
     evident concern, as if the destiny of the world hung on even the smallest of his
     actions, gestures or facial expressions.
    ‘Take your typing to the
     bedroom,’ he said to the typist, indicating the adjoining room.
    And to his secretary:
    ‘Get me the examining
     magistrate.’
    Finally he sat down,
     crossing his legs with a sigh:
    ‘I’m tired. Are you in charge
     of the investigation?’
    And he slid the port that the servant had
     brought over to Maigret.
    ‘Such a ridiculous tale, isn’t
     it?’
    ‘Not ridiculous at all,’
     Maigret muttered in his least agreeable voice.
    ‘I meant to say awkward
     …’
    ‘Of course! It’s always awkward
     when you’re stabbed to death in the back …’
    The young man stood up impatiently, opened
     the door to the bedroom, made as if to give some orders in English, returned to Maigret
     and offered him a cigarette case.
    ‘No, thank you. I’m a pipe
     man.’
    The man picked up a tin of English tobacco
     from a pedestal table.
    ‘I smoke shag!’ said Maigret,
     taking a packet from his pocket.
    Brown prowled around the room with long
     strides.
    ‘I take it you know that my father
     led a very … scandalous life …’
    ‘He had a mistress!’
    ‘And more besides! Much more! You
     need to know this, otherwise you run the risk of making … how do you say … a
     gaffe …’
    He was interrupted by the telephone. The
     secretary ran over and replied this time in German while Brown shook his head at him.
     And since the secretary was having trouble getting off the phone, the young man went and
     took the receiver from his hands and hung up.
    ‘My father came to
     France a long time ago, without my mother … And he almost ruined us
     …’
    Brown didn’t stay put. As he was
     talking, he had closed the door of the bedroom on his secretary. He tapped the glass of
     port with his finger.
    ‘You’re not
     drinking?’
    ‘No, thank you.’
    He shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
    ‘We appointed a legal guardian
     … My mother was very unhappy … She worked so hard …’
    ‘Ah! It was your mother who looked
     after things?’
    ‘With my uncle, yes.’
    ‘Your mother’s brother,
     I’m assuming.’
    ‘Yes! My father had lost all …
     dignity … yes, dignity … so the least said the better … Do you
     understand?’
    Maigret had never taken his eyes off him,
     and that seemed to upset the young man. Especially as this heavy gaze was impossible to
     decipher. Perhaps it was meant to convey nothing. On the other hand, perhaps it was
     terribly threatening.
    ‘One question, Monsieur Brown –
     Monsieur Harry Brown, as I see from your luggage labels. Where were you last
     Wednesday?’
    Brown walked the length of the room twice
     before he