The Judge's House

by Georges Simenon

  ‘Answer my question, Didine. What would you have served him on a Tuesday?’

  ‘Not meat. They do the slaughtering on a Monday here. On Tuesday, the meat’s too fresh. It would have been tough … Wait! How was the tide that Tuesday? High tide was about eight in the evening, wasn’t it? That means Polyte was at home. In that case, I’d have gone to Polyte’s. He always goes out trawling with the morning tide. So he must have come back at about midday. If he had a good piece …’

  ‘Where does Polyte live?’

  ‘You won’t find him at home. He’s in the café. Not at the Hôtel du Port, the one opposite …’

  ‘Do you hear that, Méjat?’

  Méjat went out without needing to be asked twice.

  ‘When Polyte has a nice pair of soles, or a nice dory …’ Didine continued. ‘That’s the beginnings of a decent meal. As long as there’s ham in the house. But … Wait, inspector! … There isn’t only Polyte … It depends whether or not you like lapwings. Because then, it’s worth going to see old Rouillon, who goes out hunting every morning.’

  The three men were still there, beyond the glass. Forlacroix’s gaze was sombre. Marcel Airaud, despite his handcuffs, was smoking a cigarette and squinting because of the smoke.

  ‘Only, to prepare lapwings, you need …’

  Méjat crossed the ballroom in the company of a thin fisherman with a pointed nose and a brick-red complexion, who stopped in surprise in front of Marcel.

  ‘You here? D’you give yourself up?’

  ‘Come in!’ Maigret called. ‘Are you the one they call Polyte?’

  He peered anxiously at Didine. What could she have told them about him for them to call him in?

  ‘Now then, Polyte. You remember last Tuesday …’

  ‘Tuesday …’ he repeated, like a man who wasn’t quite all there.

  ‘The day of the fair at Saint-Michel!’ Didine said. ‘The day when the tide was 108 …’

  ‘Let’s see … What was I doing that day?’

  ‘Getting drunk like every other day!’ Didine said, again feeling the need to butt in.

  ‘Where were you during the afternoon?’

  And Didine once more, tirelessly:

  ‘In the bistro, of course! If he could, he’d sleep there. Isn’t that right, Polyte?’

  ‘What I’d like to know is if anyone came to see you that afternoon and asked you for a nice piece of fish.’

  Forlacroix’s sombre gaze, in the other room. Polyte thought it over, turning to Didine as if to ask her for advice.

  ‘The day when the tide was 108 … Don’t you remember?’ he asked, with disarming candour.

  And suddenly he turned towards the glass door and slapped his own forehead, while a triumphant smile lit up Didine’s face.

  ‘It’s Albert who came,’ he declared. ‘I remember, because he was in a great hurry. I was playing cards with Deveaud and Fraigne. Wait just a minute, I told him. Then, as he was getting impatient, I told him to go and get some soles from my boat.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘I don’t know how many he took. I told him to help himself. We still haven’t settled up …’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to know. You can go. By the way, Didine, where does Albert Forlacroix’s housekeeper live?’

  ‘Actually, she’s his daughter.’

  ‘Polyte’s?’

  ‘Yes. But she doesn’t live with her father. If you want to see her, you’d better hurry, because she goes to bed early. Especially as, just for a change, she’s expecting. One every year! Some girls are anybody’s.’

  ‘Méjat! Can you go and fetch her? And don’t upset her, eh?’

  He was starting to get excited. In the doorway, Polyte was still waiting for permission to go. At last he walked off with Méjat, pointing him in the direction of his daughter’s house.

  ‘God knows how come the men aren’t disgusted by her. You’ll see her. Maybe she’ll clean herself up before she comes! If I had to eat what she’s touched …’

  She was surprised to see Maigret standing motionless in the middle of the room, listening to nothing, looking at nothing. An idea had just struck him. Suddenly, he rushed to the telephone.

  ‘I hope you weren’t in bed, mademoiselle? Get me the Albert-Premier nursing home in La Roche-sur-Yon … Number 41 … Ring until someone answers … There’s at least one nurse on duty … Yes, I’m very grateful …’

  He had forgotten Didine, who now asked calmly:

  ‘Do you think it’s Marcel? If you want my advice, knowing both of them …’

  ‘Be quiet!’ he cried, like a man in a temper.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off the telephone. For hours, for days now, he’d been searching …

  ‘Hello? … . The Albert-Premier? … Who am I speaking to? … Tell me, mademoiselle, is the doctor still there? … What’s that, he’s at home? … Can you put me through to his apartment? …’

  His cheeks were flushed and he was biting the stem of his pipe, looking mechanically at Didine as if he didn’t recognize her.

  ‘Hello? … Is that you, doctor? … You were just eating? … I’m so sorry … Detective Chief Inspector Maigret, yes … I wanted to ask you … Of course, you’ve examined her … What? … More serious than we thought? … That’s not what I called you about … I’d like to ask you if you discovered anything unexpected … Yes … What? … What’s that you say? … Are you certain? … Three months? … Thank you, doctor … Yes, of course, you’ll make an official report … Has she calmed down? … Thank you … Once again, I’m sorry to have disturbed you …’

  He was on edge. When he discovered the old woman still sitting there on her chair, he said:

  ‘Now run along, my dear Didine. You’ve been very kind, but I don’t need you any more for the moment.’

  She stood up reluctantly, but didn’t go yet.

  ‘I bet I can guess what he told you …’

  ‘Good for you. Now just run along! Wait next door if you want, but …’

  ‘She’s pregnant, isn’t she?’

  He couldn’t believe his ears. He was almost starting to be afraid of her!

  ‘I don’t have time to answer you. Just go! And above all, keep your mouth shut …’

  He opened the door. He was about to close it again when Méjat arrived, accompanied by a girl with dirty hair falling down the back of her neck.

  ‘She didn’t want to come with me because she was about to go to bed …’

  At that moment, a little event occurred. At the sight of his maid, Forlacroix had stood up, as if wanting to intervene. The gendarme no doubt made a mistake in touching his arm, which had the effect of restoring his composure, and he sat down again.

  ‘Good! Come in for a moment. I only have a couple of questions to ask you. What time do you finish work at Albert Forlacroix’s house?’

  ‘Sometimes at three, sometimes at four.’

  ‘Don’t you make his dinner?’

  ‘I never make any of his meals. He does all his own cooking. He likes it!’

  She said these last words with what might have been irony or contempt.

  ‘I assume you do the washing up?’

  ‘Yes, I get the dirty work. And there’s plenty of that in the house! Men, when you see them outside, are all spruced up. But when you have to clean up after them …’

  ‘How often does he have guests?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your employer.’

  ‘Never! Who’d he have as a guest?’

  ‘Don’t you ever find several dirty plates in the morning?’

  ‘It happened last week.’

  ‘Wednesday morning, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It might have been Wednesday … And ashes everywhere. They’d been smoking cigars.’

  ‘Do you know who his visitor was?’

  She turned towards the glass door and replied guilelessly, holding her belly in both hands with a mechanical gesture:

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
<
br />   ‘Thank you for your help. You can go to bed now.’

  ‘Is he the one who did it?’

  It didn’t surprise her. It didn’t scare her. It wasn’t much more than curiosity on her part. Sure enough, she added:

  ‘I’m only asking so as to know if I need to go there tomorrow …’

  Voices could be heard out in the street, beyond the gates of the town hall. People had had wind of something. A little group had formed. They stood looking at the cream curtains, behind which they could sometimes see shadows passing, especially the thick silhouette of Maigret, whose pipe occasionally, when he was at a certain angle, appeared immense, almost as large as his head.

  ‘I think they’ve arrested both of them!’ Polyte’s daughter announced when she had been allowed to leave and the onlookers questioned her.

  She was so sleepy that she didn’t linger, and the noise of her clogs could be heard as she walked away over the frost-hardened cobbles. The door opened. It was Méjat, trying to recognize the faces in the darkness.

  ‘Is Thérèse still there?’ he asked.

  From a shadowy area over to the side, a form emerged. ‘What do you want with me?’

  ‘Come inside! The inspector wants to talk to you.’

  As she passed Marcel, she looked him in the eyes, but didn’t open her mouth.

  ‘Come in, Thérèse. Don’t be afraid. I’d like to ask you a simple question … Did you know that Lise Forlacroix was pregnant?’

  Hearing this, she turned towards the glass door, and it looked as if she might rush at Airaud, who couldn’t have had any idea what was going on.

  ‘It isn’t true!’ she said, thinking better of it. ‘You’re trying to trick me.’

  ‘I assure you, Thérèse, Lise Forlacroix is three months’ pregnant …’

  ‘That’s why!’ she said in a low voice, as if to herself.

  ‘That’s why what?’

  ‘He wanted to marry her.’

  ‘So you admit he wanted to marry her? But he didn’t tell you the reason? Well, now you know the reason. You know that …’

  ‘What about me, don’t I have a child? Aren’t I just as good as the judge’s daughter? Did he marry me?’

  It must have been strange to watch her through the glass, because it was obvious she was angry, but hard to guess why.

  ‘You know, even that night …’

  ‘Yes, what did you say to him that night?’

  ‘I told him that if he married her, I’d be at the church with his son and that I’d make a scene …’

  ‘Hold on a moment … You spoke to him on Tuesday night? Where?’

  She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. ‘In the street …’

  ‘What time was it?’

  ‘Maybe just before midnight.’

  ‘Whereabouts in the street?’

  She turned again with a vicious look towards the glass. ‘All right, I’ll tell you … Too bad! … At about ten, just as I was going to bed, I saw a light in Lise’s window …’

  ‘The window of her bedroom or the window of the fruitery?’

  ‘Her bedroom.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t mix them up?’

  She gave an ironic laugh. ‘Of course I’m sure! I’ve spied on the two of them often enough! I tried to sleep but I couldn’t. I got up again and decided to go and wait for him outside.’

  ‘Intending to do what?’

  ‘The usual thing,’ she admitted wearily.

  ‘You didn’t threaten him with anything else except making a scene in church?’

  ‘I told him I’d kill myself in his house …’

  ‘Would you have done it?’

  ‘I have no idea. I crept outside. It was raining. I’d even put my coat over my head. I wondered if he’d be staying late. Maybe, if he’d stayed too long, I’d have decided to climb up.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘I was walking along, talking to myself, as I often do. I wasn’t looking in front of me, because there was nobody in the streets … Suddenly, I bumped into someone. It was him. I was so surprised that I cried out.’

  ‘Where was he?’

  ‘Near the wall, behind the judge’s house.’

  ‘What was he doing? Coming out?’

  ‘No! He wasn’t doing anything. He seemed to be waiting. I asked him what he was waiting for.’

  ‘What did he reply?’

  ‘Nothing! He twisted my wrists. He was furious. “If I catch you spying on me again,” he growled, “I don’t know what I’ll do …”’

  ‘What time was it?’

  ‘Not far off midnight, as I said … Maybe a little later …’

  ‘Was there still a light on in the bedroom?’

  ‘I don’t know. You can’t see it from there, because of the wall. “Go to bed, you bitch!” he yelled at me. “Do you understand? And if ever …” I’d never seen him so angry with me.’

  Another glance at the other side of the glass. There, in the ballroom, Airaud was as calm as ever. The gendarme must have given him another cigarette, which he was holding askew because of the handcuffs.

  ‘Do you mind waiting next door, Thérèse? I may need you again.’

  When the door had closed again, a voice – Méjat’s – said:

  ‘Well, well, chief. I think …’

  ‘You think what?’

  ‘I think that … that …’

  Poor man! He had tried to be nice, to congratulate Maigret on the results obtained. But the only response was a glare.

  ‘Well? What do you think? Answer me. You’re going to find the evidence, are you? Go and fetch me some beer! … Or rather, no … Bring me some real hooch … Calvados, rum, whatever … What time is it?’

  It was midnight, and there was nobody left outside but three onlookers who stood there stamping their feet, hoping to finally hear something.

  11. The Doctor’s Maid

  The hum of an engine, the noise of brakes, the slamming of car doors. A moment later, two inspectors entered the ballroom in the company of a woman in her thirties, who looked dazed.

  ‘Sorry, sir. We had a flat tyre on the way here. The jack wouldn’t work. We …’

  ‘Is this her?’ Maigret asked, examining the young woman, who was quite lost, her eyes darting all over in such a way that she saw nothing.

  ‘She didn’t want to come, because of her sister-in-law who’s ill. We had to promise to take her back tonight.’

  Suddenly, the woman noticed the handcuffs and gave a muffled cry.

  ‘Do you recognize him?’ Maigret asked. ‘Take a good look at him. Tell me if he recently paid your employer a visit.’

  ‘I recognize them,’ she replied, recovering her composure.

  ‘You … what did you say? … You recognize them?’

  ‘Well, yes! I recognize both of them, because they came together.’

  ‘And they both saw the doctor in his office?’

  ‘Both of them. Not immediately, because the doctor wasn’t there. I advised them to come back the following day, but they preferred to sit in the waiting room for more than two hours.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Maigret muttered. ‘I don’t need you any more.’

  ‘Shall we take her back?’ the two inspectors asked, somewhat annoyed.

  ‘If you like … Wait … Here’s Méjat bringing something to drink … Only, I don’t know if there are enough glasses.’

  Then Didine again rose and touched the inspector’s arm.

  ‘In the cupboard,’ she whispered.

  ‘What’s in the cupboard?’

  ‘Glasses. There are always some, for council meetings. Would you like me to wipe them?’

  She knew everything! She had seen and heard everything!

  The policemen drank. As the doctor’s maid was feeling cold, she, too, was given a little alcohol, but it only made her cough desperately.

  The blood had gone to Maigret’s head. He seemed so tense that Méjat was watching him with a certain anxiety. Su
ddenly, he opened the door. The inspectors had left. The car was setting off again.

  ‘Come here, you!’ he called to Airaud with unexpected abruptness. ‘Take off his handcuffs, Méjat. He looks stupid like that. Come in! Close the door, Méjat. And you, I advise you not to try and be clever, do you understand? I’ve had just about enough! That’s right, I’ve had enough.’

  It was so unexpected that Marcel lost his composure.

  ‘I bet you think you’re intelligent. You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you? Oh, yes! … Look at yourself in the mirror. And please, don’t keep shifting from one leg to the other like a bear … What did your father do?’

  It was so surprising that, despite his determination not to answer, Airaud could not help murmuring:

  ‘He was a mussel farmer.’

  ‘And you’re a mussel farmer! And you imagine that a judge’s daughter is something extraordinary, don’t you? And you don’t realize that you’re nothing but a young fool that people laugh at. How long ago was it that Forlacroix made it up with you?’

  A hostile silence.

  ‘All right, don’t answer. That makes you look even better!’

  This time, getting carried away, Maigret spoke so loudly that it was impossible for those on the other side of the door not to hear, if not all the words, at least enough to catch the drift of what he was saying.

  Talking all the while, walking about, chewing the stem of his pipe, he poured himself a drink with such frenzy that Méjat was astounded.

  ‘That’s it, don’t answer! You’re too stupid anyway and wouldn’t have much to say … Wasn’t your affair with Thérèse enough for you? Because you almost married her, didn’t you? Everybody knows that. Only, everybody also knew what you didn’t know.’

  ‘I did know …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That she was seeing other men.’

  ‘OK! And you didn’t marry her. That’s something at least. You realized you were being taken for a ride. Only, Thérèse is nothing but a hotel maid, the daughter of a woman who sells fish in the street. Whereas the other girl …’

  Marcel’s features had hardened, and Maigret, in spite of his apparent excitement, glanced at his big fists, which were clenched. Didn’t he turn away for a moment to wipe away a smile that rose to his lips? Didn’t he need to take a big swig of his drink in order to keep up the tone?