‘Yes.’
‘Is she your mistress?’
‘No.’
‘And yet you sometimes meet her without your wife’s knowledge?’
‘You know that too?’
‘I know of the little restaurant called Le Trou Normand.’
‘It’s true. Jenny often comes and joins me there at lunchtime. My wife almost always goes to the most luxurious places with Schwob. She’s no longer part of our world, do you understand?’
That last word returned frequently, as if Marton was worried that Maigret was incapable of following him.
‘Does your sister-in-law love you too?’
‘I think she’s starting to.’
‘Just starting to?’
‘She really loved her husband. They were a true couple. They lived in New Jersey, not far from New York, in a pretty house in the country. Edgard was killed in an accident, and Jenny tried to kill herself. She turned on the gas one evening and was saved just in time. So, not knowing what to do, she came back to Europe, and we took her in. She was still in mourning. She can’t get used to wearing anything but mourning. Gisèle makes fun of her, advises her to go out and enjoy herself, to get out of her rut. On the other hand I’m very gently trying to give her back her taste for life …’
‘Have you managed to do that?’
He blushed like a teenager.
‘I think so. Now you understand why she isn’t my mistress? I love and respect her. I wouldn’t, for some kind of selfish satisfaction, want to …’
Was Lapointe recording all this? If this interrogation had been conducted regularly, Maigret would have looked utterly ridiculous.
‘Does Jenny know that her sister wants you dead?’
‘I haven’t talked to her about it.’
‘Does she know that you’re unhappy?’
‘She lives with us. I should point out that my wife and I never argue. To all appearances, we lead the life of an ordinary married couple. Gisèle is too intelligent to start rows. And there’s ten million at stake, which would allow her to become an equal partner in the business on Rue Saint-Honoré, with that man Schwob, who has changed his name to Harris.’
‘What ten million is that?’
‘The money from the insurance.’
‘When did you take out insurance? Before or after the arrival of your sister-in-law?’
‘Before. About four years ago now. Gisèle was already working with Schwob. An insurance salesman paid us a visit as if by chance, but I understood later that it was my wife who had asked him to come. You know how it goes. “You don’t know who will live or who will die,” he said. “It’s a comfort for the one who goes to know that the one who stays …” ’
He laughed, for the first time, an unpleasant little laugh.
‘I didn’t yet know at the time. In short, we ended up signing a policy for ten million.’
‘You say we?’
‘Yes, because it’s a joint policy, as they say.’
‘In other words if your wife dies, you too will get hold of ten million?’
‘Of course.’
‘So that you gain as much from her death as she does from yours?’
‘I can’t hide it.’
‘And you hate each other?’
‘She hates me, yes.’
‘And you?’
‘I don’t hate her. I just take my precautions.’
‘But you love your sister-in-law.’
‘I won’t hide that either.’
‘And your wife is Schwob-Harris’ mistress.’
‘That’s a fact.’
‘Have you anything else to tell me?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve answered your questions. I think I’ve even gone beyond some of them. I’m ready, tomorrow morning, to take the test that you talked to me about. At what time do I have to be here?’
‘Between ten and midday. Which time suits you better?’
‘Will it take long?’
‘About as long as your session at Doctor Steiner’s.’
‘An hour, then. Let’s say eleven, if you like. That way I won’t need to go back to the shop.’
He was rising hesitantly to his feet, perhaps waiting for new questions. As he put on his overcoat, Maigret murmured:
‘Your sister-in-law is waiting for you by the river.’
He stopped for a moment with his arm in the air, the sleeve of his coat half on.
‘Ah!’
‘Does that surprise you? So she didn’t know you were coming here?’
There was a second’s hesitation, but it didn’t escape Maigret.
‘Obviously not.’
This time he was lying, it was obvious. He was suddenly in a great hurry to leave. He was no longer as sure of himself as he had been a moment before.
‘See you tomorrow …’ he stammered.
And since he had automatically begun to hold out his hand, he had to take it to its conclusion. Maigret shook the hand that was extended to him, watched Marton heading for the stairs, closed the door and stood behind it for a while, inhaling deeply.
‘Ouf …!’ he sighed while Lapointe, with an aching wrist, appeared in the doorway opposite.
He couldn’t remember a more unsettling interrogation.
6. An Evening at the Cinema
‘Lucas?’ Maigret asked, nodding towards the connecting door between the two offices.
Not only did Lapointe understand the meaning of the question, he understood that at that moment the chief had no desire to form long sentences.
‘He went to take Torrence’s place on the embankment. Since Torrence wasn’t in the picture …’
Maigret abruptly changed the subject, and once again Lapointe followed him without difficulty.
‘What do you think?
Apart from Janvier, whom he had always addressed as a familiar, Maigret used the informal tu with only a very few people, and then only in the heat of action, or when he was very worried. Lapointe was always pleased when it happened, because it was a little as if the two men were suddenly exchanging confidences.
‘I don’t know, chief, I was listening but couldn’t see him, and the two things are very different.’
That was exactly why Maigret was asking him his advice. They had heard the same words. But the young man, behind the door, had not been distracted by a face, eyes, hands as Maigret had been. He felt a little as if he was in the situation one of the usherettes in the theatre, who hears the play from the corridors, and for whom the soliloquies have a different resonance.
‘He sounded sincere to me.’
‘Not slightly mad?’
‘It must be difficult to explain yourself, with someone like you sitting right in front of you …’
Lapointe had hesitated before saying that for fear of being misunderstood, even though in his mind it was a compliment.
‘You will have a clearer understanding of what I mean when you read through your replies. It’s only at the end …’
‘What do you mean, at the end?’
‘… that he was probably lying. At least from my point of view. The sister-in-law must have known he was coming here. He knew she knew. What he didn’t know was that she had followed him and was waiting for him on the embankment. I think that made him angry. Do you want me to type the text out straight away?’
Maigret shook his head and added:
‘I hope you won’t need to type it out.’
Maigret was starting to lose patience and wondered why Lucas wasn’t coming back up. There was no reason to follow the couple to Avenue de Châtillon. Maigret couldn’t wait to know how the encounter had gone, and Lapointe shared his curiosity.
‘I wonder,’ Lapointe murmured, ‘why he claimed that his sister-in-law knew nothing about it.’
‘There may be a reason.’
‘What?’
‘His desire not to compromise her, to ensure that she isn’t accused of complicity one day.’
‘But she could only be complicit
if …’
Lapointe broke off and looked at his boss with surprise. Maigret’s words assumed that something was going to happen, something that would make Xavier Marton look bad. There was no time to talk about it any further, because they heard the sound of quick, short footsteps that could only have belonged to Lucas. He passed through the inspectors’ office and stood framed in the half-open door.
‘Can I come in, chief?’
He was still wearing his overcoat, a black overcoat in a woollen fabric on which some tiny white dots were still visible.
‘Is it snowing?’
‘It’s starting to. Fine snow, but icy.’
‘Tell us.’
‘The girl down on the embankment can’t have been any warmer than me, particularly since she’s wearing light shoes, and I heard her heels striking the cobbles. At first she stood motionless by the stone parapet, avoiding the streetlights. From the way she was standing I could tell, even though I could only see her silhouette, that she was looking at the windows where the lights were on. There aren’t many of those left in the building. I saw them going out one by one myself. From time to time voices could be heard from the entrance. I’d never realized that our voices carry so far when we leave here. Inspectors were coming out in groups of two or three, wishing each other good evening, heading off home …
‘She approached very gradually, as if fascinated by the lights of your office, and she was becoming more and more nervous. I’m sure that several times she was on the point of crossing the road and coming in …’
‘She must have imagined that I’d arrested him?’
‘I don’t know. Finally he came out on his own, passing in front of the officer on guard duty. All of a sudden he cast his eyes around, as if looking for somebody …’
‘He was looking for her. I’d just told him she was there.’
‘Now I understand. It was hard for him to see her where she was standing. At first he looked for her in the direction of Pont-Neuf, but she was standing in the opposite direction. He turned on his heels. I thought she was going to take advantage of the moment when his back was turned to leave, or go down to the unloading quay, but he spotted her before she moved. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. From their postures, I thought I could tell that he was rebuking her for something. He wasn’t gesticulating, but his posture was that of an angry man.
‘She was the one who slipped her hand under his arm, pointing to the sentry, and led him towards Pont Saint-Michel …’
‘Just one moment,’ Maigret broke in. ‘How exactly did she slip her hand under his arm?’
Lucas seemed not to understand the point of the question, but Lapointe, who was in love, did.
‘Quite naturally, like the women you see in the street with their lover or their husband. He must have told her off again, but less energetically. Then I assume he noticed that she was cold and put his arm around her waist. They pressed their bodies a little more closely together and began to walk at the same pace, in the same rhythm …’
Lapointe and Maigret looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
‘When they reached Pont Saint-Michel they paused for a moment and then, following the line of cars, and still with their arms around each other’s waist, they went into the bar on the corner. There were lots of people at the counter. It was aperitif time. I saw them through the misted windows. I didn’t go in. They were both standing by the till. The waiter made a hot rum and set it down on the bar in front of the young woman, who seemed to protest. Marton insisted. In the end she drank the rum, blowing on it, while he settled for a coffee.’
‘Out of interest,’ Maigret asked Lapointe, ‘what did he drink at lunchtime, at the restaurant?’
‘Mineral water.’
That was strange. Had he been asked the question, Maigret would in fact have wagered that the train-set lover drank neither wine nor spirits.
‘When they came out,’ Lucas said, finishing his report, ‘they made for the bus stop and waited. I saw them board a bus heading towards Porte d’Orléans and I thought it would be better for me to come and tell you. Did I do the right thing?’
Maigret nodded. The snow had disappeared from Lucas’ overcoat; during the conversation he had warmed his hands at the radiator.
Then Maigret was addressing him by the informal tu as well.
‘Do you have anything planned for this evening?’
‘Nothing special.’
‘Me neither,’ Lapointe said hastily.
‘I don’t know which one of you I’m going to ask to spend the night outside. It won’t be much fun in this weather …’
‘Me …!’ said the young inspector, raising his hand like a schoolboy.
And Lucas said:
‘Why don’t we share the shift? You can phone my wife to tell her I won’t be home for dinner. I’m going to have a sandwich in a bar, opposite the Montrouge church. Later Lapointe can come and relieve me …’
‘I’ll be there at about ten o’clock,’ Lapointe decided.
‘Later if you like. Why not cut the night in two and call it midnight?’
‘No, I’ll be there a bit earlier. If I’m not going to bed, I like to have something to do.’
‘What are your instructions, chief?’
‘None. And tomorrow, if they ask me to give an account myself, I’ll be hard pushed to explain the reasons for this watch. They both came here, the husband and the wife. They were both keen to inform me about their little disputes. Logically, nothing should happen. But that’s exactly because …’
He didn’t finish his thought, which was no clearer for having been expressed in words.
‘Perhaps I was wrong to tell him his wife had come here. I hesitated. Then I said to myself …’
He shrugged with exasperation and opened the cupboard where he kept his overcoat and hat, grumbling:
‘Well! We’ll see … Goodnight anyway, boys …’
‘Goodnight, chief.’
And Lucas added:
‘I’ll be down there in an hour.’
Outside, the cold had become more acute, and the snowflakes, tiny and hard, barely visible in the halo of the streetlights, prickled the skin as if trying to cling there, settled on the eyelashes, the eyebrows, the lips.
Maigret couldn’t face waiting for a bus so he took a taxi and huddled on the back seat, well wrapped up in his heavy coat.
All his previous investigations seemed almost childishly simple in comparison with this one, and he was irritated about it. He had never felt less confident about himself, so much so that he had phoned Pardon, gone to see the chief and the public prosecutor and, just now, sought Lapointe’s approval.
He felt he was floundering. Then, as the taxi drove around Place de la République, he had a thought which put his mind somewhat at rest.
If this investigation wasn’t like the others and he didn’t know how to approach it, wasn’t it because this time it wasn’t a crime that had been committed and only had to be reconstructed, but a crime that could be committed at any moment?
Just as it was quite possible that it wouldn’t be committed at all! How many potential crimes, crimes in waiting, some of them worked out down to the tiniest detail in the criminal’s mind, are never actually perpetrated? How many people plan to get rid of someone, imagine all the possible ways by which they might achieve their ends, before pulling back at the last minute?
Cases that he had dealt with came back into his mind. Some of them would never have reached their conclusion without a favourable opportunity, sometimes without a fortuitous event. In certain cases, if, at a given moment, the victim hadn’t uttered a particular phrase, adopted a particular attitude, nothing would have happened.
What he had to do this time was not to reconstruct the actions and gestures of a human being, but to predict his behaviour, which was difficult in a different way.
None of the textbooks on psychology, psychoanalysis and psychiatry were of any use to him.
He had
known other couples one half of which had, for some reason, wished for the death of the other.
Those precedents were of no use to him either. Precedents are only useful with professionals, or with certain kinds of maniac. And even then only with maniacs who have killed several times before and who go on to do it again.
He didn’t notice that the taxi had stopped by the kerb. The driver said:
‘We’re here, chief.’
The door to the flat opened as usual, and Maigret found the light, the familiar smells, the furniture and the objects that had been in place for so many years.
He also found the face of Madame Maigret, which, as always, and particularly when she knew he was worried, contained a mute question.
‘Why don’t we go to the cinema?’ he suggested.
‘It’s snowing!’
‘Are you scared of getting cold?’
‘No. I’d love to go to the cinema.’
She suspected that he didn’t want to sit in his armchair ruminating on a question going round in his head over and over again as he had done the day before. An hour later they were walking towards Place de la République and Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle, and Madame Maigret had linked arms with her husband.
Xavier Marton’s sister-in-law, Jenny, had done the same thing when he had surprised her by the river. Maigret wondered how much time had passed after their first meeting before his wife had done the same.
About a hundred metres away from the cinema, where he didn’t even know what film they were showing, he asked her.
‘I know,’ she said smiling. ‘I remember exactly. We had known each other for three months. The previous week you had kissed me on the landing, and after that you kissed me every evening in the same place. One Tuesday you took me to the Opéra Comique, where they were performing Carmen, and I was wearing a blue taffeta dress. I could tell you what perfume I had put on. On the way to the taxi you didn’t put your arm around me, you just held out your hand to help me into the car.
‘After the theatre you asked me if I was hungry. We went to the Grands Boulevards, where the Taverne Pousset used to be.
‘I pretended to stumble because of my high heels and rested my hand on your arm. I was so impressed by my audacity that I was trembling, and you had the good idea of pretending you hadn’t noticed a thing.
Maigret's Doubts Page 9
