Maigret’s Boyhood Friend by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-17T15:13:08+00:00

Maigret had hoped that an opportunity to question Jean-Luc Bodard, known as the redhead, would not be long delayed, but the inspector who had been sent to find him returned with a disappointing report.

The young insurance agent was out on his rounds and he was not expected back till the evening.

He lived in a small hotel, the Hôtel Beau-séjour, on the Boulevard des Batignolles, and took his meals in the restaurant.

Maigret was fretful, as always when he felt that something was amiss with the case he was working on. He was uneasy and dissatisfied with himself. He could not bring himself to settle down to the paperwork cluttering up his desk. He got up, went across to the door leading to the inspectors’ duty room, and opened it.

“Lapointe,” he called. “Come along. I need a car.”

It was not until they were driving along the Quai that he said grumpily: “Rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette.”

He had the feeling that he had overlooked something important. It was as though the truth had brushed past him, and he had failed to recognize it. He did not utter a word the whole way there, and he bit so hard on his pipe that he cracked the ebonite stem.

“Come in when you’ve parked the car.”

“To the apartment?”

“No, the lodge.”

There was something about the huge bulk and stony eyes of the concierge that haunted him. He found her exactly where she had been the previous day, standing at the door, holding back the net curtain. He had to push the door open before she would let go of it and step back.

She did not ask him what he wanted, but just glared at him disapprovingly.

Her skin was very white, unhealthily so. Was she just mentally deficient, a harmless “natural,” such as one used to come across in country districts in the old days?

It was beginning to get on his nerves, seeing her standing there in the lodge, motionless as a pillar.

“Sit down,” he said brusquely.

Unruffled, she shook her head.

“I asked you a number of questions yesterday. I am now going to repeat them, and this time I warn you that unless you tell the truth you may find yourself in serious trouble.”

She did not stir, but he thought he detected a flicker of tension in her eyes. It was quite obvious that she was not afraid of him. She was afraid of no one.

“Did anyone go up to the third floor between three and four yesterday?”

“No.”

“Or any of the other floors?”

“One old woman, for the dentist.”

“Do you know François Paré?”

“No.”

“He’s a tall man, heavily built, in his fifties, balding, with a black mustache…”

“I may have seen him.”

“He always came on Wednesdays at about half past five. Did he come yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“At what time?”

“I’m not sure. Before six.”

“Was he upstairs long?”

“He came down right away.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

She answered like an automaton, her face set, her stony eyes fixed unwaveringly on Maigret, as though she suspected him of wanting to trap her. Was she capable of loyalty, of lying

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