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

back?”
    â€œThey’ve tried several times. She came back.”
    â€œSo they’ve given up?”
    â€œThey prefer not to think about it anymore.”
    â€œWhat did you live on in Paris?”
    â€œSelling a picture or a drawing now and then. I had friends.”
    â€œThey lent you money?”
    â€œSometimes. Other times I was a porter at the vegetable market. Or else I distributed prospectuses.”
    â€œDid you already have an urge to come to Porquerolles?”
    â€œI didn’t even know of the existence of this island.”
    â€œWhere were you planning to go?”
    â€œAnywhere, provided there was sun.”
    â€œAnd you expect to go where?”
    â€œFurther on.”
    â€œItaly?”
    â€œOr somewhere else.”
    â€œDid you know Marcellin?”
    â€œHe helped to recaulk my boat when it leaked.”
    â€œWere you at the Arche de Noé the night he died?”
    â€œWe are there almost every night.”
    â€œWhat were you doing?”
    â€œWe were playing chess, Anna and I.”
    â€œMay I inquire, Monsieur de Greef, what is your father’s profession?”
    â€œHe’s a magistrate at Groningen.”
    â€œYou don’t know why Marcellin was killed?”
    â€œI’m not curious.”
    â€œDid he speak to you about me?”
    â€œIf he did, I didn’t hear.”
    â€œDo you possess a revolver?”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œYou have nothing to say to me?”
    â€œNothing at all.”
    â€œAnd you, mademoiselle?”
    â€œNothing, thank you.”
    He called them back just as they were about to leave.
    â€œOne more question. Just now, have you got any money?”
    â€œI told you, I’ve sold a picture to Mrs. Wilcox.”
    â€œYou’ve been aboard her yacht?”
    â€œSeveral times.”
    â€œWhat do people do aboard yachts?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    And de Greef added with a hint of contempt:
    â€œYou drink. We drank. Is that all?”
    Lechat cannot have had to go far to find Monsieur Émile, for the two men were standing in a patch of shade, a few yards from the little town hall. Monsieur Émile looked older than his sixty-five years and he gave an impression of extreme frailty, only moving with great care, as if he were afraid of breaking. He spoke low, economizing every grain of energy.
    â€œCome in, Monsieur Émile. We’ve met before, I think?”
    As Justine’s son was eyeing a chair, Maigret went on:
    â€œYou can sit down. Did you know Marcellin?”
    â€œVery well.”
    â€œYou were in constant touch with him? Since when?”
    â€œI couldn’t say quite how many years. My mother should be able to remember exactly. Since Ginette’s been working for us.”
    There was a brief silence. It was very strange. One might have thought a bubble had just burst in the peaceful air of the room. Maigret and Mr. Pyke looked at one another. What had Mr. Pyke said as they left Paris? He had mentioned Ginette. He had been surprised—discreetly, as in all things—that the chief inspector had not inquired what had become of her.
    Now there was no need for inquiries, or ruses. Quite simply, in his opening remarks, it was Monsieur Émile who mentioned the woman whom, once upon a time, Maigret had sent to a sanatorium.
    â€œYou say she works for you? That means, I suppose, in one of your houses.”
    â€œAt the one in Nice.”
    â€œJust a minute, Monsieur Émile. It’s a good fifteen years since I met her at the Ternes, and she wasn’t a young girl then. If I’m not mistaken, she was well past thirty, and tuberculosis wasn’t making her any younger. Now she must be…”
    â€œBetween forty-five and fifty.”
    And Monsieur Émile added in the most natural way imaginable:
    â€œIt’s she who runs the Sirènes, at Nice.”
    It was better not to look at Mr. Pyke, whose expression of disapproval