Read Online The Dancer at the Gai-Moulin by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page A

had remained rooted to the spot.
    â€˜And you
     have no idea who could have committed the murder?’
    She didn’t reply at once.
    â€˜Answer the question, please!
     Chabot has already admitted that he and his friend were hiding on the cellar steps
     at the Gai-Moulin.’
    She laughed at that.
    â€˜He claims that all they wanted to
     do was steal from the till. When they went back inside, a quarter of an hour after
     closing time, they apparently saw Graphopoulos lying dead on the floor.’
    â€˜No kidding?’
    â€˜So who, in your view, could have
     committed the crime? Wait. We have only a small number of possible suspects. Génaro,
     the club owner. He claims he went out soon after you, with Victor. And he says
     Graphopoulos had already left the club by then.’
    She shrugged, while Chabot looked at her
     both angrily and imploringly.
    â€˜You don’t think either
     Génaro or Victor was responsible?’
    â€˜That’s ridiculous,’
     she said, indifferently.
    â€˜Then there’s this unknown
     customer. You said he came out at the same time as you. He might have returned to
     the club, either alone or with you.’
    â€˜But how would he have got back
     in?’
    â€˜You’ve been working there
     long enough to have got yourself a secret key, haven’t you?’
    Another shrug.
    â€˜Well, anyway, it was Delfosse who
     had the cigarette-case,’ she said. ‘
And
he was
     hiding.’
    â€˜That’s not true! I saw the cigarette-case in
     your room at midday!’ Chabot burst out. ‘I saw it. I swear.’
    She repeated:
    â€˜No! It was Delfosse that had
     it.’
    A shouting match broke out between the
     two of them, but was interrupted when a detective walked in. He whispered something
     to the chief inspector.
    â€˜Bring him in.’
    There now entered a respectable-looking
     man of about fifty, with an impressive stomach, across which a gold watch chain was
     stretched. He felt it incumbent on him to adopt a dignified, indeed solemn
     expression.
    â€˜I was asked to come to see
     you,’ he said, looking round in surprise.
    â€˜Ah, Monsieur Lasnier,’ said
     the chief inspector. ‘Take a seat, please. Forgive me for troubling you, but I
     would like to know whether in the course of yesterday, you missed any money from
     your till.’
    The owner of the chocolate shop in Rue
     Léopold, round-eyed with astonishment, repeated:
    â€˜My till?’
    And Monsieur Chabot, Jean’s
     father, gazed at him in anguish, as if on his answer depended what he himself would
     think of the affair.
    â€˜I imagine that, for instance, if
     someone had taken two thousand francs, that would have been noticed?’
    â€˜Two thousand francs? I really
     don’t see—’
    â€˜Never mind. Just answer my
     question. Did you notice any money missing from the shop’s takings?’
    â€˜No, none at all.’
    â€˜Your nephew
     did come to see you, didn’t he?’
    â€˜Wait a minute. Yes, I think he
     did drop in, as he does from time to time. Not to see me, more to get some
     chocolate.’
    â€˜And you never noticed that he was
     stealing from the till?’
    â€˜Monsieur!’
    The chocolatier swelled with anger and
     seemed to call on them to witness the insult to his family.
    â€˜My brother-in-law can well afford
     to give his son all the money he needs.’
    â€˜My apologies, Monsieur Lasnier.
     And thank you.’
    â€˜Was that all you wanted me
     for?’
    â€˜Yes, that’s all, thank
     you.’
    â€˜But what makes you think
     that—’
    â€˜I can’t reveal that at the
     moment. Girard! Please see Monsieur Lasnier out.’
    And the chief began to pace the room
     again, as Adèle asked, brazenly:
    â€˜Do you need me any
     more?’
    He glared at her with an expression
     which was enough to silence her. And for the next ten minutes, nobody said a