Maigret in Exile
Maigret in Exile
LA MAISON DU JUGE
THE 42ND EPISODE IN THE MAIGRET SAGA
1942
Georges Simenon
Translated from the French by Eileen Ellenbogen
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A 3S digital back-up edition 1.0
click for scan notes and proofing history
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Contents
CHAPTER 1: THE CUSTOMS OFFICER’S WIFE
CHAPTER 2: “PARDON ME, OLD MAN ...‘
CHAPTER 3: AIRAUD’S FOOTPRINTS
CHAPTER 4: OFFICIAL PROCEEDINGS
CHAPTER 5: THE CONFESSION
CHAPTER 6: THE TWO ENGLISHWOMEN OF VERSAILLES
CHAPTER 7: ASK THE CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT
CHAPTER 8: A MEAL OF BAKED POTATOES
CHAPTER 9: THE INTERROGATION
CHAPTER 10: DETECTIVE DIDINE
CHAPTER 11: THE DOCTOR’S HOUSEKEEPER
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A Helen and Kurt Wolff Book
Harcourt Brace Jovanovich
New York and London
Copyright © 1942 by Editions Gallimard
English translation copyright © 1978 by Georges Simenon
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Simenon, Georges, 1903-
Maigret in exile.
Translation of La maison du juge.
“A Helen and Kurt Wolff book.”
I. Title.
PZ3.S5892Maeko [PQ2637J53] 843'.9'12 78-13771
ISBN 0-15-155147-2
FIRST AMERICAN EDITION 1979
BCDE
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MAIGRET IN EXILE
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1: The Customs Officer’s Wife
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FIFTY-SIX, FIFTY-SEVEN, FIFTY-EIGHT…” COUNTED MAIGRET. NOT THAT HE CARED A RAP ABOUT THE SCORE. HE WAS KEEPING COUNT MECHANICALLY, HIS MIND VACANT, HIS EYELIDS DROOPING.
“SIXTY-ONE, SIXTY-TWO…”
HE GLANCED BRIEFLY OUT ONTO THE SQUARE. THE LOWER HALVES OF THE WINDOWS OF THE CAFÉ FRANÇAIS WERE OF FROSTED GLASS. THROUGH THE CLEAR GLASS AT THE TOP THERE WAS NOTHING TO SEE BUT THE BARE BRANCHES OF TREES, AND RAIN AND YET MORE RAIN.
“EIGHTY-THREE, EIGHTY-FOUR…”
THERE HE STOOD, HOLDING HIS BILLIARD CUE, SEEING HIMSELF REFLECTED IN THE MULTIPLE MIRRORS ON THE WALLS OF THE CAFÉ.
AND MONSIEUR LE FLEM, THE PROPRIETOR, IN SILENCE, CARRIED ON WITH HIS BREAK, LOOKING COMPLETELY RELAXED, AS IF EVERYTHING WAS JUST AS IT SHOULD BE. HE MOVED FROM ONE SIDE OF THE GREEN TABLE TO THE OTHER, BENT OVER IT, STRAIGHTENED UP, ABSENTLY WATCHED THE RUN OF THE BALLS.
“A HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO, A HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THREE…”
THE ROOM WAS VAST. NEAR THE WINDOW A MIDDLE-AGED SERVANT SAT SEWING. THAT WAS ALL. JUST THE THREE OF THEM. AND A CAT STRETCHED OUT IN FRONT OF THE STOVE.
AND IT WAS BARELY THREE O’CLOCK. AND THIS WAS ONLY THE THIRTEENTH OF JANUARY. MAIGRET NOTED THE DATE ON THE BIG CALENDAR PINNED UP BEHIND THE CASH DESK. AND THINGS HAD BEEN GOING ON IN THIS WAY FOR THREE WHOLE MONTHS! AND…
HE HAD NOT UTTERED A WORD OF COMPLAINT. NOT EVEN MADAME MAIGRET KNEW WHY HE HAD FALLEN INTO DISFAVOR, AND BEEN APPOINTED TO THE POST OF DIVISIONAL SUPERINTENDENT IN LUÇON. SUCH MATTERS PERTAINED TO THE SEAMY SIDE OF HIS CALLING, AND WERE NO CONCERN OF ANYONE ELSE.
MADAME MAIGRET WAS THERE, TOO, IN THEIR RENTED APARTMENT OVER A MUSIC SHOP, AND THERE HAD ALREADY BEEN SOME UNPLEASANTNESS WITH THE LANDLADY BECAUSE… OH, WELL, NO MATTER!
“WHERE DO WE STOP?” ASKED MONSIEUR LE FLEM, SIMPLY TO ASCERTAIN HOW MANY MORE POINTS HE NEEDED TO SCORE.
“AT A HUNDRED AND FIFTY.”
MAIGRET SMOKED HIS PIPE IN LONG, LEISURELY PUFFS. GET ON WITH IT. A HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN, A HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT, A HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE, A HUNDRED AND FIFTY! THE BALLS ROLLED TO A STOP ON THE TABLE, THE WHITE ONE DISCOLORED TO A LIVERISH YELLOW AND THE RED TO A FEVERISH PINK. THEY RETURNED THEIR CUES TO THE RACK. MONSIEUR LE FLEM WENT ACROSS TO THE BEER PUMP AND DISPENSED TWO HALVES, SLICING OFF THE SURPLUS FROTH WITH A WOODEN KNIFE.
“CHEERS!”
WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO SAY?
“IT’S STILL RAINING.”
MAIGRET PUT ON HIS OVERCOAT, RAMMED HIS BOWLER HAT WELL DOWN OVER HIS EYES, AND THEN, WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS POCKETS, PLUNGED INTO THE SLANTING RAIN AND TRAMPED ALONG THE STREETS OF THE LITTLE TOWN.
PRESENTLY, HE OPENED THE DOOR OF HIS OFFICE, ITS WALLS PLASTERED WITH OFFICIAL CIRCULARS. THE SMELL OF INSPECTOR MÉJAT’S BRILLIANTINE ASSAILED HIS NOSTRILS. HE WRINKLED HIS NOSE. IT WAS A SICKLY SMELL, WHICH EVEN THE PERSISTENT FUMES OF HIS PIPE COULD NOT DISPEL.
A LITTLE OLD WOMAN IN AN OLD-FASHIONED BONNET, WITH A WRINKLED FACE, WAS SEATED ON A CHAIR, CLUTCHING THE HANDLE OF A HUGE, DRIPPING UMBRELLA OF THE SORT COMMONLY TO BE SEEN IN THE VENDÉE REGION. A LONG TRICKLE OF WATER HAD ALREADY COLLECTED ON THE WOODEN FLOOR, AS IF SOME DOG HAD FORGOTTEN ITS MANNERS.
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” GROWLED MAIGRET, PUSHING THROUGH THE BARRIER THAT DIVIDED THE OFFICE IN HALF, AND TOWERING OVER THE INSPECTOR, WHO WAS HIS SOLE ASSISTANT.
“IT’S FOR YOU. SHE WON’T TALK TO ANYONE BUT YOU.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, FOR ME? DID SHE ASK FOR ME BY NAME?”
“SHE ASKED FOR CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT MAIGRET.”
THE OLD WOMAN, AWARE THAT SHE WAS BEING DISCUSSED, PURSED HER LIPS WITH AN AIR OF CONSCIOUS DIGNITY. MAIGRET, FROM FORCE OF HABIT, RIFFLED THROUGH THE PAPERS ON HIS DESK BEFORE EVEN TAKING OFF HIS COAT. IT WAS ALL ROUTINE STUFF—A GROUP OF POLES THAT NEEDED WATCHING, FAILURE TO PRODUCE IDENTITY CARDS, CONTRAVENTION OF RESTRICTED TRAVEL ORDERS…
“AT YOUR SERVICE, MADAME. PLEASE DON’T GET UP. BUT FIRST, I’D BE OBLIGED IF YOU’D TELL ME WHO GAVE YOU MY NAME?”
“MY HUSBAND, CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT… JUSTIN HULOT… I’M SURE YOU’LL REMEMBER HIM WHEN YOU SEE HIM. HIS IS A FACE ONE DOESN’T READILY FORGET… HE WAS CUSTOMS OFFICER AT CONCARNEAU WHEN YOU WERE THERE ON A CASE… HE READ ABOUT YOUR TRANSFER TO LUÇON IN THE PAPER. YESTERDAY, WHEN HE SAW THAT THE CORPSE WAS STILL THERE IN THE BEDROOM, HE TOLD ME I MUST…”
“SORRY TO INTERRUPT, BUT WHAT CORPSE WOULD THAT BE?”
“THE ONE IN THE JUDGE’S BEDROOM.”
A COOL CUSTOMER INDEED! MAIGRET OBSERVED HER WITH MILD INTEREST, LITTLE DREAMING THAT HE WAS DESTINED TO BECOME MUCH MORE INTIMATELY ACQUAINTED WITH THIS SIXTY-FOUR-YEAR-OLD WOMAN, ADINE HULOT BY NAME, AND THAT HE, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE HEREABOUTS, WOULD SOON BE CALLING HER DIDINE.
“TO BEGIN WITH, I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT MY HUSBAND IS NOW RETIRED, WHICH IS HOW WE COME TO BE LIVING IN MY OWN PART OF THE COUNTRY, IN THE VILLAGE OF L’AIGUILLON. I HAVE A LITTLE HOUSE NEAR THE HARBOR, WHICH WAS LEFT TO ME BY MY LATE UNCLE… I SUPPOSE YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF L’AIGUILLON?…
“I THOUGHT NOT. AND THAT MEANS YOU WON’T FIND IT EASY TO UNDERSTAND… BUT WHO ELSE IS THERE FOR ME TO TURN TO? CERTAINLY NOT THE LOCAL POLICEMAN, WHO, BESIDES BEING DRUNK FROM MORNING TO NIGHT, CAN’T STAND THE SIGHT OF US. NOR THE MAYOR, WHO CARES FOR NOTHING BUT HIS MUSSELS…”
“HIS MUSSELS?” ECHOED MAIGRET.
“HE’S A MUSSEL-GATHERER, THE SAME AS MY LATE UNCLE AND MOST OTHER PEOPLE IN L’AIGUILLON. HE CULTIVATES MUSSELS.”
INSPECTOR MÉJAT, THE SILLY FOOL, SAW FIT AT THIS POINT TO SNICKER AND LOOK KNOWING. MAIGRET QUELLED HIM WITH A FROSTY LOOK.
“YOU WERE SAYING, DEAR LADY…”
SHE NEEDED NO ENCOURAGEMENT. SHE WAS TAKING HER TIME. SHE, TOO, HAD RESPONDED WITH A COLD
STARE TO MÉJAT’S UNCALLED-FOR SNICKER.
“IT’S A RESPECTABLE CALLING, LIKE ANY OTHER.”
“OF COURSE. GO ON.”
“L’AIGUILLON IS QUITE A SMALL COMMUNITY, MADE UP OF SOME TWENTY FAMILIES, SITUATED IN THE VICINITY OF THE HARBOR. THE JUDGE LIVES IN THE BIGGEST HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE.”
“ONE MOMENT. WHO IS THIS JUDGE?”
“HIS NAME IS FORLACROIX. HE WAS FORMERLY A MAGISTRATE AT VERSAILLES. IF YOU WANT MY OPINION, I SUSPECT HE GOT INTO SOME KIND OF TROUBLE, AND IT WOULDN’T SURPRISE ME TO LEARN THAT HE HAD TO BE DISMISSED FROM THE PUBLIC SERVICE.”
SHE CERTAINLY HAD IT IN FOR THE JUDGE. DIMINUTIVE THOUGH SHE WAS, AND OLD AND WRINKLED, SHE WAS NOT AFRAID TO SPEAK HER MIND ABOUT PEOPLE.
“TELL ME ABOUT THIS CORPSE. THE JUDGE’S, IS IT?”
“NO SUCH LUCK! HIS KIND NEVER GETS BUMPED OFF.”
CAPITAL! THAT PUT MAIGRET FIRMLY IN HIS PLACE. MÉJAT SPLUTTERED INTO HIS HANDKERCHIEF.
“YOU’LL HAVE TO LET ME TELL MY STORY IN MY OWN WAY, OR I’LL GET INTO A MUDDLE… WHAT DATE IS IT TODAY? THE THIRTEENTH… GOOD GOD! AND TO THINK IT NEVER STRUCK ME…”
HURRIEDLY, SHE TOUCHED WOOD AND CROSSED HERSELF.
“IT WAS THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY, SO IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE ELEVENTH. THE NIGHT BEFORE THAT, THEY’D HAD PEOPLE IN… ”
“WHO ARE ‘THEY’?”
“THE FORLACROIXS. DOCTOR BRÉNÉOL AND HIS WIFE AND DAUGHTER WERE THERE… OR, I SHOULD SAY HIS WIFE’S DAUGHTER… BECAUSE… BUT I WON’T GO INTO THAT; IT WOULD TAKE TOO LONG. IN SHORT, THEY WERE ENTERTAINING A FEW FRIENDS, AS THEY DO REGULARLY ONCE A FORTNIGHT. THEY PLAY CARDS UNTIL ABOUT MIDNIGHT, AND THEN ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE, WITH ALL THE CARS REVVING UP AT ONCE.”
“YOU APPEAR TO BE VERY WELL INFORMED ABOUT WHAT GOES ON IN YOUR NEIGHBORS’ HOUSE.”
“OUR HOUSE, OR, RATHER, MY LATE UNCLE’S HOUSE, BACKS ONTO THEIRS. SO, WHETHER WE LIKE IT OR NOT…”
IT WOULD HAVE DONE MADAME MAIGRET’S HEART GOOD TO SEE THE FLICKER OF INTEREST IN THE CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT’S EYES. CHARACTERISTICALLY, HE WAS TAKING REPEATED LITTLE QUICK PUFFS AT HIS PIPE. HE WENT ACROSS TO THE STOVE, POKED IN IT, AND REMAINED STANDING WITH HIS BACK TO THE FIRE.
“NOW THEN, ABOUT THIS CORPSE…”
“THE FOLLOWING MORNING… THE ELEVENTH I SAID IT WAS, DIDN’T I?… THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MY HUSBAND TOOK ADVANTAGE OF THE FINE WEATHER TO PRUNE THE APPLE TREES. I HELD THE LADDER FOR HIM. PERCHED UP THERE, HE COULD SEE OVER THE WALL. HE WAS JUST ON A LEVEL WITH THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE JUDGE’S HOUSE. ONE OF THE WINDOWS WAS OPEN… AND, ALL OF A SUDDEN, THERE HE WAS, CLAMBERING DOWN, AND THIS IS WHAT HE SAID TO ME:
“ ‘DIDINE…’ ” MY NAME IS ADINE, BUT EVERYONE CALLS ME DIDINE. ‘DIDINE,’ HE SAID TO ME, ‘THERE’S SOMEONE LYING ON THE FLOOR IN THE BEDROOM.’
“ ‘LYING ON THE FLOOR?’ I REPEATED AFTER HIM, SCARCELY ABLE TO BELIEVE MY EARS. ‘WHY SHOULD ANYONE BE LYING ON THE FLOOR WHEN THERE ARE GOODNESS KNOWS HOW MANY BEDS IN THE HOUSE?’
“ ‘WELL, THAT’S HOW IT IS… I’M GOING UP TO HAVE ANOTHER LOOK.’
“HE WENT UP AND HE CAME DOWN… NOW THERE’S A MAN WHO NEVER TOUCHES STRONG DRINK, AND WHEN HE SAYS A THING IS SO… AND BESIDES, HE’S A THINKER. IT’S NOT FOR NOTHING THAT HE WAS THIRTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE PUBLIC SERVICE.
“ALL THAT DAY, I COULD SEE HE WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT. AFTER LUNCH, HE WENT OUT AS USUAL FOR HIS LITTLE WALK. HE STOPPED AT THE HÔTEL DU PORT…
“ ‘NOW HERE’S AN ODD THING,’ HE SAID WHEN HE GOT BACK. ‘NO STRANGER SEEMS TO HAVE ARRIVED IN THE VILLAGE YESTERDAY, EITHER ON THE BUS OR BY CAR.’
“IT BOTHERED HIM, YOU SEE. HE ASKED ME TO HOLD THE LADDER FOR HIM AGAIN. AND AFTERWARD, HE TOLD ME THAT THE MAN WAS STILL LYING THERE ON THE FLOOR…
“THAT NIGHT, HE KEPT WATCH UNTIL ALL THE LIGHTS WERE OUT.”
“WHAT LIGHTS?”
“THE LIGHTS IN THE JUDGE’S HOUSE. I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT THEY NEVER CLOSE THE SHUTTERS AT THE BACK. THEY THINK NO ONE CAN SEE IN. WELL, ANYHOW, THE JUDGE WENT INTO THE BEDROOM AND STAYED THERE FOR QUITE SOME TIME.
“MY HUSBAND GOT DRESSED AGAIN AND RUSHED OUTSIDE…”
“WHAT FOR?”
“IN CASE IT MIGHT HAVE OCCURRED TO THE JUDGE TO DUMP THE BODY IN THE WATER… BUT HE WAS SOON BACK.
“ ‘THE TIDE IS OUT,’ HE SAID. ‘HE’D BE UP TO HIS NECK IN MUD.’
“NEXT DAY…”
MAIGRET WAS DUMBFOUNDED. HE HAD COME ACROSS A GOOD MANY ODDITIES IN THE COURSE OF HIS CAREER, BUT THIS ELDERLY COUPLE, THE RETIRED CUSTOMS OFFICER AND HIS DIDINE, SPYING ON THE JUDGE IN HIS HOME, FROM THEIR LITTLE COTTAGE, HOLDING THE LADDER FOR EACH OTHER… !
“NEXT DAY, THE BODY WAS STILL THERE, LYING IN EXACTLY THE SAME POSITION.”
SHE LOOKED AT MAIGRET, AS IF TO SAY:
SO WE WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG, YOU SEE!
“MY HUSBAND KEPT WATCH ON THE HOUSE ALL THAT DAY. AT TWO O’CLOCK THE JUDGE WENT OUT FOR HIS USUAL WALK, ACCOMPANIED BY HIS DAUGHTER.”
“AH! SO THE JUDGE HAS A DAUGHTER, HAS HE?”
“I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT HER SOME OTHER TIME. THERE’S ANOTHER ODD FISH FOR YOU. AND THERE’S A SON, TOO… BUT IT’S ALL TOO INVOLVED… IF THAT ASSISTANT OF YOURS OVER THERE WILL BE SO GOOD AS TO STOP SNICKERING INTO HIS HANDKERCHIEF, I WILL PROCEED.”
MÉJAT HAD ASKED FOR THAT ONE.
“HIGH TIDE LAST NIGHT WAS AT NINE-TWENTY-SIX. THERE WAS STILL NOTHING HE COULD DO, DON’T YOU SEE? THERE ARE ALWAYS PEOPLE ROAMING AROUND UP TO MIDNIGHT. AND AFTER MIDNIGHT THERE WOULDN’T BE ENOUGH WATER… SO WE DECIDED, MY HUSBAND AND I, THAT I SHOULD COME AND SEE YOU, LEAVING HIM TO KEEP AN EYE ON THINGS. I CAUGHT THE NINE O’CLOCK BUS. THIS GENTLEMAN HERE WAS JUST TRYING TO GET RID OF ME… MY HUSBAND’S INSTRUCTIONS WERE:
“ TELL THE CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT THAT YOU WERE SENT BY THE CUSTOMS OFFICER FROM CONCARNEAU, THE ONE WITH THE SLIGHT SQUINT. EXPLAIN TO HIM THAT I HAD A GOOD LOOK AT THE CORPSE THROUGH MY FIELD GLASSES, AND THAT THE MAN IS A COMPLETE STRANGER TO THE DISTRICT. TELL HIM THERE’S A STAIN ON THE FLOOR, AND THAT I’M CONVINCED THAT IT’S BLOOD.’ ”
“ONE MOMENT,” INTERPOSED MAIGRET. “WHEN DOES THE NEXT BUS LEAVE FOR L’AIGUILLON?”
“THE LAST ONE HAS ALREADY LEFT.”
“HOW FAR AWAY IS IT, MÉJAT?”
MÉJAT CONSULTED THE MAP OF THE DISTRICT, WHICH WAS PINNED ON THE WALL.
“ABOUT THIRTY KILOMETERS.”
“TELEPHONE FOR A TAXI.”
FOR ALL HE KNEW, DIDINE AND HER CUSTOMS OFFICER WERE A PAIR OF NUTS. NO MATTER! AT THE VERY WORST, HE WOULD HAVE TO PAY FOR THE TAXI OUT OF HIS OWN POCKET.
“I’D BE OBLIGED IF YOU’D STOP THE TAXI AND LET ME OUT BEFORE WE REACH THE HARBOR, SO THAT I WON’T BE SEEN IN YOUR COMPANY. IT WILL BE BEST IF WE PRETEND WE HAVEN’T MET. THEY’RE A SUSPICIOUS LOT IN L’AIGUILLON. YOU CAN STAY AT THE HÔTEL DU PORT. IT’S THE BETTER OF THE TWO HOTELS. AND ALMOST THE WHOLEVILLAGE CONGREGATES THERE AFTER SUPPER, SO YOU’LL BE ABLE TO LOOK THEM OVER. AND IF YOU CAN GET THEM TO PUT YOU IN THE ROOM OVERLOOKING THE BALLROOM EXTENSION, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO SEE THE JUDGE’S HOUSE.”
“LET MY WIFE KNOW, WILL YOU, MÉJAT.”
NIGHT HAD FALLEN, AND IT SEEMED AS IF THE WATERS HAD COVERED THE FACE OF THE EARTH. THE OLD WOMAN WAS ENJOYING THE COMFORTS OF THE TAXI, WHICH HAD FORMERLY BEEN A PRIVATE LIMOUSINE. IN PARTICULAR, SHE WAS THRILLED WITH THE CUT-GLASS FLOWER VASE AND THE INTERIOR ELECTRIC-LIGHT FIXTURE.
“WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT! THE RICH HAVE ALL THE LUCK.”
MARSHES; EXTENSIVE ACRES OF FLAT LAND INTERSECTED BY CANALS; HERE AND THERE A LOW-LYING FARM, A SHACK, OR CABANE, TO USE THE LOCAL DIALECT TERM, OR A STACK OF DRIED, PANCAKELIKE COW PATS STORED FOR FUEL.
IN MAIGRET’S HEART SOMETHING STIRRED FAINTLY. COULD IT BE HOPE? HE DARED NOT YIELD TO IT YET. WAS IT POSSIBLE THAT HERE, IN THE VERY HEART OF THE VENDÉE, THE SCENE OF HIS EXILE, FATE WAS ABOUT TO PRESENT HIM WITH… ?
“I WAS FORGETTING… HIGH TIDE TONIGHT WILL BE AT TEN-FIFTY-ONE.”
IT WAS REALLY ASTONISHING THE WAY THE OLD GIRL COULD PINPOINT THE TIME T
O THE MINUTE.
“IF HE WANTS TO GET RID OF THE BODY, THIS WILL BE HIS OPPORTUNITY. OVER THE RIVER LAY, WHICH FLOWS INTO THE HARBOR, THERE IS A BRIDGE. AT ELEVEN, MY HUSBAND WILL TAKE UP HIS WATCH ON THAT BRIDGE. IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO HIM…”
SHE TAPPED ON THE GLASS PARTITION.
“LET ME OUT HERE. I’LL WALK THE REST OF THE WAY.”
AND SHE DISAPPEARED INTO THE WATERY DARKNESS, HER UMBRELLA BILLOWING OUT LIKE A BALLOON. PRESENTLY THE TAXI DREW UP OUTSIDE THE HÔTEL DU PORT AND MAIGRET GOT OUT.
“DO YOU WANT ME TO WAIT?”
“NO. YOU’D BETTER GO BACK TO LUÇON.”
MEN IN BLUE, FISHERMEN OR MUSSEL-GATHERERS; VARNISHED DEAL TABLES SCATTERED AROUND, WITH CARAFES OF WHITE AND ROSÉ WINE. THEN A KITCHEN. THEN A BALLROOM, USED ONLY ON SUNDAYS. A SMELL OF FRESH PAINT AND VARNISH. WHITE WALLS. A STRIPPED PINE ROOF. A RICKETY LITTLE STAIRCASE MORE SUITED TO A DOLL’S HOUSE. A BEDROOM, ALSO WHITE, A PAINTED IRON BEDSTEAD, CHINTZ CURTAINS.
“IS THAT THE JUDGE’S HOUSE OVER THERE?” HE INQUIRED OF THE LITTLE CHAMBERMAID. THERE WAS LIGHT SHOWING, THROUGH A SKYLIGHT ABOVE THE STAIRCASE, HE PRESUMED.
IT WAS SUGGESTED THAT HE BE SERVED IN THE DINING ROOM RESERVED FOR SUMMER VISITORS, BUT HE CHOSE TO EAT IN THE BAR. HE WAS REGALED WITH OYSTERS, MUSSELS, AND SHRIMP, FOLLOWED BY FISH AND LEG OF LAMB. HE LISTENED TO THE MEN TALKING AMONG THEMSELVES, IN THEIR THICK REGIONAL ACCENTS, ABOUT MATTERS RELATING TO THE SEA, AND, IN PARTICULAR, ABOUT MUSSELS, A SUBJECT THAT WAS A CLOSED BOOK TO MAIGRET.
“HAVE YOU SEEN ANY STRANGERS AROUND HERE LATELY?”
“NOT FOR THE PAST WEEK… I SHOULD SAY, NOT FOR THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS… NO. LET ME THINK. IT WAS THREE DAYS AGO. A MAN CAME IN ON THE BUS. HE STOPPED HERE TO SAY THAT HE’D BE BACK FOR DINNER, BUT HE NEVER SHOWED UP.”