The Flemish House by Georges Simenon, Georges Simenon; Translated by Shaun Whiteside Read Free Book Online Page B

sitting behind him, listening to the
     conversation.
    â€˜Go on!’
    â€˜She wasn’t waiting for a
     lover.’
    None the less he hesitated. He gulped
     down the contents of his glass in one, and called out to the waiter:
    â€˜Same again!’
    And in the next breath:
    â€˜She checked that no one was
     coming … During thattime people came out of the grocery, not
     through the shop but by the back door … They were carrying something long and they
     threw it into the Meuse, just between my boat and
Les Deux Frères
, which is
     moored behind it …’
    â€˜How much is that?’ Maigret
     asked the waiter, getting to his feet.
    He didn’t look surprised. Machère
     was completely discomfited. As for the sailor, he didn’t know what to
     think.
    â€˜Come with me.’
    â€˜Where to?’
    â€˜Doesn’t matter.
     Come!’
    â€˜I’m waiting for the drink I
     just ordered …’
    Maigret waited patiently. He told the
     landlord that he would come for lunch a few minutes later, and led the drunk towards
     the quay.
    It was the time of day when the place
     was deserted, because everyone was eating. Big drops of rain started falling.
    â€˜Where exactly were you?’
     Maigret asked.
    He knew the customs building. He saw
     Cassin pressing himself into a corner.
    â€˜You didn’t move from
     there?’
    â€˜Definitely not! I didn’t
     want to get involved!’
    â€˜Let me take your
     place!’
    He stayed there only for a few seconds
     and then said, looking straight at the man:
    â€˜You’ll have to find
     something else, my friend!’
    â€˜What do you mean, something
     else?’
    â€˜I’m saying that your story
     doesn’t hold water. Fromhere you can’t see the
     grocery, or the stretch of river bounded by the two boats.’
    â€˜When I say it was here, what I
     mean is …’
    â€˜No! That’s enough!
     I’m telling you again, find something else! Come and see me when you’ve
     found it. And if it isn’t good enough, well, it might be necessary to bang you
     up again …’
    Machère couldn’t believe his ears.
     Embarrassed by his failure, he in turn had pressed himself against the wall, and was
     checking Maigret’s claims.
    â€˜Obviously! …’ he
     grunted.
    The sailor didn’t even try to
     reply. He had lowered his head. An ironic, mean glance was fixed on Maigret’s
     feet.
    â€˜Don’t forget what I just
     told you: a different, more plausible story … Otherwise, prison! … Come, Machère
     …’
    And Maigret turned on his heels and
     headed towards the bridge, filling his pipe.
    â€˜Do you think that that sailor
     …’
    â€˜I think that this evening or
     tomorrow he’ll come and bring us more evidence of the Peeters’
     guilt.’
    Inspector Machère was unsettled.
    â€˜I don’t understand … If he
     has evidence …’
    â€˜He will …’
    â€˜But how?’
    â€˜What do I know? … He’ll
     find something …’
    â€˜To shift the guilt from
     himself?’
    But Maigret dropped the conversation,
     murmuring:
    â€˜Do you have a light? …
     That’s twenty matches that …’
    â€˜I don’t smoke!’
    And Machère wasn’t exactly sure
     that he heard him say:
    â€˜I should have suspected as much
     …’

5. Maigret’s Evening
    The rain had started falling at about
     midday. At dusk, it was hammering loudly on the cobbles. By eight o’clock it
     was a deluge.
    The streets of Givet were deserted. The
     barges gleamed along the quay. Maigret, the collar of his overcoat turned up,
     hurried towards the Flemish house, pushed the door open, set off the bell that was
     becoming familiar to him, and breathed in the warm smell of the grocery.
    It was at this time of day that Germaine
     Piedboeuf had come into the shop, on