Maigret Gets Angry Read online

‘I’m sorry, inspector, but I do not see how my son’s arrival—’

  ‘Has any connection with my visit?’

  ‘That is more or less what I wanted to say. I am very busy this morning. With your permission, I will leave you with my secretary, to whom you may speak freely. Please excuse me, inspector.’

  A rather abrupt nod. He turned on his heel and vanished next door. After a moment’s hesitation, MacGill murmured, ‘With your permission …’

  And he disappeared in the wake of his employer, closing the door behind him. Maigret was alone in the office, alone and not very proud of himself. He heard whispering in the neighbouring room. He was about to leave angrily when the secretary reappeared, brisk and smiling.

  ‘You see, my dear sir, you were wrong to distrust me.’

  ‘I thought Mr Maura was in Venezuela or Rio …’

  The young man laughed.

  ‘Back at Quai des Orfèvres, where you had heavy responsibilities, didn’t you ever use a little white lie to get rid of a visitor?’

  ‘Thanks anyway for having treated me to the same thing!’

  ‘Come, don’t hold a grudge against me … What time is it? Eleven thirty … If it’s all right with you, I’ll phone the desk to reserve you a room, otherwise you’d have some difficulty getting one. The St Regis is one of the most exclusive hotels in New York. I’ll give you time to take a bath and change, and, if you like, we’ll meet at the bar at one o’clock, after which we’ll have lunch together.’

  Maigret was tempted to refuse and walk out wreathed in his surliest expression. He would have been quite capable, had there been a ship that very evening for Europe, of sailing home without pursuing any closer acquaintance with this city that had welcomed him so harshly.

  ‘Hello … Front desk, please … Hello, MacGill here. Would you please reserve a suite for a friend of Mr Maura … Yes … Mr Maigret. Thank you.’

  And turning toward the inspector, he asked, ‘Do you speak a little English?’

  ‘Like all those who learned it in school and have forgotten it.’

  ‘In that case, you’ll sometimes find things difficult at first. Is this your first trip to the United States? … I assure you that I will be ready to assist you in any way I can.’

  Someone was behind the connecting door, probably John Maura. MacGill knew this, too, but did not seem bothered by it.

  ‘Just follow the bellboy. I’ll see you later, inspector. And Jean Maura will have doubtless reappeared in time to have lunch with us. I’ll have your luggage brought up to you.’

  Another elevator. A sitting room, a bedroom, a bathroom, a porter waiting for his tip, at whom Maigret stared in bafflement because he had rarely been so bewildered – and even humiliated – in his life.

  To think that ten days earlier he’d been quietly playing belote with the doctor, the fertilizer dealer and the mayor of Meung in the warm and always rather dimly lit Café du Cheval Blanc!

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