The Late Monsieur Gallet by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page A

typed too,
From: Monsieur Jacob.
Did I do wrong?’
    â€˜Where did these letters come from?’
    â€˜Paris.’
    â€˜I suppose you didn’t notice the arrondissement?’
    â€˜I did look … but it changed every time.’
    â€˜When did the last one arrive?’
    â€˜Let’s see … today is the 29th, right? Wednesday. Well, it was Thursday evening, but I didn’t see Monsieur Gallet until Friday morning, when he was going fishing …’
    â€˜So he went fishing?’
    â€˜No, he went home after he gave me five francs, same as usual. I came over all funny when I heard he’d been killed … do you think that letter …?’
    â€˜Did he leave that same day?’
    â€˜Yes … hey, is it the train from Melun you’re waiting
for? They just rang the bell at the level crossing … Will you have to mention this to anyone?’
    Maigret had no time to do anything but run to the platform and jump into the only first-class carriage.

4. The Crook among the Legitimists
    Arriving for the second time at the Hôtel de la Loire, Maigret responded without warmth to Monsieur Tardivon, who received him with a confidential air, took him to his room and showed him some large yellow envelopes that had arrived for him. They
contained the coroner’s report and the reports of the gendarmerie and the Nevers municipal police. The Rouen police had sent further information about the cashier Irma Strauss.
    â€˜And that’s not all!’ said the hotel manager exultantly. ‘The sergeant from the gendarmerie came to see you. He wants you to phone him as soon as you arrive. And then there’s a woman who’s already turned up
three times, no doubt because of the town crier and his sales pitch.’
    â€˜What woman?’
    â€˜Mother Canut, the wife of the gardener opposite. I told you about the little chateau, remember?’
    â€˜Didn’t she say anything, then?’
    â€˜She’s not that stupid! Since there’s a reward on offer she’s not about to give anything away, but for all that she may know something.’
    Maigret had put the pink file on the table along with the photograph of Gallet.
    â€˜Ask someone to find the woman and get me the gendarmerie on the phone.’
    A little later he was speaking to the sergeant, who told
him that, according to instructions, he had picked up all the vagrants in the neighbourhood and was holding them at Maigret’s disposal.
    â€˜Anyone interesting among them?’
    â€˜They’re vagrants,’ was all the sergeant said to that.
    Maigret stayed alone in his room for three or four minutes, facing a pile of paperwork. And there was more of it to come! He had sent a telegram to Paris asking for information about Henry Gallet and his mistress, and just in case he had alerted
Orleans to find out if there was a Monsieur Clément in that city.
    Finally, he hadn’t had time yet to look at the room where the crime was committed, or the clothing worn by the dead man, which had been placed in that room after the post-mortem.
    At first the case had looked like nothing to speak of. A man who did not seem out of the ordinary had been killed by someone unknown in a hotel room. But each new item of information complicated the problem instead of simplifying it.
    â€˜Do I get her to come in and see you, inspector?’ called a voice in the yard. ‘I’ve got Mother Canut here.’
    A strong, dignified old lady, who had probably cleaned herself up more thoroughly than usual for the occasion, came in, immediately looking for Maigret with the wary glance of a countrywoman.
    â€˜Do you have something to tell me?’ he asked. ‘About Monsieur Clément?’
    â€˜It’s about the gent who died and got his picture in the paper. You’re handing out fifty francs, right?’
    â€˜Yes, if you saw him on Saturday 25