Tropic Moon by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page B

glass of water.
    â€œShe was the governor’s mistress,” whispered Maritain in his ear. “That’s what makes the whole business so complicated.”
    Timar didn’t answer, but instead moved up a place when it was the assistant director’s turn to be called into the office.
    â€œâ€¦ certain no one left the room between midnight and four? … Thank you …”
    The chief of police followed Maritain to the door, glanced around the veranda, and spotted Timar.
    â€œYou’ve been here all along? Come in, then!”
    His round face was shiny with sweat. Timar followed him into the room where, because of the contrast with the light outside, he could see nothing but shadows among shadows. An indistinct figure was sitting with knees parted next to a side table covered with glasses.
    â€œThis, Mr. Governor, is Mr. Timar, about whom I was just telling you.”
    The governor stuck out a moist hand.
    â€œPleased to meet you. Have a seat … Can you believe it? My wife is from Cognac, too. She knew your uncle very well.”
    And, turning to a third person, “Mr. Joseph Timar, a young man of excellent family … Mr. Pollet, our prosecutor. Do you have another glass, Chief?”
    Timar had to get used to the dimness and stripes of light from the blinds. The police chief poured the whiskey and operated the siphon.
    â€œWhatever gave you the idea to come to Gabon?”
    The governor was some sixty years old, large and red-faced. His white hair stood out in sharp contrast to his blotchy red skin, but it lent him a distinguished air, and he was friendly in the way that men of a certain age are when they enjoy some power—and enjoy eating and drinking even better.
    â€œOh, not SACOVA ! Are you aware that if it hadn’t been for our renegotiating the fines they’d run up, the company would be bankrupt by now?”
    â€œI wasn’t aware of it. My uncle—”
    â€œIs he ever going to run for the senate?”
    â€œI think so, yes.”
    â€œCheers! You must have a fine opinion of Libreville! Sometimes we can go for two years without an incident, and then the scandals rain down. Why, just last night it seems a bunch of hoodlums abandoned some women out in the jungle. That hasn’t made my job any easier, with the blacks furious about Thomas’s murder.”
    The prosecutor was much younger. Timar had seen him before, on the day of the party, drinking with the Englishmen.
    â€œChief, any questions for him?”
    â€œNot especially. I’ve already taken the liberty of issuing him a summons. That’s how we first met. By the way, Mr. Timar, if you intend to stay on at the hotel, I suggest a degree of prudence. The inquiry has revealed certain facts to us …”
    He waited before going on, but the governor continued good-naturedly, judging Timar worthy of hearing everything. “Apparently, it was that woman who killed Thomas—we have proof of it, almost enough to take to court. We recovered the bullet casing. It’s the same caliber as the Renauds’ pistol.”
    He held out his box of cigars.
    â€œDon’t smoke? It’s most inconvenient that she’s the one, but we can’t do anything about it, and we need to set an example this time. You understand? She’ll be watched. Her every movement will be observed. If she makes just one mistake …”
    â€œWhat I wonder,” murmured the prosecutor, who’d said nothing as yet, “is what the boy could have done to her. This isn’t a woman to just snap. She knows how to take care of herself.”
    Timar would have preferred to be questioned like the others, in a dry tone, standing before the desk.
    Why was everyone so stubbornly interested in him? Why were they so set on finding a place for him in town, even the authorities, who had now admitted him into their circle and their secrets?
    â€œOf course, you know nothing about it, do you?