(Inspector Maigret 11) Simenon, Georges - Maigret by Guinguette by the Seine

Author:Guinguette by the Seine [Short stories] [Seine, Guinguette by the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Monday was grey and raining. Maigret found it comforting, as it suited his own sombre mood and the day’s uncongenial tasks.

First of all, a report had to be written up on the previous day’s events, a report in which the inspector was expected to justify the use he had made of the forces under his command.

At eleven he was called for by two experts of the Identité Judiciaire and driven down to the track at Montlhéry, where he stood around watching them at work.

The doctor had only driven forty miles since the car had been delivered from the works in the middle of the week. The total mileage now showing was just over a hundred and fifty. How much of that had been run on the track? From witnesses’ accounts the evening before, it was estimated at about fifty. It was necessarily a rough estimate, but they had nothing else to go on, so it was assumed that James had driven about sixty miles before arriving at Montlhéry.

The distance by the shortest route from the Bassos’ villa was barely twenty-five, so he had obviously been pretty far afield. A map was produced and a circle drawn on it to indicate his possible range of action.

Then came the examination of the tyres with the aid of high-powered lenses. Dust and débris were carefully scraped out of the treads, and some was put aside for chemical or microscopical examination.

“Hallo!” said one. “This looks like tar.”

The map was referred to. It was a special map, furnished by the Ponts-et-Chaussées, showing all the work that was being done on the roads. Within the circle they had drawn there were five places, widely separated, where tar had recently been put down.

“Limestone dust…”

Another map was produced, a military one, showing road surfaces. Maigret walked gloomily up and down, smoking.

“No limestone roads in the direction of Fontainebleau. But here’s a stretch between Arpajon and La Ferté-Alais…”

A little later:

“Some grains of corn here…”

The data gradually accumulated. The maps were heavily scored with red and blue pencil-marks. At two, one of them telephoned to the mayor of La Ferté-Alais to ask what building operations were going on in the town, and more precisely whether Portland cement was likely to have been spilt on any of the roads in the district. The answer didn’t come through till three.

The water-mills on the Essonne were being reconstructed. There were traces of Portland cement on the road from La Ferté to Arpajon.

That was something, if not very much. The experts gathered up their instruments and specimens, and all three returned to Paris, Maigret to his office, the others to their laboratory.

For the best part of an hour, the inspector, with a map spread out before him, was telephoning through to country gendarmeries in the affected area.

With that done, he left his room, intending to have a chat with Victor, whom he had not seen since his arrest. But before he was half-way down the stairs an idea flashed across his mind. Hastily retracing his steps, he picked up the telephone and asked for the accountant in Basso’s office.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.