The Two-Penny Bar by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page A

greeted by James, and sat down beside him.
    â€˜What’s new?’ James asked him, then before he could answer called out: ‘Two Pernods!’
    The storm was behind schedule today. The streets remained bathed in sunlight. Coachloads of tourists drove past.
    â€˜The most straightforward hypothesis,’ Maigret murmured, as if to himself, ‘the one the newspapers seem to favour, is that Basso was attacked by his companion for some reason or another, grabbed hold of the gun that was pointed
at him and shot the haberdasher …’
    â€˜Which is rubbish.’
    Maigret looked at James, who also seemed to be talking to himself.
    â€˜Why do you say it’s rubbish?’
    â€˜Because if Feinstein had wanted to kill Basso, he’d have been a bit more calculating than that. He was a cool customer, a skilful bridge player.’
    The inspector couldn’t help smiling at the serious tone in which James said this.
    â€˜So what’s your theory?’
    â€˜I don’t exactly have a theory. Just that Basso should never have got involved with Mado. You can tell just bylooking at her that she’s not the sort of woman who lets a man go easily, once she’s got her
claws into him.’
    â€˜Had her husband shown any signs of being jealous?’
    â€˜What, him?’
    And James gave Maigret a curious look. There was an ironic twinkle in his eye.
    â€˜Don’t you know?’
    James shrugged his shoulders and murmured:
    â€˜It’s none of my business. Besides, if he was the jealous type, then most of the Morsang gang would be dead by now.’
    â€˜You mean they were all …?’
    â€˜Well, not all. Let’s not exaggerate. Let’s just say that Mado danced with everyone, and when you danced with Mado, you could end up disappearing into the bushes.’
    â€˜Including you?’
    â€˜I don’t dance,’ James replied.
    â€˜If what you say is true, then Feinstein must have known.’
    The Englishman sighed.
    â€˜I don’t know! But he did owe all of them money.’
    At first sight, James came across as a drunken oaf. But there was a lot more to him than met the eye.
    Maigret whistled.
    â€˜Well, well.’
    â€˜Two Pernods! Two!
    â€˜Yes. Mado didn’t even have to know. It was all very discreet. Feinstein tapped his wife’s lovers for money, without letting on that he knew, but leaving the implication hanging in the air …’
    They didn’t talk much after that. The storm still hadn’tbroken. Maigret drank his Pernods, his eyes fixed on the crowds flowing past in the street outside. He was comfortably ensconced in his chair, turning over in
his mind this new complexion on the case.
    â€˜Eight o’clock! …’
    James shook his hand and set off, just at the moment the storm was beginning to break.
    By Friday it had become a daily habit. Maigret headed for the Taverne Royale almost without realizing it. At one point, he couldn’t resist asking:
    â€˜Don’t you ever go home after work? Between five and eight you seem to …’
    â€˜You have to have a little bolt-hole to call your own,’ James sighed.
    And James’s bolt-hole was a café terrace, a marble-topped table, a cloudy aperitif; his view was the columns of the Madeleine, the waiters’ white aprons and the crowds and traffic in the street.
    â€˜How long have you been married?’
    â€˜Eight years.’
    Maigret didn’t dare ask him whether he loved his wife. In any case, James would probably say yes. Only after eight o’clock! After the bolt-hole!
    Maigret wondered whether they were starting to become friends.
    Today they didn’t discuss the case. Maigret drank his three Pernods. He needed to blot out the hard day he’d had. His life was clogged up with trivial problems.
    It was the holidays, and he was having to fill in for several absent colleagues. And the examining magistrate inthe Two-Penny