Maigret and the Madwoman by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon, Georges]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Georges Simenon
ISBN: 9780156028509
Google: x44HAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0156028506
Goodreads: 140601
Publisher: Harcourt
Published: 1969-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 5

The hotel was tall and narrow and permeated with a mixture of pungent smells. Maigret, having inquired at the desk and received a grudging answer, went up to the fourth floor and knocked at the appropriate door.

A sleepy voice called out:

“Come in.”

The shutters were closed, and the room was in darkness.

“I thought it must be you.”

The redhead got out of bed, stark naked, and hastily tied a towel around his middle. In the bed, Maigret could just make out the contours of a girl. She was lying with her face to the wall, and all that could be seen distinctly was her dark hair spread out on the pillow.

“What time is it?”

“Much too late for you to attend the funeral.”

“I suppose you want to know why I wasn’t there. Hang on a minute, while I wash out my mouth. It feels like the bottom of a bird cage.”

He filled the tooth mug under the running faucet and rinsed his mouth.

“It’s a pity you left so early last night. You missed all the action. It was out of sight. Three guys from England turned up with their guitars, and we all got together and improvised for two hours or more. And they had a great chick with them. That’s her over there.

“I just didn’t have the courage to get up this morning, to go to the old girl’s funeral. I feel very badly about it, but, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t wild to meet my mother

“By the way, did she get hold of the loot yet?”

“What loot?”

“My great-aunt’s savings. She must have had quite a nest egg. She spent almost nothing on herself. And her second husband was a saver, too. It looks as though my mother will soon get the little house she’s always longed for.”

He opened the shutters a crack, letting a strip of sunlight into the room. The girl groaned and turned over, revealing a naked breast.

“Was your mother planning to buy a house?”

“A small house in the country, to use on weekends at first, and eventually to retire to. She’s dreamt of nothing else for years. She tried to get the old girl to lend her the money, but it didn’t work out. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything.”

“I just happened to be passing by.”

“Have you found the revolver yet?”

“No. By the way, Le Grand Marcel has taken off.”

“You don’t say! My mother must be fuming!”

“She was the one who showed him the door. He’s gone to Toulon, where he has friends.”

“She’ll need to find someone else. I doubt if she could get along for three days without a man. Unless she takes to the bottle again—but that has its problems, and it’s a lot more expensive.”

There was no malice in his cynicism. Indeed, there was a sort of wistfulness about him, perhaps because of the family life he had never known.

So he covered it up with a swagger.

“Don’t leave Paris without letting me know. I’m nowhere near the end of this case, and I may still need your help.

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