Read Online Maigret's Dead Man by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online

was already scared. He
knew they wanted to kill him. So he had to avoid places where there weren’t any people.
The crowd was his shield. Nor did he dare go home, where they would have followed him and
finished him off. Now, even in Paris there are very few places that stay open all night. In
addition to the Montmartre nightclubs, there are the railway stations, which are lit and have
waiting rooms that are never empty. Well, it so happens that the benches in the third-class
waiting room at Gare de Lyon were revarnished on Monday. Moers confirms that the varnish used
there is identical to the one on the trousers.’
    â€˜Have the station staff been
questioned?’
    â€˜Yes, and they are
still being interviewed, sir.’
    â€˜In short, then, you have managed despite
the difficulties to get some results.’
    â€˜Despite the difficulties, yes. I also know
exactly when our man changed his mind.’
    â€˜Changed his mind about what?’
    Madame Maigret was pouring her husband a cup of
herbal tea and made signs telling him to drink it while it was hot.
    â€˜First, as I’ve just explained, he
hoped to sort out his problem by himself. Then, on Wednesday morning he got the idea of
contacting me. He persisted with that idea until about four in the afternoon. What happened
then? I don’t know. Perhaps, after sending out his last SOS from the post office in
Faubourg Saint-Denis, he decided he wasn’t getting anywhere? Be that as it may, but about
an hour later, around five, he walked into a bar in Rue Saint-Antoine.’
    â€˜So a witness has come forward at
last?’
    â€˜No, sir. It was Janvier who came up with
it after showing the photo in all the bars and questioning waiters. Anyway, he ordered a Suze
– and this fact virtually rules out any chance that we’ve got the wrong man –
and asked for an envelope. Not writing paper, just an envelope. Then he stuffed it in his
pocket, asked at the counter for a token for the phone and hurried into the booth. He made a
call. The woman at the till heard the click of the receiver.’
    â€˜And you did not get that call?’
    â€˜No,’ said Maigret with a touch of
resentment. ‘It wasn’tmeant for us. It was intended for someone
else, obviously. As for the yellow car …’
    â€˜Any news of it?’
    â€˜What there is is vague though consistent.
Are you familiar with Quai Henri-IV?’
    â€˜Near the Bastille?’
    â€˜That’s right. As you see, everything
happens within the same area, so much so that you get the feeling that you’re going round
and round in circles. Now, Quai Henri-IV is one of the quietest and least frequented parts of
Paris. There’s not a single shop, not one bar, just well-heeled, residential streets. A
telegram delivery boy spotted the yellow car at eight exactly. He noticed it because it had
broken down outside number 63, where he happened to have a telegram to deliver. Two men had
their heads under the raised bonnet.’
    â€˜Was he able to give you a
description?’
    â€˜No, it was too dark.’
    â€˜Did he get the number?’
    â€˜No again. It is rare, sir, that it crosses
anyone’s mind to make a note of the registration numbers of cars they happen to notice.
But what is important is that the car was facing towards Pont d’Austerlitz. Also it was
then ten past eight, which is significant given that we know from the autopsy that the murder
was committed between eight and ten.’
    â€˜Do you think your health will allow you to
get out and about again soon?’
    The tone of the examining magistrate had softened
slightly, but he was in no mood to make concessions.
    â€˜I don’t
know.’
    â€˜In what direction are you now pursuing
your inquiries?’
    â€˜No particular direction. I’m
waiting. That’s all I can do, wouldn’t you agree? We’ve come to a standstill.
We’ve done, or rather my men have