Read Online Maigret's Holiday by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page B

…
There’s a door with frosted-glass panes and a goods lift … It’s there
…’
    A few moments later, Maigret, who
hadn’t found anyone to let him in, went up a staircase stinking of urine behind
the scenes of the hotel, which reminded him of backstage in a little provincial theatre.
He stopped a giant of a butcher between two swing doors through which waiters were
dashing, and the latter looked at him with contempt:
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜I’d like to speak to Laurence
Decoin.’
    Then the butcher became almost fierce.
    â€˜And what else … Who’s
asking for her, if you please, “young man”?’
    â€˜A friend …’
    â€˜Really? … Laurence!
…’ he yelled. ‘Come here and let me introduce a friend… A friend
of yours, so he says …’
    A chubby blonde came towards them, wiping
her hands on her apron, and it was clear that the doctor’s young butler was no
longer of much importance in her life and that in any case she was scared to death of
the hairy butcher.
    â€˜I don’t know
who this man is, do you, Fernand?’ she exclaimed in a strong accent.
    â€˜Well, what do you have to say for
yourself, eh?’
    He advanced, as solid and menacing as a
tank.
    Maigret felt himself come alive again.

4.
    â€˜I apologize,’ he said with the
utmost courtesy. ‘It is true that I do not know Madame, and that I have never seen
her. I simply want to ask her where I can meet her husband outside his employers’
house.’
    She turned first of all towards Fernand,
triumphantly:
    â€˜You see, you silly, jealous boy,
it’s not what you thought …’
    Then to Maigret:
    â€˜Now what has Francis done?’
    There was a door near them. It opened into a
long, narrow, dingily lit room with the fanlight placed too high, where the electric
lights burned all day. A table with two benches filled the entire length of the room,
like an army mess. It was the staff dining room where, at that moment, there were only
two waiters sitting at the far end, eating in silence. This was the room that Laurence
showed him into, so as not to get under the feet of the bustling waiters.
    â€˜You’re from the police,
aren’t you? That doesn’t worry me, mind you. It would even be a good thing
if he were in big trouble because that would help me get a divorce, wouldn’t it,
Fernand?’
    She was sturdy and on the short side, with a
slightly snub nose, but there was something fresh about her.
    â€˜When I think that I’m the one
who has to pay for thekid’s upkeep with what I earn here,
because that loafer doesn’t want to know—’
    â€˜You don’t live with
him?’
    It was Fernand who answered, in order to dot
the ‘i’s once and for all:
    â€˜We’ve been together for two
years now.’
    â€˜Do you happen to know whether he has
a room in town?’
    The plump Laurence burst out laughing:
    â€˜A room and all the rest too, you
mean! And his slippers by the bed …’
    She suddenly grew suspicious:
    â€˜You’re not from the local
police?’
    â€˜I am from Paris.’
    â€˜Because anyone from around here would
know that Francis knocks about with La Popine—’
    â€˜La Popine?’
    â€˜Madame Popineau… The fishmonger
… The one who has a pretty shop on the corner of Rue de la République …
A tough bitch, you don’t want to mess with her … People say she’s
already worn out three husbands, even though they were strapping fellows. She’s
kept busy visiting their graves on All Saints’ Day … It won’t be long
before poor Francis … I even wonder how the poor thing manages to satisfy her
… In any case, you’re almost bound to find him at her place after ten
o’clock at night … Tell me, monsieur, is it serious?’
    Maigret avoided replying in order to