He suggested:
‘Do you want me to do you a drawing?’
‘Not now. Carry on.’
‘Louis said to me:
‘“I wonder why no one’s ever robbed the till. It is so simple.”’
‘I imagine you pricked up your ears at this?’
‘Let’s say I was interested. He explained to me that at midday, twelve fifteen at the latest, they showed out the last of the customers and the staff went off for lunch. So did the owner, a little old man with a goatee beard, who had lunch in a restaurant not far from there, La Chope au Nègre.
‘“Suppose one of the customers got locked in.”
‘I know what you’re going to say. At first I too thought it was impossible. But Louis had been keeping a watch on the shop for weeks. Before lunch, the staff never bothered to check in all the corners or behind the rows of raincoats to make sure that there was no one left behind. It would never cross their mind that a customer would deliberately want to stay in the shop, you see.
‘So that was the key to it. The owner would carefully lock the door when he left.’
‘Was it you who got locked in? And then who forced the lock in order to get out with the till?’
‘No, you’ve got that bit wrong. This is the really good part. Even if they’d caught me, they wouldn’t have anything on me, because there would be no evidence against me. Sure, I emptied the till. But then I went into the toilets. Next to the cistern there was a small skylight, too small to fit a three-year-old child through, but not to slip through a package full of banknotes. The skylight opened on to the courtyard. And Louis just happened to be walking past and he collected the package. As for me, I waited calmly until all the staff had got back and there were enough customers so that I wouldn’t be noticed. Then I walked out as calmly as I had come in.’
‘How did you split the money?’
‘Straight down the middle. The hardest thing was deciding to go for it. He had cooked up this plan mainly for his own amusement; he regarded it like a work of art. When I suggested actually doing it, he was shocked. What finally made his mind up was the prospect of having to admit to his wife that he was flat broke. You will have noticed one other advantage to our little plan. I’ll be convicted for theft, since I’ve owned up to it, but it involved no breaking and entering, which means at least two years lopped off the sentence. Am I wrong?’
‘We can check the Criminal Code later.’
‘I’ve told you everything. Louis and I had a good time together, and I don’t regret a thing. The proceeds from the raincoat shop kept us afloat for three months. To be honest, my share didn’t last quite that long, because of my weakness for the nags, but Louis slipped me the odd note now and then.
‘Then, when the cash started to run out, we found a new bench.’
‘And planned a new robbery?’
‘We’d discovered a method that worked; no point in changing the plan. Now that you know how we did it, you will be able to look through your records and work out all the shops that I got myself locked into. The second one was a lighting and electrical shop, further down the boulevard. There wasn’t a side-alley there: the back of the shop gave on to the courtyard of a building on the street behind, but that served the same purpose. Most of the toilets in buildings around there had some small opening on to a courtyard or alleyway.
‘There was just one occasion when I was caught by a salesgirl. She opened the door of a cupboard where I was hiding. I played the drunk. She called her manager, and they threw me out, threatening to call the police.
‘So, after hearing all that, can you give me one good reason why I would have killed Louis? We were pals. I even introduced him to Françoise, to reassure her, because she was wondering what I was up to. He brought her some chocolates, and she thought he was very distinguished.’
‘Did you pull a robbery last week?’
‘It was in the papers. A dress shop on Boulevard Montmartre.’
‘I assume that when Louis was killed in the alleyway he was on his way to check that the jeweller’s had a small window looking out on to the courtyard?’
‘Probably. He was always the one who checked out the location because he appeared more respectable than me. People are always suspicious of the likes of me. Even when I’m dressed up smart, they still give me a sideways look.’
‘Who killed him?’
‘You’re asking me that?’
‘Who had a reason to kill him?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe his wife?’
‘Why would his wife have killed him?’
‘Because she’s a vicious old hag. If she had found out that he had been taking her for a ride for the last two years and that he had a girlfriend . . .’
‘Do you know his girlfriend?’
‘He never introduced me to her, but he told me about her, and I’ve seen her from a distance. He really liked her. He was a man who needed affection. We all do, really, don’t we? I have my Françoise. You probably have someone too. He got on well with her. They went to the cinema or they’d sit in a café together, chatting.’
‘Did she know what he did?’
‘I’m sure she didn’t.’
‘Who did know?’
‘Well, me, to start with.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Maybe his daughter. He worried about his daughter a lot. He reckoned she would be like her mother when she got older. She asked him for money all the time.’
‘Did you ever go to Rue d’Angoulême?’
‘Never.’
‘Do you know the house?’
‘He pointed it out to me.’
‘Why didn’t you go inside?’
‘Because I didn’t want to cause difficulties for him. The landlady thought he was respectable. If she had laid eyes on me . . .’
‘And if I told you that we have found your fingerprints in his room?’
‘I would reply that you are bluffing.’
He seemed to be perfectly calm. He continued to perform his turn, just casting the occasional glance at the bottle.
‘Who else knew?’
‘Listen, inspector, I make no bones about the sort of person I am, but I’ve never snitched on anyone in my life.’
‘You would rather take the blame yourself?’
‘That wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Who else knew?’
‘The girl’s boyfriend. And I wouldn’t bet my shirt on him being innocent. I don’t know if he was just following the girl’s orders, but he spent whole afternoons following Louis around. He went to see him twice to ask for money. Louis was scared stiff that he might tell his wife everything or send her an anonymous letter.’
‘Do you know him?’
‘No. I know he is quite young and that he works mornings in a bookshop. More recently, Louis was expecting everything to blow up. He said it couldn’t last, and sooner or later his wife would discover the truth.’
‘Did he talk to you about his brothers-in-law?’
‘Often. They were held up to him as an example. She used them to show him what a good-for-nothing he was, a failure, a wimp, a nobody, someone who should never have taken on the responsibility of a family if the only thing he could offer was a life of mediocrity. It really gave me a shock.’
‘What did?’
‘When I read in the paper that he was dead. Especially as I wasn’t that far away when it happened. Fernand can vouch for the fact that I was having a drink in his bar.’
‘Was Louis carrying any money?’
‘I don’t know if he had any money on him, but two days earlier we had made quite a big haul.’
‘Was he in the habit of keeping it in his pocket?’
‘In his pocket or in his room. The funny thing is, every evening he would have to go and change his shoes and his tie before catching the train home. Once he forgot to change his tie. He told me the story. He didn’t notice until he was at Gare de Lyon. He couldn’t just buy any old tie. He had to have the
one he had on when he left the house that morning. So he had to go back to Rue d’Angoulême and then tell his wife later that he had been detained at the warehouse on some urgent matter of business.’
‘Why haven’t you emerged from Françoise’s bedroom since Tuesday?’
‘What would you have done in my shoes? When I read the paper on Tuesday morning I realized that people had seen me with Louis and they were sure to tell the police all about it. People like me are always the main suspects.’
‘Didn’t you think about getting out of Paris?’
‘I just kept a low profile, in the hope that no one would remember me. This morning, when I heard your inspector calling out to me, I knew the game was up.’
‘Does Françoise know what you did?’
‘No.’
‘Where did she think the money came from?’
‘At first, she only saw a small part of it, what I had left after I’d been to the races. Later, she thought I was still picking pockets on the Métro.’
‘Did you do that?’
‘I don’t have to answer, do I? Are you feeling thirsty?’
Maigret poured him one last shot.
‘You’re sure that’s all?’
‘As sure as I see you now.’
Maigret opened the door to the adjoining office and said to Lucas:
‘Take him to the cells.’
Then, seeing Jef Schrameck stand up with a sigh:
‘Best slip the cuffs on him.’
As the Acrobat turned to him with an odd smile on his rubbery face, he added:
‘Make sure they’re not too hard on him.’
‘Thanks, inspector. Please don’t tell Françoise that I gambled so much money. She might make me go without my treats.’
Maigret pulled on his coat and picked up his hat with the intention of going to have a quick bite at the Brasserie Dauphine. He was heading down the dusty main stairs when he heard a commotion down below and leaned over the banister to take a look.
A young man with an unruly mop of hair was struggling to break free of the grasp of a police officer, who had a bleeding scratch on his cheek. The officer was grumbling:
‘Will you keep still, you little shit? If you don’t stop, I’m going to give you a slap.’
Maigret tried hard not to laugh. It was Albert Jorisse they were bringing in to see him. The young man continued to struggle and cried out:
‘Let me go! I told you I can walk on my own . . .’
The pair of them reached the landing where Maigret was.
‘I’ve just arrested him on Pont Saint-Michel. I recognized him straight away. When I tried to apprehend him, he made a dash for it.’
‘That’s not true! He’s lying!’
The young man was red in the face, panting, wild-eyed. The police officer was lifting him up by the collar of his coat, as if he were a puppet.
‘Tell him to let me go.’
He swung a kick at the officer but connected only with fresh air.
‘I told you I wanted to see Detective Chief Inspector Maigret. I was on my way to see him. I came of my own accord . . .’
His clothes were crumpled, his trousers were still muddy from the day before. He had big dark rings under his eyes.
‘I’m Inspector Maigret.’
‘Well, then, tell him to let me go.’
‘You can release him, my friend.’
‘If you say so, but . . .’
The officer was expecting the young man to slip out of his hands like an eel.
‘He manhandled me roughly,’ Jorisse panted. ‘He treated me like a . . . a . . .’
He was so angry he couldn’t find the word.
Smiling in spite of himself, Maigret indicated the bleeding wound on the officer’s cheek.
‘On the contrary, it seems as if you . . .’
Jorisse, who apparently hadn’t noticed the gash until now, shouted with flashing eyes:
‘Serves him right!’
8. Monique’s Secret
‘Sit down, you young hooligan.’
‘I’m not a hooligan,’ Jorisse protested.
And then, in a calmer voice, even though he hadn’t yet got his breath back and was still wheezing a little:
‘I never imagined that Detective Chief Inspector Maigret would insult people like this before giving them a chance to explain themselves.’
Maigret was surprised by this and looked at the young man with a frown.
‘Have you eaten?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
He was behaving like a sulky child.
Maigret picked up the phone:
‘Hello! . . . Put me through to the Brasserie Dauphine . . . Hello! Joseph? . . . Maigret here . . . Could you bring up some sandwiches? Six . . . Ham for me . . . Wait . . .’
To Jorisse:
‘Ham or cheese?’
‘I don’t care. Ham.’
‘Beer or red wine?’
‘Water, please. I’m thirsty.’
‘Joseph? Six ham sandwiches, nice and thick, and four beers . . . Wait . . . Bring two cups of coffee while you’re about it . . . Will you be long?’
He hung up and then made a new call, to one of the police departments, without taking his eyes off the young man, whom he examined with curiosity. Jorisse was thin, sickly-looking, with a sort of pathological nervousness that suggested a diet of coffee rather than steak. Apart from that, he wasn’t unattractive. He had very long dark-brown hair, which he occasionally flicked back with a jerk of his head.
Perhaps because he was still a bit wound up, his nostrils twitched from time to time. With his head to one side, he continued to address a reproachful stare at Maigret.
‘Hello! Call off the search for Jorisse. Inform all the police and railway stations.’
The boy opened his mouth, but Maigret didn’t give him the chance to speak.
‘Later!’
The sky had clouded over again. It was going to rain, and it threatened to be the same relentless downpour as on the day of the funeral. Maigret went to close the window, then, still without a word, he laid out his pipes on his desk in the way that a typist sets up her typewriter, her notepad and her carbon paper before getting down to work.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ Maigret growled.
It was Inspector Neveu, who merely stuck his head round, as he thought the chief would be in full interrogation mode.
‘Excuse me. I’d like to know if—’
‘You’re free to go. Thank you.’
After this, Maigret paced around the room as he waited for the waiter from the Brasserie Dauphine. To pass the time, he made another telephone call, this time to his wife:
‘I won’t be home for lunch.’
‘I was beginning to wonder. Do you know what time it is?’
‘No. It doesn’t matter.’
She burst out laughing; he didn’t find out why.
‘I came to tell you . . .’
‘Later.’
It was his third interrogation of the day. He was thirsty. He suddenly noticed that the young man was staring at the bottle of brandy and the tumbler that were sitting on the desk.
Maigret blushed like a child, almost feeling that he had to give an explanation, to say that it wasn’t he who had drunk cognac out of a large glass but Jef Schrameck, who had been in the office before Albert.
Had the young man’s reproach touched a nerve? Was he sorry that he had tarnished the image Albert had of him?
‘Come in, Joseph. Put the tray on the desk. You haven’t forgotten anything, have you?’
Then, when they were alone with their food:
‘Let’s eat.’
Jorisse ate heartily, despite what he had claimed earlier. During the meal he continued to cast curious glances at the inspector and after drinking a glass of beer seemed to recover some of his composure.
‘Feeling better?’
‘Yes, thank you. But you did call me a young hooligan.’
/>
‘We’ll talk about that later.’
‘I wasn’t lying when I said that I was coming to see you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve had enough of hiding.’
‘Why were you hiding?’
‘So as not to be arrested.’
‘Why would you be arrested?’
‘You know very well.’
‘No.’
‘Because I am Monique’s boyfriend.’
‘You were sure that we had discovered that fact?’
‘It wasn’t difficult.’
‘And you think we would have arrested you because you are Monique’s boyfriend?’
‘You want to make me talk.’
‘Indeed!’
‘You believe I will try to lie to you but will end up contradicting myself.’
‘Did you read that in a detective novel?’
‘No. In newspaper reports. I know how you operate.’
‘In that case, what exactly are you here for?’
‘To tell you that I didn’t kill Monsieur Thouret.’
Maigret had lit another pipe and was slowly finishing his second beer. He was sitting at his desk and had lit the lamp with the green shade. The first drops of rain were splashing against the windowpane.
‘You understand the implications of what you said?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You assumed that we were out to arrest you. So you must think we have good reasons for doing that.’
‘You’ve been to Rue d’Angoulême, haven’t you?’
‘How do you know?’
‘By chance you managed to discover that he had a room in town, if only to have somewhere to change into his yellow shoes.’
An amused smile played across Maigret’s lips.
‘And . . .?’
‘His landlady must have told you that I went to see him.’
‘Is that a reason for arresting you?’
‘You questioned Monique.’
‘And you reckon that she talked?’
‘It would surprise me if you hadn’t made her talk.’
‘In that case, why was your first move to go and hide under one of your friends’ bed?’
‘You know about that as well?’
‘Answer the question.’
‘I wasn’t thinking clearly. I panicked. I was afraid that I’d be beaten up and made to confess to things that aren’t true.’
Maigret and the Man on the Bench Page 12