Maigret and the Loner Read online

  Maigret signalled that he had finished with her and she was allowed to go. In an hour, with the litre of cheap red wine she was going to buy, she would be found lying dead drunk on the pavement.

  Ascan said:

  ‘My men will keep looking tonight, but I thought those two had interesting things to say.’

  ‘Yes,’ Maigret replied, relighting his pipe, which he had allowed to go out. ‘First of all, we now know that Vivien had been here for more than fifteen years. Secondly, that a man who didn’t seem used to Les Halles was in the area the night Vivien was killed. He must have seen him unloading vegetables. Had he been looking for him? We don’t know. But we do know that he showed up in Impasse du Vieux-Four at about three in the morning. If he was the one who shot Vivien, it’s likely that in the meantime he went home to fetch his gun, because it’s highly unlikely he had dinner at Pharamond’s with a weapon of that calibre in his pocket.’

  ‘Only, we don’t have any idea who this man is, or where he lives. He could just as easily have come from the provinces.’

  ‘Do you think the woman might have made him up?’

  ‘I’d be surprised if she did. Tramps don’t like getting on the wrong side of the police and it can get them into a lot of trouble.’

  ‘There’s still a gap of five years to cover, with all the little hotels in Montmartre and Les Halles. It’s quite possible Vivien spent them here.’

  ‘We don’t have any tramps older than Toto. People like that don’t live to a ripe old age. The hairdressing school wasn’t around in those days. As for the tradesmen, they do good business and retire back to their villages as soon as they can. It won’t be easy finding one who was here in 1946.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Maigret said with a sigh, getting to his feet. ‘The information you’ve obtained is very useful. I wish I could say the same about what I’ve learned in Montmartre.’

  ‘You haven’t found any trace of him?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Not only in one hotel, but in two. Only, his girlfriend didn’t stay with him. She never spent the night in either of the two hotels. Either she lived in another hotel or she had a place of her own. If she’d been living with her parents she probably wouldn’t have stayed out until the early hours every night. We don’t have a surname, we don’t have an address. All we have is a birthmark on her left cheek.’

  ‘You’ll get your hands on her in the end.’

  ‘That’d be a real stroke of luck. As for the customer from Pharamond’s, it’s highly unlikely he’ll come back to Les Halles. If he did kill Vivien, he won’t want to be seen.’

  ‘We’ll keep looking anyway.’

  ‘Thanks, Ascan.’

  Maigret walked to the car and had Torrence drive him back to Quai des Orfèvres. The intense heat had returned after all too short an interval. Maigret would have liked to carry his jacket over his arm like everyone else. Once in his office, he took it off.

  ‘Anything new?’

  ‘A woman phoned. Madame Delaveau.’

  Vivien’s daughter.

  ‘Did she say what it was about?’

  ‘No. You can call her back, she won’t be going out any more this morning.’

  Maigret asked for her number and heard her voice at the other end of the line, with the cries of children in the background.

  ‘Hello. Inspector Maigret?’

  ‘Yes, madame.’

  The young woman’s voice had lost the aggressive quality it had had on their first encounter.

  ‘I don’t know if the little I have to tell you is worthwhile, but if you’d like to drop by early this afternoon, I’ll tell you what I know. Later, I have to take the children for a walk. I think that when I’ve talked to you, I’ll feel more at peace with myself.’

  He went home for lunch, and his wife served him coq au vin. It was one of his favourite dishes, but he ate distractedly, without even complimenting her.

  ‘You’re on edge, aren’t you?’ she ventured to say. ‘Since this case started, you haven’t been yourself. It’s as if something’s getting you down.’

  ‘You know, in every case there’s always a moment when I lose confidence in myself. Well, this time those moments just keep coming. I think I’ve taken a step forwards and I realize that I’m actually still in the same place. Don’t forget that I’m mainly trying to establish what happened twenty years ago. On top of that, there are times when Marcel Vivien, the man who was killed in Les Halles, strikes me as a sympathetic character and other times when I hate him.’

  ‘You’ll find your way through, you’ll see.’

  ‘I’ll have to, one way or another. Which reminds me, I should pay the examining magistrate a visit.’

  He dropped by Quai des Orfèvres, and Torrence resumed his driver’s job.

  ‘Les Halles? Montmartre?’

  ‘Montmartre. Odette Delaveau’s apartment in Rue Marcadet.’

  She was wearing a brightly coloured floral dress and looked particularly fresh.

  ‘Please sit down.’

  The children must have been taking a nap. They weren’t in the living room and there wasn’t a sound from them. In addition, Odette Delaveau spoke in a low voice.

  ‘Have you found out the girl’s address?’ she asked.

  The newspapers hadn’t mentioned her yet. It was an aspect of the case he hadn’t wanted disclosed too soon. He asked with feigned innocence:

  ‘What girl?’

  She smiled slyly.

  ‘You’re afraid of giving too much away, aren’t you? You don’t entirely trust me.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘The girl my father left us for. I didn’t know it at the time. My mother didn’t tell me anything. Contrary to what she says, my mother was very jealous and followed my father several times when he left his workshop. So she knew he was having an affair before he left us. She didn’t say anything to him about it, but she’d already started to withdraw into herself. Even later, when I was old enough to understand, it wasn’t me she told … It happened several years ago, when I was still living with her. I have an uncle in Meaux, Uncle Charles, who had a big fertilizer business and always dropped by to see my mother whenever he came to Paris. When we didn’t have any money or anyone to support us, I’m sure he was the one who helped my mother until she could earn her own living.’

  Maigret had automatically filled his pipe but hadn’t lit it.

  ‘It’s all right, you can smoke. My husband smokes all evening when he watches television … Anyway, one day, I was in my room, and the living-room door was ajar. Uncle Charles was there, and I heard what they were saying. I can still hear my mother’s voice: “To be honest, it was good riddance. I couldn’t have stood it much longer, living with a man who’d been with another woman.” “Are you sure of what you’re saying?” “I followed them several times. I’ve started to know their habits and I know where she lives. They didn’t even take the trouble to leave the neighbourhood. Marcel’s besotted with her. I’ve never seen a man in such a state. He’d do anything not to lose her.” You heard what my mother said to Uncle Charles: “I know where she lives …” That’s what suddenly came back to me. It’s why I phoned you.’

  ‘Did she give your uncle the address?’

  ‘No. They talked business. My uncle asked if there were any bills to pay, if any customers owed us money. I suppose you’re interested in the address?’

  ‘Very much so. I have several inspectors spending their time looking for it, so far in vain. We don’t even know her name.’

  ‘I’m sure my mother knows it. Don’t tell her it was me who sent you to see her.’

  ‘Don’t worry. And I’m very grateful to you. I don’t suppose you remember a very tall, very thin man with a long face and blue eyes?’

  ‘When would I have seen him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps twenty years ago. Perhaps recently.’

  ‘I can’t think of anyone who answers that description. Is it important to find him?’
/>   ‘According to a witness, he may have been your father’s killer.’

  Her eyes clouded over slightly.

  ‘No. I don’t know him.’

  She shook his hand when he left.

  ‘Good luck with Mother.’

  He had himself driven to Rue Caulaincourt. It took a while for the door to be opened.

  ‘It’s you!’ Madame Vivien sighed in an irritable tone. ‘You’ll have to wait in the hall, I’m in the middle of a fitting.’

  She motioned him to a chair that wasn’t at all comfortable, and he sat there quietly, his hat in his lap, his still unlit pipe in his right hand. He could hear women’s voices in the next room, but they were muted and he couldn’t make out more than the odd word.

  His wait lasted about half an hour. The customer was a blonde with big breasts and a broad smile, who looked at him curiously as she walked to the door. Once she had gone, Madame Vivien turned to face him.

  ‘Are you ever going to leave me in peace?’

  ‘I assure you I’m bothering you as little as possible.’

  ‘What would it be like if you weren’t so thoughtful?’

  ‘I realize you’re in mourning.’

  To which she retorted in a harsh voice:

  ‘It has nothing to do with being in mourning. I only went to the funeral at your insistence. Now that he’s finally buried and I was there to see it, you must be happy.’

  ‘You seem to hate him.’

  ‘I do.’

  They had moved into the next room, where a dress bristling with pins lay on the table.

  ‘Because of his girlfriend?’

  She shrugged, as if the question were ridiculous.

  ‘Listen, inspector. It may be best if I speak frankly. For years, Marcel was an extraordinary man, a very hard worker as well as a devoted husband. He almost never went out without either his daughter or me. Then, one fine day, everything changed. He was out almost every evening and he didn’t even bother to make up an excuse. He went out, and that was it. And he’d get back well after midnight.’

  ‘So you followed him?’

  ‘Isn’t that what any woman would have done?’

  Had she ever loved him? That was far from certain. He was her companion, and the family’s breadwinner. But had she ever felt real love?

  ‘I followed them, yes. Because, of course, he wasn’t going out alone. They were like young lovers who constantly have to shake themselves because they can’t believe they’re together. She was barely twenty, and he was thirty-five. I guess he didn’t realize how ridiculous he was. He’d hold her round the waist. They’d sometimes do a little dance on the pavement, then they’d kiss and burst out laughing. You know why? Because once again they’d kissed under a streetlamp. I followed them into a cinema. You should have seen how they behaved themselves in there. Then they went for a drink in a nearby brasserie.’

  ‘Cyrano’s.’

  ‘So you know about that?’

  ‘It must have been in January or February 1946.’

  ‘January, yes. He’d just left me. But I’d already followed them when he was still living here.’

  ‘Did you ever speak to him?’

  ‘No. I had nothing to say to him. I couldn’t force him to come back, could I? He’d become a different man anyway, someone I’d never have suspected.’

  ‘Was he staying at the Hôtel du Morvan?’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘In June, he moved to the Hôtel Jonard on Place des Abbesses.’

  ‘By then I’d lost track of him.’

  ‘His girlfriend wasn’t living with him.’

  ‘She had her own apartment on Boulevard Rochechouart, an apartment she’d inherited from her mother, who’d died a year before.’

  ‘Do you know the girl’s name?’

  ‘Yes. I asked the concierge. Her name’s Nina Lassave.’

  ‘Have you ever seen her again in the last twenty years?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You never went back to Boulevard Rochechouart to find out what had become of her?’

  ‘Certainly not. I’d started working by then.’

  She said all this in a cold, hard voice, without the slightest trace of emotion.

  ‘Do you know the number of the apartment block on Boulevard Rochechouart?’

  ‘No. It’s not very far from Place Pigalle. There’s a pharmacy on one side and a bakery and pastry shop on the other.’

  ‘Weren’t you surprised to learn that your husband had become a tramp?’

  ‘It just proves he wasn’t with her any more. How long was he in Les Halles?’

  ‘At least fifteen years, probably longer.’

  ‘Serves him right.’

  He had to stop himself from smiling. She was literally brimming with hate.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’

  ‘Now that you know how I feel, are you going to leave me alone?’

  ‘I’ll do my best to bother you as little as possible … You did say Nina Lassave, didn’t you? Do you know if she had a job?’

  ‘When their affair started, she was working in a lingerie shop in Rue Lepic. But she soon gave that up. She’d found an easier source of income.’

  ‘Thank you, madame.’

  He said goodbye almost ceremoniously and left her alone with her long-held, long-nursed resentment.

  He joined Torrence, who was reading the afternoon paper.

  ‘Go via Rue Lepic.’

  ‘By the workshop?’

  ‘No. Look for a lingerie shop. I think I noticed it near the bottom of the street.’

  There it was, with a narrow display window. Inside, a skinny old maid stood behind the counter, folding women’s slips. She seemed surprised to see a man come into her shop on his own.

  ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m from the Police Judiciaire. I’m looking for a woman who used to work here. How long have you had this shop?’

  ‘Forty years, monsieur.’

  ‘So you were here in 1945 and 1946.’

  ‘I haven’t taken three months’ holiday in my life. Before, I had my sister with me, but she died last year.’

  ‘Do you remember a Nina Lassave?’

  ‘She worked for me for two years. She wasn’t yet eighteen when she started here. A sweet young thing, quite pretty.’

  ‘Did she ever give you cause for complaint?’

  ‘At the end of her time here, her behaviour did bother me. I’d noticed a man waiting for her at closing time. He was a lot older than her. This went on for about two months, then she told me she had to leave me. “To get married?” I asked her, and she burst out laughing as if I’d said something very funny.’

  ‘Did you ever see her again?’

  ‘No. I don’t know what became of her. I’m afraid she may have turned out badly. And yet, like I said before, when she started, she was so sweet, so nice.’

  Maigret thanked her and went back to the car.

  ‘So you’re taking an interest in ladies’ underwear now?’

  ‘I finally have the name of Vivien’s girlfriend. She worked in that shop twenty years ago. And now we’re going to see the building where she lived at the time. She may still be living there, it’s an apartment she inherited from her mother.’

  ‘What’s the address?’

  ‘Boulevard Rochechouart. Not far from Pigalle. There’s a pharmacy on one side and a bakery and pastry shop on the other.’

  ‘Got it! Was it the woman in the shop who gave you the address?’

  ‘No. It was Madame Vivien. She literally spat it out. I’ve never seen so much hate as I have in that woman’s eyes when she talks about her husband and his girlfriend.’

  The streets and boulevards were quiet. They spotted the pharmacy first, then the bakery. Between the two, a brown-painted carriage entrance with a smaller door embedded in it. This second door was open.

  Through the porch, a cobbled courtyard was visible, with a magnificent lime tree. />
  Maigret knocked at the door of the lodge. He glimpsed a pleasant young woman in a white apron, who came and opened the door.

  ‘Who are you looking for?’

  ‘Given your age, I assume you haven’t been here long.’

  ‘Well, I have been here for five years.’

  ‘Would you still have a tenant named Nina Lassave by any chance?’

  ‘Never heard of her.’

  ‘Have you heard the name Vivien?’

  ‘The man who was murdered near Les Halles? I read about it in the papers just in the last few days.’

  ‘Do you know what became of the former concierge?’

  ‘She retired and went back to her village. She has a son who owns a vineyard. It’s near Sancerre.’

  ‘Do you know her name?’

  ‘Hold on … I didn’t see that much of her … Michou, that’s it. It’s an easy name to remember, actually. Clémentine Michou.’

  ‘Many thanks.’

  And, to Torrence:

  ‘Let’s go back to headquarters.’

  ‘Without even having a beer?’

  They each had one in a bar in Rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette. Maigret was starting to see a little chink of light. Now that he had the girl’s name, he was sure he’d soon track her down.

  ‘When we get back to headquarters, I want you to go up to Records and see if we have anything on a Nina Lassave. If there’s nothing, you might as well try the Vice Squad. You never know.’

  ‘Got it.’

  Back in his office, Maigret began by taking off his jacket and filling a pipe, standing by the window. In spite of everything, he wasn’t completely satisfied, and Madame Maigret would have said he was on edge.

  It was true. He had conducted the investigation to the best of his ability, looking into both the present and the past. He had obtained some significant results, but he had the feeling he had missed something out. What? He couldn’t put his finger on it and it made him feel uneasy.

  ‘Could you put me through to the gendarmerie in Sancerre, mademoiselle? If he’s in his office, I’ll speak to the captain, of course. If he isn’t there, get me someone from his office.’

  He began pacing up and down. In two weeks, he told himself, this case would probably be closed, and he and his wife would be able to go and relax in their house in Meung-sur-Loire. It wasn’t all that far from Sancerre.