The Hotel Majestic Read Free Page B

exasperated him in American films! A terrifyingly brisk walk. All the kitchen staff were gaping at her through the glass partitions.
    â€œDo come in,” murmured the superintendent, not without irony.
    She took three steps forward, saw the body wrapped in a blanket on the floor, remained stock still and started jabbering away in English again.
    â€œWhat’s she saying?”
    â€œShe wants us to uncover the body . . .”
    Maigret complied, without taking his eyes off her. He saw her start, then immediately recover her composure in spite of the horrifying nature of what she saw.
    â€œAsk her if she recognizes Mrs. Clark . . .”
    A shrug. A particularly disagreeable way of tapping her high heel on the floor.
    â€œWhat’s she saying?”
    â€œThat you know as well as she does.”
    â€œIn that case, please ask her to go up to your office and tell her that I have a few questions to ask her.”
    The manager translated. Maigret took the opportunity of covering the dead woman’s face again.
    â€œWhat’s she saying?”
    â€œShe says ‘no.’”
    â€œReally? Kindly inform her of my position as head of the Special Squad of the Judicial Police . . .”
    Ellen, who was looking straight at him, spoke without waiting for this to be translated. And Maigret repeated his interminable: “What’s she saying?”
    â€œ What’s she saying? ” she repeated, imitating him, overcome by unjustifiable irritation.
    And she spoke in English again, as if to herself.
    â€œTranslate what she’s saying for me, will you?”
    â€œShe says that . . . that she knows perfectly well you’re from the police . . . that . . .”
    â€œDon’t be afraid!”
    â€œThat one only has to see you with your hat on and your pipe in your mouth . . . I’m so sorry . . . You wanted me to tell you . . . She says she won’t go up to my office and that she won’t answer your questions . . .”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’ll ask her . . .”
    Ellen Darroman, who was lighting a cigarette, listened to the manager’s question, shrugged again and snapped a few words.
    â€œShe says she’s not under any obligation to answer and that she will only obey an official summons . . .”
    At which the girl threw a last look at Maigret, turned on her heel and walked, with the same decisive air, towards the staircase.
    The manager turned somewhat anxiously towards the superintendent, and was amazed to see that he was smiling.
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    He had had to take off his overcoat, because of the heat in the basement, but he hadn’t abandoned his bowler or his pipe. Thus accoutred, he wandered peacefully along the corridors, with his hands behind his back, stopping from time to time by one of the glass partitions, rather as if he were inspecting an aquarium.
    The huge basement, with its electric lights burning all day long, did in fact strike him as being very like an oceanographical museum. In each glass cage there were creatures, varying in number, darting to and fro. You could see them constantly appearing and disappearing, heavily laden, carrying saucepans or piles of plates, setting service-lifts or goods-lifts in motion, forever using the little instruments which were the telephones.
    â€œWhat would someone from another planet make of it all? . . .”
    The visit from the DPP had only lasted a few minutes, and the examining magistrate had given Maigret a free hand as usual. The latter had made several telephone calls from Jean Ramuel’s bookkeeper’s cage.
    Ramuel’s nose was set so crookedly, that one always seemed to be seeing him in profile. And he looked as though he was suffering from a liver complaint. When his lunch was brought to him on a tray, he took a sachet of white powder from his waistcoat pocket and dissolved it in a glass of water.
    Between one and three o’clock, the pace was at its most hectic, everything