Read Online The Flemish House by Georges Simenon, Georges Simenon; Translated by Shaun Whiteside - Free Book Online Page B

me! … Because he is taunting me …’
    The landlord was desperate and had run
     out of ideas. A scandal was erupting.
    For, at those last words, Gérard had got
     to his feet and was standing in front of Maigret at last. His features were drawn,
     his lips contorted in anger.
    â€˜I tell you that he’s only
     come here to annoy us! … Look at him! … He’s laughing at us, because
     I’ve had a drink … Or rather because we haven’t got any money
     …’
    Maigret didn’t move. It was
     insane! He was as motionless as the marble of his table. He had his hand on his
     glass. He was still smoking.
    â€˜Diamonds trumps!’ said
     someone optimistically, in the hope of creating a diversion.
    And then Gérard took the cards from the
     card-players’ table and threw them across the room.
    Suddenly half the customers were on
     their feet, not daring to come forwards, but ready to intervene.
    Maigret sat where he was. Maigret
     smoked.
    â€˜But look at him! He’s
     taunting us! He knows my sister was murdered …’
    The landlord didn’t know where to
     put himself. The two little women at Gérard’s table looked at each other
     anxiously, and had already measured the distance they were from the door.
    â€˜He doesn’t dare say
     anything! You’ll notice that hedoesn’t dare open his
     mouth! He’s scared! Yes, he’s scared that the truth will come
     out!’
    â€˜I swear to you that he’s
     been drinking!’ the landlord cried, seeing Maigret get to his feet.
    Too late! Of all of them, it was
     probably Gérard who was the most frightened.
    That dark, wet mass coming towards him
     …
    He moved his hand briefly towards his
     pocket, and that movement was accompanied by a loud scream from a woman.
    The young man was drawing a revolver.
     But Maigret caught it in mid-air with his hand. At the same time, he stuck his foot
     out and sent Gérard sprawling.
    At most, one customer out of three knew
     what was happening. And yet now they had all got to their feet. The revolver was in
     Maigret’s hand. Gérard got back to his feet, with a fierce expression on his
     face, humiliated by his defeat.
    And while the inspector put the gun in
     his pocket, with a gesture as calm as it was natural, the young man panted:
    â€˜So are you going to arrest me,
     then?’
    He wasn’t standing up yet. He was
     pulling himself up with his hands. It was pitiful.
    â€˜Go to bed!’ Maigret said
     slowly.
    As Gérard seemed not to understand, he
     added:
    â€˜Open the door!’
    There was a gust of fresh air in the
     stifling atmosphere. Maigret held Gérard’s shoulder and pushed him towards the
     pavement.
    â€˜Go to bed!’
    And the door closed again. There was one
     person fewer in the bar: Gérard Piedboeuf.
    â€˜He’s blind drunk!’
     muttered Maigret, sitting back in front of the beer he had just begun.
    The customers didn’t know what
     they were supposed to do. Some of them had sat down in their seats again. Others
     were hesitating.
    Then Maigret, after taking a sip of
     beer, sighed:
    â€˜It doesn’t
     matter!’
    Then, turning to his neighbour, who
     didn’t know what was going on, he added:
    â€˜You were saying that diamonds
     were trumps …’

6. The Hammer
    Maigret had decided to sleep in, less out
     of laziness than for want of anything better to do. It was about ten o’clock
     when he had an unpleasant awakening.
    First of all there was a violent
     knocking at his door, which he hated more than anything. Then, his senses still
     befuddled, he made out the rattle of rain on the balcony.
    â€˜Who is it?’
    â€˜Machère.’
    He called out his name as if he were
     making a triumphant bugle call.
    â€˜Come in! Go and open the curtains
     …’
    And Maigret, still in bed, saw the dull
     light of a filthy day flowing in.