Maigret and the Man on the Boulevard by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online

festivities.”
    â€œYou mean he didn’t say anything to them, but just let them go on believing that he was still working in the Rue de Bondy?”
    â€œHe thought at first it would only be a matter of days before he got another job. Later, he thought it might take weeks. The only thing that worried him was the house.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œHe was paying off the mortgage, and I gathered that it would have been a very serious matter if he had fallen behind with his monthly payments.”
    â€œWho lent him the money?”
    â€œMonsieur Saimbron and I between us.”
    â€œWho is Monsieur Saimbron?”
    â€œHe was the bookkeeper. He’s retired now. He lives alone in rooms on the Quai de la Mégisserie.”
    â€œHas he got money?”
    â€œHe’s very poor.”
    â€œAnd yet you both lent money to Monsieur Louis?”
    â€œYes. If we had not done so, the house would have been sold over their heads, and they would have been out in the street.”
    â€œWhy didn’t he go to Monsieur Kaplan?”
    â€œHe knew he would get no help from him. That’s the way he is. When he told us that the firm was closing down, he handed each of us an envelope containing three months’ salary. Monsieur Louis dared not keep his share at home, because his wife would have been sure to find it.”
    â€œUsed she to go through his wallet?”
    â€œI don’t know. Probably she did. At any rate, I kept the money for him, and every month I would hand over the equivalent of his salary. Then, when there was no more left…”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œHe paid me back.”
    â€œAfter how long?”
    â€œEight or nine months. Almost a year.”
    â€œWhen did you next see him, after you’d lent him the money?”
    â€œI lent him the money in February, and didn’t see him again until August.”
    â€œDidn’t that worry you?”
    â€œNo. I knew he’d be back eventually. And, besides, even if he had not paid me back…”
    â€œDid he tell you whether he’d found another job?”
    â€œHe said he was in work.”
    â€œWas that when he took to wearing brown shoes?”
    â€œYes. After that, he came to see me several times. He always had some little present for me, and sweets for Mother.”
    Maybe that was why the old woman was looking so crestfallen. No doubt most of her visitors arrived armed with sweets for her, and here was Maigret empty-handed. He made a mental note to bring a box of sweets if ever he had occasion to visit the shop again.
    â€œDid he ever mention any names to you?”
    â€œWhat sort of names?”
    â€œI don’t know. Employers, friends, workmates, perhaps.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid he ever refer to any particular district of Paris?”
    â€œOnly the Rue de Bondy. He went back there several times. It made him feel bitter to see that they hadn’t even started on the demolition work.
    â€œâ€˜We could have stayed on another year at least,’ he used to say, with a sigh.”
    The doorbell tinkled. Léone poked her head forward, as no doubt she did many times in the course of a day, to see who was in the shop.
    Maigret stood up.
    â€œI mustn’t keep you any longer.”
    â€œCome back whenever you like. You’ll always be welcome.”
    A pregnant woman was standing beside the counter. He picked up his hat and made for the door.
    â€œI’m much obliged to you.”
    He got into the car, watched by the two women, who were gazing at him over the pink and white woollies piled on the counter.
    â€œWhere to now, chief?”
    It was just eleven o’clock.
    â€œStop at the first bistro you come to.”
    â€œThere’s one next door to the shop.”
    Somehow, he felt shy of going in there, under Léone’s watchful eye.
    â€œWe’ll find one round the corner.”
    He wanted to ring Monsieur