Maigret and the Burglar's Wife by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon, Georges]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Georges Simenon
ISBN: 9780156028400
Google: ekyZPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 0156028409
Barnesnoble: 0156028409
Goodreads: 140751
Publisher: Harvest
Published: 1950-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 6

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It was twenty to four when Maigret made up his mind, twenty-five past four when the questioning began. But the fateful, even dramatic moment was the moment when the decision was made.

Maigret’s behavior had come as a surprise to those working with him in the house on rue de la Ferme. Ever since morning there had been something unusual about the way in which the Chief Inspector was directing operations. It wasn’t the first search of this kind in which they’d taken part, but the more this one proceeded, the more it took on a different nature from any other. It was difficult to define. Janvier, because he knew his chief better than the others, was the first to feel the change.

When he had set them to work, there had been a slight, almost fierce, flicker of glee in Maigret’s eyes; he had loosed them on the house as he might have loosed a pack of hounds on a fresh scent, urging them on, not by his voice, but by his whole attitude.

Had it become a personal matter between himself and Guillaume Serre? More precisely, would events have taken the same course, would Maigret have made the same decision, at the same moment, had the man on rue de la Ferme not been heavier than he physically, and so immovable?

Maigret had seemed, from the start, impatient to come to grips with him.

Later, different motives might have been attributed to him. Was he taking a more or less malicious pleasure in turning the house upside down?

They had seldom been given the chance to work in a home like this, where everything was peaceful, serene, harmonious in a muted minor key, where even the most outdated objects were in no way ludicrous—and where, after hours of exhaustive searching, they hadn’t come across even one questionable detail.

When he made his decision at twenty to four, they still hadn’t found anything. The search party was feeling somewhat uncomfortable, and was expecting the Chief to withdraw with apologies.

What was it that decided Maigret? Did he know himself? Janvier went so far as to suspect him of having drunk too many aperitifs when, about one o’clock, he’d gone to have a bite on the terrace of the bistro opposite. On his return, the smell of Pernod could be detected on his breath.

Eugénie hadn’t set the table for her employers. Several times she’d gone up to whisper, now in the ear of Madame Serre, now in that of the dentist. They’d later caught sight of the mother eating while standing in the kitchen, as one might eat during the process of moving one’s home. And, not long after that, the cleaning woman took up a sandwich and a cup of coffee for Guillaume.

They were working in the attic by then. This was the most personal part of the house, more personal than the bedrooms and the linen closets.

It was enormous. Dormer windows shed two large, luminous rectangles on the dingy floorboards. Janvier had opened two leather gun cases, and a ballistics man had examined the weapons.

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