Maigret's Patience

by Georges Simenon

  ‘What makes you think that Monsieur Palmari’s death had something to do with them not being married?’

  ‘That’s how it is, isn’t it?’

  ‘Which staircase did you come up?’

  ‘The servants’ one,’ she replied bitterly. ‘There was a time, when I was younger, when they would have been happy to let me come up the main staircase.’

  ‘Did you see Mademoiselle Bauche?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you go straight into the kitchen?’

  ‘I always go there first.’

  ‘How many hours a day are you here?’

  ‘Two hours, from ten until twelve. The whole morning on Mondays and Saturdays, except now I won’t ever be here on a Saturday, thank God.’

  ‘What did you hear?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Where was your mistress?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Didn’t you ask her for instructions?’

  ‘I’m old enough to know what to do after I’ve been told once.’

  ‘And what were you supposed to do?’

  ‘Put away the shopping she had just brought in and left on the table. Then wash the vegetables. Then vacuum the living room.’

  ‘Did you have time to do it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What did you do next on the other days, after the living room?’

  ‘The bedroom and the bathroom.’

  ‘Not the little room?’

  ‘The gentleman’s study? The young lady looked after that herself.’

  ‘You didn’t hear any shots?’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Or your mistress’s voice talking on the telephone?’

  ‘The door was closed.’

  ‘What time did you see Mademoiselle Bauche this morning?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. Ten or fifteen minutes after I got here.’

  ‘How was she?’

  ‘She’d been crying.’

  ‘She wasn’t still crying?’

  ‘No, she said: “Don’t leave me on my own. I’m afraid I might faint. They’ve killed Daddy.” ’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘She headed for the bedroom, and I followed her. It was only when she threw herself on the bed that she started crying again. Then she said to me: “When the doorbell rings, answer it. I’ve called the police.” ’

  ‘Were you not curious enough to ask for more details?’

  ‘I don’t concern myself with people’s business. The less I know, the better.’

  ‘You didn’t go and take a look at Monsieur Palmari?’

  ‘What would be the point?’

  ‘What did you think of him?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Same. Nothing.’

  ‘You’ve been here since Monday. Have you ever seen anyone visit?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Has anyone asked to speak to Monsieur Palmari?’

  ‘No. Is that all? Can I go now?’

  ‘As long as you leave me your address.’

  ‘I am not far away. I live in a garret in the most run-down house on Rue de l’Étoile, number 27A. You’ll only find me there in the evening, because I’m cleaning all day. And remember that I don’t like the police.’

  Janvier had just read Maigret this statement, which he had typed up.

  ‘Has Moers been gone long?’

  ‘About three-quarters of an hour. He’s searched the whole place, examined the books one by one, the record sleeves. He asked me to tell you that he found nothing. No secret hiding place in the walls either, no double drawers in the furniture. He vacuumed the rooms just in case and took away the dust for analysis.’

  ‘Go and get some lunch. I recommend the fillet of veal at Chez l’Auvergnat, if they’re still serving at this time. Then come back afterwards and pick me up. Did you advise the local chief inspector not to say anything to the press?’

  ‘Yes. Just now. By the way, that magistrate wasn’t on your back, was he?’

  ‘No, quite the opposite. I’m already beginning to like the man.’

  Once he was alone, Maigret took off his jacket, slowly filled his pipe and started to look around, as if taking possession of the place.

  Palmari’s wheelchair, which he hadn’t seen unoccupied before, suddenly looked ominous, especially as the leather on the seat and the back still bore the imprint of Palmari’s body and the hole made by one of the bullets, which had lodged itself in the padding of the back.

  He randomly picked up some books, some records, and turned on the radio for a moment, which blared out an advert for a brand of baby food.

  He raised the blinds at the windows, one of which looked out on to Rue des Acacias, the other on to Rue de l’Arc-de-Triomphe.

  For three years, Palmari had lived in this room from dawn to dusk, leaving it only to go to bed, after Aline had undressed him like a child.

  According to what he had said ten days earlier, which the inspectors had confirmed, he never received visits, and apart from the radio and the television, his companion was his only link with the outside world.

  Finally, Maigret crossed the living room and knocked on the bedroom door. When he got no response he opened it and found Aline lying on her back in the huge bed, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘I hope I didn’t wake you?’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Your cleaner says she’s not coming back.’

  ‘What do I care? If only you wouldn’t come back.’

  ‘What would you do?’

  ‘Nothing. If you were ever shot dead, would your wife appreciate having her apartment invaded and being asked question after question?’

  ‘Unfortunately, I have to do it.’

  ‘I can’t think of anything crueller.’

  ‘Except the murder itself.’

  ‘And you suspect me of it? In spite of the test your specialist did this morning?’

  ‘I presume you do the cooking?’

  ‘Like all women who don’t have a maid.’

  ‘Do you wear rubber gloves?’

  ‘Not for cooking, but to peel the vegetables and do the washing-up.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In the kitchen.’

  ‘Will you show me?’

  She got up grudgingly, her eyes dark with spite.

  ‘Come.’

  She had to open two drawers before finding them.

  ‘There! You can send them to your artists. I didn’t wear them this morning.’

  Maigret put them in his pocket without a word.

  ‘Contrary to what you might think, Aline, I have a lot of sympathy and even a certain admiration for you.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be touched by this?’

  ‘No. I would like you to come and have a chat with me in Manuel’s room.’

  ‘If I don’t …?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If I refuse? I suppose you’ll take me to your office at Quai des Orfèvres?’

  ‘I’d rather do things here.’

  She shrugged her shoulders, walked in front of him and slumped down on the narrow sofa.

  ‘Do you think it will upset me to see where the crime took place?’

  ‘No. It would be better if you stopped being so tense, so much on the defensive and hiding what you will be forced to admit to me one day.’

  She lit a cigarette and looked at Maigret indifferently.

  Pointing to the wheelchair, the inspector murmured:

  ‘You want whoever did this to be punished, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not counting on the police.’

  ‘You’d rather take care of it yourself? How old are you, Aline?’

  ‘You know. Twenty-five.’

  ‘So you have your whole life ahead of you. Did Manuel leave a will?’

  ‘I never bothered to find out.’


  ‘Did he have a lawyer?’

  ‘He never mentioned one.’

  ‘Where did he keep his money?’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘To start with, what he earned from the Clou Doré. I know it is you who received the money due to Manuel from the manager each week. What did you do with it?’

  She looked like a chess player weighing up her next move and all the possible consequences.

  ‘I put the money in the bank and kept only what I needed for the housekeeping.’

  ‘Which bank?’

  ‘The branch of the Crédit Lyonnais on Avenue de la Grande-Armée.’

  ‘Is the account in your name?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is there another account in Palmari’s name?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Listen, Aline. You’re an intelligent girl. Up until now, with Manuel, you’ve led a certain type of life, pretty much on the margins of society. Palmari was a gang leader, a tough guy, who made himself respected for years.’

  She pointed ironically at the wheelchair, then at the still-visible bloodstain on the carpet.

  ‘If a man like him, who knew all the ropes, gets himself killed, what do you think will happen to a young and now defenceless woman?

  ‘Do you want to know what I think? I think there are only two possibilities. Either those who went after him will come after you next and they will be just as successful. Or they will leave you alone, and that will tell me you are in league with them.

  ‘You see, you know too much, and in these circles the accepted opinion is that only the dead don’t talk.’

  ‘Are you trying to scare me?’

  ‘I’m trying to concentrate your mind. We’ve been playing games too long, you and I.’

  ‘Which would prove, according to your theory, that I am able to keep quiet.’

  ‘Would it bother you if I opened the window?’

  He opened the one that wasn’t in direct sunlight, but the air from outside was barely cooler than that in the room, and Maigret continued to sweat. He couldn’t decide whether to sit down or not.

  ‘For three years you lived here with Manuel, who, as both you and he claimed, had no contact with the outside world. In fact, he did have contacts, with you as his intermediary.

  ‘Officially, you went once a week, occasionally twice, to check the takings at the Clou Doré, collect Palmari’s share and deposit the money in the bank, in an account registered under your name.

  ‘But you often felt the need to give my officers the slip, either to make mysterious telephone calls or to give yourself a few hours of freedom.’

  ‘Maybe I had a lover.’

  ‘And it doesn’t bother you even a bit saying something like that on a day like today?’

  ‘It’s just to show you that there are any number of possibilities.’

  ‘No, my girl.’

  ‘I’m not your girl.’

  ‘I know! You’ve told me umpteen times. It doesn’t mean there aren’t times when you act like a kid and I feel like giving you a slap.

  ‘I said just now that you are intelligent. But you don’t seem to grasp what sort of hornet’s nest you’ve stumbled into.

  ‘Adopting this attitude while Palmari was there to advise you and protect you is one thing. But now you are all alone, do you understand? Is there any other weapon in the house other than the one the experts are currently looking at?’

  ‘Kitchen knives.’

  ‘You want me to go, and not keep an eye on you any more …’

  ‘That’s exactly what I want.’

  He shrugged his shoulders, discouraged. Nothing had any effect on her, despite her obvious dejection and an anxiety she couldn’t completely conceal.

  ‘Let’s approach this from a different angle. Palmari was sixty. For fifteen years he was the proprietor of the Clou Doré, which he ran himself until his infirmity prevented him. From his restaurant alone he earned a lot of money, and he had other sources of income.

  ‘Now, apart from buying this apartment, paying for the furniture and the running costs, he didn’t spend a lot of money. So where is the fortune he accumulated?’

  ‘It’s too late to ask him.’

  ‘Do you know his family?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t you think that, loving you as much as he did, he would have arranged for this money to pass to you?’

  ‘You said it, not me.’

  ‘People like him generally avoid putting their money in banks, because it is too easy to check the dates the deposits were made.’

  ‘I’m still listening.’

  ‘Manuel didn’t work alone.’

  ‘At the Clou Doré?’

  ‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean the jewels.’

  ‘You’ve been here at least twenty times to ask him about that. And did you get anything out of him? So why do you think, now that Daddy’s dead, you’ll get anything more out of me?’

  ‘Because you are in danger.’

  ‘Is that any concern of yours?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to go through this morning’s ceremony again for you.’

  It seemed to Maigret that she was beginning to have second thoughts, but nevertheless, as she stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, she sighed:

  ‘I have nothing to say.’

  ‘Then in that case you will allow me to have one of my men in your apartment day and night. Another will continue to follow you when you go out. Finally, I have to request officially that you don’t leave Paris until this investigation is over.’

  ‘I get it. So where will your inspector sleep?’

  ‘He won’t sleep. If you ever feel the need to tell me anything, telephone me at my office or call me at home. Here is my number.’

  She didn’t take the card he offered her, so eventually he left it on the table.

  ‘Now that our conversation is over, can I offer you my very sincere condolences? Palmari may have decided to live on the margins of society, but I can’t deny that I had a sort of admiration for him.

  ‘Goodbye, Aline. That’s your doorbell, and it is almost certainly Janvier coming back from lunch. He’ll stay here until I send another inspector to relieve him.’

  He was about to hold out his hand to her. He could sense she was troubled. Knowing she wouldn’t respond to the gesture, he put on his jacket and went to the door to let Janvier in.

  ‘Anything to report, chief?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Stay here until I send a replacement. Keep an eye on her and mind the back stairs.’

  ‘Are you going back to the office?’

  Maigret made a vague shrug and sighed:

  ‘I don’t know.’

  A few minutes later, he was drinking a large beer in a bar on Avenue de Wagram. He would have preferred the atmosphere in Chez l’Auvergnat, but there was no phone booth in the bistro. The telephone there was on the wall next to the counter, where the other customers could eavesdrop on your conversation.

  ‘Another beer, please, waiter and a few telephone tokens. Make it five.’

  A rather thick-set prostitute smiled at him naively, without realizing who he was. He took pity on her and signalled to her that he wasn’t interested and not to waste her time.

  3.

  Staring idly through the glass of the phone booth at the customers sitting round the tables, Maigret first of all called Ancelin, the examining magistrate, to ask him to delay sealing off the room on Rue des Acacias.

  ‘I left one of my men in the apartment and I’ll be sending another soon to do the night shift.’

  ‘Have you questioned the young woman again?’

  ‘I’ve just had a long conversation with her, but no joy.’

  ‘Where are you right now?’

  ‘In a bar on Avenue de Wagram. I have a few more calls to make.’

  He thought he heard a sigh. Was the chubby magistrate jealous of him, out there in the throbbing heart of the city
while he sat in a dusty office poring over abstract files and following monotonous routines?

  At school, Maigret used to gaze longingly out of the classroom window at all the men and women coming and going in the street while he remained shut up inside.

  The bar was almost full, and it still surprised him after all these years to see people out and about at times of the day when others were beavering away in offices, workshops and factories.

  When he first arrived in Paris, he could spend whole afternoons on a café terrace on the Grands Boulevards or on Boulevard Saint-Michel, watching the crowd flow by, observing the faces and trying to guess what was on everyone’s minds.

  ‘… Thank you. If there are any more developments I’ll update you as soon as possible.’

  Next, he rang the pathologist, whom he managed to reach in his surgery. Doctor Paul wasn’t there any more; his young replacement was a less colourful character but was conscientious in his work.

  ‘As you know, your men found a bullet lodged in the back of the wheelchair. It was fired from in front, when the victim was already dead.’

  ‘From what distance, roughly?’

  ‘Less than a metre but more than fifty centimetres. I can’t be more precise than that without resorting to guesswork. The bullet that killed Palmari was fired from behind, in the neck, almost from point-blank range, at a slight upward angle, and it lodged itself in the cranium.’

  ‘Were the three bullets of the same calibre?’

  ‘As far as I can tell. Ballistics are examining them now. You will receive my official report tomorrow morning.’

  ‘One last question: what time?’

  ‘Between nine thirty and ten o’clock.’

  Next, Gastinne-Renette.

  ‘Have you had time to examine the gun I brought you and the three bullets?’

  ‘I just have to run some checks, but it is almost certain at present that the three bullets were fired from a Smith & Wesson.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Out in the bar, a shy man was circling round before finally plucking up the courage to sit down next to the prostitute with the thick hips and the over-made-up face. Without looking at her, he ordered a beer and showed his embarrassment by tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

  ‘Hello! Fraud Squad? Maigret here. I’d like to speak to Detective Chief Inspector Belhomme, please.’

  Maigret seemed more interested in what was going on in the room than by what he was saying.