The Saint-Fiacre Affair Read Free Page B

fingers of his left.
    â€˜I’d like to get dressed …
     It’s cold … But why are the police concerned about? …’
    â€˜Yes, go and get
     dressed!’
    Maigret pushed the door of the bedroom
     and avoided looking in the direction of the bed, on which the dead woman lay
     entirely naked.
    The bedroom looked like the rest of the
     house. It was far too big, too cold, filled with mismatched old objects. As he went
     to lean against the marble mantelpiece, Maigret noticed that it was broken.
    â€˜Have you found anything?’
     the inspector asked Bouchardon. ‘Just a moment … Would you leave us alone,
     please, mademoiselle?’
    And he closed the door behind the maid,
     pressed his forehead against the window and let his eye wander across the grounds,
     carpeted with dead leaves and frost.
    â€˜I can only confirm what I told
     you a moment ago. Death is due to a sudden heart attack.’
    â€˜Caused by? …’
    The doctor gestured vaguely, threw a
     blanket over the corpse, joined Maigret by the window and lit his pipe.
    â€˜Perhaps a shock … Perhaps the
     cold … Was it cold in the church?’
    â€˜On the contrary! Of course,
     you’ve found no trace of a wound?’
    â€˜Nothing!’
    â€˜Not the tiniest sign of an
     injection?’
    â€˜I thought of that. Nothing! And
     there’s no poison in
the
     countess’s blood. So you understand that it would be hard to claim
      …’
    Maigret’s face was severe. On the
     left, under the trees, he could make out the red roof of the estate manager’s
     house, his birthplace.
    â€˜In just a few words … life at the
     chateau?’ he asked under his breath.
    â€˜You know as much as I do. One of
     those women who are models of good behaviour until the age of forty or forty-five …
     That was when the count died, and the son went to Paris to pursue his studies
      …’
    â€˜And here?’
    â€˜A series of secretaries came and
     stayed for various lengths of time … You saw the latest one …’
    â€˜The fortune?’
    â€˜The chateau is mortgaged …
     Three-quarters of the farms have been sold … Now and again an antique dealer comes
     for anything valuable that’s left …’
    â€˜And what about the
     son?’
    â€˜I don’t know him well. They
     say he’s quite a character …’
    â€˜Thank you!’
    Maigret went to leave, but Bouchardon
     came after him.
    â€˜Between ourselves, I’d be
     curious as to what coincidence it was that brought you to the church this morning of
     all mornings …’
    â€˜Yes! It’s strange
      …’
    â€˜I have the feeling I’ve
     seen you somewhere before …’
    â€˜It’s possible …’
    And Maigret hurried along the corridor.
     He was finding
it hard to concentrate,
     because he hadn’t had enough sleep. He might also have caught a cold at Marie
     Tatin’s inn. He spotted Jean coming down the stairs, wearing a grey suit but
     still in his slippers. At the same time a car without a silencer drove up in the
     chateau courtyard.
    It was a little racing car, painted
     canary yellow, long, narrow, uncomfortable-looking. A moment later a man in a
     leather coat burst into the hall, took off his cap and yelled, ‘Hello! Anyone
     there? Is everyone still asleep around here?’
    But then he noticed Maigret looking at
     him curiously.
    â€˜What the? …’
    â€˜Shh! I need to talk to you
      …’
    Standing beside the inspector, Jean was
     pale and anxious. As he stepped past him, the Count of Saint-Fiacre punched him
     lightly on the shoulder and joked, ‘Still here, you rogue?’
    He didn’t seem to be angry with
     him. Just to hold him in complete contempt.
    â€˜At least there’s nothing
     serious