Read Online Maigret and the Man on the Boulevard by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page B

here too?”
    â€œJust looking around.”
    â€œI’ve been wandering about here since eight this morning. If I’ve questioned one person I must have questioned five hundred.”
    â€œHave you found out where he used to go for lunch?”
    â€œHow did you guess?”
    â€œI felt sure he must have eaten his midday meal somewhere in this district, and his sort would be likely always to go back to the same place.”
    â€œOver there,” said Neveu, pointing to what looked like a quiet little restaurant. “He even had his own napkin and ring.”
    â€œWhat did they tell you?”
    â€œHe always sat at the same table, at the back near the bar. I got that from the waitress who always served him. She’s tall and dark, with a face like a horse and hairs on her chin. Do you know what she called him?”
    How could the chief superintendent be expected to know!
    â€œHer little man. She told me so herself:
    â€œâ€˜Well, little man, what do you fancy today?’
    â€œShe says he was always cheerful. Rain or shine, he never failed to mention the weather. He never attempted to get fresh with her.
    â€œAll the waitresses in the restaurant get two hours off between clearing away the lunch and laying the tables for dinner.
    â€œApparently, several times, on her way out at about three o’clock she saw Monsieur Louis sitting on a bench. Each time, he waved to her.
    â€œOne day she said, to tease him:
    â€œâ€˜You take things easy, little man, I must say!’
    â€œHe replied that he worked at night.”
    â€œDid she believe him?”
    â€œYes. She seemed quite besotted with him.”
    â€œHas she seen the papers?”
    â€œNo. The first she’d heard of his death was from me. She didn’t want to believe it.
    â€œIt’s not an expensive restaurant, but it isn’t one of those fixed-price places either. Every lunchtime Monsieur Louis would treat himself to a half-bottle of good wine.”
    â€œDid you find anyone else who had seen him around?”
    â€œAbout ten people so far. One of the girls whose beat is over there on the corner saw him almost every day. She accosted him the first time, but he said no, very kindly. No getting on his high horse for him, and after that she got into the way of calling out every time she saw him:
    â€œâ€˜Well, is it to be today, then?’
    â€œIt was just a little game they played. Whenever she hooked a client, he would give her a broad wink.”
    â€œDid he never go with any of them?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid none of them ever see him with a woman?”
    â€œNot them. One of the salesmen in the jeweler’s did, though.”
    â€œThe one next to the place where he was killed?”
    â€œYes. I showed the photograph to all the staff, but he was the only one who recognized him.
    â€œâ€˜That’s the man who came in and bought a ring last week!’ he exclaimed.”
    â€œDid Monsieur Louis have a young woman with him?”
    â€œShe wasn’t particularly young. The salesman hardly noticed her. He thought they were husband and wife. What he did notice, though, was that she was wearing a silver fox fur draped round her shoulders, and a chain with a pendant in the shape of a four-leaf clover.
    â€œâ€˜We sell pendants just like it!’”
    â€œWas the ring valuable?”
    â€œA paste diamond in a gold-plated setting.”
    â€œDid they say anything of interest in his presence?”
    â€œThey talked like any other married couple. He can’t remember their exact words. Nothing that mattered, anyway.”
    â€œHad he ever seen her before?”
    â€œHe wasn’t sure. She was dressed in black, and wearing gloves. She nearly left them behind on the counter, having taken them off to try on the ring. It was Monsieur Louis who came back for them. She waited outside. She was taller than he was. When he went out, he took her arm, and they went