Maigret Read Free Page B

in memory of the old
     days.
    And Maigret, between two puffs of smoke,
     merely muttered:
    ‘What did Amadieu have to
     say?’
    There was no point lying to him. He
     could see their faces and he knew the Police Judiciaire well enough to know what was
     going on. It was midday, and Philippe had not yet put in an appearance at the
     Chope.
    ‘You know what Inspector Amadieu
     is like. We’ve had a few problems at HQ recently. Things are a bit tricky with
     the public prosecutor. So—’
    ‘What did he say?’
    ‘That you were here, of course.
     That you were going to try to—’
    ‘Let me guess. His words were
     “act the wise guy”.’
    ‘I have to go,’ stammered
     Lucas, embarrassed.
    Maigret ordered another beer and became
     absorbed indrawing his rectangles while most of the tables were
     talking about him.
    He ate lunch at the same table, now in
     the sunlight. The photographer from the criminal records office was eating nearby.
     As he drank his coffee, Maigret repeated to himself, pencil in hand:
    ‘Pepito was here, between two rows
     of tables. The murderer was concealed somewhere. There’s no shortage of hiding
     places. He fired, unaware of the presence of that idiot Philippe, then went into the
     office to get something. He had just put his gun down on the desk when he heard a
     noise and so he hid again. And from then on, the two of them played cat and
     mouse.’
    It was simple. Pointless looking for any
     other explanation. The murderer had eventually reached the door without being seen
     and made it out into the street while Philippe was still inside.
    So far, nothing extraordinary. Any fool
     would have done the same thing. The clever part was what happened next: the idea of
     ensuring that someone would recognize Philippe and testify against him.
    And, a few moments later, it was done.
     The murderer had found his man, in an empty street in the dead of night. This person
     bumped into Philippe as he emerged and rushed off to fetch the policeman on duty in
     Place Blanche.
    ‘I say, officer, I’ve just
     seen a suspicious-looking character coming out of the Floria. He was in such a rush
     that he didn’t bother to close the door.’
    Maigret, without looking at his former
     colleagues, whowere drinking beers, could guess what the
     old-timers were whispering to the new boys:
    ‘Have you heard of Detective Chief
     Inspector Maigret? That’s him!’
    Amadieu, who didn’t like him, must
     have announced in the corridors of the Police Judiciaire:
    ‘He’s going to try and act
     the wise guy. But we’ll show him!’
    It was four in the afternoon and
     Philippe had not appeared yet. The newspapers came off the presses with details of
     the murder, including his alleged confession. Another dirty trick of
     Amadieu’s.
    Quai des Orfèvres was in turmoil, phones
     ringing, files dredged up, witnesses and informers brought in for questioning.
    Maigret’s nostrils were quivering
     as he sat hunched on the banquette patiently doing little drawings with the tip of
     his pencil.
    He had to find Pepito’s killer at
     all costs. But he was not on good form, he felt afraid, anxious as to whether he
     would succeed. He watched the young police officers and tried to fathom what they
     thought of him.
    Philippe did not arrive until 5.45. He
     stood there for a moment, as if dazzled by the light. As he sat down beside Maigret,
     he attempted a smile and stammered:
    ‘It went on for ages!’
    He was so exhausted that he wiped his
     hand across his brow as if to collect his thoughts.
    ‘I’ve been at the
     prosecutor’s office. The examining magistrate questioned me for an hour and a
     half. But before that, he made me wait in the corridor for two hours.’
    Everyone was watching
     them. And while Philippe talked, Maigret looked at the men facing them.
    ‘You know, Uncle, it’s much
     more serious than we thought.’
    For Maigret, each word was loaded with
     significance. He knew the examining