‘Wait a moment.’
From his pocket Maigret took his memo-pad like the one laundresses use and licked the end of his pencil the way schoolchildren do.
‘First, the woman, whom you call Maria. Then Carl. Plus Serge Madok, in whose name both rooms were let. And Victor Poliensky, the one who was shot. Is that the lot?’
‘There’s the kid.’
‘What kid?’
‘I assume he’s Maria’s brother. Anyway, he looks like her. I always heard him called Pietr. He must be sixteen or seventeen.’
‘And he didn’t work either?’
The hotel-keeper shook his head. As Maigret had opened the window to ventilate the rooms – though the air from the street made the place smell as foul as the air inside the hotel – he was cold, without a jacket, and was beginning to shiver.
‘None of them’s got a job.’
‘Yet they spent a lot of money?’
Maigret nodded towards the pile of empty wine bottles in a corner, among which were a number of champagne bottles.
‘By local standards, they spent a lot, but it wasn’t regular. There were times when they had to tighten their belts. It was pretty obvious. When the kid made several trips out with empty bottles to get the money back on them, it meant funds were running low.’
‘Didn’t anybody ever come to see them?’
‘Might have done.’
‘You still want to go on with this conversation down at Quai des Orfèvres?’
‘No. I’ll tell you everything I know. Someone did come to see them. Two or three times.’
‘Who?’
‘A gent. Very well dressed.’
‘Did he go up to their room? What did he say when he called in at your office?’
‘He never asked me anything. He must have known which floor they were on. He went straight up.’
‘Is that all?’
The noise outside had gradually abated. Lighted windows grew dark. There was still the sound of footsteps as a few inspectors made their rounds, ringing the last doorbells.
The senior police officer climbed the stairs.
‘What are you orders now, sir? It’s all over. Both vans are full.’
‘They can go. Will you ask two of my inspectors to come up here?’
The hotel-keeper moaned:
‘I’m freezing.’
‘And I’m too hot.’
That was because he had no wish to put his overcoat down anywhere in that filthy hole.
‘This man who came to see them, did you ever run across him anywhere else? Did you ever see his picture in the papers? Was it this man?’
He showed him the photo of Li’l Albert which he still had in his pocket.
‘That doesn’t look like him. This other one was a good-looking man, very well dressed, with a small brown moustache.’
‘How old?’
‘Maybe thirty-five? I noticed he wore a great big gold ring.’
‘French? Czech?’
‘Definitely not French. He talked to them in their lingo.’
‘Did you listen outside the door?’
‘I do sometimes. I like to know what goes on in my place, see.’
‘Especially since it didn’t take long for the penny to drop.’
‘Drop about what?’
‘You think I’m a fool, don’t you? What do men who hide up in holes like this place and never go looking for work do? What do they live on? Answer me!’
‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘How often did they all go out together?’
The hotel-keeper turned red, hesitated, but then the way Maigret was staring at him convinced him that a measure of truthfulness would be in order.
‘Four, maybe five times.’
‘How long were they gone for? A whole night?’
‘What makes you think it was at night? It was usually at night, yes. But once they stayed away two days and two nights. I had even started thinking they weren’t coming back.’
‘You thought they’d been arrested, didn’t you?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What did they give you when they got back?’
‘They paid their rent.’
‘The rent for one person? Because actually there was only one person’s name in your register.’
‘They gave me a bit extra.’
‘How much? Have a care, friend. Don’t forget I can put you behind bars for aiding and abetting.’
‘Once they gave me five hundred francs. Another time two thousand.’
‘And then they lived it up.’
‘Yes. They went straight out and bought a lot of stuff to eat and drink.’
‘Which of them stayed on guard?’
This time, the hotel-keeper looked even more uneasy and he automatically glanced round at the door.
‘There are two exits to this place, is that right?’
‘Well, if you go through the back yards by jumping over a couple of walls, you come out in Rue Vieille-du-Temple.’
‘Who was on guard?’
‘In the street?’
‘Yes, in the street. And I assume there was always one looking out of the window? When Madok asked for a room, he asked for one that overlooked the street, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. It’s also a true that one of them was always hanging around on the pavement outside. They took turns.’
‘Another question: which of them threatened to sort you out if you talked?’
‘Carl.’
‘When was this?’
‘The first time they came back after being out all night.’
‘How did you know that the threat was serious, that they were capable of killing?’
‘I walked into the room. I often do my rounds but say I’m just checking to see if the electricity is working or that they’ve changed the sheets.’
‘Do they change them often?’
‘Every month. Once I caught the woman washing a shirt in the wash-basin and saw there was blood on it.’
‘Whose shirt was it?’
‘One of the men’s, I don’t know which …’
Two inspectors were outside on the landing, waiting until Maigret got round to giving them instructions.
‘I want one of you to phone Moers. He’s probably asleep by now unless he’s finishing off some piece of work. If he’s not at the office, call him at home. I want him to come here with his gear.’
Ignoring the hotel-keeper, he wandered through both rooms, opening a cupboard here, a drawer there and kicking a pile of dirty washing left on the floor. The paper on the walls had faded and was peeling off in places. The beds were dirty and uninviting, and the blankets the same unpleasant grey as the ones in soldiers’ barracks. Everything was in a mess. When they fled, the occupants had clearly gathered up what was most valuable but had not dared take anything bulky with them for fear of drawing attention to themselves.
‘Did they leave immediately after the shot was fired?’ asked Maigret.
‘Straight away.’
‘Through the front door?’
‘No, through the yards …’
‘Which one was outside at that moment?’
‘Victor, of course. And Serge Madok.’
‘Which one came down to answer the phone?’
‘How do you know anyone phoned?’
‘Answer me!’
‘There was a call for them at about half past four, you’re right. I didn’t recognize the voice, but whoever it was spoke their lingo. All he said wa
s Carl’s name. I told him he was wanted. He came down. I can see him now in my office. He was livid and waved his hands about furiously. He yelled down the phone. When he went back upstairs, he started swearing like a trooper again. Then, after no time at all, Madok came down.’
‘So it was Madok who killed his friend?’
‘It’s very likely.’
‘Did they try to take the woman with them?’
‘I asked them about that when they were passing through the hall. I thought that it would all mean big trouble for me. I would have preferred it if they’d all just cleared out. I didn’t know she was going to have her kid so soon. I went up and told her to get out like the rest of them. She was in bed. She just stared at me cool as anything. You know, she understands more French than she lets on. She didn’t bother to say anything but suddenly she doubled up with pain, and I got the message.’
‘Listen,’ said Maigret to the officer who was still there, ‘I want you to stay and wait for Moers. Don’t let anybody into these two rooms, especially not this clown. Are you armed?’
The officer patted the revolver, which made a bulge in the pocket of his jacket.
‘Get Moers to look for fingerprints first. Then tell him to take away anything that might give us a lead. It’s obvious they didn’t leave anything in the way of written paper or documents behind them. I’ve checked.’
Old socks, underpants, a harmonica, a box containing needle and thread, various garments, several packs of playing cards, small figures carved with a knife from soft wood …
Telling the hotel-keeper to go first, he followed him down the stairs. What was called the ‘office’ was a tiny room, badly lit, with no ventilation, which contained a camp bed and a table on which there was a primus stove and the remains of a meal.
‘I don’t suppose you kept a note of the dates when the villains went out on the prowl?’
The man replied with an instant ‘no’.
‘I thought not. Still, no matter. You have until tomorrow morning to remember. Got that? Tomorrow morning I’ll be here or have you brought to me in my office. I’ll expect dates, listen carefully, precise dates. If I don’t get them I will regretfully be forced to arrest you.’
There was still something else that the hotel-keeper wanted to say but he hesitated …
‘If by any chance, somebody came here … will you … will you authorize me to use my revolver?’
‘So you’re thinking you know far too much, right? And that it might occur to them to do to you what they did to Victor?’
‘I’m scared.’
‘There’ll be a policeman permanently on duty in the street outside.’
‘What if they come the other way, through the yards at the back?’
‘I hadn’t forgotten. I’ll post another man to stand guard in Rue Vieille-du-Temple.’
The streets were empty, and the silence was a surprise after all the turmoil of the last few hours. There was no sign now of the raid. No windows were lit. Their occupants were all asleep except those who had been carted off to the Préfecture and Maria, who must now be having her baby in hospital while Lucas paced up and down outside her door.
He posted the two men as promised and gave them detailed instructions. He then had to stand for a considerable time while he waited for a taxi in Rue de Rivoli. The night was clear and cool.
As he got into the cab, he hesitated. He hadn’t slept the previous night. But he had rested up for three whole days and three whole nights while he nursed his attack of bronchitis. Did Moers have time to sleep?
‘Where can we find some place that’s still open?’ he asked.
He felt suddenly hungry. Hungry and thirsty. The thought of very cold beer, with a silvery, frothing head on it, made his mouth water.
‘Apart from the nightclubs, I can only think of the Coupole or the small bars around Les Halles.’
He knew all that. So why had he asked the question?
‘Make it the Coupole.’
The main dining room was shut, but the bar was still open and contained a few, somnolent customers. He ordered two magnificent ham sandwiches and drank three beers one after the other. He had kept the taxi waiting. It was four in the morning.
‘Quai des Orfèvres.’
On the way, he changed his mind.
‘Take me instead to the police cells on Quai de l’Horloge.’
Everyone was there and the smell reminded him of Rue du Roi-de-Sicile. The men had been lined up on one side, the women on the other, along with all the down-and-outs, drunks and registered prostitutes rounded up in Paris that night.
Some were lying on the floor, asleep. The regulars had taken their shoes off and were massaging their painful feet. Through the bars, women joked with the custody officers, and sometimes one of them would lift her skirts up to her waist as a gesture of defiance.
The duty officers played cards around a stove on which a coffee-pot had been put to boil. Inspectors were waiting for orders from Maigret.
In theory it wasn’t until eight o’clock that the identity papers of everyone who had been rounded would be checked prior to the detainees being sent upstairs, where they would be stripped for the medical examination and biometrics.
‘You might as well make a start now. Leave checking their papers to the day superintendent. I want you to question all those picked up in Rue du Roi-de-Sicile one by one, especially the women … And most particularly any males and females who live in the Hôtel du Lion d’Or, if there are any …’
‘One woman and two men.’
‘Right. Get them to tell all they know about the Czechs and Maria …’
He gave them brief descriptions of the members of the gang, and then the officers sat down at separate tables.
The questioning, which would last for the rest of the night, got under way just as Maigret walked back to his office through the dark corridors of the Palais de Justice, groping for light switches as he went.
Joseph, the night clerk, stood up when he appeared, and it was good to see that cheerful face again. The light was on in the inspectors’ office, where, as it happened, a phone began to ring.
Maigret walked in. Bodin was talking into the phone and was saying:
‘I’ll put him on … He’s just come in …’
It was Lucas who informed Maigret that Maria had had a boy. Nine pounds. She had almost leaped out of bed when she saw the nurse leaving the room with the baby to clean it up.
7.
When he got out of the taxi which dropped him at Laennec Hospital in Rue de Sèvres, Maigret noticed a large car with a diplomatic number plate. At the main door, a tall, thin man was waiting. His clothes were so impeccable, his every movement so carefully studied and his facial expressions so exquisite that, rather than listen to his carefully articulated words, you simply felt like standing back to watch the spectacle.
Yet he was not even the lowliest under-secretary in the Czechoslovakian embassy, simply a minor official.
‘His Excellency has asked me …’
Maigret, who reckoned that the last few hours were some of the busiest he had ever known, decided to pre-empt the formalities and growled:
‘Yes, of course …’
Still, as they went up the stairs in the hospital, he did turn and ask a question. It made the man start:
‘I imagine you speak Czech?’
Lucas was in the corridor, leaning on his elbows, gloomily staring out at the gardens through a window. The sky that morning was grey, and it was raining. A nurse had approached him and asked him not to
smoke, and he now gave a sigh and pointed at Maigret’s pipe:
‘You’ll be told to put it out, sir.’
They had to wait until the duty nurse came to collect them. She was middle-aged and totally impervious to Maigret’s reputation and made it plain that there was no love lost between her and the police.
‘You mustn’t tire her. When I let you know that it’s time to leave, I would ask you not to try to stay any longer.’
Maigret shrugged and was first through the door and into the small white room, where Maria seemed to be dozing while her baby lay fast asleep in a cot by the side of the bed. But the look which escaped through the woman’s half-closed eyelids did not miss a single move the two men made.
She was as beautiful as she had been last night in Rue du Roi-de-Sicile. Her face was paler. Her hair had been done up in two thick plaits which coiled round her head.
After putting his hat down on a chair, Maigret said to the Czech:
‘Please ask her what her name is.’
He waited with no great hopes. He was right: the young woman merely glared with eyes full of hate at the man who was speaking to her in her own language.
‘She won’t answer,’ said the interpreter. ‘As far as I can judge, she isn’t Czech but Slovak. I have spoken to her in both languages and it was when I used the second that there was a reaction.’
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to explain that I urge her very strongly to answer my questions. If she doesn’t, then despite her condition, she could – now, today – be transferred to the infirmary in the Santé prison.’
The Czech swallowed hard, as any offended gentleman might, and the nurse who was lingering in the room muttered as if to herself:
‘That I would like to see!’
Then she spoke directly to Maigret:
‘Didn’t you see the sign at the foot of the stairs saying that smoking is not allowed?’
With unexpected meekness, Maigret took the pipe from his mouth and held it between his fingers while it went out.
Meantime, Maria had said a few words.
‘Would you translate, please?’
‘She says that she doesn’t care what you do and that she hates us all. I was right. She’s Slovakian, probably from southern Slovakia. A country woman.’
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