Maigret and the Minister

by Georges Simenon

  He needed women, any women, and a debauched life in places where he could throw his weight around and act the tough guy, with a couple of days’ fishing every week-end.

  ‘I think I recall a little café in Seineport village square. Stop there and we’ll ask for information.’

  They crossed the Seine at Corbeil, took a road that ran parallel to the river and was fringed with woods on the opposite side. Four or five times, Janvier swerved sharply to avoid rabbits, grumbling each time:

  ‘Off you scamper, stupid!’

  From time to time a light punctuated the darkness; finally, there was an entire cluster, a few lamp posts, and the car pulled up outside a café where men were playing cards.

  ‘Shall I come in too?’

  ‘If you feel like a drink.’

  ‘Not now.’

  But Maigret, at the bar, downed a glass of spirits.

  ‘Do you know Benoît?’

  ‘The one who’s from the police?’

  Benoît hadn’t thought it necessary to inform people in Seineport that he was no longer a member of the Sûreté after so many years.

  ‘Do you know where he lives?’

  ‘Have you come from Corbeil?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You drove past his house. Didn’t you notice a quarry, about one and a half kilometres from here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You can’t see it at night. His house is just opposite, on the other side of the road. If he’s there, you’ll see the light.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘He’s there!’ said one of the belote players.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because yesterday I served him a leg of lamb.’

  ‘A leg of lamb all for him?’

  ‘He seems to be looking after himself.’

  A few minutes later, Janvier, driving at a crawl, pointed to a lighter patch in the woods.

  ‘That must be the quarry.’

  Maigret glanced at the opposite side of the road and a hundred metres further on, beside the river, he spotted a lit window.

  ‘We’ll leave the car here. Come on.’

  Although there was no moon, they found an overgrown path.

  9. The Night at the Ministry

  They walked soundlessly, in single file so they could not be heard approaching from inside the house. This stretch of the bank must once have belonged to a large estate and the shack would have been a gamekeeper’s lodge.

  The surrounding land was neglected. A fence that had collapsed in several places enclosed what had been a vegetable garden. Through the lighted window, Maigret and Janvier glimpsed the ceiling beams, whitewashed walls and a table at which two men were seated, playing cards.

  Janvier looked at Maigret in the dark, as if to ask him what they were going to do.

  ‘Wait here,’ whispered Maigret.

  Meanwhile, he walked up to the door, which was locked. He rapped hard.

  ‘What is it?’ said a voice inside.

  ‘Open up, Benoît.’

  There was a silence, the sound of footsteps. Janvier, at the window, could see the former police officer standing by the table, unsure what to do, then shoving his companion into an adjacent room.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Benoît, going over to the door.

  ‘Maigret.’

  Another silence. Finally, the bolt was drawn back and the door opened. Benoît gazed at Maigret’s shape in stupefaction.

  ‘What do you want of me?’

  ‘To have a little chat. You can come in, Janvier.’

  The cards were still on the table.

  ‘Alone?’

  Benoît did not answer straight away, having guessed that Janvier had been watching through the window.

  ‘Perhaps you were playing solitaire?’

  Pointing to a door, Janvier said:

  ‘The other one’s in there, chief.’

  ‘I’m sure he is. Go and get him.’

  Piquemal would have had a job escaping because the door opened into a pantry with no access to the outside.

  ‘What do you want of me? Have you got a warrant?’ asked Benoît, trying to recover his composure.

  ‘No.’

  ‘In that case—’

  ‘In that case, nothing! Sit down. You too, Piquemal. I hate talking to people who are standing up.’

  He fiddled with a few cards.

  ‘Were you teaching him belote for two players?’

  It was very likely. Piquemal had probably never touched a card in his life.

  ‘Are you going to sit down, Benoît?’

  ‘I have nothing to say.’

  ‘Right. In that case, I’ll do the talking.’

  There was a bottle of wine on the table, and a single glass. Piquemal, who didn’t play cards, didn’t drink either, and didn’t smoke. Had he ever slept with a woman? Maybe not. He had a wild look in his eye, like a cornered animal.

  ‘How long have you been working for Mascoulin?’

  In these surroundings, Benoît looked less out of place than in Paris, perhaps because he was more at home. He had remained a country fellow; he must have been the local braggart and made the mistake of leaving his village to try his luck in Paris. His cunning and deceit were the cunning and deceit of a farmer at the fair.

  He poured himself a drink to boost his confidence, saying sarkily:

  ‘Should I offer you one?’

  ‘No, thank you. Mascoulin needs people like you, if only to check the information he receives from all sides.’

  ‘Keep talking.’

  ‘When he received Piquemal’s letter, he realized that it was the best opportunity of his career and that if he played his cards right, he had every chance of having a large section of the political class at his mercy.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘So I say!’

  Maigret was still on his feet. His hands behind his back, pipe between his teeth, he paced between the door and the fireplace, pausing from time to time in front of one of the two men, while Janvier, perched on the corner of the table, listened attentively.

  ‘What bothered me the most was that, having seen Piquemal and being in a position to obtain the report, he sent him to the minister of public works.’

  Benoît smiled pompously.

  ‘It all fell into place earlier when I saw a Photostat machine at Mascoulin’s place. Shall we go over the events chronologically, Benoît? You can stop me if I’m wrong.

  ‘Mascoulin receives Piquemal’s letter. Being cautious, he calls you in and asks you to check it out. You realize that it is important, that the man is indeed well placed to get hold of the Calame Report.

  ‘At that point, you tell Mascoulin that you know someone in public works, the principal private secretary. Where did you meet him?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. He’s waiting for us in my office and we’ll sort out the details later. Fleury is a sad case, always short of money. Except that he has access to circles where a lowlife like you sees the door slammed in his face. I suspect that in exchange for a small fee, he passed you inside information on some of his friends.’

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘Now, try to understand. If Mascoulin receives the report from Piquemal, he is almost obliged to make it public and unleash a furore, because Piquemal is a man of integrity in his way, a fanatic who would have to be killed to be silenced.

  ‘Granted, producing the report in the Chamber would make Mascoulin shine for a while.

  ‘But that is much less alluring than holding on to it and having something on all those compromised by it.

  ‘It took me a while to think of it. I am not depraved enough to put myself in his shoes.

  ‘Piquemal, then, pays a visit to Madame Calame, where he knows there is a copy of the report from having seen it there in the past. He slips it into his briefcase and races over to Mascoulin, in Rue d’Antin.

  ‘Once he’s there, you no longer need to foll
ow him because you know what will happen next, and you head over to the Ministry of Public Works, where Fleury takes you into his office.

  ‘Mascoulin detains Piquemal on some pretext or another, while his secretary coolly Photostats the report.

  ‘With all the appearance of trustworthiness, he then sends his visitor to hand the report to the appropriate authority, in other words the minister.

  ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’

  Hunched up, in the grip of a violent emotion, Piquemal stared intently at Maigret.

  ‘You are there, in Fleury’s office, when Piquemal hands over the document. All you need to know, through Fleury, is where and when it will be easiest for you to steal it.

  ‘Thus the Calame Report will have been made public thanks to the upstanding Mascoulin.

  ‘But, thanks to you, Auguste Point, the minister in question, will not be able to present it to the Chamber.

  ‘So there will be only one hero in the affair: Mascoulin.

  ‘There will be a villain, accused of having destroyed the document to save his skin and that of his compromised colleagues: a certain Auguste Point. His misfortune is to be a man of integrity who refused to shake dirty hands.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’

  Benoît poured himself another drink, which he began to sip slowly while gazing hesitantly at Maigret. As in belote, he seemed to be wondering which card was in his interest to play.

  ‘That’s more or less everything. Fleury told you his boss had taken the Calame Report to Boulevard Pasteur. You didn’t dare go there at night because of the concierge, so the next morning you waited until she went out shopping. Did Mascoulin burn the report?’

  ‘That’s none of my business.’

  ‘Whether he burned it or not is irrelevant, because he has a Photostat of it. That is enough to keep a certain number of people at his mercy.’

  It was a mistake, Maigret realized later, to emphasize Mascoulin’s power. If he hadn’t, might Benoît have adopted a different attitude? Probably not, but it was a chance to be taken.

  ‘As predicted, the bombshell exploded. Other people were looking for the document, for various reasons, including a certain Tabard, who was the first to remember Calame’s role and allude to it in his newspaper. You know that rat, Tabard, don’t you? From the report, he stood to gain not power but a hefty sum of money.

  ‘Labat, who works for him, must have been lurking near Madame Calame’s apartment.

  ‘Did he see Piquemal come out? I don’t know and it is possible that we never will. Besides, it is of no importance. The fact remains that Labat sent one of his men to the widow’s and then to the lodgings of the minister’s secretary …

  ‘You and your ilk remind me of a heap of crabs, crawling around in a basket.

  ‘Others too were wondering more officially what exactly was going on, and they tried to find out.’

  He was referring to Rue des Saussaies. It was natural that once the president of the Council was informed, a discreet investigation would be carried out by the Sûreté.

  With hindsight, the situation was becoming almost comical. Three different groups had been trying to track down the report, each for their own particular reasons.

  ‘The weak link was Piquemal, because it was hard to fathom whether he would talk, if questioned in a certain way.

  ‘Was it your idea to bring him here? Was it Mascoulin’s? You’re not answering? Fine! It is of no consequence.

  ‘At any rate, it was a matter of getting him out of the way for a while. I don’t know how you went about it or what you told him.

  ‘You will note that I am not questioning him. He’ll talk when he’s ready, in other words when he realizes that he has been a mere plaything in the hands of two crooks, one major and one minor.’

  Piquemal shuddered but still said nothing.

  ‘Now I’ve said all I have to say. We are outside the Seine département, as you will no doubt point out to me, and I am acting without any authority.’

  He paused for a while, and then said:

  ‘Handcuff him, Janvier.’

  Benoît’s initial reaction was to resist, and he was twice as strong as Janvier. On second thoughts, he held out his wrists with a groan.

  ‘This is going to cost you two dear. You’ll note that I haven’t said a word.’

  ‘Shut up. You, Piquemal, come with us as well. Even though you are free, I don’t suppose you intend to stay here alone?’

  Once they were outside, it was Maigret who turned back to switch off the electricity.

  ‘Do you have the key?’ he asked. ‘It would be best to lock the door, because it will be some time before you come back fishing.’

  They squeezed into the little car, and drove back to Paris in silence.

  At Quai des Orfèvres, they found Fleury, still sitting on his chair, who gave a start on seeing the former inspector from Rue des Saussaies.

  ‘No need for me to introduce you,’ said Maigret.

  It was 11.30 p.m. The Police Judiciaire headquarters were deserted, with the lights on in only two offices.

  ‘Call the ministry for me.’

  Lapointe did so.

  ‘I’m passing you Detective Chief Inspector Maigret.’

  ‘Forgive me for disturbing you, minister. You weren’t in bed? Are you with your wife and daughter? … I’ve got news, yes … A lot … Tomorrow, you’ll be able to reveal to the Chamber the name of the man who broke into your apartment and stole the Calame Report … Not right away, no … Maybe in an hour’s time, maybe two … If you’d rather wait up for me … I can’t guarantee that it won’t take all night …’

  It went on for three hours. Maigret and his men were now on familiar ground. They stayed all together in Maigret’s office for a long time, with Maigret doing the talking, pausing sometimes in front of one, sometimes in front of the other.

  ‘As you like, boys … I have all the time in the world. You take one, Janvier … Here, this one …’

  He was pointing at Piquemal, who still hadn’t opened his mouth.

  ‘Lapointe, you deal with Monsieur Fleury.’

  In each office were two men having a face-to-face conversation: the one asking, the other trying to say nothing.

  It was a question of endurance. Sometimes Lapointe or Janvier would appear in the doorway and signal to Maigret, who would go out and talk to them in the corridor. They spoke in hushed voices.

  ‘I have three witnesses at least who will confirm my account,’ Maigret informed Benoît. ‘One of them – and this is important – is a resident at Boulevard Pasteur who saw you going into Point’s apartment. You’re still saying nothing?’

  Benoît eventually said something that summed him up.

  ‘What would you do if you were in my shoes?’

  ‘If I were crooked enough to be in your shoes, I’d come clean.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You know very well.’

  So as not to betray Mascoulin! Because he, as Benoît knew very well, would always manage to play his cards right, and goodness knows what would become of his accomplice.

  ‘Don’t forget that he’s the person who has the report.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, nothing. I’m keeping shtum. I’ll be sent down for burgling the apartment on Boulevard Pasteur. How long will I get?’

  ‘Around two years.’

  ‘As for Piquemal, he came with me of his own free will. I didn’t threaten him. So I didn’t kidnap him.’

  Maigret realized that he would get no more out of him.

  ‘Do you admit that you went to Boulevard Pasteur?’

  ‘I’ll admit it if I have no option. That’s all.’

  A few minutes later, he had no other option. Fleury had gone to pieces and Lapointe came in to let his chief know.

  ‘He knew nothing about Mascoulin and was unaware until tonight who Benoît was working for. He couldn’t refuse to help Benoît because of certain jobs he’d done with him
in the past.’

  ‘Did you get him to sign a statement?’

  ‘I’m dealing with it.’

  If Piquemal was an idealist, he was an idealist who had gone astray. He still refused to say a word. Was he also expecting to obtain something from Mascoulin?

  At 3.30, leaving Janvier and Lapointe with the three men, Maigret took a taxi to Boulevard Saint-Germain, where a second-floor window was lit. Point had given orders for him to be shown up to his apartment immediately.

  Maigret found the family in the small sitting room where they had received him previously.

  Auguste Point, his wife and his daughter looked at him with tired eyes that did not yet dare shine with hope.

  ‘Have you got the document?’

  ‘No. But the man who stole it from Boulevard Pasteur is in my office and has confessed.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘A former police officer turned rogue who works for various individuals.’

  ‘Who was he working for this time?’

  ‘Mascoulin.’

  ‘So …’ began Point, whose expression had become gloomy.

  ‘Mascoulin won’t say anything but will be content, when the need arises, to put pressure on those who are compromised. He’ll let Benoît go to jail. As for Fleury …’

  ‘Fleury?’

  Maigret nodded.

  ‘He’s a pathetic fellow. He found himself in a position such that he couldn’t say no.’

  ‘I told you so,’ said Madame Point.

  ‘I know. I didn’t believe it.’

  ‘You’re not cut out for life in politics. When all this is over, I hope you—’

  ‘The main thing,’ said Maigret, ‘is to establish that you didn’t destroy the Calame Report and that you were telling the truth when you said it had been stolen from you.’

  ‘Will they believe him?’

  ‘Benoît will confess.’

  ‘Will he say who he was working for?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Fleury neither?’

  ‘Fleury didn’t know.’

  Which meant that …

  A weight had just been lifted from his chest, but he wasn’t able to rejoice.

  Maigret, admittedly, had saved his reputation. But Point had still lost the game.