Maigret in Exile by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon, Georges]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Georges Simenon
ISBN: 9780156551366
Google: 77SpPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 0156551365
Goodreads: 140632
Publisher: Mariner
Published: 1939-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

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7: Ask the Chief Superintendent

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It was with real pleasure, at eight o’clock the next morning, that the Chief Superintendent went down the narrow little staircase, its varnished pine hardrail gleaming in the sunlight, to take his seat at his usual table in the deserted bar of the inn, and eat homemade sausage and freshly caught shrimp out of a thick pottery bowl.

“Thérèse!” he called out as he sat down. “My coffee…”

But it was the landlady who served him.

“Thérèse has gone to the butcher’s.”

“Tell me, madame, why is it that, although the tide is out, the harbor is deserted? Are the people around here afraid of the cold?”

“It’s the neap tide,” she replied.

“What does that mean?”

“The men don’t go out to the mussel beds when the tides are slack.”

“In other words, the mussel farmers have no work for half the year?”

“Not at all! Most of them own farmland, or market gardens or sheep and cattle.”

Even Méjat, whom Maigret greeted warmly in spite of his brilliantine, was wearing a scarf. It was green and much too bright, and made him look slightly ridiculous.

“Have a seat… Have some breakfast… And tell me what the poor old lady had to say.”

He was referring to Marcel’s mother. To tell the truth, Maigret was not sorry to have been able to unload that particular chore onto the Inspector.

“It’s a typical, old-fashioned, local farmhouse, I suppose. Full of furniture, reminiscent of earlier times… And a grandfather clock with a sluggish brass pendulum winking in the firelight?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Chief. The whole house gets a fresh coat of paint every year, and, in place of the old door, it has a new one, ornamented with fake wrought iron. The furniture comes from a department store on Boulevard Barbes.”

“She began by offering you a drink, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

“And you hadn’t the heart to refuse.”

Poor Méjat could not see that he had done anything wrong in accepting the proffered glass of aromatic, homemade plum brandy.

“There’s no need to blush… I wasn’t getting at you.”

Was he not, rather, thinking of himself, eating and drinking in the Judge’s house?

“Some people are strong-minded enough to refuse, others are not. You went to see the old lady to pump her about her son, and you set the ball rolling by drinking her plum brandy. The Judge now, there’s a man strong-minded enough to refuse, or so I believe… To refuse anything… Even to himself… Don’t look so puzzled. I’m just thinking aloud. Did she break down?”

“You’ve got to understand that she’s almost as big and beefy as her son. At first she tried to brazen it out, and then she changed her tack and became very highhanded. She said that if I went on badgering her, she would send for her lawyer. I asked her whether it was not true that her son had been absent from home for several days. That bothered her, I could see. After some hesitation, she said:

“ ‘I believe he’s gone to Niort on business.

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