Read Online Inspector Cadaver by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online

sight of her interests.
    ‘Apparently Désiré, your
milk collector, didn’t come to work this morning?’
    ‘That happens with him. Days when
he’s drunker than usual …’
    Maigret rejoined the pockmarked teenager,
who was terrified he wasn’t being taken seriously any more.
    ‘What did he tell you? He’s a
good guy, but he’s part of the other lot, really …’
    ‘What other lot?’
    ‘Monsieur Naud, the doctor, the mayor
… He couldn’t turn you against me, though …’
    ‘No, of course not …’
    ‘We’ve got to find old
Désiré. Let’s go to his place, if you don’t mind. It’s not
far.’
    They set off again, both forgetting that it
was lunchtime. At the entrance to the village, they went round to the backof a house. Louis knocked on a glass door, then pushed it open and
shouted into the semi-darkness:
    ‘Désiré! Hey!
Désiré …’
    Only a cat came to rub itself against his
leg, while Maigret peered into what looked like an animal’s den. There was a bed
without sheets or pillow, on which one would have had to sleep fully dressed, a small
cracked cast-iron stove and a jumble of clothes, empty litre bottles and gnawed
bones.
    ‘He must be drinking somewhere. Come
on.’
    Still the same fear of not being taken
seriously.
    ‘He worked on Étienne
Naud’s farm once, you see. Even though he was sacked, he stayed on good terms with
them. He’s the sort of person who likes staying on good terms with everybody.
That’s why, the day after the one I told you about, he put on a big act when he
was asked about the cap: “What cap? … Oh yes, that rag I picked up
somewhere, I’m not sure where any more. I don’t even know where it’s
got to …”
    ‘Well, sir, I can tell you for a fact
that there were bloodstains on the cap, as I wrote to the prosecutor …’
    ‘You wrote the anonymous
letters?’
    ‘I wrote three, at least. If there
were any others, they weren’t by me. I wrote about the cap, then about Albert
going with Geneviève Naud … Wait, maybe Désiré is here
…’
    It was a grocer’s but, through the
windows, Maigret saw that there were bottles on the end of the counter and two tables,
at the back of the room, where people could have a drink. The kid emerged
empty-handed.
    ‘He came by early
this morning. He must have visited all the chapels …’
    Until then, Maigret had known of only two
cafés in Saint-Aubin, the Lion d’Or and the Trois Mules. He now added at
least a dozen more to that total in less than half an hour – not cafés as
such but drinking dens that would have been invisible to the average passer-by. The
saddler ran one next to his workshop. There was another in the blacksmith’s. And
old Désiré had been seen at all, or almost all, of them.
    ‘How was he?’
    ‘He was fine.’
    It was obvious what that meant.
    ‘He was in a hurry when he left
because he had something to do at the post office …’
    ‘The post office is closed,’
Louis said. ‘I know the postmistress. You just have to knock on the window.
She’ll open up for you.’
    ‘Especially because I have a telephone
call to make,’ said Maigret.
    And indeed, as soon as the kid knocked on
the glass, the window opened a crack.
    ‘Is that you, Louis? What do you
want?’
    ‘The gentleman from Paris needs to
make a telephone call.’
    ‘I’ll open up right
away.’
    Maigret asked to be put through to the
Nauds’.
    ‘Hello! Who’s
calling?’
    He didn’t recognize the voice, a
man’s.
    ‘Hello! What’s that? Ah, sorry
… Alban, yes … I didn’tunderstand … Maigret
here … Would you tell Madame Naud that I won’t be coming back for lunch
… Apologize to her for me … No, nothing important … I don’t know
when I’ll be back yet …’
    Coming out of the booth, he saw from his
companion’s face that he had some interesting information to relay.
    ‘How much do I owe you, mademoiselle?
Thank you. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’
    In the street, Louis announced in a