Maigret by Georges Simenon

tell you, when the photograph
     appeared in the newspaper, Émile didn’t dare go to his office!’
    Émile was her husband. Philippe had
     inherited his myopic squint.
    ‘In our part of the world,
     it’s not like Paris. Prison is prison. People say that there’s no smoke
     without fire. Does he at least have a proper bed with blankets?’
    They ate sardines and rounds of
     beetroot, and drank a carafe of table wine. From time to time Maigret made an effort
     to steer the conversation away from the obsessive topic of Philippe.
    ‘You know
     Émile. He’s very angry with you. He blames you. He says it’s your fault
     that Philippe joined the police instead of looking for a good job in a bank. I told
     him that whatever will be, will be. By the way, how’s my sister? Not finding
     the animals too much work?’
    Luncheon lasted a good hour, for
     afterwards they had to have a coffee and Philippe’s mother wanted to know
     exactly how a prison is built and how the prisoners are treated. They were in the
     lounge when the doorman came to inform them that a gentleman wished to speak to
     Maigret.
    ‘Show him in!’
    He wondered who it could be and was more
     than astonished to see Inspector Amadieu, who greeted Madame Lauer awkwardly.
    ‘Philippe’s mother,’
     said Maigret.
    And, to the detective chief
     inspector:
    ‘Shall we go up to my
     room?’
    They went upstairs in silence. Once
     inside the room, the inspector cleared his throat and put down his hat and the
     umbrella which never left his side.
    ‘I thought I’d see you after
     the interrogation this morning,’ he began. ‘But you left without saying
     a word.’
    Maigret watched him without speaking. He
     knew that Amadieu had come to make peace, but was not gallant enough to make things
     easier for him.
    ‘Those boys are very good, you
     know! I realized it when they were brought face to face with each other.’
    He sat down to give an impression of
     composure, and crossed his legs.
    ‘Look, Maigret,
     I’ve come to tell you that I’m beginning to share your opinion. You see
     that I’m being honest with you and that I bear no ill will.’
    But his voice did not sound entirely
     natural and Maigret sensed that this was a lesson learned and that Amadieu had not
     taken this step of his own accord. After that morning’s interrogations, there
     had been a meeting between the chief of the Police Judiciaire and Amadieu, and it
     was the chief who had been in favour of Maigret’s theory.
    ‘Now, I’m asking you: what
     should we do?’ said Amadieu solemnly.
    ‘I have no idea!’
    ‘Don’t you need my
     men?’
    Then, suddenly garrulous:
    ‘I’ll tell you what I
     believe. Because I thought long and hard while I was questioning those rogues. You
     know that when Pepito was killed, he’d been issued with a summons. We knew
     that there was a rather large drugs cache at the Floria. And it was to stop them
     from moving the drugs that I had posted an inspector there until the arrest, which
     was planned for dawn. Well, the stuff has vanished.’
    Maigret appeared not to be
     listening.
    ‘From that, I deduce that when we
     lay our hands on it we’ll have the murderer too. I’ve a good mind to ask
     the magistrate for a search warrant and to pay a visit to our friend
     Cageot.’
    ‘There’s no point,’
     sighed Maigret. ‘The man who masterminded this morning’s face-to-face
     confrontation wouldn’t have kept such a compromising package in his home. The
     stuff isn’t at Cageot’s, or Eugène’s, nor at thehomes of any of the others. By the way, what did Louis have to say about his
     customers?’
    ‘He swears he’s never seen
     Eugène, even less played cards with him. He thinks Audiat might have come in a few
     times to buy cigarettes, but he has never spoken to him. As for Cageot, while the
     name rings a bell, like everyone in Montmartre, he didn’t know him
     personally.’
    ‘And they didn’t slip up,