041 Maigret and the Man on the Bench by Simenon Georges

Author:Simenon Georges
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Maigret wondered what the family in Juvisy was doing. No doubt the widow’s sisters, along with their husbands and daughters, had rallied round. They had probably all dined there in the house of mourning. A substantial meal, for certain, as was only fitting after a funeral. They must have discussed Madame Thouret’s future, and Monique’s, as well.

Maigret could just see them, the two men lounging in the best armchairs with drinks and good cigars.

“Do have a drop of something, Emilie. It will do you good.”

Had they talked of the dead man? Probably someone had remarked that in spite of the shocking weather the funeral had been well attended.

Maigret was almost tempted to go and see for himself. He was particularly anxious to have a serious talk with Monique. But not at her home. At the same time, he was reluctant to summon her officially.

Almost without thinking, he asked the operator to put him through to her office.

“Is this Geber et Bachelier?”

“Georges Bachelier speaking.”

“I wonder if you are expecting Mademoiselle Thouret to be back at work tomorrow morning?”

“Certainly. She had today off to attend to family matters, but I can’t see any reason why she shouldn’t—who is this speaking?”

Maigret hung up.

“Isn’t Santoni back yet?”

“He hasn’t been in since early this morning.”

“Leave him a note, will you, telling him that I want a watch kept, starting the first thing tomorrow morning, on the entrance to Geber et Bachelier. As soon as Mademoiselle Thouret arrives, I want her brought here. Tell him to treat her gently.”

“You want her brought here?”

“Yes, to my office.”

“Anything else?”

“No, nothing. I’ll be working in here for a while. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

He had had enough for one day of Louis Thouret, his family, and his mistress. If it hadn’t been for his sense of duty, he would have walked straight out and gone to a movie.

He stayed until seven, plowed through a mass of paper work as if the fate of the world depended on it. Not only did he polish off everything in his pending file, but he also dealt with several files that had been kicking around for weeks, or even months, and were of no importance whatsoever.

When he finally left, his vision blurred from having spent so long poring over print and typescript, he was aware of a change. At first he couldn’t think what it was. Then he held out his hand and realized that it was no longer raining. He felt an odd sense of deprivation.

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