A Crime in Holland by Georges Simenon Page A

authoritative. He had a foreign colleague opposite him and he was trying to save his own reputation as well as that of Holland.
    He assumed a serious expression and pressed the bell again. And when the duty officer hurried in, he gave orders punctuated by little taps of his paper-knife on the desk.
    â€˜Arrest this man! Take him away. I’ll see to him later.’
    All this in Dutch, but it was easy to understand what was being said.
    Upon which, he stood up: ‘I will try to clear this matter up for good. I shall of course report on the role you have played. And naturally your compatriot is free to leave.’
    He did not suspect that Maigret, as he watched his Dutch colleague gesticulating wildly, his eyes bright with drink, was thinking to himself: ‘My dear fellow, in a few hours’ time, when you’ve calmed down, you will bitterly regret what you have done.’
    Pijpekamp opened the door, but Maigret did not seem ready to leave.
    â€˜May I prevail on you for a final favour?’ he said, with unaccustomed politeness.
    â€˜I am all ears, my dear colleague.’
    â€˜It’s not yet four o’clock. Tonight we could hold a reconstruction of the drama, with all those who have been connected with it, closely or otherwise. Could you make a list of their names? Madame Popinga, Any, Monsieur Duclos, Barens, the Wienands, Beetje, Oosting and lastly Monsieur Liewens, Beetje’s father.’
    â€˜You want to …’
    â€˜Re-enact the events, from the time the lecture ended at the Van Hasselt Hotel.’
    There was a silence. Pijpekamp was thinking.
    â€˜I’ll telephone Groningen,’ he said at last, ‘and ask my superiors for advice.’
    He added, not quite sure how his joke would go down, and watching the faces of the others:
    â€˜But you know, someone will be missing. Conrad Popinga won’t be able to …’
    â€˜â€¦Â I will take his place,’ Maigret finished the sentence.
    And he went out followed by Jean Duclos, having issued his parting shot:
    â€˜And thank you for that excellent lunch!’

8. Two Young Women
    Instead of going straight through town from the police station to the Van Hasselt, Maigret went round by the quayside, followed by Jean Duclos, whose bearing, expression, and the tilt of his head all indicated ill temper.
    â€˜You do realize you’re making yourself utterly obnoxious?’ he muttered at last, his eyes fixed on the crane unloading a ship in the harbour, as its arm swung across just above their heads.
    â€˜Because …?’
    Duclos shrugged, and walked on a few paces without replying.
    â€˜You wouldn’t even understand. Or perhaps you’re deliberately refusing to understand. You’re like all the French …’
    â€˜But I thought we were the same nationality.’
    â€˜Yes, but I’ve travelled a lot. My culture is worldwide. I know how to fit in with the country where I find myself. But you, ever since you’ve been here, you’ve just been barging ahead without bothering about the consequences.’
    â€˜Without bothering to find out, for instance, whether people really want the murderer to be found?’
    Duclos reacted angrily.
    â€˜Why should they? This wasn’t a gangland killing. So the murderer isn’t a professional criminal. We’re not talking
about someone who has to be put away in order to protect society.’
    â€˜So in that case …?’
    Maigret had a self-satisfied way of puffing at his pipe, with his hands behind his back.
    â€˜Just take a look,’ Duclos said in an undertone, pointing to the scene all around them, the picture-book town, with everything in its place, like ornaments on the mantelpiece of a tidy housewife, the harbour too small for serious trouble, the placid inhabitants standing there in their yellow clogs.
    Then he went on:
    â€˜Everyone here earns his living. Everyone’s more or less