Maigret and the Man on the Boulevard by Georges Simenon

pretty.”
    â€œWhat did you say to that?”
    â€œThat she was quite sweet, as girls of her age go nowadays, but that she’d be a real stunner in a few years’ time.”
    â€œWho else came to see him?”
    â€œWon’t you sit down?”
    â€œNo, thanks. I’m soaking wet, and I wouldn’t want to ruin your cushions.”
    â€œI like to keep everything just so, as far as possible. Wait a minute. There was someone else, a young man, but he didn’t give his name. When I went up to tell Monsieur Louis that he was here, he seemed a little upset. He asked me to show him up. The young man only stayed about ten minutes.”
    â€œHow long ago was that?”
    â€œIt was in the middle of August. I remember because of the heat and the flies.”
    â€œDid you ever see him again?”
    â€œOn one occasion they came into the house together. I got the impression that they’d met by chance in the street. They went upstairs, but the young man left almost at once.”
    â€œIs that all?”
    â€œIsn’t that enough for you? Now, I suppose you’ll be wanting to see his room as well?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIt’s on the second floor, the room opposite the one I showed to your underling here. It looks out on to the street, and we call it the green room.”
    â€œI’d be obliged if you would come with us.”
    She sighed, and went on sighing all the way up the two flights of stairs.
    â€œDon’t forget, you promised…”
    He shrugged.
    â€œAnd what’s more, if you try any dirty tricks with me, I’ll tell the court that everything you say is a pack of lies.”
    â€œHave you got the key?”
    On the floor below, inside a half-open door, he had seen a young woman. She had stared at them, standing there stark naked with a bath towel in her hand.
    â€œI have a pass-key.”
    And turning back, she called over the stairs:
    â€œDon’t worry, Yvette, it’s not the Vice Squad!”

5
THE POLICEMAN’S WIDOW
    All the furniture in the room must have been bought sometime at a local auction. It was made of “solid” walnut in a style fashionable fifty or sixty years ago, and included an enormous mirror-fronted wardrobe.
    The first thing that struck Maigret as he went in was a canary in a cage, on a table covered with a printed cotton cloth. As soon as he appeared, the bird began hopping about excitedly. It reminded him of Monsieur Saimbron’s place on the Quai de la Mégisserie, and he was convinced that the old bookkeeper’s bird had been a present from Louis Thouret.
    â€œDid the bird belong to him?”
    â€œHe brought it here about a year ago. He was cheated over it, because it doesn’t sing. He was told it was a male bird, but in fact it’s a female.”
    â€œWho does the housework?”
    â€œI let furnished rooms. I provide linen, but no service. I used to in the old days, but I had a lot of trouble with maids. As my lodgers are nearly all women…”
    â€œDid Monsieur Louis clean his own room?”
    â€œHe made his bed, cleaned the wash basin, and dusted around. Once a week, as a special favor to him, I used to go up and do a little extra cleaning and polishing.”
    She remained standing in the doorway, and the chief superintendent found this a little disconcerting. In his eyes this was no ordinary room. It was the place that Monsieur Louis had chosen as a retreat. In other words, his furnishings and possessions were not, as is usual, just the ordinary necessities of life, but an expression of his own personal, intimate tastes.
    In the glass-fronted wardrobe there was not a single three-piece suit, but there were three pairs of light brown shoes, lovingly polished to a high gloss, each pair with its own shoe-trees. Furthermore, on the bedside table lay a pearl gray hat, almost new, which he must have bought one day in a fit of wild extravagance, as a protest