My Friend Maigret by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page A

along the coasts, as though quite at home, as though along a boulevard! This did not fit into the picture one had of the sea. It seemed that here the sea had something intimate about it. A few miles from Toulon one met people from Genoa or Naples, perfectly naturally, people in boats, who fished on the way over. Rather like Marcellin. They stopped, and if it suited them, they stayed, perhaps even wrote home for their wife or fiancée to come out?
    â€œWould you like me to bring them in one by one, chief? Who do you want to start with?”
    It was all the same to him.
    â€œI see young de Greef crossing the square with his girlfriend. Shall I go and get him?”
    He was being rushed, and he didn’t dare protest. He had the consolation of noting that his colleague was as sluggish as he was.
    â€œThese witnesses you are going to interview,” he asked, “are they summoned officially?”
    â€œNot at all. They come because they are willing to. They have the right to reply or not. Most of the time they prefer to reply, but they could always demand the presence of a lawyer.”
    It must have been spread around that the chief inspector was at the town hall, for groups of people, as in the morning, were forming on the square. Some way away, beneath the eucalyptus trees, Lechat was in animated conversation with a couple, who finally followed him. A mimosa was growing just beside the door and its sweet scent mingled strangely with the musty smell which pervaded the room.
    â€œI suppose, with you, all this is more formal?”
    â€œNot always. Often, in the country or in small towns, the coroner’s inquest is held in the back room of an inn.”
    De Greef seemed all the more fair because his skin was as bronzed as a Tahiti native’s. All he wore in the way of clothes was a pair of light-colored shorts and espadrilles, while his companion had a sunsuit tight around her body.
    â€œYou wish to speak to me?” he asked, suspiciously.
    And Lechat, reassuringly:
    â€œCome in! Chief Inspector Maigret has to question everyone. It’s just routine.”
    The Dutchman spoke French with hardly any accent. He had a net bag in his hand. The two of them were probably going shopping, at the Cooperative, when the inspector had interrupted them.
    â€œHave you been living long aboard your boat?”
    â€œThree years. Why?”
    â€œNo reason. You’re a painter, they tell me? Do you sell your pictures?”
    â€œWhen the occasion presents itself.”
    â€œDoes it often do so?”
    â€œIt’s rather rare. I sold a canvas to Mrs. Wilcox last week.”
    â€œDo you know her well?”
    â€œI met her here.”
    Lechat came over to speak to Maigret in a low voice. He wanted to know if he should go and fetch Monsieur Émile, and the chief inspector nodded his assent.
    â€œWhat sort of a person is she?”
    â€œMrs. Wilcox? She’s fantastic.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œNothing. I might have met her in Montparnasse, for she passes through Paris every winter. We found we had friends in common.”
    â€œHave you often been to Montparnasse?”
    â€œI lived in Paris for a year.”
    â€œWith your boat?”
    â€œWe tied up at the Pont Marie.”
    â€œAre you rich?”
    â€œI haven’t a bean.”
    â€œTell me: exactly how old is your girlfriend?”
    â€œEighteen and a half.”
    The latter, her hair falling over her face, her sunsuit molded to her figure, looked like a young savage as she watched Maigret and Mr. Pyke with a blazing eye.
    â€œYou aren’t married?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo her parents object?”
    â€œThey know she’s been living with me.”
    â€œFor how long?”
    â€œTwo and a half years.”
    â€œIn other words, she was only just sixteen when she became your mistress?”
    The word didn’t shock either of them.
    â€œHave her parents ever tried to get her