Maigret and the Minister by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141984162
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2017-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

6. Lunch at the Filet de Sole

Before ringing the first doorbell, Maigret had second thoughts and turned to Lapointe, who was reaching for the button.

‘Aren’t you thirsty?’

‘No, chief.’

‘You start, then. I’ll be back in a minute.’

He had just remembered a telephone call he needed to make. At a pinch, he could phone from the concierge’s lodge, except that he would rather not speak in front of a witness. And he wouldn’t mind a drink, a glass of white wine, for instance.

He had to walk around a hundred metres before he found a tiny café where, apart from the owner, there wasn’t a soul.

‘A white wine,’ he ordered.

He changed his mind.

‘No, a Pernod.’

That was more in keeping with his mood and with the weather, and with the smell of this immaculate little bar where it seemed no one ever came.

He waited until he had been served and had drunk half of his Pernod before walking over to the booth.

Newspaper reports of crime investigations give the impression that the police follow a straight line and know where they are going from the outset. Events follow on from one another logically, like the entrances and exits of characters in a well-directed play.

There is rarely any mention of the pointless comings and goings, the meticulous following-up of leads that turn out to be red herrings, or the random probing in different directions.

There had not been a single investigation during which Maigret hadn’t floundered at some stage.

That morning at the Police Judiciaire, he hadn’t had the time to debrief Lucas, Janvier and Torrence, whom he had sent off to pursue lines of inquiry that seemed unimportant now.

‘Police Judiciaire? Would you put me on to Lucas? If he’s not there, give me Janvier.’

It was Lucas’ voice he heard on the other end of the line.

‘Is that you, chief?’

‘Yes. Firstly, I have an urgent job for you. You must get hold of a photograph of Piquemal, the fellow from the École des Ponts et Chaussées. No point looking in his hotel room. There aren’t any. I expect there’s a group photo at the École, the usual end-of-year class photo, which the Criminal Records people will be able to do something with.

‘Tell them to work as fast as they can. There’s still time for the photo to appear in the afternoon papers. And it should also be sent out to every police force. And leave no stone unturned, have someone take a quick look around the Forensic Institute.’

‘Understood, chief.’

‘Have you got any news?’

‘I found the woman called Marcelle. Her name is Marcelle Luquet.’

Maigret had already mentally abandoned that avenue, but he didn’t want Lucas to think his efforts were all for nothing.

‘And?’

‘She works as a proof-reader at the Imprimerie du Croissant, where she’s on the night shift. That’s not where they print La Rumeur or Le Globe. She’s heard of Tabard, but she doesn’t know him personally. She’s never met Mascoulin.’

‘Did you talk to her?’

‘I bought her a coffee in Rue Montmartre. She’s a decent woman. She lived alone until she met Fleury and fell in love with him.

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