Félicie by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon Georges]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780241188675
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2015-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Maigret smiles at these last words, which are pure Félicie. Didn’t she say exactly the same thing to Louvet, the garage mechanic from Orgeval?

‘When I noticed …’

‘You mean when you noticed that you had this gun in the pocket of your overcoat?’

‘You know? …’

‘You’d just got on the Métro train. You were crushed up against a young woman in full mourning, and just as she was making for the door you felt something heavy being slipped into your pocket.’

‘I didn’t realize until afterwards.’

‘And you were scared.’

‘I’ve never handled a gun in my life. I didn’t even know if it was loaded. I still don’t …’

To the horror of the stationery clerk, Maigret releases the cartridge clip, from which there is one bullet missing.

‘But because you remembered the girl in the mourning weeds …’

‘At first, I thought I should hand this … this object in to the police …’

Monsieur 13 is getting rattled.

‘You are the susceptible type, Monsieur Charles. Women unnerve you, don’t they? I’d bet that you’ve never had much to do with them.’

A bell rings. The clerk gazes in a panic at a panel fixed to the front of his desk.

‘That’s my boss. He wants me … Can I …’

‘Yes, go! I know everything I wanted to know.’

‘But that young woman … Tell me … Did she really …’

A shadow appears in Maigret’s eyes and then is gone.

‘All in good time, Monsieur Charles. Now hurry up. Your boss is getting impatient.’

For the bell is ringing again, in the most self-important way.

A little later, the inspector barks to a taxi-driver: ‘Gastinne-Renette, the gunsmith.’

So over a period of three days, feeling that her every move was being watched, that the house and the garden were about to be searched with a fine-tooth comb, Félicie has kept the revolver on her person! He pictures her in the front seat of the van. The road is not yet quiet enough. Maybe the vehicle is being followed. Louvet would notice if she … Wait for Paris …

At Porte Maillot, an inspector picks up her trail. To give herself time to think she goes into a cake shop, where she stuffs herself full of cream cakes. And a glass of port … Perhaps she doesn’t like port but it ranks as one of the rare, rich things like the grapes and champagne which she took to the hospital. … Make for the Métro … Not enough people about at this time of day. … She waits … The inspector is there. He never takes his eyes off her.

Eventually six o’clock comes round. People crowd on to the trains. The passengers are packed close together … The heaven-sent overcoat with the gaping pockets.

Such a shame that Félicie cannot see Maigret as the taxi ferries him to the expert gunsmith. If, perhaps for the space of a second, she could forget the scares and panics, would she feel a sense of pride as she reads the admiration in the inspector’s expression?

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