Maigret at the Coroner's

by Georges Simenon

  In France, it was easier. Maigret was used to such fellows and quickly made short work of the barrier between them.

  Here, on unfamiliar ground, he advanced with caution, anxious not to spook his companion.

  ‘Are you from Kansas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your family was poor?’

  ‘Yes, we were starving. Five of us, brothers and sisters barely a year apart. My father got himself killed in a truck when I was five.’

  ‘He was a truck driver? Didn’t the insurance pay up?’

  ‘He worked on his own. He had an old truck and bought vegetables out in the countryside to sell in the city. He was on the road every night. The truck wasn’t completely paid for, and he had no insurance, of course.’

  ‘What did your mother do?’

  He fell silent.

  ‘Whatever she could,’ he muttered, shrugging. ‘At six, I was selling papers and shining shoes in the streets.’

  ‘Do you think Sergeant Ward killed your sister?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘He loved her?’

  Another shrug, hardly noticeable.

  ‘It wasn’t Ward. He’s not brave enough.’

  ‘Did he really intend to get a divorce?’

  ‘In any case, he wouldn’t have killed her.’

  ‘Mullins?’

  ‘Mullins and Ward were never really apart long enough for that.’

  He had taken back his photo and replaced it in his wallet.

  Looking Maigret in the eye, he asked, ‘If you ever did find out who killed my sister, what would you do?’

  ‘I’d tell the FBI.’

  ‘They have nothing to do with this.’

  ‘I’d talk to the sheriff, to the attorney.’

  ‘You’d do better to tell me about it.’

  And still with that distant, slightly contemptuous air, he walked away, because Ezekiel could be heard upstairs, summoning the jurors.

  Another confab between the coroner and the attorney, who then announced:

  ‘I should like to depose the taxi-driver right away. He has been waiting since this morning and is losing his workday.’

  It was almost always a surprise to see the witnesses emerge from the ranks of the public, for quite often they did not match the image you had of them. The taxi-driver, for example, was a short, thin man with an intellectual’s big glasses, wearing light trousers and a white shirt like everyone else.

  It was quickly established that he had been a taxi-driver for only one year, having previously been a professor of botany at a college in the Midwest.

  ‘On the night of July 27 to July 28, you were hailed in front of the bus station by three airmen.’

  ‘I learned that only from the newspapers, because they weren’t in uniform.’

  ‘Can you recognize them and point them out?’

  The witness pointed immediately to O’Neil, Van Fleet and Wo Lee.

  ‘Did you notice how they were dressed?’

  ‘This one and that one were wearing blue jeans and white shirts, or at least light-coloured ones. The Chinese fellow had a violet shirt. I didn’t notice the colour of his trousers.’

  ‘Were they very drunk?’

  ‘Not more than anyone else who gets picked up at three in the morning.’

  ‘Do you know exactly what time it was?’

  ‘We’re supposed to write down every trip and note the time. It was three twenty-two.’

  ‘Where did they tell you to go?’

  ‘They asked me to drive towards Nogales and said they’d stop me along the way.’

  ‘How long did it take you to get to the place where you did stop?’

  ‘Nineteen minutes.’

  ‘Did you hear their conversation while they were in the taxi?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who was talking?’

  ‘Those two.’

  He pointed to Van Fleet and Sergeant O’Neil.

  ‘What were they saying?’

  ‘That there wasn’t any reason for their friend to stay with them, and he’d be better off keeping the taxi to get back to the base.’

  ‘Did they say why?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who asked you to stop?’

  ‘It was O’Neil.’

  ‘Did they get out right away? There was no discussion about you waiting for them?’

  ‘No. They did continue talking for a moment. They were trying to get their friend to return to Tucson with me.’

  ‘Was it light out?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘What did their friend say?’

  ‘Nothing. He got out of the car.’

  ‘Who paid for the ride?’

  ‘The both of them. O’Neil didn’t have enough money, and the other man chipped in the rest.’

  ‘Didn’t it seem strange to you that they had themselves driven out to the open desert?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘You didn’t encounter any cars along the way, either going or coming?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any questions, counsellor?’

  ‘Thank you. I would like to ask Corporal Wo Lee a question.’

  The airman returned to the witness stand, and the microphone was adjusted once more.

  ‘Did you hear what the taxi-driver just said? Do you know why your friends insisted that you return to the base?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What was your reason, yesterday, for not mentioning this?’

  ‘I didn’t remember it.’

  He, too, was lying. He was the only one who hadn’t been drinking, the only one whose statements had seemed reliable. Yet he had knowingly concealed their efforts to get rid of him.

  ‘Are there other details that you left out of your testimony before the jury yesterday?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘Yesterday, you stated that when you were walking along in the hope of finding Bessie, you were all separated. You were maintaining a certain distance one from another, along parallel lines. What was your position?’

  ‘I walked along the highway.’

  ‘You saw no cars go by?’

  ‘I did not, sir.’

  ‘Who was closest to you?’

  ‘Corporal Van Fleet.’

  ‘So Sergeant O’Neil was walking more or less along the tracks?’

  ‘I think he was on the other side of them.’

  ‘Thank you!’

  The next witness was a highway patrol officer, tall and strong, impressive in his uniform.

  The attorney had had him summoned, and he now questioned him.

  ‘Tell us what you were doing on July 28 between three and four in the morning.’

  ‘I went on duty at three o’clock, in Nogales, and drove slowly towards Tucson. Before reaching the village of Tumacacori, I passed a truck with the licence plate X-3233, belonging to a company in Nogales, returning empty from California. I parked for a few minutes in a side road so I could keep an eye on the highway, as per regulations.’

  ‘Where were you at four in the morning?’

  ‘I was approaching Tucson Airport.’

  ‘Had you encountered any other vehicles?’

  ‘No. Whenever we do see other vehicles, at night, we usually make a mental note of the licence plate numbers. In fact, we’re supposed to check them against those on a list of stolen vehicles sent out to us. We automatically do that in our heads.’

  ‘Did you see people walking along the
edge of the highway?’

  ‘No. If I had seen someone at that hour, I’d have slowed down and called out to them to see if they needed anything.’

  ‘Did you see or hear a train on the tracks?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  So, in spite of Ward’s claims, his Chevrolet had not been parked alongside the highway at that hour, with the two men asleep inside.

  ‘Corporal Van Fleet, if you please?’

  The attorney perked up, seeming suddenly to take charge of the proceedings, while O’Rourke kept leaning over him, talking softly.

  Perhaps Maigret had been mistaken and they meant to press the inquiry all the way to the end, but according to some particular protocol?

  ‘You maintain that when your friend’s car stopped the first time, Sergeant Ward and Bessie walked away from the car together?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Pinky was even more uneasy than he had been the day before. He did seem, however, to be trying to keep his oath to tell the truth and after each question, he still thought things over for a while.

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘The car made a U-turn, and Bessie announced that she wanted to talk to Ward in private.’

  ‘So you all stopped once more. Look at the blackboard. Does that cross mark the place, more or less, where the car pulled over a second time?’

  ‘More or less. I think.’

  ‘You did not leave the car, and neither did your friends, except for Ward and Bessie?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And Ward returned alone. After about how long?’

  ‘About ten minutes.’

  ‘That’s when he said, “Let her go to hell. That’ll teach her.”’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Why did you and O’Neil try later on to get rid of Wo Lee?’

  ‘We didn’t try to get rid of him.’

  ‘You did not discuss sending him back to Tucson in the taxi?’

  ‘He hadn’t been drinking.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Try to explain what you’re thinking. It’s because he hadn’t drunk anything that you two wanted him to return to the base?’

  ‘He doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke. He’s young.’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘There’s no reason for him to get into trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean by that? So you were expecting, as of that moment, that you would get into trouble?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘When you were walking along looking for Bessie, did you call her name?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Is that because you thought she was not in any condition to hear you?’

  This time the Dutchman, red-faced and perfectly still, did not answer. He stared straight ahead.

  ‘Were you able at all times to keep your friend O’Neil within sight?’

  ‘He was over by the tracks.’

  ‘I am asking you if you kept him in sight the entire time.’

  ‘Not the entire time.’

  ‘Did you lose sight of him for long periods?’

  ‘Rather long periods. It depended on the terrain.’

  ‘Could you have heard him?’

  ‘If he had shouted, yes.’

  ‘But you could not hear his footsteps? You could not tell if he was stopping or not? Did you at any time go closer to the tracks?’

  ‘I think so. We weren’t necessarily walking in a straight line. We had to go around bushes, cacti.’

  ‘Did Corporal Wo Lee move closer to the tracks as well?’

  ‘I didn’t see him.’

  ‘Which one of you decided to turn around, when you were all three walking in the direction of Nogales?’

  ‘O’Neil said that Bessie certainly couldn’t have gone any farther. We told Wo Lee to walk alongside the highway.’

  ‘And did you and O’Neil separate?’

  ‘Yes, a little farther along in the desert.’

  ‘While you were still with O’Neil, after having separated from Wo Lee, did you talk about Bessie?’

  ‘No, we didn’t talk about anything.’

  ‘Were you still drunk?’

  ‘Probably not as much.’

  ‘Could you indicate on the blackboard the place where you went to hitchhike back to Tucson?’

  ‘I don’t know where, exactly. It was over there …’

  ‘Thank you. Sergeant O’Neil, please.’

  Two or three times, Maigret had sensed someone watching him. It was Mitchell, studying him to see how he was reacting.

  ‘Do you have anything to change in your testimony from yesterday?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Had this man, too, been born into poverty? He did not give that impression. He looked the type to have spent his childhood on some Midwestern farm, with hardworking and puritanical parents. In school, he must have been the star pupil.

  ‘Why did you try to get rid of Wo Lee?’

  ‘I did not try to get rid of him. I thought he was tired and ought to get back to the base. He doesn’t have a strong constitution.’

  ‘Did you ask him to walk beside the highway?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘When you were walking beside the tracks, looking for Bessie, did you ever call her name?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Did you stop to urinate?’

  ‘I think I did.’

  ‘On the tracks?’

  ‘I don’t know, exactly.’

  ‘Thank you. Coroner, we might do well to hear from Erna Bolton and Maggie Wallach and release them, as they’ve been expecting to testify since yesterday morning.’

  Mitchell’s companion was neither pretty nor ugly, a little low-slung, with coarse features. For her courtroom appearance she wore a dark silk dress, stockings, some costume jewellery. She had obviously tried her best to make a good impression.

  When asked about her profession, she replied in a very low voice, ‘I’m not working at the moment.’

  And she tried not to look at O’Rourke, who seemed to know her well. No doubt she had had occasion to come up against him in the past?

  ‘Did you share your apartment with Bessie Mitchell?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Sergeant Ward went there to see her several times. Were you present?’

  ‘Not every time.’

  ‘Did you ever see them quarrelling?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What were they fighting about?’

  Now that the attorney had joined the fray, the coroner was playing with his adjustable armchair or staring at the ceiling while sucking on his pencil. It was quite hot, in spite of the air conditioning. Ezekiel had got up to go and close the venetian blinds, which cut the sunlight into thin slices. Sitting in front of the black woman with her baby and their large tribe, Maigret could smell her heady perfume.

  Mitchell stared at his companion on the witness stand with the concentration of an eagle.

  ‘Ward was angry at Bessie for flirting.’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘With everybody.’

  ‘With Sergeant Mullins, for example?’

  ‘I don’t know. He never came to the house. I saw him for the first time on July 27 at the Penguin Bar.’

  ‘Wasn’t there a fight, on July 24 or July 25, a dispute more violent than the others?’

  ‘July 24. I was about to go out. I heard …’

  ‘Tell us exactly what wor
ds you heard.’

  ‘The sergeant shouted, “One of these days, I’ll kill you, and that’ll be best for everybody!”’

  ‘Was he drunk?’

  ‘He’d been drinking, but I don’t think he was drunk.’

  ‘Didn’t you speak privately to Bessie during the evening of July 27?’

  ‘Yes, sir. At one point, I took her aside to tell her, “You ought to watch out for that one.”’

  ‘Whom did you mean?’

  ‘Mullins. And I said, “Bill is furious … If you keep this up, they’ll get into a fight …”’

  ‘What did she reply?’

  ‘She didn’t reply. She kept it up.’

  ‘Kept what up?’

  ‘Talking to Mullins.’

  Perhaps the word ‘talking’ did not quite cover it.

  ‘Who suggested continuing the party at the musician’s place?’

  ‘He did, Tony, the musician. He said we could. I think it was Bessie who’d asked him about it.’

  ‘Was she drunk?’

  ‘Not very. The usual amount.’

  ‘Any other questions?’

  It was Maggie Wallach’s turn. With her round baby face and popping eyes, she resembled a large stuffed doll. Her skin was very white, and she had an unhealthy look about her.

  Was she the musician’s mistress? That was not made clear, no more than it had been for Mitchell and Erna Bolton.

  ‘Where did you first meet Bessie Mitchell?’

  ‘We worked at the same drive-in place, on the corner of Fifth Avenue.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘About the last two months.’

  She was from a big-city slum and, when a little thing, she must have dragged her bare bottom around the neighbourhood doorsteps amid a pack of noisy, pitiless brats.

  ‘You were present when she met Sergeant Ward?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It was a little past midnight; he came in a car and ordered some hot dogs.’

  ‘Who was with him?’

  ‘I think it was Sergeant Mullins. They talked a long time. Bessie came to ask me if I wanted to get together with them later, and I told her that I wasn’t free.

  ‘After the men had gone, she wanted to know what I thought of Ward and said that he was coming back on his own to get her.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes. Just before closing. They left together.’