Maigret and the Informer by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon, Georges]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-17T15:13:13+00:00

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5

« ^ »

Slightly apart from the crowd he saw a face he knew well. It was Boutang, Superintendent of the Criminal Police in Toulon.

“It’s funny,” Boutang said, shaking him by the hand. “I thought of you this morning when I was shaving, and I had the feeling that you would come.”

He pointed to the crowd.

“What do you think of that? What a haul we could make. Not only are the cream of all the gangsters of Toulon there, but also those of Marseilles, Cannes, Nice…”

Someone came up to them and Boutang shook his hand, introducing the men to each other.

“Charmeroy, Superintendent of Police in Bandol. I suppose you recognized Superintendent Maigret, Charmeroy?”

“Glad to meet you.”

They were both big men. Professionals who knew their job and weren’t easily intimidated.

“Nine tenths of these people you see here live on the edge of the law, and the extraordinary thing is that there isn’t one against whom we have any proof.”

“When Marcia lived in Bandol in the summer, did he have many guests?”

“No, very few. A few close friends. The Mori brothers in particular.”

“Did they sleep at the villa?”

“Yes. And, as it happened, it was always at the time of the big burglaries. You must have read about them in the papers. Summer residents who have a big villa on the coast, who have a yacht too and take a cruise to the Greek islands in July or August—when they get back they are very surprised not to find their furniture and their valuables.”

“Just like the châteaux.”

“Almost. I suspected the Mori brothers and even the big man, whom everyone around here calls Monsieur Maurice. I had the villa watched. As if by chance, every time there was a robbery the Moris didn’t leave the villa and were playing gin rummy with Marcia into the small hours. Do you know his wife? She has a bit of class and seems out of place in that atmosphere.”

The funeral procession arrived. Behind the hearse Line sat alone in a car. Then other cars with Riviera license plates followed: big American cars, but also fast-sports cars with the younger set.

They all moved at a walking pace and there was another crowd that followed as best it could.

There was a moment of confusion. The driver of the hearse was on the point of turning to the right when he drew near to the villa, but the master of ceremonies rushed up to give him other instructions.

The two groups mingled. It seemed as if everyone knew everyone else. They shook hands. Some spoke in whispers.

Madame Marcia got out of the car and went to the villa. She had changed since the morning. She was now wearing a black suit of a light material and a white silk hat. Her gloves were white too.

What had she come to do, alone, in the villa? Maigret could find no plausible answer to that question. Nor could Boutang or the local superintendent.

She stayed away less than ten minutes and got back into the car.

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