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Authors: Georges Simenon
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with James in the Taverne Royale came back to haunt him.
âWhat are you drinking?â he heard a voice ask. âA large Pernod?â
The very word was enough to remind him of the week gone by, the Sunday get-togethers of the Morsang crowd, the whole disagreeable case.
âA beer,â he replied.
âAt this hour?â
The well-meaning waiter who had offered him the aperitif was taken aback at the fury of Maigretâs response:
âYes, at this hour!â
Victor, too, received a bad-tempered look. The doctor was talking about him to the fishermen:
âIâve heard of the treatment, but Iâve never seen such a thoroughgoing application of the technique of pneumothorax â¦â
Then, in a whisper:
âNot that itâll make much difference. Iâd give him a year at most â¦â
Maigret had lunch at the Vieux-Garçon, ensconced in a corner like a wounded beast, growling if anyone came near. Twice the police officer came on his motorbike to report in.
âNothing. The car was spotted on the road to Fontainebleau, but hasnât been seen since.â
Marvellous! A traffic jam on the Fontainebleau road! Hundreds of cars held up!
Two hours later, it was reported that a car matching the description of the doctorâs car had filled up at a petrol station at Arpajon. But was it the right one? The petrol-pump attendant had sworn there was no woman in the car.
Finally, at five oâclock, a message from Montlhéry. The car had been seen doing circuits of the racetrack, as if on a time trial, when it blew a tyre. By sheer chance a policeman had asked the driver for his licence. He didnât have
one.
It was James, and he was on his own. They were waiting for Maigretâs instructions whether to let him go or lock him up.
âThey were brand-new tyres,â the doctor moaned. âAnd on its first time out! Iâm beginning to think heâs mad. Or else heâs drunk, as usual.â
And he asked Maigret if he could come with him.
6. Haggling
They made a detour to the Two-Penny Bar to pick up Victor. Once he was in the car, he turned and gave the landlord a look which meant something like âYou see the special treatment Iâm getting?â
He was sitting on the fold-down seat, facing Maigret. The window was wound down, and he had the impudence to ask:
âDo you mind if I close it? Itâs because of my lung, you know.â
At the track there were no races on today. There were a few drivers doing practice laps in front of the empty stands. The emptiness of the place, if anything, made it seem more vast.
A short distance away, a parked car; a police officer was standing next to a man in a leather helmet who was on his knees tinkering with his bike.
âOver there,â the inspector was told.
Victor was fascinated by a racing-car hurtling round the track at around 200 kilometres an hour. Now he opened the window so he could lean out to get a better view.
âItâs my car all right,â said the doctor. âI hope it isnât damaged â¦â
Then they saw James, standing quite calmly next to the motorcyclist, stroking his chin, giving advice on how tofix the engine. When he saw Maigret and his companions approach, he murmured:
âThat was quick!â
Then he looked at Victor from head to toe, as if wondering what he was doing there.
âWhoâs this?â
If Maigret had been hoping for something from this meeting, he was disappointed. Victor scarcely noticed the Englishman, he was too interested in watching the racing-car. The doctor was already inspecting the inside of his car for any signs of
damage.
âHave you been here long?â the inspector growled.
âIâm not sure ⦠quite long, yes.â
He was so self-possessed, it was unbelievable. You wouldnât think to look at him that he had just whisked away a woman and her child from under the noses of the police, and
âWhat are you drinking?â he heard a voice ask. âA large Pernod?â
The very word was enough to remind him of the week gone by, the Sunday get-togethers of the Morsang crowd, the whole disagreeable case.
âA beer,â he replied.
âAt this hour?â
The well-meaning waiter who had offered him the aperitif was taken aback at the fury of Maigretâs response:
âYes, at this hour!â
Victor, too, received a bad-tempered look. The doctor was talking about him to the fishermen:
âIâve heard of the treatment, but Iâve never seen such a thoroughgoing application of the technique of pneumothorax â¦â
Then, in a whisper:
âNot that itâll make much difference. Iâd give him a year at most â¦â
Maigret had lunch at the Vieux-Garçon, ensconced in a corner like a wounded beast, growling if anyone came near. Twice the police officer came on his motorbike to report in.
âNothing. The car was spotted on the road to Fontainebleau, but hasnât been seen since.â
Marvellous! A traffic jam on the Fontainebleau road! Hundreds of cars held up!
Two hours later, it was reported that a car matching the description of the doctorâs car had filled up at a petrol station at Arpajon. But was it the right one? The petrol-pump attendant had sworn there was no woman in the car.
Finally, at five oâclock, a message from Montlhéry. The car had been seen doing circuits of the racetrack, as if on a time trial, when it blew a tyre. By sheer chance a policeman had asked the driver for his licence. He didnât have
one.
It was James, and he was on his own. They were waiting for Maigretâs instructions whether to let him go or lock him up.
âThey were brand-new tyres,â the doctor moaned. âAnd on its first time out! Iâm beginning to think heâs mad. Or else heâs drunk, as usual.â
And he asked Maigret if he could come with him.
6. Haggling
They made a detour to the Two-Penny Bar to pick up Victor. Once he was in the car, he turned and gave the landlord a look which meant something like âYou see the special treatment Iâm getting?â
He was sitting on the fold-down seat, facing Maigret. The window was wound down, and he had the impudence to ask:
âDo you mind if I close it? Itâs because of my lung, you know.â
At the track there were no races on today. There were a few drivers doing practice laps in front of the empty stands. The emptiness of the place, if anything, made it seem more vast.
A short distance away, a parked car; a police officer was standing next to a man in a leather helmet who was on his knees tinkering with his bike.
âOver there,â the inspector was told.
Victor was fascinated by a racing-car hurtling round the track at around 200 kilometres an hour. Now he opened the window so he could lean out to get a better view.
âItâs my car all right,â said the doctor. âI hope it isnât damaged â¦â
Then they saw James, standing quite calmly next to the motorcyclist, stroking his chin, giving advice on how tofix the engine. When he saw Maigret and his companions approach, he murmured:
âThat was quick!â
Then he looked at Victor from head to toe, as if wondering what he was doing there.
âWhoâs this?â
If Maigret had been hoping for something from this meeting, he was disappointed. Victor scarcely noticed the Englishman, he was too interested in watching the racing-car. The doctor was already inspecting the inside of his car for any signs of
damage.
âHave you been here long?â the inspector growled.
âIâm not sure ⦠quite long, yes.â
He was so self-possessed, it was unbelievable. You wouldnât think to look at him that he had just whisked away a woman and her child from under the noses of the police, and
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