Maigret and the Old Lady

by Georges Simenon

‘Who’s wounded?’

  His nostrils quivered. In the sitting room he detected the smell of cold gunpowder. On the pedestal table, where the cards were still spread out, there was a large army handgun.

  He went into the guest room, where he heard someone moving about and almost knocked over Valentine carrying a heap of bloody towels, who stared at him as if sleepwalking.

  On the bed that Arlette had slept in lay a man, his chest bare. He was still wearing his trousers and shoes. His face was blocked from view by Doctor Jolly’s back as he leaned over him, but Maigret could already tell from the coarse blue fabric of his trousers.

  ‘Dead?’ he asked.

  The doctor started, turned around and straightened up as if with relief.

  ‘I did my utmost,’ he sighed.

  There was a hypodermic syringe on the bedside table. The doctor’s bag, on the floor, was open and the contents in disarray. There was blood everywhere, and Maigret noticed afterwards that there was a trail in the sitting room and outside, in the garden.

  ‘When Valentine telephoned me, I came running straight away, but it was already too late. The bullet had hit him in the aorta! Not even a transfusion, had we been able to perform one in time, could have saved him.’

  ‘Was it you who called my hotel?’

  ‘Yes, she asked me to inform you.’

  She stood in the doorway, very close to them, blood on her hands, blood on her dress.

  ‘It’s dreadful,’ she said. ‘I had no idea what was going to happen when you came this evening. All that because I forgot to switch on the second light again, the one that lights up the garden.’

  Maigret avoided looking at her and let out a sigh on catching sight of Henri Trochu’s face; he too was now dead. Perhaps he was already thinking about what he was going to say to the family, about their reactions?

  ‘I’ll explain.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You can’t know. I’d gone upstairs. I was in bed.’

  As a matter of fact, this was the first time he had seen her unkempt. Her hair was in curlers and she had hastily slipped a dress over her night things, which were peeping out from underneath.

  ‘I think I’d drifted off when the cat suddenly jumped off my bed. That’s what woke me. I listened and heard a noise outside, like when you came earlier.’

  ‘Where was the gun?’

  ‘In my bedside drawer. It was my husband’s. He got me into the habit of always having a gun within reach at night. I thought I’d told you.’

  ‘No. Never mind.’

  ‘First of all I looked out of the window, but it was too dark. I slipped on a dress and went downstairs.’

  ‘Without turning the light on?’

  ‘Yes. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear someone trying to open the door. I asked: “Who’s there?”

  ‘There was no answer.’

  ‘Did you fire straight away?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I must have asked the question several times while someone was still fiddling with the lock. I shot through the window. I heard the man fall, and I stood there for a while not daring to go outside.’

  ‘You didn’t know who he was?’

  ‘I had no idea. It was only then that it occurred to me to put the outside light on. Through the broken glass I saw a body and, nearby, a large bundle. Initially I’d thought that it was a prowler. I finally came out of the kitchen door and it was only when I went closer that I recognized Henri.’

  ‘Was he alive?’

  ‘I don’t know. I ran over to Mademoiselle Seuret’s, still holding the gun. I shouted at her to get up, that I needed to telephone right away and she eventually opened the door. I called Doctor Jolly and asked him to inform you or to pick you up on the way here.’

  ‘What about Théo?’

  ‘I found him on the doorstep when I got back.’

  ‘Did you come back alone?’

  ‘No. I waited on the road for the doctor.’

  The doctor had just covered the dead man’s face with a fold of the sheet and was making his way to the bathroom, holding his bloody hands out in front of him.

  Maigret and Valentine were alone beside the body in the tiny room where they couldn’t move, and Maigret still had his pipe in his mouth.

  ‘What did Théo say to you?’

  ‘I can’t remember. He didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Weren’t you surprised to see him here?’

  ‘Probably. I don’t know. Don’t forget I’d just killed a man. Why do you think Henri tried to break into my house?’

  He said nothing, but went into the sitting room where he found Castaing and Théo standing facing each other, both silent. Of the two, Castaing was the more anxious and he darted a desperate look at Maigret.

  ‘It’s my fault, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  Théo Besson had the bored look of a man of the world caught unexpectedly in an embarrassing situation.

  ‘You just happened to be in the vicinity, I suppose?’

  He said nothing and appeared to forgive Maigret for asking him such an uncouth question.

  ‘Come over here, you.’

  He dragged Castaing outside, where he saw blood on the flagstones, the fisherman’s bag lying where it had fallen.

  ‘You’re going to scoot over to his hotel. I need to know whether Théo received a telephone call during the evening. If by any chance they can’t tell you, go into all the bars where Henri was hanging around.’

  ‘They’re closed.’

  ‘Ring the bell!’

  ‘What should I ask?’

  ‘Whether he made a telephone call.’

  Castaing didn’t understand, but he was anxious to make amends for his blunder as best he could, and he raced over to the Simca, which could soon be heard driving away.

  Doctor Jolly and Valentine came down from the bathroom and the doctor’s hands were white and still smelled of soap.

  ‘I’m trying to get her to go to bed and let me give her an injection, but she won’t listen. For the time being she’s keeping going on nervous energy. She thinks she’s strong. Fifteen minutes after I’ve left she’ll collapse. As a matter of fact, I don’t understand how she’s managed to do everything she’s done.’

  ‘I killed that poor boy,’ muttered Valentine, looking from Maigret to Théo, who kept to himself, silent and immobile.

  ‘Can’t you insist? She’ll sleep deeply for a few hours and tomorrow she’ll be on form.’

  ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary.’

  Jolly frowned but bowed slightly, and looked around for his hat.

  ‘I presume I should telephone Le Havre, like last Sunday, to ask them to remove the body? No doubt there’ll be an autopsy?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Would you like me to pass on a message from you?’

  ‘No thank you.’

  He was about to take leave of the old lady and leaned forward as if to kiss her hand.

  ‘You are wrong! I left a few pills in your room in case you want them. You can take one every two hours.’

  He nodded in Théo’s direction and went back over to Maigret, but was at a loss for words.

  ‘I remain at your disposal of course, whenever you need me.’

  He left and there was silence. When the sound of the engine faded, Valentine, as if to put on a bold front, opened the cupboard and took out the bottle of Calvados. She was about to set it down on the table when Maigret abruptly snatched it from her hands and smashed it on the floor.

  ‘Sit down, both of you!’ he said in a voice quavering with anger.

  They must have obeyed him barely aware they were doing so, while he remained standing, his hands behind his back, then began to pace up and down, as he was used to doing in his office at Quai des Orfèvres.

  Castaing was back already and the foghorn sent up its mournful wail into the night.

  9. Théo’s Crime

  They heard Castaing turn off his engin
e and get out of his car, then pause on the road for a moment before opening the gate, and still Maigret said nothing. Théo, sitting in the armchair that Maigret had occupied a few hours earlier, was still trying to emulate the Duke of Windsor, while Valentine looked from one man to the other, her gaze darting rapidly between them like that of a young animal.

  Castaing crossed the garden, entered the house and, taken aback by the silence and the broken bottle, wondered what to do with himself, where to put himself. Since he was not from Quai des Orfèvres, he had never seen Maigret in these circumstances.

  ‘Well, son?’

  ‘I got hold of the hotel owner, who was in bed, but he picked up the phone. He was the one who’d put the call through to Théo from the office – not to his room, because there are no telephones in the rooms, but to the one at the end of the corridor on his floor. It was around half past ten. The caller was drunk.’

  ‘Have you got some paper, a pencil?’

  ‘I have my notebook.’

  ‘Sit down at this table. Make yourself comfortable because this will probably take a while. You are going to write down their replies.’

  He started pacing again, the old lady’s eyes still on him, while Théo stared at the tips of his shoes.

  He eventually stopped in front of Théo, no longer angry, but he spoke with contempt.

  ‘Were you expecting Henri to come to Étretat this evening?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If he hadn’t telephoned you, would you have come to La Bicoque?’

  ‘I don’t know. Possibly.’

  ‘Where were you when he was shot? On the road? In the garden?’

  ‘In the garden, by the gate.’

  Valentine flinched on learning that she had passed close to her stepson when she had run over to old Mademoiselle Seuret’s to telephone the doctor.

  ‘Are you proud of yourself?’

  ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘Did you know she had a gun?’

  ‘I knew that she’d kept my father’s gun. I say, inspector, would you tell me whether—’

  ‘I’ll tell you nothing at all! I’m the one who’s asking the questions.’

  ‘And supposing I refuse to answer?’

  ‘That would make no difference whatsoever, except perhaps it would decide me to slap your face, as I’ve been wanting to do for the last quarter of an hour.’

  Despite the tragic circumstances, despite the dead body that was still in the next room, Valentine couldn’t help giving a smug, almost jolly little smile.

  ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Look, Besson. I advise you not to be an idiot. How long have you known that your stepmother’s jewellery was never sold and that she’d kept the originals and not replicas as everyone was led to believe?’

  She shuddered and looked at Maigret dumbfounded, with involuntary admiration, and fidgeted in her chair as if she wanted to say something, but he took not the slightest notice of her.

  ‘I was always convinced of it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I knew her and I knew my father.’

  ‘You mean that she was afraid of poverty and that she was not a woman not to take precautions?’

  ‘Yes. And my father gave in to her every wish.’

  ‘They were married under the joint-estate system?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How much do you estimate the jewellery to be worth?’

  ‘Probably several million at today’s prices. There must be some we don’t know about, because my father felt awkward to be seen spending so much money on her in front of us.’

  ‘When he died and you were told that the jewellery had long since been sold, did you not discuss it with your brother, or with Arlette?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I wasn’t certain.’

  ‘Was it not rather that you planned to come to some arrangement with Valentine?’

  Not a word that was said escaped Valentine, not one of Maigret’s movements, not an expression of Théo’s. She took in everything, much better than Castaing, whose shorthand was rudimentary.

  ‘I shan’t answer that question.’

  ‘Which is unworthy of you, is that not so? Have you discussed it with Valentine herself?’

  ‘Not any further.’

  ‘Because you knew she was cleverer than you and you were waiting to have proof. How did you obtain that proof? When?’

  ‘I asked around among my friends in the diamond world about some of the jewels which couldn’t have gone unnoticed, and that’s how I found out they hadn’t ended up on the market, not in France, in any case, and probably not in Europe.’

  ‘You patiently bided your time for five years.’

  ‘I still had a little money. I pulled off a few business deals.’

  ‘This year, finding yourself at the end of your tether, you came to spend your holidays in Étretat. It’s no coincidence that you met young Rose and started to encourage her obsessions, is it?’

  Silence. Valentine craned her neck, like a bird, and it was the first time that Maigret saw the wrinkled skin of her neck, which was usually concealed by a broad black velvet choker decorated with a pearl.

  ‘Now, think before answering. When you met Rose, did she already know or was it at your suggestion that she began nosing around the house?’

  ‘She nosed around before meeting me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Out of curiosity, and because she hated my stepmother.’

  ‘Did she have reason to hate her?’

  ‘She found her hard and proud. They lived together in this house on a war footing, so to speak, barely concealing it from one another.’

  ‘Was it Rose who thought of the jewellery?’

  ‘No. She drilled a hole in the partition between the two bedrooms.’

  Valentine bristled, fuming, and made as if to go upstairs straight away to check whether this outrageous claim was true.

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘About two weeks ago, one afternoon when Valentine was having tea with Mademoiselle Seuret.’

  ‘What did she see through the hole?’

  ‘Nothing at first. She had to wait a few days. One night she feigned sleep, pretending to snore, then she silently got up again and saw Valentine open the chest at the foot of her bed.’

  ‘Had Rose never looked inside?’

  ‘All the drawers and all the cupboards in the house are locked, and Valentine keeps the keys on her. Even if she wanted a can of sardines, Rose had to ask her.’

  ‘In that case, how did she manage to get hold of one of the rings?’

  ‘While Valentine was having her bath. She hadn’t talked to me about it beforehand. She must have planned her move meticulously, down to the last second, so to speak.’

  ‘Did you see the ring?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was she planning to do with it?’

  ‘Nothing. She couldn’t wear it without giving herself away. For her it was a sort of revenge.’

  ‘Did you not think that your stepmother would notice?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Admit that you did nothing to see what her reaction would be?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘You would have been content to share the proceeds without saying anything to Charles and Arlette?’

  ‘I shan’t answer.’

  ‘No doubt you’re convinced that there’s nothing we can do against you?’

  ‘I haven’t killed anyone.’

  She bristled again, wanting to raise her hand like a schoolgirl for permission to speak.

  ‘That’s all I wanted to ask you.’

  ‘Must I leave the room?’

  ‘You may stay.’

  ‘Am I free?’

  ‘Not until further orders.’

  Maigret started pacing again, slightly red in the face now that he was going to turn on the old lady.


  ‘Did you hear?’

  ‘Everything he says is a lie.’

  Maigret took the ring out of his waistcoat pocket and showed it to her.

  ‘Do you deny that the original jewels are in your room? Do you want me to take your keys and go and fetch them?’

  ‘I’m perfectly entitled to them. My husband agreed. He reckoned his sons were old enough to get by on their own, and he didn’t want to leave an old lady like me penniless. If the children had known, they’d have sold them and, a year later, would still have ended up broke.’

  He avoided looking at her.

  ‘Why did you hate young Rose?’

  ‘I didn’t hate her. I was suspicious of her, and events prove that I had reason to be. She was the one who had it in for me, whereas I did everything I could for her.’

  ‘When did you discover that the ring was missing?’

  She opened her mouth, nearly replied, then her expression hardened.

  ‘I’m not going to answer any more of your questions.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  He turned to Castaing.

  ‘Carry on taking notes.’

  And, plodding heavily to and fro, making the knick-knacks tremble, he held forth:

  ‘You probably made the discovery last week, before Wednesday. Young Rose was the only person who could have seen you and taken the ring. Most likely you searched through her things without finding anything. When she went out on Wednesday, you followed her and saw her meet Théo in Étretat.

  ‘You began to be really afraid.

  ‘You didn’t know whether she’d talked to him about it. You suspected that it was because of the jewellery that he was here.’

  Despite having resolved to say nothing, she couldn’t help retorting:

  ‘From the moment he knew, my life would have been in danger.’

  ‘That’s very possible. Mind you, I didn’t ask you anything. Interrupt me if you wish, but I need no confirmation.’

  ‘You decided to kill young Rose before she had time to betray you – or at least so you hoped – and you took advantage of a unique opportunity that presented itself. The famous 3rd of September! The only day of the year when the entire family gathers here, the family that you hate, including your daughter.’

  She opened her mouth once again, but he didn’t give her time to say anything.

  ‘You knew of your maid’s fascination for remedies of all sorts. You’d probably seen her stealing some from your medicine cabinet. At nights she must have been in the habit of finishing off your sleeping draught when you left some in the glass.