Maigret's Holiday by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page B

you could imagine a
curvaceous figure, and soft, fragrant flesh.
    â€˜Forgive me for leaving you alone
…’
    Bellamy, who had caught his guest
contemplating thephotograph, pretended not to notice. However, opening
a drawer, he said:
    â€˜Her sister was very different, as you
will see.’
    He riffled through some photographs and held
one out to Maigret. And it was indeed a completely different face, a young brunette with
an elongated face and irregular features. She wore a high-necked dress, without
jewellery, which gave her a sober, austere look.
    â€˜They’re not at all alike, are
they? You have probably already been told that they are not from the same father and it
is very possible, it is likely … Admit, monsieur, that you would have come to see
me sooner or later … I don’t know what pretext you would have found …
For my part, I confess that, these events notwithstanding, I wanted to have a chat with
you …’
    It was curious: his cordiality was so
natural, so unaffected, that it was arid. He never took the trouble to smile. The rattle
of glasses could be heard on the other side of the door, and Francis brought in a tray
with a misted bottle, whisky, ice and glasses.
    â€˜I shan’t tell you that you may
smoke your pipe. That goes without saying. Perhaps I should have waited until the
funeral to invite you. It takes place tomorrow, as you know. As you also know, the body
isn’t in the house.’
    He took his watch out of his pocket, and
Maigret understood. It was around this time that the autopsy was due to take place.
    â€˜I was very fond of my sister-in-law.
Or rather, I considered her to be my own sister. When she came to this house, she was
thirteen and had plaits down her back.’
    Maigret was reminded of the
girl they had met on the stairs, and Bellamy, who guessed his thoughts, frowned
slightly, displaying the tiniest hint of impatience.
    â€˜Forgive me for not drinking the same
as you. To your good health! … Lili was a highly strung child, inquisitive, a
little wild, and crazy about music. If you are interested, later on I’ll show you
what we called – what she herself called – her sanctuary.’
    He drank the whisky slowly, set down his
glass and went and sat at the desk, which in no way resembled a work desk, and indicated
an armchair where Maigret should sit.
    He did not allow Maigret the chance to take
the initiative, which neither vexed Maigret nor made him feel humiliated. A fly on the
wall would have found him awkward, self-conscious. His gaze was dull, his movements
heavy, while the doctor, on the other hand, was not taken in.
    â€˜You are on holiday, so I’ve
been told. I’ve seen you a few times watching our games of bridge, which have
become a vital need for most of us. As far as I’m concerned, it’s
practically the only moment in the day that I spend outside this house, and I consider
this habit as necessary for my health. Which reminds me, forgive me for not inquiring
after your wife. She is in the hands of our best surgeon. Bertrand is a friend of
mine.’
    He hadn’t been insincere when
he’d said that he had been taking an interest in Maigret from the start.
    â€˜You have also become acquainted with
the atmosphere of our hospital and with our nuns.’
    The ghost of a smile. He
was picturing a clumsy Maigret among the nuns with their muffled tread.
    There was a tricky obstacle to overcome. He
still had to explain this spontaneous invitation, his anxiety to dispel any prejudices
that this detective chief inspector might have been harbouring against him.
    Did he suspect the note from Sister Marie
des Anges?
    â€˜You have probably spent time in a
little town like ours before. Mind you, I love the place and won’t speak ill of
it. If I am here, it is because I wanted to be …’
    He gazed around affectionately at the
surroundings he had created for himself. When his gaze