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Authors: Georges Simenon
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donât know, something thatâs not right, and I have a hunch that if we can
track down this girl â¦â
He ordered an aperitif instead of his usual
white wine. Then, as Mansuy insisted on buying a round, he downed another, on top of all
the white wines heâd drunk during the day. There was smoke all round him and the
haze of alcohol was so thick that it billowed out several metres on to the pavement.
âLook, Mansuy
â¦â
He seized his colleagueâs arm.
âI think itâs more important
than it seems to find this girl ⦠Itâs none of my business, I repeat â¦
Itâs not so much as a professional that Iâm speaking â¦â
âIf you want us to go back to the
police station, Iâll write a memo this evening.â
âDo you know whether the
doctorâs butler is married, whether he sleeps in the house?â
Poor Mansuy had never imagined that an
inspector from the Police Judiciaire could carry out an investigation in such a
manner.
âIâll find out ⦠I confess
Iâd never worried about â¦â
Maigret was talking to himself:
âIt would be the way to find out
â¦â
Then to Mansuy:
âLetâs go back to your office,
yes ⦠Donât hold it against me ⦠I canât explain⦠I am so
certain that it would be better â¦â
They entered the secretaryâs office on
the ground floor, where there was a coffee tin on a little spirit stove.
âTell me, Dubois, do you know Doctor
Bellamyâs butler, by any chance?â
âIsnât he a fairly young, blond
fellow?â
It was Maigret who replied.
âYes, his name is Francis
â¦â
âHeâs Belgian,â stated the
secretary. âI remember because he came two or three times to get his residence
permit stamped â¦â
âMarried?â
âWait â¦
Heâs on my list ⦠Iâll find him â¦â
It wasnât as straightforward as all
that. The list was nowhere to be found. The day secretary had left with the key to some
drawers. Eventually they found it where it should not have been.
âHere we are â¦
Francis-Charles-Albert Decoin, born in Huy ⦠age thirty-two ⦠Married to
Laurence Van Offel, cook ⦠She had her permit stamped too ⦠Hold on â¦
Hôtel du Remblai ⦠No, she left ⦠Her most recent address was the
Hôtel Bellevue, where she was working as a kitchen girl as recently as two months
ago â¦â
Mansuy was still looking at Maigret
inquisitively. As they left the police station, he asked him timidly:
âAre you really â¦â
He did not finish. He gave a sweeping
gesture that took in the town, the hotels. Was it possible that his distinguished
colleague intended to go from one improbable address to another, questioning porters and
chambermaids like a rookie inspector?
âWith your permission, Iâll
instruct one of my men â¦â
Was the man serious? Just as Maigret felt he
had both feet on the ground? Why not bring in Sister Marie des Anges and Doctor Bellamy
too?
Maigret finally had something concrete to
do.
Something that was perhaps of no use, no
importance â¦
He thrust his hands in his pockets as if it
were the depths of winter, while his teeth clenched the stem of his pipe a little
harder.
âYouâll keep me informed?
⦠Should I look for this girl anyway? â¦â
Maigret forgot to answer
and shook Mansuyâs hand as they parted company on a street corner, then headed for
the imposing building of the Hôtel Bellevue, the most luxurious establishment on Le
Remblai.
A kitchen girl, at least that would make a
change from nuns and neurologists.
âExcuse me, porter ⦠Iâd
like to speak to Laurence Decoin who works in the kitchens â¦â
âYouâll have to go to the
service entrance ⦠Turn left ⦠Youâll find an alleyway
track down this girl â¦â
He ordered an aperitif instead of his usual
white wine. Then, as Mansuy insisted on buying a round, he downed another, on top of all
the white wines heâd drunk during the day. There was smoke all round him and the
haze of alcohol was so thick that it billowed out several metres on to the pavement.
âLook, Mansuy
â¦â
He seized his colleagueâs arm.
âI think itâs more important
than it seems to find this girl ⦠Itâs none of my business, I repeat â¦
Itâs not so much as a professional that Iâm speaking â¦â
âIf you want us to go back to the
police station, Iâll write a memo this evening.â
âDo you know whether the
doctorâs butler is married, whether he sleeps in the house?â
Poor Mansuy had never imagined that an
inspector from the Police Judiciaire could carry out an investigation in such a
manner.
âIâll find out ⦠I confess
Iâd never worried about â¦â
Maigret was talking to himself:
âIt would be the way to find out
â¦â
Then to Mansuy:
âLetâs go back to your office,
yes ⦠Donât hold it against me ⦠I canât explain⦠I am so
certain that it would be better â¦â
They entered the secretaryâs office on
the ground floor, where there was a coffee tin on a little spirit stove.
âTell me, Dubois, do you know Doctor
Bellamyâs butler, by any chance?â
âIsnât he a fairly young, blond
fellow?â
It was Maigret who replied.
âYes, his name is Francis
â¦â
âHeâs Belgian,â stated the
secretary. âI remember because he came two or three times to get his residence
permit stamped â¦â
âMarried?â
âWait â¦
Heâs on my list ⦠Iâll find him â¦â
It wasnât as straightforward as all
that. The list was nowhere to be found. The day secretary had left with the key to some
drawers. Eventually they found it where it should not have been.
âHere we are â¦
Francis-Charles-Albert Decoin, born in Huy ⦠age thirty-two ⦠Married to
Laurence Van Offel, cook ⦠She had her permit stamped too ⦠Hold on â¦
Hôtel du Remblai ⦠No, she left ⦠Her most recent address was the
Hôtel Bellevue, where she was working as a kitchen girl as recently as two months
ago â¦â
Mansuy was still looking at Maigret
inquisitively. As they left the police station, he asked him timidly:
âAre you really â¦â
He did not finish. He gave a sweeping
gesture that took in the town, the hotels. Was it possible that his distinguished
colleague intended to go from one improbable address to another, questioning porters and
chambermaids like a rookie inspector?
âWith your permission, Iâll
instruct one of my men â¦â
Was the man serious? Just as Maigret felt he
had both feet on the ground? Why not bring in Sister Marie des Anges and Doctor Bellamy
too?
Maigret finally had something concrete to
do.
Something that was perhaps of no use, no
importance â¦
He thrust his hands in his pockets as if it
were the depths of winter, while his teeth clenched the stem of his pipe a little
harder.
âYouâll keep me informed?
⦠Should I look for this girl anyway? â¦â
Maigret forgot to answer
and shook Mansuyâs hand as they parted company on a street corner, then headed for
the imposing building of the Hôtel Bellevue, the most luxurious establishment on Le
Remblai.
A kitchen girl, at least that would make a
change from nuns and neurologists.
âExcuse me, porter ⦠Iâd
like to speak to Laurence Decoin who works in the kitchens â¦â
âYouâll have to go to the
service entrance ⦠Turn left ⦠Youâll find an alleyway
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