Maigret and the Good People of Montparnasse Read online

‘The women are here!’

  ‘In the waiting room?’

  ‘Yes. They’re alone. They seemed surprised that you didn’t receive them straight away, especially the mother. I think she’s annoyed.’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘When I arrived at their place, the cleaning lady opened the door. I told her who I was, and she grunted:

  ‘ “Again!”

  ‘The door to the drawing room was closed. I had to wait quite some time and I could hear whispering, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.

  ‘Finally, after a good fifteen minutes, the door opened and I glimpsed a priest being shown out of the front door. It was the mother who was with him.

  ‘She looked at me as if she was trying to place me, then she invited me to follow her. The daughter was in the drawing room and her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying.’

  ‘What did the mother say on seeing the summons?’

  ‘She re-read it twice. Her hand was trembling slightly. She gave it to her daughter, who also read it then looked at her as if to say:

  ‘ “I knew it. I warned you …”

  ‘It all happened as if in slow motion and I felt very uncomfortable.

  ‘ “Do we have to go there?”

  ‘I said yes. The mother added:

  ‘ “With you?”

  ‘ “Well, I’ve got a car downstairs. But if you’d rather take a taxi …”

  ‘They whispered together and seemed to come to a decision, then they asked me to wait a few minutes.

  ‘I was left alone in the drawing room for ages while they got themselves ready. They called an old woman who was in the dining room, and she followed them into one of the bedrooms.

  ‘When they came back, they had their hats and coats on, and they were putting on their gloves.

  ‘The cleaning woman asked if she should wait for them for dinner. Madame Josselin replied grudgingly that she had no idea …

  ‘They settled themselves in the back of the car and didn’t open their mouths once during the journey. I could see the daughter in the rear-view mirror and she seemed to be the more anxious one. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Nothing for now. Wait for me in the office.’

  Then it was the turn of Émile, the waiter, who looked a lot older in a jacket and raincoat.

  ‘I’m going to ask you to wait in another room.’

  ‘It won’t be too long, will it, inspector? Saturday nights are busy, and the other waiters will be annoyed with me if I leave them to do all the work …’

  ‘Once I call you, it will only take a few minutes.’

  ‘And I won’t have to testify in court? Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  An hour earlier, Maigret had telephoned Doctor Fabre, who had listened in silence, then said:

  ‘I’ll do my utmost to be there at six o’clock. It depends on my consultation.’

  He arrived at five past six and must have seen his wife and mother-in-law through the windows of the waiting room as he walked past. Maigret went to have a look, from a distance, at the room, with its green chairs and its three walls covered in framed photographs of police officers killed in the line of duty.

  The electric light was on all day. The atmosphere was bleak, depressing. He remembered certain suspects who had been left there to mope for hours, as if they had been forgotten, to wear down their resistance.

  Madame Josselin sat ramrod straight, absolutely still, while her daughter kept standing up and sitting down again.

  ‘Come in, Monsieur Fabre.’

  Because of the summons, the doctor was expecting a new development in the case and looked worried.

  ‘I came as quickly as I could,’ he said.

  He had no hat, coat or raincoat. He must have left his doctor’s bag in his car.

  ‘Have a seat … I shan’t detain you for long.’

  Maigret sat down at his desk facing him, took the time to light his pipe, which he’d just filled, and said softly, with a hint of reproach in his voice:

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that your wife had an uncle?’

  Fabre must have been anticipating the question, but his ears still turned beetroot, as they did at the slightest emotion.

  ‘You didn’t ask me,’ he replied, trying to sustain Maigret’s gaze.

  ‘I asked you to tell me who was a regular visitor to your parents-in-law’s apartment.’

  ‘He wasn’t a regular visitor.’

  ‘Does that mean that you have never seen him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He didn’t attend your wedding?’

  ‘No. I was aware of his existence because my wife had told me about him, but no one at Rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs ever talked of him, at least not in front of me.’

  ‘Be honest, Monsieur Fabre … When you found out that your father-in-law was dead, that he’d been murdered, when you found out that he’d been shot with his own revolver and that the culprit must therefore be someone who was familiar with the apartment, did you immediately think of him?’

  ‘Not straight away …’

  ‘What made you think of him?’

  ‘My mother-in-law and my wife’s attitude.’

  ‘Did your wife talk to you about him when you were alone together?’

  He thought for a moment.

  ‘We have hardly been alone together since it happened.’

  ‘And she didn’t say anything to you?’

  ‘She told me she was afraid.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘She didn’t say … She was thinking mostly of her mother … I am only a son-in-law … They welcomed me into the family, but I am not entirely part of it … My father-in-law was very generous towards me … Madame Josselin adores my children … But all the same, there are some things that are none of my business …’

  ‘Are you saying your wife’s uncle hasn’t set foot in the apartment during the time you’ve been married?’

  ‘All I know is that there was a quarrel, that they felt sorry for him but could no longer have him in their home, but I didn’t probe into the reasons why … My wife spoke of him as a poor soul more to be pitied than blamed, sort of half-mad.’

  ‘Is that all you know?’

  ‘That’s all. Are you going to question Madame Josselin?’

  ‘I have no option.’

  ‘Don’t be too tough with her. She appears to be in control of herself. Some people misinterpret that and take her for a hard woman. But I know that actually she’s hypersensitive but is incapable of expressing her emotions. Since her husband’s death, I’ve been expecting her nerves to crack at any moment.’

  ‘I’ll treat her as gently as possible.’

  ‘Thank you … Is that all?’

  ‘You can go back to your patients now.’

  ‘May I have a word with my wife on the way out?’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t speak to her and above all not to your mother-in-law.’

  ‘In that case, tell her that if I’m not at home when she gets back, I’ll be at the hospital … I received a phone call as I was leaving and it’s likely I’ll have to operate.’

  As he reached the door, he changed his mind and retraced his steps.

  ‘I apologize for being so rude to you earlier … Consider my situation … I have been generously welcomed into a family that is not mine … This family has its problems, like any other … I felt it wasn’t my place to—’

  ‘I understand, Monsieur Fabre.’

  He too was a good man, of course! Better than a good man, probably, according to everyone who knew him. This time, the two men shook hands.

  Maigret opened the door to the inspectors’ office and showed Émile into his own office.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Nothing. Stay over there, by the window. I might ask you a question and you can answer.’

  ‘Even if it’s not the answer you’re hoping for?’

  ‘Just tell the truth.’


  Maigret went to fetch Madame Josselin, who rose to her feet at the same time as her daughter.

  ‘Please follow me … Only you … I’ll speak with Madame Fabre later.’

  She was wearing a black dress with a grey heather effect, a black hat trimmed with little white feathers and a light camel-hair coat. Maigret had her precede him and she immediately saw the man standing by the window, wringing his hat in embarrassment. She seemed surprised, turned to Maigret and, since no one said anything, she eventually asked:

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Don’t you recognize him?’

  She studied him more closely and shook her head.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about you, Émile, do you recognize this lady?’

  In a voice husky with emotion, the waiter replied:

  ‘Yes, inspector. It’s definitely her.’

  ‘Is she the lady who came to the Brasserie Franco-Italienne one afternoon at the beginning of the week to meet a man of around forty? Are you certain?’

  ‘She was wearing the same dress and the same hat … I described them to you this morning.’

  ‘Thank you, you may go.’

  Émile darted a look at Madame Josselin that seemed to be apologizing for what he had just done.

  ‘You won’t need me any longer?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  The two of them remained alone, and Maigret indicated an armchair facing his desk. He took his place behind the desk but did not sit down straight away.

  ‘Do you know where your brother is?’ he asked softly.

  She looked straight at him, her eyes dark and shining, as she had done at Rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs, but she was less tense and seemed almost to exude a sense of relief. This was even more pronounced when she decided to sit down. It was as if she’d finally made up her mind to abandon the façade she’d been desperately battling to maintain.

  ‘What did my son-in-law tell you?’ she asked, answering one question with another.

  ‘Very little … He merely confirmed that you had a brother, which I already knew.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘A very elderly lady almost in her nineties whose home is still in Rue Dareau, in the building where you used to live with your father and your brother.’

  ‘It was bound to happen …’ she murmured.

  He pursued his line of attack:

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. And I swear I’m telling the truth. Until Wednesday I was even convinced that he was a long way from Paris.’

  ‘He never wrote to you?’

  ‘Not since he no longer set foot in our apartment.’

  ‘Did you know straight away that he was the person who had killed your husband?’

  ‘I’m still not absolutely sure it was him … I refuse to believe it … I know that everything points to him …’

  ‘Why were you trying to protect him at all costs, by saying nothing and forcing your daughter to say nothing?’

  ‘First of all because he’s my brother and because he’s a poor soul … And secondly because I feel partly to blame …’

  She took a handkerchief out of her handbag but not to wipe her eyes, which were dry and still burning with an inner fever. Mechanically, her thin fingers rolled it into a ball while she spoke or waited for Maigret’s questions.

  ‘Now I’m ready to tell you everything.’

  ‘What is your brother’s name?’

  ‘Philippe … Philippe de Lancieux … He’s eight years younger than me.’

  ‘As I understand it, he spent part of his adolescence in a mountain sanatorium?’

  ‘Not his adolescence … He was only five when he was diagnosed with tuberculosis … The doctors sent him to Haute-Savoie where he stayed until he was twelve.’

  ‘Was your mother already dead?’

  ‘She died a few days after he was born … and that explains a lot … I suppose everything I’m about to tell you will be splashed all over the newspapers tomorrow …’

  ‘I promise you that won’t happen. What does your mother’s death explain?’

  ‘My father’s attitude towards Philippe and in fact his attitude in general during the second half of his life … From the day my mother died, he became a different man and I am convinced he couldn’t help resenting Philippe, blaming him for his wife’s death.

  ‘What’s more, he started drinking … It was around that time he left the army, even though he had no fortune to speak of, so we lived very frugally.’

  ‘While your brother was in the mountains, did you stay in Rue Dareau alone with your father?’

  ‘An old servant, who’s dead now, lived with us until the end.’

  ‘And on Philippe’s return?’

  ‘My father put him in a religious education establishment in Montmorency and we barely saw my brother except during the holidays … At fourteen, he ran away and, two days later, he was found in Le Havre, having hitch-hiked there.

  ‘He told people he had to get to Le Havre as quickly as possibly because his mother was dying … He was already in the habit of making things up … He would invent some story and people believed him, because he ended up believing it himself.

  ‘The school in Montmorency wouldn’t take him back, so my father sent him to a new one, near Versailles.

  ‘He was still there when I met René Josselin … I was twenty-two …’

  The handkerchief had now been twisted into a rope which she tugged at with her clenched hands, and Maigret had unwittingly let his pipe go out.

  ‘That was when I made a mistake and I’ve always been angry at myself … I was only thinking of myself.’

  ‘Did you have second thoughts about getting married?’

  She looked at him, uncertain, trying to find the right words.

  ‘This is the first time I’m having to speak about these things, which I’ve always kept to myself … Life with my father had become all the more difficult since, unbeknown to us, he was already ill … And I realized that he wouldn’t live to a ripe old age and that, one day, Philippe would need me … You see, I shouldn’t have married … I said so to René.’

  ‘Were you working?’

  ‘My father wouldn’t allow it, because he believed a young woman’s place was not in an office … All the same, I planned to get a job and live with my brother later … René was insistent … He was thirty-five … He was in the prime of life and I trusted him completely.

  ‘He told me that, whatever happened, he would take care of Philippe and treat him like his own son, and I eventually gave in.

  ‘I shouldn’t have … That was the easy option … Overnight, I escaped from the oppressive atmosphere at home and I shrugged off my responsibilities.

  ‘I had a feeling—’

  ‘Did you love your husband?’

  She looked him straight in the eyes and said with a sort of defiance in her voice:

  ‘Yes, inspector … and I loved him to the end … He was the man—’

  For the first time, her voice faltered, and she turned away for a moment.

  ‘But all the same, I have always thought I should have been more selfless … When, two months after we were married, the doctor told me that my father had an incurable cancer, it seemed like a punishment.’

  ‘Did you say so to your husband?’

  ‘No. Everything that I’m telling you today, I’m saying for the first time, because if my brother really did what you think he did, it’s the only thing I can offer in his defence … If necessary, I’ll repeat it in the witness box … Contrary to what you might think, I don’t care what people say.’

  She was animated now, and her hands were increasingly busy. She opened her handbag again and took out a small metal box.

  ‘Would you give me a glass of water? … I’d better take one of these pills that Doctor Larue prescribed.’

  Maigret went over and opened the cupboard in which there was a wash-basin, a glas
s and even a bottle of brandy, which sometimes came in useful.

  ‘Thank you … I’m trying to stay calm … People have always thought that I have great self-control, but they have no idea what it costs me to keep up the pretence … What was I saying?’

  ‘You were talking about your marriage … Your brother was at school in Versailles at the time … Your father …’

  ‘Yes … My brother only stayed at Versailles for one year before he was thrown out.’

  ‘Did he run away again?’

  ‘No, but he was wild, and his teachers couldn’t get anywhere with him … You see, I never lived with him long enough to really get to know him … I’m sure that, deep down, he’s not a bad person … It’s his imagination that plays tricks on him …

  ‘Perhaps it’s a result of spending his childhood in a sanatorium, lying in bed most of the time, cut off from the world.

  ‘I remember an answer he gave me, one day, when I found him lying on the floor in the attic, after we’d been looking all over for him.

  ‘ “What are you doing, Philippe?”

  ‘ “I’m telling myself stories …”

  ‘Unfortunately, he told other people stories too. I suggested to my father that he come and live with us. René agreed. It was even his idea in the first place. My father didn’t want him to, and sent him to another boarding school, in Paris this time.’

  ‘Philippe used to come and visit us every week in Rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs, where we were already living … My husband really did treat him like his own son … But then, Véronique was born …’

  A quiet, peaceful street, a comfortable apartment surrounded by convents, a stone’s throw from the leafy Luxembourg Gardens. Good people. A prosperous business. A happy family …

  ‘Then you know what happened to my father …’

  ‘Where did it occur?’

  ‘Rue Dareau. In his armchair. He put on his uniform and placed portraits of my mother and of me in front of him. Not of Philippe …’

  ‘What became of him?’

  ‘He carried on with his studies as best he could. He lived with us for two years. It was clear that he’d never take his baccalaureate and René intended to give him a job in his company.’

  ‘How well did your brother and your husband get along?’

  ‘René had endless patience … He kept my brother’s escapades from me as far as possible and Philippe took advantage … He couldn’t cope with any boundaries, any discipline … He often didn’t turn up for meals and he’d come home at all hours, always with an extraordinary tale to tell.