Maigret's Secret

by Georges Simenon

  ‘You don’t like having to tell people bad news, do you? I note that when you were with Monsieur Duché in Rue Caulaincourt you promised him anything – to divorce your wife, to marry Annette – rather than be up-front with him.

  ‘When you found your wife dead, you avoided going up to her and you didn’t even turn on the light. Your first thought was to leave …’

  Josset hung his head.

  ‘It’s true. I panicked. There’s no other way of putting it.’

  ‘Did you get a taxi from the Auteuil church?’

  ‘Yes. A grey 403. The driver had a southern accent.’

  ‘Did you take the taxi to Avenue Marceau?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time was it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You must have driven past several lit-up clocks. You were intending to catch a plane. You often travel by plane. So you must know the timetables of a certain number of airlines. Knowing the right time is an important thing for you.’

  ‘I accept all that, but I can’t come up with any explanation. Things don’t happen the way you expect them to when you think about them with a clear head.’

  ‘Did you have the taxi wait for you at Avenue Marceau?’

  ‘I didn’t want to attract attention. I paid the fare and walked across the pavement. For a moment, as I searched through my pockets, I thought I had forgotten my key.’

  ‘Were you worried?’

  ‘No. I intended to leave, but I was in the hands of fate. Anyway, I eventually found the key in a pocket I don’t usually put it in. I entered the building.’

  ‘Wasn’t there a risk you would wake up the concierge?’

  ‘If I had, I would have said that I needed certain documents for a business trip that had been arranged at the last minute. I wasn’t too concerned about that.’

  ‘Did he hear you?’

  ‘No. I went up to my office. I opened the safe, took the 400,000 francs that were inside and then wondered where to conceal them, in case I got searched by customs. But I didn’t attach too much importance to that, as they never searched me … I sat in my normal chair and stayed there motionless for ten minutes, looking all around me.’

  ‘Is that when you made your mind up not to leave?’

  ‘I felt too tired. I didn’t have the strength …’

  ‘The strength to do what?’

  ‘To go to Orly, to buy a ticket, to wait, to show my passport, to feel afraid …’

  ‘Afraid of being arrested?’

  ‘Of being questioned. I kept thinking about Carlotta, who had perhaps come downstairs. Even when I landed in a foreign airport there was the risk I might be questioned. At best, I’d be starting a new life, with nobody …’

  ‘Did you put the money back in the safe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you do next?’

  ‘I felt encumbered by the suitcase. I wanted a drink. It was an obsession. I was convinced that a bit of alcohol would restore my composure, even though it hadn’t worked that well so far. I must have walked as far as Étoile to hail another taxi. I said:

  ‘ “Stop when you see a bar.”

  ‘The car only had to go 200 metres. I left the suitcase and went inside, without realizing it was a strip joint. I told the maître d’ I didn’t want a table and went to the bar instead, where I ordered a whisky. A hostess asked me to buy her a drink, and for the sake of peace I nodded to the barman to serve her.

  ‘I had two drinks. I paid. I left and went to find my taxi.

  ‘ “Which station?” the driver asked.

  ‘ “Go to Auteuil. Go via Rue Chardon-Lagache. I’ll tell you where to stop.”

  ‘My suitcase was giving me a guilt complex. I stopped the taxi 150 metres from my house and made sure before I went in that there were no lights on in the house. I didn’t hear a sound. I turned on only the lamps I needed and I returned my wife’s jewels as well as my clothes and bathroom things to their proper places. I guess you will find my fingerprints on the dressing table and the jewellery, if you haven’t already.’

  ‘So you went back into your wife’s room?’

  ‘I had to.’

  ‘You didn’t look at her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You still didn’t think of ringing the police?’

  ‘I was still putting it off.’

  ‘What did you do next?’

  ‘I went out and walked round the streets.’

  ‘In which direction?’

  Josset hesitated, and Maigret, who was watching him, frowned and then said impatiently:

  ‘It’s a neighbourhood with which you are familiar, in which you have lived for fifteen years. Even if you were preoccupied, or in a daze, you must have recognized some of the places you passed.’

  ‘I can clearly remember being at Pont Mirabeau, without any recollection of how I got there.’

  ‘Did you cross the bridge?’

  ‘Not all the way. I leaned on the parapet near the middle and watched the Seine flow by.’

  ‘What was on your mind?’

  ‘The fact that I would probably be arrested and for weeks, if not months, I would have a whole lot of painful and exhausting problems to deal with.’

  ‘Did you retrace your steps?’

  ‘Yes. I would have loved to have another drink before going to the police station, but there were no bars open in the neighbourhood. I almost took a taxi – again.’

  ‘Does Annette Duché have a telephone?’

  ‘I had her get one put in.’

  ‘And at no point did you think of ringing her to tell her what was going on?’

  He pondered for a moment.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know now. In any case, I didn’t do it.’

  ‘Did you ever at any point wonder who might have killed your wife?’

  ‘Mostly, I was thinking that I would be the one accused of it.’

  ‘According to the report I have here before me, you turned up at the police station in Auteuil, at the corner of Boulevard Exelmans and Rue Chardon-Lagache, at three thirty. You gave your identity card to the desk sergeant and asked to speak to the chief inspector in person. You were told that it wasn’t possible at that hour and you were taken instead to the office of Inspector Jeannet.’

  ‘He didn’t say what his name was.’

  ‘The inspector questioned you briefly and then, after you had handed over your key, sent a car round to Rue Lopert … I have here the more detailed statements you made later. I haven’t read them yet. Are they accurate?’

  ‘I suppose they are. It was very hot in the office. It made me feel very sluggish, and I could have happily fallen asleep. And I found the inspector’s aggressive and sarcastic tone very off-putting.’

  ‘It appears that you did in fact fall asleep for two hours.’

  ‘I didn’t know how long it was.’

  ‘Do you have anything you wish to add?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Maybe later something will come back to me. I feel exhausted. I feel like everything is stacked against me, that the truth will never come out … I didn’t kill Christine. I have never in my life set out to hurt anyone … Do you believe me?’

  ‘I don’t have an opinion … Will you go and type all this up, Lapointe?’

  Then, to Josset:

  ‘You’ve had enough for now. When they bring you the typed document, I want you to read it and sign it.’

  He went out into the adjoining office and sent Janvier in to sit with Josset in his place. The interrogation had lasted three hours.

  Maigret paused and let his gaze linger on the lights along Boulevard Voltaire. He heard his wife give a small cough. He turned towards her, and she gave him a subtle signal.

  She was reminding him of the time. They had stayed much later than usual. Alice was saying goodbye to her mother as she and her husband had to get back to Maisons-Alfort, where they lived. Pardon kissed his daughter on her forehead.

  ‘Goodnight!’

&n
bsp; Just as the young couple were going out of the door, the telephone rang; somehow it sounded more strident than usual. Madame Pardon looked at her husband, who walked slowly over to answer it.

  ‘Doctor Pardon speaking …’

  It was Madame Kruger, whose voice was not as shrill and resonating as before. Now it was a barely audible murmur to those not right next to the telephone.

  ‘No, no,’ Pardon was telling her gently. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault, I assure you … Are the children up? Is there a neighbour who could look after them? … Listen, I’ll be there in half an hour at the latest.’

  He listened for a while longer, saying a few words now and then.

  ‘Yes … Yes … You did everything you could … I’ll take care of it … Yes … Yes … I’ll be there soon …’

  He hung up and gave a sigh. Maigret stood up. Madame Maigret had folded up her knitting and pulled on her raincoat.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘A few minutes ago … I have to go over there right now. She will need my help.’

  They walked down the stairs together. The doctor’s car was parked by the pavement.

  ‘Would you like me to drop you off?’

  ‘No thanks, we’d rather walk for a bit.’

  That was part of the tradition. Madame Maigret automatically took her husband’s arm, and they made their way along the deserted road in the peace and quiet of the evening.

  ‘Was it the Josset case you were talking about?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you get to the end?’

  ‘No. I’ll pick it up again another time.’

  ‘You did everything that you could …’

  ‘Like Pardon this evening … Like the tailor’s wife.’

  She gripped his arm more tightly.

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘I know.’

  There were a few cases he didn’t like to remember, and, paradoxically, they were the ones he had taken most to heart.

  To Pardon, the Jewish tailor in Rue Popincourt had originally been a stranger, just one sick person among many. Now, because of a shrill voice on the telephone, a decision made at the end of a family dinner, a few words spoken out of weariness, Maigret was sure his friend would never forget him.

  Josset too had been much in Maigret’s thoughts for a long time.

  While Lapointe was typing up his notes, telephones were ringing all around the offices, and the journalists and photographers waited impatiently in the corridor, Maigret wandered round police headquarters, with a serious and preoccupied air, his shoulders hunched.

  As he had expected, he found the Spanish maid in one of the offices at the back, being questioned by big Torrence. She was around thirty, fairly pretty, with a cheeky expression but thin, hard lips.

  Maigret looked her up and down for a moment, then turned to Torrence.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She doesn’t know anything. She was asleep and was woken by the Auteuil police, who were making a racket downstairs.’

  ‘What time did her mistress get home?’

  ‘She doesn’t know.’

  ‘She wasn’t in the house at the time?’

  ‘I’d been allowed to go out,’ the young woman chipped in.

  No one had asked her, but her nose was out of joint at how little attention they were paying her.

  ‘She was meeting someone by the river,’ Torrence explained.

  ‘At what time?’

  ‘Eight thirty.’

  ‘When did she get back?’

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘Did she see any lights on in the house?’

  ‘She claims she didn’t.’

  ‘I’m not claiming anything. I didn’t.’

  She still had a strong accent.

  ‘Did you come in through the large room on the ground floor?’ Maigret asked her.

  ‘No. I came in through the service entrance.’

  ‘Were there any cars parked in front of the house?’

  ‘Madame’s was the only one I saw.’

  ‘What about Monsieur’s?’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘When you come home, don’t you normally check to see if you’re needed for anything?’

  ‘No. What they do in the evening has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Did you hear any sounds?’

  ‘I’d have said if I had.’

  ‘Did you go to sleep straight away?’

  ‘As soon as I had had a wash.’

  Maigret growled to Torrence:

  ‘Find her boyfriend and check.’

  Carlotta’s resentful gaze followed him to the door.

  In the inspectors’ room he picked up one of the phones.

  ‘Could you put me on to Doctor Paul, please? He may still be at the Forensic Institute. If not, ring his home number.’

  He had to wait a few minutes.

  ‘Maigret here. Any news?’

  He automatically jotted down some notes, which was unnecessary, as he would be receiving the full report a short while later.

  The wound to the throat was the first one inflicted and had been sufficient to cause death within a minute at most. The killer had then continued to stab the body in a frenzy, even though it was drained of blood …

  The alcohol levels in the blood indicated, according to the medical examiner, that Christine Josset was drunk at the moment she was attacked.

  She hadn’t had any dinner. Her stomach contained no undigested food.

  Finally, her liver was in a rather bad state.

  As for the time of death, Doctor Paul could only say it was between ten in the evening and one in the morning.

  ‘Can’t you be more precise?’

  ‘Not right now. One last detail might be of interest to you, however. The woman had had sex a few hours before she died.’

  ‘Could it have been as little as half an hour?’

  ‘It’s not out of the question.’

  ‘Ten minutes?’

  ‘I can’t give a scientific answer to that.’

  ‘Thank you, doctor.’

  ‘What is he saying?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The husband.’

  ‘That he’s innocent.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Another telephone rang. An inspector waved to Maigret to indicate it was for him.

  ‘Is that you, Maigret? Coméliau here. Is the interrogation over?’

  ‘A few moments ago.’

  ‘I’d like to see you.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  He was about to go out when Bonfils came in, looking excited.

  ‘I was just about to knock on your door, chief. I’ve just got back from there. I spent two hours with Madame Siran, questioning her and making a closer inspection of the house. I have some news.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Has Josset confessed?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did he say anything about a dagger?’

  ‘What dagger?’

  ‘We were busy searching Josset’s room, Madame Siran and I, when I saw her looking for something. She seemed puzzled. It was hard to get her to talk, because I think she prefers her master to her mistress – she doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of her. In the end, she murmured: “The German dagger.”

  ‘It’s one of those commando knives which some people keep as a souvenir of the war.’

  Maigret looked surprised.

  ‘Josset was a commando in the war?’

  ‘No. He wasn’t in the war. He had an exemption. It was someone in his office, a certain Monsieur Jules, who brought it back and gave it to him.’

  ‘What did Josset do with it?’

  ‘Nothing. It was left on top of a small desk, in the bedroom, and was probably used as a paper knife … Anyway, it’s disappeared.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘It’s been gone since this morning. Mada
me Siran is sure about that. She’s the one who looks after her master’s bedroom while the Spanish girl takes care of Madame Josset’s room and her things.’

  ‘Did you look everywhere?’

  ‘I searched the house from top to bottom, including the cellar and the attic.’

  Maigret was about to go back to his office to ask Josset about it. He didn’t do so, because he had the examining magistrate waiting for him, and Coméliau was not very accommodating; besides, he needed time to think.

  He walked through the glass door separating the Police Judiciaire from the Palais de Justice, weaved his way down a number of corridors and knocked on the door of an office he knew very well.

  ‘Take a seat, Maigret.’

  The afternoon papers were spread out on the desk, with their banner headlines and photos.

  ‘Have you read these?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is he still denying it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But he admits that the scene in Rue Caulaincourt took place yesterday evening, a few hours before his wife was killed?’

  ‘He told me about it of his own accord.’

  ‘I assume he is claiming it is a coincidence?’

  As usual, Coméliau was getting wound up, and his moustache was twitching.

  ‘At eight o’clock in the evening, a father was with his twenty-year-old daughter, whom Josset had taken as his mistress. The two men confronted each other, and the father demanded redress.’

  Maigret sighed wearily.

  ‘Josset promised him he’d get a divorce.’

  ‘And marry the girl?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To do that he’d have to give up his fortune and his career.’

  ‘That’s not entirely true. For the last few years Josset has been a third owner of the pharmaceutical firm.’

  ‘Do you think his wife would have agreed to a divorce?’

  ‘I don’t think anything, sir.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In my office. One of my inspectors is typing up the transcript of the interrogation. Josset will read it and sign it.’

  ‘And then? What do you plan to do with him?’

  Coméliau could sense Maigret’s reticence, and it made him angry.

  ‘I suppose that now you’re going to ask me to set him free and suggest I have him put under surveillance by one of your officers in the hope that he will give himself away somehow or other.’

  ‘No.’