discreet
…
Even at his hotel no one was supposed to
know that he stayed out all night!
Order … Mess … Order …
Mess …
Maigret was the umpire, as he had the
famous will in his pocket!
He could at any moment allow four women to
enter the fray!
What a singularly extraordinary picture
that would make: these four women of William Brown arriving over there. Jaja with her
sensitive feet, her swollen ankles, her sagging breasts … Sylvie, who in private
can bear to wear nothing but a dressing gown over her skinny body …
Then the older Martini, with her cheeks
caked in make-up! The younger one with her distinctive smell of musk.
They drove along the famous boulevard. The
lights of Cannes were visible ahead.
‘No
dramas!’
The taxi pulled up in front of the
Ambassadeurs, and the driver asked:
‘Where do you want me to take
you?’
‘Nowhere! Here’s
fine.’
Maigret paid. The casino was lit up. A
number of chauffeur-driven cars were arriving, for it was nearly nine in the
evening.
And twelve casinos were similarly lighting
up along the stretch between Cannes and Menton! And hundreds of luxury cars …
Maigret went on foot to the small
sidestreet, where he found the Liberty Bar closed. No lights on. No light anywhere
except that of the streetlamp shining through the window, throwing a murky light on the
zinc counter-top and the fruit machine.
He knocked and was amazed at the din it
made in the small street. Straight away the door behind him opened, the one to the bar
across the street. The waiter called out to Maigret.
‘Are you looking for
Jaja?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who should I say
…?’
‘The inspector.’
‘In that case, I have a message for
you … Jaja will be back in a few minutes … She asked me to tell you to wait
… If you’d like to come in …’
‘No, thank you.’
He was happier pacing up and down. He
didn’t like the look of the handful of customers in the bar across thestreet. A window opened somewhere. A woman, who had heard the noise,
asked timidly:
‘Is that you, Jean?’
‘No!’
And Maigret, who had paced the street from
one end to the other, repeated to himself:
‘Above all, we need to find out who
killed William!’
Ten o’clock … Jaja still
hadn’t arrived … Each time he heard footsteps he quivered in anticipation
that his wait was coming to an end … But it wasn’t her …
His horizon was a badly paved street fifty
metres long and two metres wide; the illuminated window of one bar, the dark gloom of
the other …
And the old, teetering buildings, their
windows that weren’t even rectangular any more.
Maigret went into the bar across the
street.
‘Did she say where she was
going?’
‘No! Would you like something to
drink?’
And the customers, who had been told who
he was, looked at him from head to toe!
‘No, thank you!’
He started walking again, as far as the
corner of the street, the border between this shady world and the brightly lit quayside,
buzzing with everyday life.
Ten thirty … Eleven o’clock
… The first café round the corner was called Harry’s Bar. That’s where
Maigret had phoned from that afternoon when he was with Sylvie. He went in and made for
the cabin.
‘Could you give me the police?
… Hello! … Police? … This is Detective Chief Inspector Maigret …
Have
the two persons I delivered to you earlier received any
visitors?’
‘Yes … A large woman
…’
‘Whom did she see?’
‘First the man … Then the
woman … We weren’t sure what to do … You didn’t leave any
instructions …’
‘How long ago?’
‘A good hour and a half … She
brought cigarettes and cakes …’
Maigret hung up, worried. Then, without
pausing for breath, he asked for the Provençal.
‘Hello! … This is the police
… Yes, the inspector you saw earlier … Could you tell me whether Monsieur
Brown has
…
Even at his hotel no one was supposed to
know that he stayed out all night!
Order … Mess … Order …
Mess …
Maigret was the umpire, as he had the
famous will in his pocket!
He could at any moment allow four women to
enter the fray!
What a singularly extraordinary picture
that would make: these four women of William Brown arriving over there. Jaja with her
sensitive feet, her swollen ankles, her sagging breasts … Sylvie, who in private
can bear to wear nothing but a dressing gown over her skinny body …
Then the older Martini, with her cheeks
caked in make-up! The younger one with her distinctive smell of musk.
They drove along the famous boulevard. The
lights of Cannes were visible ahead.
‘No
dramas!’
The taxi pulled up in front of the
Ambassadeurs, and the driver asked:
‘Where do you want me to take
you?’
‘Nowhere! Here’s
fine.’
Maigret paid. The casino was lit up. A
number of chauffeur-driven cars were arriving, for it was nearly nine in the
evening.
And twelve casinos were similarly lighting
up along the stretch between Cannes and Menton! And hundreds of luxury cars …
Maigret went on foot to the small
sidestreet, where he found the Liberty Bar closed. No lights on. No light anywhere
except that of the streetlamp shining through the window, throwing a murky light on the
zinc counter-top and the fruit machine.
He knocked and was amazed at the din it
made in the small street. Straight away the door behind him opened, the one to the bar
across the street. The waiter called out to Maigret.
‘Are you looking for
Jaja?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who should I say
…?’
‘The inspector.’
‘In that case, I have a message for
you … Jaja will be back in a few minutes … She asked me to tell you to wait
… If you’d like to come in …’
‘No, thank you.’
He was happier pacing up and down. He
didn’t like the look of the handful of customers in the bar across thestreet. A window opened somewhere. A woman, who had heard the noise,
asked timidly:
‘Is that you, Jean?’
‘No!’
And Maigret, who had paced the street from
one end to the other, repeated to himself:
‘Above all, we need to find out who
killed William!’
Ten o’clock … Jaja still
hadn’t arrived … Each time he heard footsteps he quivered in anticipation
that his wait was coming to an end … But it wasn’t her …
His horizon was a badly paved street fifty
metres long and two metres wide; the illuminated window of one bar, the dark gloom of
the other …
And the old, teetering buildings, their
windows that weren’t even rectangular any more.
Maigret went into the bar across the
street.
‘Did she say where she was
going?’
‘No! Would you like something to
drink?’
And the customers, who had been told who
he was, looked at him from head to toe!
‘No, thank you!’
He started walking again, as far as the
corner of the street, the border between this shady world and the brightly lit quayside,
buzzing with everyday life.
Ten thirty … Eleven o’clock
… The first café round the corner was called Harry’s Bar. That’s where
Maigret had phoned from that afternoon when he was with Sylvie. He went in and made for
the cabin.
‘Could you give me the police?
… Hello! … Police? … This is Detective Chief Inspector Maigret …
Have
the two persons I delivered to you earlier received any
visitors?’
‘Yes … A large woman
…’
‘Whom did she see?’
‘First the man … Then the
woman … We weren’t sure what to do … You didn’t leave any
instructions …’
‘How long ago?’
‘A good hour and a half … She
brought cigarettes and cakes …’
Maigret hung up, worried. Then, without
pausing for breath, he asked for the Provençal.
‘Hello! … This is the police
… Yes, the inspector you saw earlier … Could you tell me whether Monsieur
Brown has
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