‘What was her reaction?’
‘She advised me to give in.’
‘Did you wonder why?’
‘You see, Monsieur Maigret, whether it’s my wife, Lucile Decaux or any other woman, they feel an intense satisfaction in convincing themselves that they’re devoted to me. They compete with one another in helping and protecting me.’
He was speaking without any irony – without any resentment either. He was dissecting their state of mind with the same detachment he would have used to dissect a corpse.
‘Why do you think my wife felt the need to speak to you? To give herself the role of the wife protecting her husband’s peace and quiet, and his work.’
‘Isn’t that the case?’
He looked at Maigret without answering.
‘Your wife, professor, struck me as unusually understanding towards you.’
‘She does claim not to be jealous.’
‘Is it only a claim?’
‘That depends on the meaning you give the word “jealous”. There’s no doubt she doesn’t care who I sleep with.’
‘Even with Louise Filon?’
‘Not at first. Don’t forget that Germaine was just an ordinary nurse before she became Madame Gouin overnight.’
‘Did you love her?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you marry her?’
‘To have someone in the house. The old woman who took care of me didn’t have long to live. I don’t like being alone, Monsieur Maigret. I don’t know if you’re familiar with that feeling?’
‘Perhaps you also prefer it when the people around you owe you everything?’
He didn’t object. On the contrary, the remark seemed to please him.
‘In a way, yes.’
‘Is that why you chose a girl from a humble background?’
‘The others exasperate me.’
‘Did she know what to expect when she married you?’
‘She knew exactly what to expect.’
‘When did she start to be unpleasant?’
‘She’s never been unpleasant. You’ve seen her. She’s perfect, takes marvellous care of the apartment, never insists that I go out in the evening or that we invite friends for dinner.’
‘If I understand correctly, she spends her days waiting for you.’
‘Pretty much. She’s content with being Madame Gouin and knowing that one day she’ll be the Widow Gouin.’
‘Do you think she’s self-interested?’
‘Let’s just say she won’t be upset to get her hands on the fortune I’ll leave her. For the moment, I’d bet you anything she’s listening at the door. She was upset when I called you. She would have preferred me to receive you in the drawing room, in her presence.’
He had not lowered his voice when he said that Germaine was listening behind the door, and Maigret could have sworn he heard a slight noise in the next room.
‘According to her, she was the one who suggested you bring Louise Filon here.’
‘That’s true. I hadn’t thought of it. I didn’t even know an apartment was free.’
‘Didn’t that arrangement strike you as strange?’
‘Why?’ The question surprised him.
‘Did you love Louise?’
‘Listen, Monsieur Maigret, that’s the second time you’ve used that word. In medicine, we don’t know it.’
‘Did you need her?’
‘Physically, yes. Do I have to explain myself? I’m sixty-two years old.’
‘I know.’
‘That says it all.’
‘Weren’t you jealous of Pierrot?’
‘I’d have preferred it if he didn’t exist.’
As in Lucile Decaux’s apartment, Maigret stood up to go and put straight a log that had collapsed. He was thirsty. The professor hadn’t thought of offering him a drink. His mouth was furry from the marc he had had after dinner, and he hadn’t stopped smoking.
‘Did you ever meet him?’ he asked.
‘Who?’
‘Pierrot.’
‘Once. Usually, they both made sure it didn’t happen.’
‘What were Lulu’s feelings towards you?’
‘What should they have been? I suppose you know her history. Of course, she told me she was grateful, she was fond of me. The truth is simpler. She had no desire to fall back into poverty. You must know that. People who’ve really been hungry, who’ve been poor in the grimmest sense of the word and who, in one way or another, have escaped, would do anything not to fall back into their old lives.’
It was true. Maigret knew it as well as anyone.
‘Did she love Pierrot?’
‘How fond of that word you are!’ the professor sighed, resigned. ‘She had to have something sentimental in her life. She also had to make problems for herself. I said earlier that women need to feel important. I suppose that’s why they complicate their lives, ask themselves questions, always imagine that they have a choice.’
‘What kind of choice?’ Maigret asked with a hint of a smile, to force his interlocutor to be more specific.
‘Louise imagined she had a choice between her musician and me.’
‘Didn’t she?’
‘In actual fact, no. I’ve told you why.’
‘Did she ever threaten to leave you?’
‘She sometimes claimed she was thinking about it.’
‘Weren’t you afraid it would happen?’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t she ever try to get you to marry her?’
‘She didn’t aim that high. I’m convinced she would have been a little terrified to become Madame Gouin. What she needed was security. A nice warm apartment, three meals a day, decent clothes.’
‘What would have happened if you’d died?’
‘I took out a life insurance policy in her name.’
‘Did you also take one out in Lucile Decaux’s name?’
‘No. There’s no point. When I’m dead, she’ll latch on to my successor just as she latched on to me, and nothing will have changed in her life.’
The ringing of the telephone interrupted them. Gouin was about to stand up to answer, then stopped.
‘That must be your inspector.’
It was indeed Lucas, phoning from the Batignolles police station, the closest to Désirée Brault’s apartment.
‘I have the gun, chief. She claimed at first she didn’t know what I was talking about.’
‘What have you done with her?’
‘She’s here with me.’
‘Have her taken to headquarters. Where did she find the gun?’
‘She still claims it was on the table.’
‘Why did she conclude it belonged to the professor?’
‘According to her, it’s obvious. She isn’t going into details. She’s furious. She tried to scratch me. What does he say?’
‘Nothing definite yet. We’re chatting.’
‘Shall I join you?’
‘Go to the lab first to make sure there are no prints on the automatic. That’ll give you a chance to take your prisoner there.’
‘All right, chief,’ Lucas sighed unenthusiastically.
It was only then that Gouin thought of offering Maigret a drink.
‘Would you like a glass of brandy?’
‘Gladly.’
He pushed a button. The maid who had admitted Maigret and Lucas soon appeared.
‘The brandy!’
They did not speak as they waited for her. When she came back, there was only one glass on the tray.
‘Please excuse me, but I never drink,’ the professor said, letting Maigret serve himself.
It wasn’t out of virtue, probably not for health reasons either, but because he didn’t need it.
9.
Maigret took his time. His glass in his hand, he was looking at the professor’s face, while the professor, for his part, looked at him calmly.
‘The concierge also owes you a debt of gratitude, doesn’t she? If I’m not
mistaken, you saved her son.’
‘I don’t expect gratitude from anyone.’
‘Nevertheless she’s devoted to you, and, like Lucile Decaux, would be ready to lie to get you out of an awkward situation.’
‘Of course. It’s always pleasant to think one’s being heroic.’
‘Don’t you feel alone sometimes, in the world as you see it?’
‘All human beings are alone, whatever they think. You just have to admit it and adjust to it.’
‘I thought you hated solitude?’
‘That’s not the kind of solitude I meant. Let’s say, if you prefer, that what distresses me is emptiness. I don’t like to be alone in the apartment, or in the street, or in a car. It’s about physical solitude rather than moral isolation.’
‘Are you afraid of death?’
‘I don’t care about being dead. I hate death itself, with all it entails. In your profession, inspector, you’ve seen it almost as often as I have.’
He knew perfectly well that this was his weak point, that this fear of dying alone was the little touch of human cowardice that made him, in spite of everything, a man like any other. He wasn’t ashamed of it.
‘Since my last heart attack, I’ve almost always had someone with me. Medically, it wouldn’t be any help. Nevertheless, strange as it may seem, any presence reassures me. Once when I was alone in the city and I felt slightly faint, I went into the first bar I came across.’
This was the moment that Maigret chose to ask the question he had been keeping in reserve for a long time.
‘What was your reaction when you realized that Louise was pregnant?’
He seemed surprised, not that the subject should be brought up, but that it should be considered a possible problem.
‘I didn’t have any reaction,’ he said simply.
‘Didn’t she tell you?’
‘No. I assume she didn’t yet know.’
‘She found out at about six o’clock on Monday. You saw her after that. Didn’t she say anything?’
‘Only that she wasn’t feeling well and was going to bed.’
‘Did you think the child was yours?’
‘I didn’t think any such thing.’
‘Have you ever had children?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Have you ever wanted to?’
His reply shocked Maigret: for thirty years now, his greatest regret had been that he wasn’t a father.
‘Why should I?’ the professor asked.
‘Precisely!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Some people, who have no serious interests in life, imagine that a child makes them important, useful in some way, makes them feel they’ll be leaving something behind them. I’m not one of those people.’
‘Don’t you think that, given your age and her boyfriend’s, Lulu would have assumed the child was his?’
‘There’s no scientific basis for that.’
‘I’m talking about what she may have thought.’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Wasn’t that sufficient to make up her mind to leave you for Pierrot?’
He did not hesitate.
‘No,’ he replied, still like a man who is sure he possesses the truth. ‘She would surely have told me the child was mine.’
‘Would you have recognized the child as your own?’
‘Why not?’
‘Even if you had doubts that you were the father?’
‘What difference does that make? One child is as good as any other.’
‘Would you have married the mother?’
‘I don’t see why I should.’
‘Don’t you think she would have tried to get you to marry her?’
‘If she had, she wouldn’t have succeeded.’
‘Because you don’t want to leave your wife?’
‘Simply because I find these complications ridiculous. I’m answering you frankly, because I think you’re able to understand me.’
‘Did you talk about it with your wife?’
‘On Sunday afternoon, if I remember correctly. Yes, it was Sunday. I spent part of the afternoon at home.’
‘Why did you tell her?’
‘I told my assistant, too.’
‘I know.’
‘And?’
He was right to think that Maigret understood. There was something terribly arrogant, and at the same time tragic, in the way the professor spoke about those around him, especially the women. He took them all at face value, without the slightest illusion, asking of each only what she could give him. It was as if, to him, they were not much more than inanimate objects.
Nor did he take the trouble to keep silent in front of them. What would have been the point? He could think aloud, without worrying how they might react, let alone what they might be thinking or feeling.
‘What did your wife say?’
‘She asked me what I was planning to do.’
‘Did you tell her you would recognize the child?’
He nodded.
‘Didn’t it occur to you this might upset her?’
‘Perhaps.’
This time, Maigret suspected something in the other man that hadn’t come through so far, or that he hadn’t been able to spot. There was a secret satisfaction in the professor’s voice as he said, ‘Perhaps.’
‘So you did it deliberately?’ he said sharply.
‘Telling her, you mean?’
Maigret was sure that Gouin would have preferred not to smile, to remain impassive, but he couldn’t help it, and, for the first time, his lips curled strangely.
‘In other words, you were quite content to upset your wife, and your assistant.’
The way Gouin kept silent constituted an admission.
‘Mightn’t one or other of them have got it into their heads to get rid of Louise Filon?’
‘It’s an idea they must both have been fairly familiar with for a long time. They both hated Louise. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t wished for the death of another human being at some time or other. Only, people capable of putting their idea into practice are rare. Fortunately for you!’
It was all true. Which was what made this conversation so incredible. What the professor had said from the start was, when it came down to it, what Maigret himself thought. Their ideas about men and their motives weren’t so different.
What was different was their attitude to the problem.
Gouin only used what Maigret would have called his cold reason. Whereas Maigret tried to …
He would have been hard put to define what it was he tried to do. Perhaps understanding people gave him a feeling that wasn’t just pity, but a kind of affection.
Gouin looked at them from a great height.
Maigret put himself on the same level as them.
‘Louise Filon was murdered,’ he said slowly.
‘That’s a fact. Someone went all the way.’
‘Have you wondered who?’
‘That’s your job, not mine.’
‘Did it occur to you we might think it was you?’
‘Of course. At that time I didn’t yet know that my wife had spoken to you, and I was surprised you didn’t come and question me. The concierge told me you knew about me.’
She, too! And Gouin accepted it as his due!
‘You went to Cochin on Monday night, but you only stayed half an hour at your patient’s bedside.’
‘I went up to sleep in a room on the fourth floor that’s kept at my disposal.’
‘You were alone there, and there was nothing to stop you leaving the hospital without being seen, coming here by taxi and then going back to your room.’
‘At what time, according to you, did these comings and goings take place?’
‘It would have had to be between nine and eleven.’
‘At what time was Pierre Eyraud in Louise’s apartment?’
‘At a quarter to ten.’
‘
So I would have had to kill Louise after that?’
Maigret nodded.
‘Given the time it would have taken me to make the journey, I wouldn’t have been back at the hospital between ten and half past.’
Maigret calculated mentally. The professor’s argument was logical. And suddenly, Maigret looked disappointed. Something wasn’t happening as he had foreseen. He was expecting what was to come, barely listening to what his interlocutor was telling him.
‘It so happens, Monsieur Maigret, that at five past ten a colleague of mine, Dr Lanvin, who had just examined a patient on the third floor, came upstairs to see me. He didn’t trust his own diagnosis and asked me if I could come with him. I went down to the third floor. Neither my assistant nor the staff in my department could have told you that, because they didn’t know.
‘This isn’t the testimony of a woman anxious to get me out of trouble, but of five or six people, including the patient, who’d never seen me before and probably doesn’t even know my name.’
‘I’ve never thought you killed Lulu.’
He deliberately called her by that name, which appeared to displease the professor. Maigret, too, had a desire to be cruel.
‘I’d simply expected you to try to cover for the person who did kill her.’
Gouin took this in. A slight flush appeared on his cheeks, and for a moment he turned his eyes away from Maigret.
The doorbell rang. It was Lucas. The maid admitted him. He had a little package in his hand.
‘No prints,’ he said, unwrapping the gun and handing it to his chief.
He looked at both of them, surprised at the prevailing calm, surprised also to find them in exactly the same places, in the same poses, as if, while he’d been running about the city, time here had stood still.
‘This is your gun, isn’t it, Monsieur Gouin?’
It was a fancy weapon, with a nickel-plated barrel and a mother-of-pearl grip. If the shot hadn’t been fired at close range, it probably would not have done much harm.
‘There’s a bullet missing from the magazine,’ Lucas said. ‘I phoned Gastine-Renette. He’ll do the usual tests tomorrow. But for now he’s convinced that this is the gun that was used on Monday.’
‘I assume, Monsieur Gouin, that both your wife and your assistant had access to your desk drawer? It wasn’t locked?’
Maigret's Mistake Page 13
