Maigret and the Loner Page 10

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Oscar Raison. He’ll be there on Avenue Trudaine. He was one of the first people to start working for me. This time, I hope you have nothing more to ask me?’

  ‘No, nothing. Thank you for your help. I’m sorry, madame, if I spoiled your sunbathing.’

  She didn’t reply but looked at her husband with a questioning air.

  In a side street, Maigret found a little Italian restaurant where on a sudden whim, seeing the oven, he decided to have a pizza. While waiting for it, he ordered some seafood and a bottle of Muscadet, as there were no half-bottles.

  He was calm and serious. He had the feeling he hadn’t wasted his day. After having his coffee, he took a taxi to Saint-Nazaire, where he was sure there would be a branch of the Police Judiciaire. He checked with the town hall and was sent to Nantes. There he found just three inspectors in fairly cramped premises.

  The three men recognized him and were clearly surprised to see him.

  ‘Is La Baule part of your territory?’

  ‘Yes. But we’re not called out there often. Nothing ever happens there. It’s a family resort.’

  ‘I’d like a man who’s spending his holidays there right now to be watched day and night. Is that possible?’

  ‘Anything’s possible, obviously. But there aren’t many of us.’

  Maigret showed them the letter rogatory.

  ‘We’ll do whatever you ask, chief.’

  He described Louis Mahossier and his wife and gave their address.

  ‘If either of them leaves La Baule, I’d like to be phoned immediately, at home if necessary.’

  He gave his home telephone number.

  ‘Of course, I’d also like to know which direction they went in.’

  ‘All right, chief. Will you come and have a glass of Muscadet with us?’

  ‘I’ve just had one. My doctor tells me I should cut down.’

  He left them and returned to La Baule by taxi. On the embankment were a few men dressed, like him, in city clothes, and they were carrying their jackets over their arms. He followed their example.

  From Orly, he took a taxi straight home. Madame Maigret was waiting for him on the landing. She couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘How would it be if you spent a month by the sea?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You weren’t even there a day and you’ve really caught the sun. Go and look at yourself in the mirror.’

  It was true. Maigret’s face was red. And he was in a hurry to take off his shoes, which were full of sand. He hadn’t been able to resist the childish desire to walk the length of the beach, one metre from where little white waves lapped the shore. He had walked for almost two hours like that, in a noisy, colourful universe, dodging balls thrown by children as best he could.

  ‘Have you had dinner?’

  ‘I had something on the plane. I have to phone headquarters.’

  He was put through to the inspectors’ room and was surprised to hear Janvier’s voice.

  ‘Are you still in the office?’

  ‘There was a post-office raid, and we’ve had a lot of work. We’ve arrested the two main perpetrators and recovered the money. The third man, who was the lookout, is still on the run. How about you, chief?’

  ‘It’ll be a few days before I know if my journey was worth the trouble. In the meantime, do you have two inspectors who can each do a stakeout, starting this evening?’

  ‘I think I do, though we’re down to a skeleton team right now.’

  ‘Write this down. Avenue Trudaine, near the Lycée Rollin. The premises of Louis Mahossier, who runs a painting and decorating business. I haven’t the slightest idea what might happen, but I’ll feel more at ease knowing the place is under surveillance. The second stakeout is outside the apartment of the same Mahossier, in Rue de Turbigo. The apartment isn’t empty. An elderly cook is alone there at the moment.’

  ‘Got it. What do we do if Mahossier shows up at one of these two places?’

  ‘Follow him and keep track of where he goes and what he does.’

  Maigret slept badly because as soon as he started sweating his face began to tingle. He still had the noise of the sea in his ears and he felt as if the bright colours of the beach had imprinted themselves on his retinas.

  The next day, he woke up early again and took a taxi to Rue de Turbigo. It was one of those old buildings in the Marais that had been restored and on the outside looked again like what it had once been: a rich man’s mansion.

  ‘Excuse me, madame. Monsieur Mahossier’s apartment, please.’

  ‘He isn’t here. He and his wife are in La Baule, where they have a villa.’

  ‘I know. But I also know that the cook, Mademoiselle Berthe, is in.’

  ‘As you wish. First floor on the right. Actually, it doesn’t matter if you turn right or left, they have the whole floor.’

  There was no lift, but the staircase was wide and not too steep. He rang the bell beside a door of old polished wood. It took a long time before there was any response. At last, there were muted footsteps in the apartment, and the door opened.

  ‘Monsieur and Madame Mahossier are—’

  ‘In La Baule, I know. It’s you I’m here to see.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You are Mademoiselle Berthe, the cook?’

  ‘Come in. Don’t stand out on the landing.’

  She admitted him to a very large drawing room, lit by three tall windows and furnished more or less in the style of the building.

  ‘Please sit down. Are you selling vacuum cleaners?’

  ‘No. I’m from the Police Judiciaire.’

  She looked him up and down shamelessly. She was clearly a woman who feared nothing and would always speak her mind.

  ‘You’re not Inspector Maigret, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Are you dealing with that tramp whose name I forget? I don’t have a good memory for names these days.’

  ‘Vivien.’

  ‘That’s right. It’s a strange idea to kill a tramp, don’t you think? Unless he was one of those fake tramps who hide their money in their mattress.’

  ‘That’s not the case on this occasion. I saw your employer in La Baule yesterday.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Did you know him before he was married?’

  ‘I first met him when he was engaged to Mademoiselle Cassegrain. I’ve worked for them ever since. Monsieur Cassegrain is a notary, on Avenue de Villiers. His wife is often ill. There was a maid to look after her and do the cooking. It was Monsieur Cassegrain who insisted I stay with his daughter when she got married.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’

  ‘About fifteen years. The difference here is that there’s no maid, and I do everything. Actually, that’s not quite true. Madame helps me a lot and she’s as good a cook as I am.’

  ‘Do they go out a lot?’

  ‘Not often, and then just to the theatre or the cinema. They have a few friends round sometimes, always the same ones.’

  ‘Do they get on well?’

  ‘They don’t argue over every little thing, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘Do you think they still love each other?’

  Her reply was in her silence.

  ‘Is Monsieur Mahossier having an affair?’

  ‘I don’t know. He certainly wouldn’t tell me if he was.’

  ‘Does he sometimes go out alone in the evening and get back very late?’

  ‘No, never. Though actually, it did happen last week. At about eleven, when madame was out – her mother had had dinner here, and she was seeing her home – he came rushing back and went straight to his room. Then he went back out as quickly as he’d come in. When madame got back, she decided not to wait up for him and went to bed. I don’t know if she heard him come in, because he made as little noise as possible. But I know it was after three in the morning.’

  ‘How long have th
ey slept in separate bedrooms?’

  ‘Since after the first few months. Monsieur gets up very early, so that he can be on site early. That used to wake madame up, and she likes to stay in bed until mid-morning.’

  You just had to watch her as she spoke about Mahossier to realize that she didn’t like him, whereas she spoke about her mistress with real adoration.

  ‘How old was she when she got married?’

  ‘She was a month over twenty.’

  ‘Do you know where they met?’

  ‘No. She used to go out a lot when she was a girl. These days, girls go out without chaperones.’

  ‘Is she happy?’

  Another eloquent silence.

  ‘Has her marriage been a disappointment to her?’

  ‘She’s not the kind of woman who complains or puts on a show of being upset. She takes life as it comes.’

  Maigret spotted a photograph of the couple on the piano. In it, Louis Mahossier had a moustache he had since abandoned. As for the woman, she had very curly blonde hair.

  Following the direction of Maigret’s gaze, the cook asked suddenly:

  ‘What has he done?’

  ‘Why do you ask that? He hasn’t necessarily done anything.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be here if he was blameless. When a man like you goes out of his way …’

  ‘Would you mind showing me his room?’

  ‘If he knew, he’d be furious, but I don’t care. I’m not afraid of him.’

  They walked through the dining room, then along a corridor.

  ‘Here,’ she said, opening a door, ‘This is madame’s room.’

  It was cheerful-looking, all in pale greys with a little blue. The white carpet was the kind into which your feet would sink.

  Mahossier’s room, which was next door, was more sober, of course, but in good taste.

  ‘Who chose the furniture and fittings?’

  ‘Madame. She attended art history courses at the Louvre and also went to the École des arts décoratifs.’

  ‘Is she the one who plays the piano?’

  ‘Yes. Only when she’s alone.’

  Here, everything was beige and brown.

  ‘Tell me, does Mahossier own a gun?’

  ‘Yes. I saw it just two weeks ago.’

  ‘Is it one with a barrel?’

  ‘You mean with a kind of cylinder you put the bullets in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No. It’s a flat revolver.’

  ‘An automatic.’

  ‘See for yourself.’

  She went to the night table and opened the top drawer. A look of surprise came over her face.

  ‘It’s not there.’

  ‘Could he have taken it with him to La Baule?’

  ‘Definitely not. I was the one who packed the bags.’

  ‘Could he have put it somewhere else?’

  She opened the other two drawers, which contained keys, a penknife and membership cards for various clubs.

  ‘Ever since I’ve been here, that gun has always been in this drawer.’

  ‘And you say you saw it two weeks ago? Were there any cartridges in the drawer?’

  ‘There was a box full of them. That’s gone, too.’

  She looked in the cupboards, in the chest of drawers and even in the bathroom.

  When she looked at Maigret again, her face was grave and a little pale.

  ‘I’m starting to guess why you’re here.’

  ‘Does it surprise you?’

  ‘A little. Not so much. The reason I’m going to give you will probably make you laugh. He doesn’t like animals. He won’t have a dog or a cat in the apartment. Madame had a cocker spaniel that kept her company, and he forced her to get rid of it.’

  ‘I think it’d be best if you don’t leave Paris in the next few days. I may need you quite soon.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’

  And after a moment, as she led him back to the drawing room:

  ‘Did you see madame in La Baule?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I bet she was sunbathing.’

  ‘Yes, she was.’

  ‘When she’s by the sea, she spends her days in the sun. She used to go to La Baule with her parents when she was a child.’

  ‘Don’t they want children?’

  ‘They haven’t confided in me, but I don’t think they care much about that.’

  ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Berthe. You’ve been very helpful.’

  ‘I’ve done my best to help you.’

  She didn’t add: ‘And to put my boss in a difficult situation.’

  A taxi took him back to Quai des Orfèvres. Torrence told him there had been a telephone call from Nantes. No developments at the villa Les Pins Parasols. They were asking if they should continue with the stakeout.

  ‘Call them and tell them yes.’

  ‘Did you send men where I told you?’ he asked Janvier, who was at his post.

  He was often quite informal with Janvier, and sometimes also with Lapointe, the newest member of the team. With the others, he maintained a certain formality, except sometimes when he was distracted or under pressure.

  ‘Who did you send to Rue de Turbigo? Whoever it was is well hidden, I’ve just come back from there and didn’t see anyone. True, there’s a bistro just opposite the building.’

  ‘It’s Baron who’s there. Neveu is in Montmartre.’

  Maigret headed for the corridor where the examining magistrates had their offices and knocked at Cassure’s door. The magistrate called out for him to come in.

  ‘Any news?’

  ‘In a way, yes. I even think it’s worth signing a custody order.’

  ‘Tell me all about it.’

  And Maigret, sitting down on an uncomfortable chair, started telling him about his travels of the last two days.

  ‘I definitely don’t know for sure that Mahossier murdered Vivien, but I think we have enough on him to bring him in for questioning and not have to do it on a beach.’

  ‘I think so, too. How will you go about it? Will you send two men to fetch him or will you ask the local gendarmerie to handle it?’

  ‘I’ll send two men, if I find any available. We’re working with such a reduced staff that if the criminals found out they’d have a field day.’

  ‘I’ll sign the custody order for you.’

  He filled out a form that Maigret knew well.

  ‘First name?’

  ‘Louis.’

  ‘Mahossier with an h? I don’t know why I feel like putting an r instead.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have you been to Avenue Trudaine?’

  ‘I’m planning to go there this morning.’

  He went back to see Janvier.

  ‘I absolutely need two men.’

  Poor Janvier didn’t know where to turn.

  ‘Do you need them for long?’

  ‘Long enough to fetch someone from La Baule.’

  He looked Maigret in the eyes, and they understood each other.

  ‘Got it! Take Véran and Loubet.’

  Maigret led both of them to his office, gave them instructions and handed over the custody order.

  ‘There’s a plane in an hour. You can take it, but I’d rather you came back by train.’

  ‘Should we handcuff him?’

  ‘If he looks like he’s planning to run away, yes. Otherwise, I don’t think there’s any point.’

  He called Torrence.

  ‘Come on, driver.’

  That was indeed pretty much all Torrence had been doing in the last few days.

  ‘Avenue Trudaine. Opposite the Lycée Rollin.’

  ‘Are you arresting him?’

  ‘Taking him into custody. We’ll decide what to do once I’ve questioned him a little more seriously than I could on the beach.’

  There was a large yard cluttered with ladders and a kind of garage full of huge cans of paint. On an enamel nameplate was the word ‘Office’ and an arrow, which Maigret followed
.

  There was only one room, quite large, where a short, grumpy-looking man sat bent over invoices.

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector Maigret.’

  ‘Is it me you want to talk to?’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Vannier. Gérard Vannier, and I don’t see what the police—’

  ‘This isn’t about you.’

  ‘One of our workers? They’re all out on jobs. They’re hard-working people, they’ve all been with us for several years.’

  ‘Is this desk on the left your boss’s?’

  ‘Yes. He’s not there often, he’s always out on one site or another.’

  ‘Is the business doing well?’

  ‘We can’t complain.’

  ‘Are you a partner?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. I’m just the accountant.’

  ‘When was the business established?’

  ‘That I don’t know. What I do know is that in 1947 the then owner went bankrupt. That’s because he spent most of his time in bistros, and there was a lot of waste. Monsieur Mahossier took over and changed all the staff.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘At first, he only needed an accountant two evenings a week. Then, as the business expanded, he took me on full time, around the end of 1948.’

  ‘Does he work hard?’

  ‘Everything goes through him. He barely even has time for lunch.’

  ‘How is he with the men?’

  ‘He’s very friendly with them, but there’s a line they can’t cross, and they know that.’

  ‘How many workers are there?’

  ‘Eight at the moment. That’s including the apprentice.’

  ‘Have you ever seen a gun in the desk?’

  ‘A gun? No. What would we want with a gun? The money comes in mostly in the form of cheques, and they’re paid straight into the bank that’s on the corner of the avenue.’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  Much to the little man’s indignation, he went straight to Mahossier’s desk and opened the drawers one by one. There was no gun in any of them.

  ‘Why exactly are you here?’

  ‘It’s in connection with an investigation of mine.’

  ‘When Monsieur Mahossier finds out—’

  ‘I saw him yesterday.’

  ‘You went to La Baule?’

  ‘Yes, and by tomorrow morning at the latest he’ll be in Paris.’

  ‘He wasn’t supposed to be back for another three weeks or a month.’