Maigret Bides His Time Read online

  It was said at the Palais de Justice that he had six children, that he had no control over his family, that his old car was about to fall to pieces at any moment, and that to make ends meet he lived in a cheap suburban apartment.

  "Immediately after calling the Police Judiciaire, I informed the Public Prosecutor," the Police Superintendent explained.

  "Has the Deputy arrived?"

  "He'll be here in a minute."

  "Where's Aline?"

  "The girl who lived with the victim? She's crying, laid out on her bed. The maid's with her."

  "What does she say?"

  "I didn't find out much, and in the state she's in, I didn't persevere. According to her, she got up at half past seven. The maid only comes in at ten. At eight o'clock Aline brought Palmari his breakfast in bed and then helped him up."

  Maigret knew the house routine. Ever since he was disabled, Manuel no longer dared get into a bathtub. He stood under the shower on one leg, and Aline helped him dress.

  "What time did she go out?"

  "How do you know she went out?"

  Maigret would be sure after he had asked his two men on duty in the street. They had not telephoned him. They must have been surprised to see the Police Superintendent arrive, then the Examining Magistrate, and finally Maigret himself, because they did not know what had happened inside the building. There was something quite ironical about it.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen."

  A tall young man with an equine face burst in, shook hands, and asked:

  "Where's the body?"

  "In the next room."

  "Any clues?"

  "I was telling Superintendent Maigret what I know. Aline, the young woman living with Palmari, claims to have left the building around nine, without a hat, and carrying a string bag."

  One of the inspectors on duty must have followed her.

  "She went to several local shops. I haven't yet had a written statement, because all I could get out of her were disjointed phrases."

  "It was when she was out that..."

  "So she says, of course. She came back at five to ten."

  Maigret looked at his watch, which said ten past eleven.

  "In the next room she found Palmari, who had slipped from his wheelchair to the carpet. He died after losing a great deal of blood, as you will see."

  "What time did she call you? Because I was told she was the one who called the police station."

  "Yes. It was a quarter past ten."

  The Deputy Public Prosecutor, Alain Druet, asked the questions, while the plump Magistrate listened with a vague smile. He, too, despite the difficulty of feeding his brood, seemed to enjoy life. From time to time he glanced furtively at Maigret, as if to establish a certain complicity.

  The two others, the Deputy Public Prosecutor and the Police Superintendent, spoke and behaved like conscientious officials.

  "Has the doctor examined the body?"

  "He just came in and went out. He claims that it's impossible to tell before the post-mortem how many bullets Palmari received, that it's also impossible to see the bullet holes without undressing him. The bullet through his neck, however, seems to have been fired from behind."

  So, thought Maigret, Palmari didn't suspect a thing.

  "Let's have a look, gentlemen, before someone from Records gets here."

  Manuel's little room had not changed, and the sun flooded in. On the floor was a twisted, almost ridiculous body, and handsome white hair smeared with blood around the neck.

  Maigret was surprised to see Aline Bauche standing by the curtain of one of the windows.

  She was wearing a light-blue linen dress, which he knew, and her black hair framed a pale face covered with red blotches, as though she had been hit.

  She looked at the three men with such hatred or such defiance that it seemed as though she were going to pounce on them with her claws out.

  "Well, Monsieur Maigret, I suppose you're satisfied?"

  Then, to all of them:

  "Can't you leave me alone with him, like any woman who's just lost the man in her life? You're probably going to arrest me, aren't you?"

  "Do you know her?" the Examining Magistrate asked Maigret in a whisper.

  "Pretty well."

  "Do you think she did it?"

  "You must have been told I never think anything, Monsieur Ancelin. I can hear the men from Records with their equipment. May I question Aline alone?"

  "Are you taking her away?"

  "I'd rather do it here. I'll tell you what I find out afterward."

  "When the body's been removed, it may be necessary to seal the doors of this room."

  "The Superintendent will see to that, if you don't mind."

  The Magistrate still looked at Maigret, his eyes full of mischief. Was that how he had imagined the famous Superintendent? Was he disappointed?

  "You can have a free hand, but let me know what happens."

  "Come along, Aline."

  "Where are you taking me? The Quai des Orfevres?"

  "Not so far. To your room. Janvier, go and get our men outside and wait for me in the living room."

  With hard eyes, Aline watched the experts invade the room with their equipment.

  "What are they going to do to him?"

  "The usual. Photographs, fingerprints, and so on. By the way, has the weapon been found?"

  She pointed to the table near the sofa, where she used to lie for days on end, keeping her lover company.

  "Did you pick it up?"

  "I haven't touched it."

  "Have you seen this gun before?"

  "As far as I know, it belonged to Manuel."

  "Where did he keep it?"

  "In the daytime he hid it behind the radio, within reach; in the evening he put it on his night table."

  A Smith and Wesson .38, the weapon of a professional, which knows no mercy.

  "Come along, Aline."

  "What for? I don't know anything."

  She followed him unwillingly into the living room and opened the door of a very feminine bedroom, with a huge low bed such as one sees more frequently in the movies than in Parisian houses.

  The curtains and hangings were of buttercup silk; a large white goatskin rug covered almost the whole of the floor, while tulle curtains transformed the light from the window into golden dust.

  "I'm listening," she said peevishly.

  "So am I."

  "It can last some time."

  She sank into an armchair covered in ivory silk. Maigret did not dare sit on the fragile chairs and did not know whether to light his pipe.

  "I know you didn't kill him, Aline."

  "No kidding?"

  "Don't be unpleasant. You helped me last week."

  "That can't be the most intelligent thing I've ever done. The proof is that your two men are always standing across the street, and that the tallest one trailed me again this morning."

  "I'm doing my job."

  "Doesn't it ever disgust you?"

  "Let's stop playing at war. Let's say I'm doing my job just as you're doing yours, and it doesn't much matter if we're on different sides of the fence."

  "I've never hurt a soul."

  "That's possible. On the other hand, Manuel has just been hurt irreparably."

  He saw the tears well up behind the young woman's eyelids, and they seemed genuine.

  Aline blew her nose clumsily, like a little girl trying to stop sobbing.

  "Why must..."

  "Why must what?"

  "Nothing. I don't know. Why must he be dead? Why did they pick on him? As though he wasn't unhappy enough with one leg and living within four walls."

  "He had you."

  "That made him suffer, too, because he was jealous, and God knows he had no reason to be."

  Maigret took a gold cigarette case from the dressing table and offered it open to Aline. She took a cigarette automatically.

  "You came back from your shopping at five of ten?"

  "T
he inspector can confirm that."

  "Unless you gave him the slip, as you have now and again."

  "Not today."

  "So you didn't have to contact anyone for Manuel, no instructions to give, no phone calls."

  She shrugged her shoulders, automatically brushing away the smoke.

  "Did you come up by the main stairs?"

  "Why should I have gone up the back stairs? I'm not a servant, am I?"

  "You went first to the kitchen?"

  "As I always do after shopping."

  "Can I see?"

  "Open the door. It's opposite, in the hall."

  He just glanced in. The maid was making some coffee. Vegetables were piled on the table.

  "Did you empty your string bag?"

  "I don't think so."

  "You're not sure?"

  "There are some things one does automatically. After what happened, I can hardly remember."

  "Knowing you, you then went into the little room to kiss Manuel."

  "You know as well as I do what I found."

  "What I don't know is what you did."

  "First, I think I screamed. I instinctively rushed toward him. Then, I admit, when I saw all that blood I drew back in horror. I couldn't even give him a last kiss. Poor Daddy!"

  Tears ran down her face, and she did not think of drying them.

  "You picked up the gun?"

  "I've already said I didn't. You see! You pretend to believe me, and the moment we're alone together you set traps for me."

  "You didn't touch it, even to wipe it?"

  "I didn't touch a thing."

  "When did the maid arrive?"

  "I don't know. She comes up the back stairs and never bothers us when we're in that room."

  "You didn't hear her come in?"

  "One can't hear from the little room."

  "Is she ever late?"

  "Frequently. She has a sick son she has to look after before she comes."

  "You called the police station only at quarter after ten. Why? And why wasn't the first thing you did to call a doctor?"

  "You've seen him, haven't you? Are many people alive in that condition?"

  "What did you do in the twenty minutes between finding the body and telephoning? Here's a piece of good advice, Aline: Don't answer too quickly. I know you. You've often lied to me, and I haven't minded. I'm not sure whether the Examining Magistrate feels as I do. And he's going to decide about your liberty!"

  She resumed her derisive, common sneer and said:

  "That would top everything! Have them arrest me! And people still believe in justice! Do you still believe in it after what happened to you? Do you believe in it?"

  Maigret preferred not to answer.

  "You see, Aline, these twenty minutes could be of primary importance. Manuel was a careful man. I don't think he kept compromising documents or objects in this apartment, and even less jewels or large sums of money."

  "What are you driving at?"

  "Didn't you guess as much? One's first reaction on finding a corpse is to call a doctor or the police."

  "I suppose I don't have the same reactions as the average mortal."

  "You didn't stand immobile in front of the body for twenty minutes."

  "For a while, anyway."

  "Doing nothing?"

  "If you want to know, I started by praying. I know it's idiotic, since I don't believe in their wretched God. And yet there are times when it gets you in spite of yourself. Whether it did any good or not, I said a prayer for the rest of his soul."

  "And then?"

  "I started walking."

  "Where?"

  "From the little room to this room and from this room to the door of the little room. I talked to myself. I felt like an animal in a cage, like a lioness robbed of her male and her cubs. Because he was everything for me, both my man and my child."

  She spoke passionately as she paced the room as if to reconstruct what she had done that morning.

  "It lasted twenty minutes?"

  "Perhaps."

  "Didn't it occur to you to tell the maid?"

  "I didn't even think of her, and I was never at any point aware of her presence in the kitchen."

  "You didn't leave the apartment?"

  "To go where? Ask your men."

  "Very well. Let's assume you've told the truth."

  "That's all I do."

  She could be kind. She may have had a kind heart, and her love for Manuel may have been sincere. Only, like many others, her past experiences had left her ill-tempered and aggressive.

  How could one believe in goodness, in justice, how could one trust men, after the life she had led until she met Palmari?

  "We're going to make a little experiment," muttered Maigret, opening the door.

  He called:

  "Moers! Can you come in with the paraffin?"

  It now looked as though the apartment had been taken over by movers, and Janvier, who had brought in Inspectors Baron and Vacher, did not know where to stand.

  "Wait a moment, Janvier. Come in, Moers."

  The expert had understood and was preparing his instruments.

  "Your hand, please."

  "What for?"

  The Superintendent explained:

  "To prove that you haven't used a firearm this morning."

  Without blinking she held out her right hand. Then, just in case, the experiment was repeated on the left hand.

  "When can you let me know, Moers?"

  "In about ten minutes. I've got all I need down in the truck."

  "Is it true you don't suspect me and that you do that as routine?"

  "I'm almost sure you didn't kill Manuel."

  "Then what do you suspect me of?"

  "You know better than I do, my dear. I'm in no hurry. It'll come in its own time."

  He called Janvier and the two inspectors, who looked ill at ease in this white-andyellow bedroom.

  "It's all yours, boys."

  As if she were preparing for battle, Aline lit a cigarette and puffed out the smoke with a disdainful pout.

  Chapter 2

  When he left his house, Maigret certainly did not expect to return to Rue des Acacias, where he had spent so many anxious hours a week earlier. It was nothing but a radiant day, which he began at the same time as several million other Parisians. Still less did he expect to be sitting at a table at about one o'clock in the afternoon with the Magistrate, Ancelin, in a bistro called Chez l'Auvergnat.

  Opposite Palmari's, it was an old-fashioned bar with a traditional zinc counter, aperitifs that hardly anybody, except for old men, ever drank, the owner in his blue apron, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his face barred by a fine black mustache.

  Sausages, chitterlings, gourd-shaped cheeses, hams with grayish rinds, as though they had been kept under ashes, hung from the ceiling, and in the window could be seen enormous flat loaves straight from the Massif Central.

  Beyond the glass door of the kitchen, the owner's wife worked away in front of her oven, thin and gaunt.

  "Is it for lunch? A table for two?"

  There was no tablecloth, but over the oilcloth was some crinkled paper, on which the owner added up the bills. One could read, chalked on a slate:

  Rillettes du Morvan

  Fillet of veal with lentils

  Cheese Tarte maison

  The plump Magistrate perked up in this atmosphere, greedily sniffing the thick scent of food. There were only two or three silent customers left, regulars, whom the owner called by name.

  For months this had been the headquarters of the inspectors who took turns watching Manuel Palmari and Aline, one of them always ready to follow the young woman the minute she left the building.

  For the moment their job seemed over.

  "What do you think of it, Maigret? Do you mind if I call you that, although we've only met once? A meeting, as I just said, which I have long wished for. You know, you fascinate me."

  Maigret simply muttered:

&
nbsp; "Would you like fillet of veal?"

  "I like all country food. I'm the son of peasants, too, and my younger brother runs the family farm."

  Half an hour earlier, when Maigret left Aline's bedroom, he had been surprised to find the Magistrate waiting for him in Palmari's little room.

  By that time Moers had already made his first report to the Superintendent. The paraffin test was negative. In other words, it was not Aline who had fired the shots.

  "No fingerprints on the gun, which has been wiped with care. So have the handles on all the doors, including the front door."

  Maigret frowned.

  "You mean to say the door handle hasn't even got Aline's fingerprints?"

  "That's right."

  She interrupted:

  "I always wear my gloves when I go out, even in the summer, because I hate having damp hands."

  "What gloves were you wearing this morning when you did your shopping?"

  "White cotton gloves. Look! Here they are."

  She took them out of a handbag shaped like a carryall. Some green marks proved that she had handled the vegetables.

  "Baron!" called Maigret.

  "Yes, Chief."

  "Was it you who followed Aline this morning?"

  "Yes. She went out shortly before nine, carrying a red string bag as well as the handbag on the table."

  "Was she wearing gloves?"

  "White gloves, as usual."

  "You didn't let her out of your sight?"

  "I didn't go into the shops, but she didn't give me the slip for a second."

  "No telephone calls?"

  "No. At the butcher's she waited for her turn quite a long time, without talking to the women in the queue with her."

  "Did you make a note of the time she got back?"

  "To the minute. Six minutes to ten."

  "Did she seem in a hurry?"

  "On the contrary. She seemed to be dawdling and smiling, like someone making the most of a fine day. It was already hot, and I noticed patches of sweat under her arms."

  Maigret, too, was sweating, and he felt his damp shirt under his light jacket.

  "Call Vacher. Good. Tell me, Vacher, while your colleague was following Aline Bauche, did you stay on duty outside the building? Where were you?"

  "By the dentist's house, right opposite, except for the five minutes I took to drink a glass of white wine at Chez l'Auvergnat. You can see the front door of the building very well from the bar."