Maigret Hesitates

by Georges Simenon

‘These girls always end up trying to get themselves married.’

  ‘Has your husband ever mentioned divorce?’

  ‘Not so far.’

  ‘What would you do if he did?’

  ‘I’d be obliged to resign myself and stop looking after him.’

  ‘I believe you have a personal fortune?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s larger than his. This is my apartment. In fact, I own the building.’

  ‘Then I see no reason for blackmail.’

  ‘It’s also possible to get tired of a false love.’

  ‘Why false?’

  ‘Because of age, background, lifestyle, whatever.’

  ‘Is your love truer?’

  ‘I gave him two children.’

  ‘You mean you included them as part of the dowry?’

  ‘Are you insulting me?’

  She gave him another angry look, while he remained exaggeratedly calm.

  ‘That isn’t my intention, madame, but it usually takes two to make children. Why don’t you just say that you and your husband had two children together?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘I’d like you to tell me, quite simply and quite honestly, what you did this morning.’

  ‘I’ve already told you.’

  ‘Not simply, and not honestly. You told me a long story about insomnia and then skipped the whole morning.’

  ‘I was asleep.’

  ‘I’d like to be sure of that. It’s likely that I’ll know within quite a short time. My inspectors have noted the whereabouts and movements of everyone between nine fifteen and ten o’clock. I’m also aware that there are different ways of getting into the offices.’

  ‘Are you accusing me of lying?’

  ‘I’m accusing you of not telling me the whole truth.’

  ‘Do you think my husband is innocent?’

  ‘I don’t prejudge anyone’s innocence, just as I don’t prejudge anyone’s guilt.’

  ‘And yet the way you’re interrogating me …’

  ‘What was your daughter accusing you of when I came looking for her?’

  ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

  ‘I didn’t ask her.’

  Once again, she sniggered, curling her lips in a bitter, ironic grin that was deliberately cruel and contemptuous.

  ‘She’s luckier than I am.’

  ‘I asked you what she was accusing you of.’

  ‘For not being with her father at a moment like this, if you really must know.’

  ‘Does she think her father is guilty?’

  ‘What if she does?’

  ‘Gus, too, I suppose?’

  ‘Gus is still at an age when his father’s some kind of god and his mother’s a shrew.’

  ‘Earlier, when you came to your husband’s office, you knew you would find me there with him.’

  ‘You aren’t necessarily everywhere, Monsieur Maigret, and I might have hoped to find my husband alone.’

  ‘You asked him a question.’

  ‘A perfectly simple, perfectly natural question, the question any wife would have asked in the circumstances. You saw his reaction. Do you think it was normal? Do you think a normal man would have started stamping his feet and stammering insults?’

  Sensing that she had just scored a point, she lit another cigarette, having stubbed out the first one in a blue marble ashtray.

  ‘I’m waiting for your other questions, if you still have any to ask me.’

  ‘Have you had lunch?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. If you’re hungry …’

  Her face was capable of changing from one minute to the next, and so was her demeanour. She was once again very much a woman of the world. Sitting back slightly in her chair, her eyes half closed, she was taunting him.

  7.

  Ever since the beginning of his interview with Madame Parendon, Maigret had been controlling himself. And gradually sadness had prevailed over irritation. He felt heavy, awkward; he realized all the things he didn’t know and ought to know if he was going to bring such an interrogation to a conclusion.

  He finally sat down in one of the armchairs that were too fragile for him, his pipe extinguished in his hand, and said in a calm but flat voice:

  ‘Listen to me, madame. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not hostile to you. I’m merely a public servant whose job is to look for the truth by the means at his disposal. I’m going to ask you again the question I asked you earlier. I’d like you to think before you answer, to weigh up the pros and cons. I warn you that if, subsequently, it’s proved that you’ve lied, I’ll draw my own conclusions and ask the examining magistrate for a summons.’

  He was observing her, especially her hands, which betrayed her inner tension.

  ‘Since nine o’clock this morning, have you left your room and your boudoir and gone to the offices, for whatever reason?’

  She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn her eyes away. As he had asked her to, she took her time, but it was clear that she wasn’t thinking, that her position had been fixed once and for all. Finally she said:

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t go along the corridors?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t walk across the drawing room?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t go into Mademoiselle Vague’s office, even on the spur of the moment?’

  ‘No. I should add that I consider these questions insulting.’

  ‘It’s my duty to ask them.’

  ‘You forget that my father is still alive.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘I’m simply reminding you that you’re not in your office at Quai des Orfèvres.’

  ‘Would you rather I took you there?’

  ‘I challenge you to do so.’

  He preferred not to take her at her word. When he was at Meung-sur-Loire, he sometimes went fishing. He had once caught an eel and had then had the devil’s own job getting it off the hook. It had constantly slid from his fingers and had finally fallen into the grass on the river bank, from where it had slithered back into the water.

  He wasn’t here for his pleasure. He wasn’t fishing.

  ‘Do you deny that you killed Mademoiselle Vague?’

  The same words, constantly, the same look in his eyes, that of a man trying desperately to understand another human being.

  ‘You know perfectly well.’

  ‘What do I know?’

  ‘That it’s my poor husband who killed her.’

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘I told you. As things stand, there’s no need for a specific reason. I’m going to tell you something that only he and I know, something he confided in me before we got married. He was scared of getting married. He kept putting it off. What I didn’t know at the time was that he’d been seeing a number of different doctors … Did you know that when he was seventeen he tried to kill himself because he was afraid he wasn’t a normal man? He cut his wrists. When the blood spurted, he started to panic and called for help, claiming it was an accident … Do you know what this tendency to suicide means?’

  Maigret was sorry he hadn’t brought the bottle of wine with him. Tortu and Julien Baud must have been surprised to find it in their office when they got back and had probably already finished it.

  ‘He had qualms … he was afraid our children wouldn’t be normal. When Bambi started to grow and talk, he would watch her anxiously.’

  It might be true. There was certainly some truth in what she was saying, but he still sensed some discrepancy, a rift between the words, the sentences, and reality.

  ‘He’s haunted by a fear of sickness and death. Dr Martin knows all about it.’

  ‘I saw Dr Martin this morning.’

  She seemed to be thrown by this but quickly regained her composure.

  ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘No. And he didn’t think for a moment that your husband might be the murderer.’

  ‘You’re forgetting professi
onal confidentiality, inspector.’

  He was starting to glimpse a light, but it was still dim and distant.

  ‘I also spoke to his brother on the phone. He’s in Nice for a conference.’

  ‘Is that after what happened?’

  ‘No, before.’

  ‘Was he upset?’

  ‘He didn’t advise me to keep an eye on your husband.’

  ‘All the same, he must know.’

  She lit yet another cigarette. She was chain-smoking them, inhaling deeply.

  ‘Haven’t you ever met people who’ve lost contact with life, with reality, and who somehow turn in on themselves, like a glove being turned inside out? Question our friends. Ask them if my husband still takes any interest in human beings. Every now and again, because I insist, he has dinner with a few people, but he barely notices they’re there and only says a few words to them. He doesn’t listen, just sits there all withdrawn.’

  ‘Does he choose these friends you’re talking about?’

  ‘They’re people we’re duty bound to meet in our situation, normal people, living normal lives.’

  He didn’t ask her what she considered a normal life, preferring to let her speak. Her monologue was becoming increasingly instructive.

  ‘Last summer, do you think he ever once put in an appearance at the beach or in the swimming pool? He spent his time in the garden, under a tree. When I was younger and he would suddenly stop listening to me, I assumed he was distracted. Now I think it’s a genuine inability to live with other people. That’s why he’s always shut up in his office, why he hardly ever leaves it and when he does why he looks at us like an owl surprised by the light … You’ve rushed to judgement, Monsieur Maigret.’

  ‘I have another question to ask you.’

  He was sure of the answer in advance.

  ‘Have you touched your revolver since last night?’

  ‘Why should I have touched it?’

  ‘I don’t want a question from you, but an answer.’

  ‘The answer is no.’

  ‘When was the last time you handled it?’

  ‘Months ago. I haven’t tidied that drawer for ages.’

  ‘You touched it yesterday, to show it to me.’

  ‘I’d forgotten.’

  ‘But when I took hold of it, my fingerprints may have got mixed up with the others.’

  ‘Is that all you can come up with?’

  She looked at him as if she was disappointed to discover that Maigret could be clumsy and flat-footed.

  ‘You’ve just spoken quite smugly about your husband’s isolation, his lack of contact with reality. And yet just yesterday, in his office, he was dealing with some extremely important business, and with men who definitely have both feet on the ground.’

  ‘Why do you think he chose maritime law? He’s never set foot on a ship in his life. He has no contact with sailors. It all happens on paper. It’s all abstract, don’t you understand? It’s one more proof of what I’ve been telling you, of what you refuse to consider.’

  She stood up and started walking around the room like someone thinking.

  ‘Even his hobby horse, the famous Article 64. Isn’t that proof that he’s scared, scared of what he can do, and is trying to reassure himself? He knows you’re here, he knows you’re questioning me. In this house, nobody’s unaware of everyone else’s movements. Do you know what he’s thinking? He’s hoping I’ll get impatient, that I’ll seem nervous, that I’ll lose my temper, and then I’ll be a suspect instead of him. With me in prison, he’d be free.’

  ‘Hold on a moment. I don’t understand. What new freedom would he enjoy?’

  ‘Total freedom.’

  ‘What would he do with it, now that Mademoiselle Vague is dead?’

  ‘There are other Mademoiselle Vagues.’

  ‘So now you’re claiming that your husband would take advantage of your absence to have mistresses?’

  ‘Why not? It’s another way of reassuring himself.’

  ‘By killing them one after another?’

  ‘He wouldn’t necessarily kill the others.’

  ‘I thought he was incapable of human contact.’

  ‘With normal people, people from our world.’

  ‘Because people who aren’t from your world aren’t normal?’

  ‘You know perfectly well what I meant. I’m simply saying that it isn’t normal for him to be involved with such people.’

  ‘Why not?’

  There was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal Ferdinand in a white jacket.

  ‘One of these gentlemen would like to talk to you, Monsieur Maigret.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Out here, in the corridor. He told me it’s extremely urgent, and I took the liberty of bringing him.’

  Maigret glimpsed Lucas in the gloom of the corridor.

  ‘Will you excuse me a moment, Madame Parendon?’

  He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in her boudoir. Ferdinand walked away.

  ‘What is it, Lucas?’

  ‘She went across the drawing room twice this morning.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘You can’t see him from here, but you can from the drawing room. There’s an invalid who sits at one of the windows in Rue du Cirque almost all day.’

  ‘Is he very old?’

  ‘No, in his fifties. He had an accident and can’t use his legs. He takes an interest in everything that goes on in this building. He’s fascinated by the washing of the cars, especially the Rolls. Judging by his answers to some additional questions I asked him, I think we can trust his testimony. His name’s Montagné. His daughter’s a midwife.’

  ‘What time did he first see her?’

  ‘Just after nine thirty.’

  ‘Was she going in the direction of the offices?’

  ‘Yes. He’s more familiar than we are with the layout of this place. That’s how he knows about the relationship between Parendon and his secretary.’

  ‘What was she wearing?’

  ‘A blue dressing gown.’

  ‘And the second time?’

  ‘Less than five minutes later, she walked across the drawing room in the other direction. One thing he noticed was that the maid was at the far end of the room, doing the dusting, and she didn’t see her.’

  ‘Madame Parendon didn’t see the maid?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you questioned Lise?’

  ‘This morning, yes.’

  ‘Did she mention that?’

  ‘She claims she didn’t see anything.’

  ‘Thanks, Lucas.’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Wait for me, both of you. Any confirmation of what this Montagné said?’

  ‘Only a maid on the fifth floor over there who thinks she saw something blue at the same time.’

  Maigret knocked at the door of the boudoir and entered just as Madame Parendon was coming out of her bedroom. He took the time to empty his pipe and fill it.

  ‘Would you be so kind as to call your maid?’

  ‘Do you need something?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  She pressed a button. A few moments passed in silence. Looking at this woman he was torturing, Maigret couldn’t help feeling a tightness in his chest.

  He kept repeating to himself the text of Article 64, about which there had been so much talk here in the past three days:

  There is no crime or offence if the accused was in a state of insanity at the time of the act, or if he was compelled by a force he was unable to resist.

  Could the man Madame Parendon had described to him, her husband, have acted in a state of insanity at a particular moment?

  Had she, too, read books on psychiatry? Or else …

  Lise entered, looking fearful.

  ‘You called me, madame?’

  ‘The inspector would like to talk to you.’

  ‘Close the door, Lise. Don’t be afrai
d. This morning, when you answered my inspectors, you were still in shock and probably didn’t understand how important their questions were.’

  The poor girl looked in turn at Maigret and at her mistress, who was again in the wing chair, sitting back, legs crossed, with an indifferent air as if none of this concerned her.

  ‘It’s quite possible you may have to testify in court, where you’ll be under oath. You’ll be asked the same questions. If it’s established that you’re lying, you’ll incur a prison sentence.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘We’ve established the whereabouts of all the members of staff between nine fifteen and ten o’clock. Just after nine thirty, you were dusting in the drawing room. Is that right?’

  Another glance at Madame Parendon, who was avoiding looking at her, then, in a weak voice:

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time did you enter the drawing room?’

  ‘About nine thirty, or just after.’

  ‘So you didn’t see Madame Parendon walking in the direction of the offices?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But just after you started, when you were at the far end of the room, you saw her walk by in the opposite direction, in other words, towards this room.’

  ‘What should I do, madame?’

  ‘That’s up to you, my girl. Answer the question you’ve been asked.’

  Tears ran down Lise’s cheeks. She had taken a handkerchief from the pocket of her apron and rolled it into a ball.

  ‘Has someone told you something?’ she asked Maigret innocently.

  ‘Answer the question, as you’ve just been advised.’

  ‘Will it get madame in trouble?’

  ‘It’ll confirm another testimony, the testimony of someone who lives in Rue du Cirque and saw both of you from his window.’

  ‘Then there’s no point in my lying. It’s true. I’m sorry, madame.’

  She made as if to rush to her mistress, perhaps to throw herself on her knees, but Madame Parendon said curtly:

  ‘If the inspector has finished with you, that’ll be all.’

  Lise left the room, bursting into tears at the door.

  ‘What does that prove?’ Madame Parendon asked, back on her feet now, a cigarette quivering at her lips, her hands in the pockets of her blue dressing gown.

  ‘That you’ve told at least one lie.’