Maigret's Mistake Read online

  ‘Did you know your brother-in-law’s mistress was pregnant?’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’

  ‘Did your sister tell you?’

  ‘She didn’t talk to me about the girl.’

  ‘Did she ever talk to you about her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you knew about her?’

  She blushed again. ‘She must have mentioned her at the beginning, when that man set her up in the building.’

  ‘Did it bother her?’

  ‘We all think in different ways. And you don’t live for years with a man like that without it rubbing off on you in the end.’

  ‘In other words, your sister didn’t blame her husband for the affair and wasn’t upset by Louise Filon’s presence in the building?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  He would have been hard put to answer that question. He had the feeling that he was digging further and further without knowing where he would end up, anxious to get a more precise idea of the people who had been in contact with Lulu, and of Lulu herself.

  A young man who wanted some books disturbed them, and Antoinette left Maigret for five or six minutes. When she returned, she had drawn on even deeper reserves of hatred for her brother-in-law and didn’t give Maigret time to open his mouth.

  ‘When are you going to arrest him?’

  ‘Do you think he killed Louise Filon?’

  ‘Who else could it have been?’

  ‘Her boyfriend Pierrot, for instance.’

  ‘Why would he have done that?’

  ‘Out of jealousy, or because she was planning to break up with him.’

  ‘What about that man? Do you imagine he wasn’t jealous? Do you think a man his age doesn’t get upset over a girl choosing a young man over him? What if he was the one she’d decided to break up with?’

  She seemed to be trying to hypnotize him, the better to get the idea of the professor’s guilt into his head.

  ‘If you knew him better, you’d realize he isn’t the kind of man who’d think twice about getting rid of a human being.’

  ‘On the contrary, I thought he was devoted to saving lives.’

  ‘That’s vanity! To show the world that he’s the greatest surgeon of our time. The proof of that is that he only accepts difficult operations.’

  ‘Perhaps because others can take care of the easier ones.’

  ‘You’re defending him without knowing him.’

  ‘I’m trying to understand.’

  ‘It’s not as complicated as all that.’

  ‘You forget that, according to the pathologist, who’s rarely wrong, the murder was committed before eleven o’clock. It was after eleven when the concierge saw the professor come home, and he went straight up to the fourth floor.’

  ‘What’s there to prove he didn’t come back earlier?’

  ‘I assume it’s easy enough to check his timetable with the hospital.’

  ‘Have you done so?’

  It was Maigret’s turn to almost blush.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well, do it, then! It’ll probably be more worthwhile than hunting a young man who hasn’t done anything.’

  ‘Do you hate the professor?’

  ‘Him and all those like him.’

  She said this with such force that the three people in the library raised their heads from their books at the same time.

  ‘You’re forgetting your hat!’

  ‘I thought I’d left it in the entrance.’

  With a scornful finger, she pointed to it on the green baize of the table, where the presence of a man’s hat probably constituted unseemly behaviour in her eyes.

  6.

  Technically, as it were, Antoinette wasn’t so wrong.

  By the time Maigret got to the Cochin hospital on Faubourg Saint-Jacques, Étienne Gouin had already left for the Saint-Joseph Clinic in Passy, together with his assistant. Maigret had expected that, since it was after eleven. But he wasn’t here to see the professor. Perhaps, when it came down to it, he didn’t want to meet him face to face just yet, although he didn’t quite know why.

  Gouin’s department was on the second floor, and Maigret had to negotiate with the office staff before he was given permission to go upstairs. He found the long corridor more animated than he had expected, the nurses under great pressure. The one he approached as she came out of one of the rooms, looking less busy than the others, was a middle-aged woman with already white hair.

  ‘Are you the head nurse?’

  ‘The head nurse for the day shift.’

  He told her who he was, and that he would like to ask her a few questions.

  ‘What about?’

  He hesitated to admit that it was about the professor. She had led him to the door of a small office but didn’t invite him in.

  ‘Is that the operating theatre I can see at the end of the corridor?’

  ‘One of the operating theatres, yes.’

  ‘What happens when a surgeon spends part of the night in the hospital?’

  ‘I don’t understand. You mean when a surgeon comes here to perform an operation?’

  ‘No. Unless I’m mistaken, they’re sometimes here for other reasons – if they’re afraid there might be complications, for example, or else to wait for the result of their operation.’

  ‘That does happen. What of it?’

  ‘Where do they go?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On how long they stay. If they aren’t here for long, they come to my office, or walk up and down the corridor. But if they have to wait for several hours, in case an emergency operation is necessary, they go upstairs, to the interns’ section, where there are two or three rooms at their disposal.’

  ‘Do they use the stairs?’

  ‘Either that or the lift. The rooms are on the fourth floor. Most of the time, they rest until they’re called.’

  She was clearly wondering what these questions were in aid of. The newspapers hadn’t mentioned Gouin’s name in connection with the death of Lulu. It was likely that nobody here knew of his relations with the girlfriend of Pierrot the Musician.

  ‘I don’t suppose I can speak to someone who was here the night before last?’

  ‘After eight o’clock?’

  ‘Yes. I should have said the night of Monday to Tuesday.’

  ‘The nurses who are here now are all like me. They belong to the day team. It may be that one of the interns was on duty. Wait a moment.’

  She went into two or three rooms and at last came back with a tall, bony, red-haired young man wearing thick spectacles.

  ‘Someone from the police,’ she said and went and sat down in her office, but didn’t ask them in.

  Maigret introduced himself.

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector Maigret.’

  ‘I thought I recognized you. What would you like to know?’

  ‘Were you here on the night of Monday to Tuesday?’

  ‘Most of the night, yes. The professor operated on a child on Monday afternoon. It was a difficult case, and he asked me to keep a close eye on the patient.’

  ‘Didn’t he come himself?’

  ‘He spent most of the evening in the hospital.’

  ‘Was he on this floor with you?’

  ‘He got here just after eight, with his assistant. We went in together to see the patient and stayed there, looking out for something that didn’t in fact happen. I don’t suppose you want me to go into technical details?’

  ‘I probably wouldn’t understand a thing. So you stayed with the patient for an hour or two?’

  ‘Less than an hour. Mademoiselle Decaux insisted on the professor getting some rest, because he’d performed an emergency operation the previous night. In the end, he went upstairs to have a lie down.’

  ‘How was he dressed?’

  ‘He wasn’t expecting to operate. And in fact he didn’t have to. He was still in his normal everyday clothes.’
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  ‘Did Mademoiselle Decaux keep you company?’

  ‘Yes. We chatted. The professor came down just before eleven. I’d been in to see the patient every quarter of an hour. We went back together and, as the patient seemed out of danger, the professor decided to go home.’

  ‘Did he leave with Mademoiselle Decaux?’

  ‘They almost always arrive and leave together.’

  ‘So, from a quarter to nine to eleven o’clock, Gouin was alone on the fourth floor.’

  ‘Alone in a room, in any case. I still don’t see why you’re asking these questions.’

  ‘Could he have come down without your seeing him?’

  ‘By the stairs, yes.’

  ‘Could he also have passed the desk downstairs without anybody noticing?’

  ‘Possibly. Nobody pays any attention to doctors going in and out, especially at night.’

  ‘I’m very grateful. Do you mind telling me your name?’

  ‘Mansuy. Raoul Mansuy.’

  This was where Madame Gouin’s sister hadn’t been so wrong. Physically speaking, Étienne Gouin could have left the hospital and had himself driven to Avenue Carnot and back without anyone noticing his absence.

  ‘I don’t suppose I’m allowed to know why …’ the intern began just as Maigret was about to walk away.

  Maigret shook his head. He went downstairs and crossed the courtyard to the little black car and the police driver waiting at the kerb. When he got to Quai des Orfèvres, he didn’t think of casting his usual glance through the windows of the waiting room. Before entering his office, he passed through the inspectors’ room, where Lucas stood up to talk to him.

  ‘I have some information from Béziers.’

  Maigret had almost forgotten about Louise Filon’s father.

  ‘The man died of cirrhosis of the liver three years ago. Before that, he worked on and off in the town abattoir.’

  Nobody had yet come forward to claim Louise’s inheritance, if there was one.

  ‘Someone named Louis has been waiting for you next door for the last half-hour.’

  ‘A musician.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Bring him to my office.’

  Maigret went in, took off his hat and coat, sat down in his place and picked up one of the pipes arranged in front of the desk blotter. A few moments later, the accordion player was admitted, looking uneasy, peering about him before sitting down as if expecting a trap.

  ‘You can leave us, Lucas.’

  And, to Louis:

  ‘If you’re going to be here for a while, I advise you to take your coat off.’

  ‘There’s no need. He phoned me.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘This morning, just after nine.’

  He was observing Maigret hesitantly.

  ‘Are we still on?’

  ‘Are you referring to what I said yesterday? Of course. If Pierrot’s innocent, he has nothing to fear.’

  ‘He didn’t kill her. He would have told me. I did what you asked, I told him you were ready to meet him where he wanted and that then he’d be free again.’

  ‘Let’s be clear about this. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. If I think he’s innocent, he’ll be entirely free. If I think he’s guilty, or if I have any doubts, I guarantee I won’t take advantage of our encounter, in other words, I’ll let him go, but then the search will resume.’

  ‘That’s pretty much what I told him.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘That he was ready to see you. He has nothing to hide.’

  ‘Would he come here?’

  ‘Provided he isn’t besieged by reporters and photographers. Provided also he can get here without the cops jumping him.’

  Louis was speaking slowly, weighing his words, without taking his eyes off Maigret.

  ‘Could it be done soon?’ Maigret asked.

  He checked the time. It wasn’t yet midday. Between midday and two o’clock, the offices of Quai des Orfèvres were quiet and almost deserted. It was the time of day Maigret chose as often as possible when he had to set up a difficult interrogation.

  ‘He could be here in half an hour.’

  ‘In that case, listen to me. I assume he has pocket money. Let him take a taxi and ask to be dropped outside the prison on Quai de l’Horloge. Not many people pass that way. Nobody will pay any attention to him. One of my inspectors will wait for him at the door and bring him to me through the interior of the Palais de Justice.’

  Getting to his feet, Louis looked at Maigret again for a moment or two, conscious of the responsibility he was assuming on behalf of his friend.

  ‘I believe you,’ he sighed at last. ‘Half an hour, an hour tops.’

  When he had left, Maigret phoned the Brasserie Dauphine to ask for some food to be brought up.

  ‘Enough for two people. And four glasses of beer.’

  Then he called his wife and told her he wouldn’t be home for lunch.

  Finally, just to be sure, he went upstairs to the commissioner’s office, preferring to inform him about the experiment he was going to attempt.

  ‘Do you think he’s innocent?’

  ‘Until proven otherwise. If he was guilty, he’d have no reason to come and see me. Or else he’s tougher than I thought.’

  ‘What about the professor?’

  ‘I don’t know. I still have no idea.’

  ‘Have you talked to him?’

  ‘No. Janvier had a brief conversation with him.’

  The commissioner sensed it was useless to ask questions. Maigret had that heavy, stubborn air about him that everyone at headquarters knew so well. At such times, he was even less talkative than usual.

  ‘The girl was pregnant,’ he simply added, as if it was bothering him.

  He went back to the inspectors’ room. Lucas had not yet gone to lunch.

  ‘I don’t suppose the taxi’s been found?’

  ‘There’s no chance we’ll find it before tonight. The drivers who work nights are all in bed.’

  ‘It might not be a bad idea to look for two taxis.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s quite possible that earlier in the evening, just before ten, the professor had himself driven to Avenue Carnot and then back to the hospital.’

  ‘I’ll have it checked.’

  He looked round for the inspector he would send to wait outside the prison and take charge of Pierrot and chose young Lapointe.

  ‘Go and stand on the pavement opposite the prison. After a while, you’ll see someone get out of a taxi. It’ll be the saxophone player.’

  ‘Is he giving himself up?’

  ‘He’s coming to talk to me. Be nice to him. Try not to scare him. Bring him to me by way of the little courtyard and the corridors of the Palais de Justice. I promised him he wouldn’t encounter any reporters.’

  There were almost always some prowling in the corridors, but it was easy to get rid of them for a moment.

  By the time Maigret got back to his office, the beer and sandwiches were waiting for him on a tray. He drank one of the beers but didn’t start to eat and then spent a quarter of an hour standing by the window watching the barges glide by on the grey water.

  At last he heard the footsteps of two men. He opened the door and signalled to Lapointe that he could go.

  ‘Come in, Pierrot.’

  The musician, pale, with bags under his eyes, was visibly upset. Just as his friend had done, he began by looking around him like a man expecting a trap.

  ‘There’s only you and me in the room,’ Maigret reassured him. ‘You can take your coat off. Give it to me.’

  He placed it on the back of a chair.

  ‘Are you thirsty?’

  He handed him a glass of beer and took one for himself.

  ‘Sit down. I suspected you’d come.’

  ‘Why?’

  His voice was hoarse, the voice of someone who hasn’t slept all night and has smoked one cigarette a
fter another. Two fingers of his right hand had brown tobacco stains on them. He was unshaven. Wherever it was he had gone to earth, he probably hadn’t had the chance to shave.

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  He seemed younger than his age and he was so nervous, it was tiring to look at him. Even seated, he was still trembling from head to foot.

  ‘You promised …’ he began.

  ‘I’ll keep my word.’

  ‘I came of my own free will.’

  ‘You did the right thing.’

  ‘I didn’t kill Lulu.’

  Suddenly, when Maigret was least expecting it, he burst into tears. It was clearly the first time he had let himself go since he had learned of his girlfriend’s death. He wept like a child, hiding his face with both hands, and Maigret was careful not to interrupt him. Basically, ever since he had found out from the newspaper in the little restaurant on Boulevard Barbès that Lulu was dead, he hadn’t had time to think about her, but only about the threat hanging over him.

  Overnight, he had become a hunted man, his freedom – if not his head – at stake with every passing minute.

  Now that he was at Quai des Orfèvres, face to face with the police, who had been his nightmare, he was suddenly letting himself go.

  ‘I swear I didn’t kill her,’ he repeated.

  Maigret believed him. He didn’t look or sound like a guilty man. Louis had been right, the previous day, when he had talked about his friend as a weak man who acted tough.

  With his fair hair, his bright eyes, his almost chubby face, it wasn’t a butcher’s boy he made you think of, but an office clerk. You could imagine him strolling on the Champs-Élysées with his wife on a Sunday afternoon.

  ‘Did you really believe it was me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So why did you tell that to the papers?’

  ‘I never said a word to the reporters. They write what they want. And the circumstances—’

  ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘Calm down now. You can smoke.’

  Pierrot’s hand was still shaking as he lit his cigarette.

  ‘There’s one question I have to ask you before anything else. When you went to Avenue Carnot on Monday night, was Louise still alive?’

  Pierrot opened his eyes wide.

  ‘Of course!’ he exclaimed.