Maigret's Holiday by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online

would have managed to get himself invited to the
doctor’s house.
    â€˜I hate wasting time, just as I hate
ambiguous situations. Do you think that I killed my sister-in-law?’
    This time, Maigret had to make a huge effort
to keep pace with this man who, there in the sunshine, among the idle crowd of
holidaymakers, was asking him such a brutal question.
    He did not smile, did not protest. It took
him only a few seconds to formulate his reply, which he gave in the same calm tone as
that in which the question had been asked.
    â€˜Two nights ago,’ he said,
‘I didn’t know yet that she was dead, or that she was your sister-in-law,
but I had already begun to take an interest in her.’

3.
    Had Maigret hoped to catch him off-guard? If
he had, he was to be disappointed. First of all, Doctor Bellamy appeared not to have
heard his words, which had been drowned out by the growing noise from the beach and the
sea. He had the time to take a few steps before the echo of Maigret’s statement,
rather than his actual voice, reached him.
    Then his expression betrayed a faint
surprise. He gave his companion a little wink, as if trying to find a reason for this
ambiguity. Meanwhile, faced with a partner who was a match for him, Maigret was so
alert, so receptive, that he felt able to capture Doctor Bellamy’s slightest
nuance of thought, and he sensed a slight disappointment, a silent admonition.
    A few seconds later, it was already over,
Bellamy gave the matter no further thought and the two of them continued along the
promenade, in step with one another. Both men automatically gazed at the elegant curve
of the beach which had something feminine, almost sensual, about it. It was the hour
when the sea began to grow paler, shimmering slightly, before the flaming sunset.
    â€˜You were born in the countryside,
weren’t you?’ asked Bellamy.
    Their thoughts, like their footsteps, were
in tune again,as if, like long-term lovers, they no longer needed to
speak in lengthy sentences, but only a sort of linguistic shorthand.
    â€˜I was born in the countryside,
yes.’
    â€˜I was born in an ancient house that
my family owns a few kilometres from here, in the marshes.’
    He hadn’t said chateau, but Maigret
knew that the Bellamy family owned a chateau in the region.
    â€˜Which province are you
from?’
    Others would have said
‘department’, and Maigret appreciated the use of the word province, which he
liked.
    â€˜The Bourbonnais.’
    This was not idle curiosity. There was
nothing mundane about Bellamy’s questions.
    â€˜Your parents were farmers?’
    â€˜My father was an estate manager in
charge of around twenty smallholdings.’
    Doctor Bellamy was asking him exactly the
questions he would have asked, but he did not take offence, quite the opposite. They
continued walking in silence. In silence too, they crossed the road, just beyond the
casino. Doctor Bellamy automatically reached into his pocket for his key. He paused for
a moment on the threshold, groped around and pushed open the white-painted door.
    Maigret entered, showing no discomfiture or
surprise. He stepped on to the thick carpet in the hall and immediately felt surrounded
by comfort and well-being.
    It would have been hard to design a calmer,
more harmonious interior. It was lavish without being oppressive, with nothing to arrest
the eye, and the light itself had aquality that could be savoured like
a good wine, like certain sparkling spring mornings. The drawing rooms, whose armchairs
looked as if they had been vacated only a few moments earlier, boasted huge bay
windows.
    A wide staircase with a wrought-iron
banister led to the upper floors. The doctor started to make his way upstairs.
    â€˜If you would like to follow me into
my study …’
    He didn’t take the trouble to conceal
a certain smugness. There was a barely perceptible glint of pride in his eyes.
    They went upstairs,