A Man's Head (17 page)

‘A Crosby who for a whole year allowed his wife to remain on the friendliest terms with his mistress, Edna Reichberg, while all the time knowing that at the first opportunity he would get a divorce so that he could marry the girl.

‘A Crosby who, one evening, when both women had just left him to go to the theatre, allowed his frustrations to appear all over his face.

‘It happened at the Coupole, at a table at the far end of the room. He was with a couple of friends who were indistinguishable from the many others he had. He said with a sigh:

‘“To think that just yesterday some moron killed an old woman who ran a shop for twenty-two francs! Me, I'd willingly give a hundred thousand to someone who would get rid my aunt for me!”

‘Was he joking? Exaggerating? Was it wishful thinking?

‘Radek was there. He hated Crosby more than the rest because he was the most glittering of the people he came into contact with.

‘The Czech knew Crosby better than Crosby knew himself. And Crosby had never even noticed him!

‘He got to his feet. In the gents' cloakroom he scribbled on a piece of paper:

‘
Agree price of 100,000. Send key addressed to initials M. V., poste restante, Boulevard Raspail.

‘He went back to his table. A waiter delivered the note to Crosby, who gave a mocking laugh then went on with his conversation, though not without looking round at all the customers nearby.

‘A quarter of an hour later, Mrs Henderson's nephew asked the waiter to bring the poker dice.

‘“Playing all by yourself?” joked one of his companions.

‘“Just an idea … I want to know if I can roll at least two aces with my first go.”

‘“And if you do it?”

‘“Then the answer's
yes
.”

‘“
Yes
to what?”

‘“Just an idea. Don't worry.”

‘And he shook the dice round and round in the cup for a long time then with a trembling hand rolled them.

‘“Four aces!”

‘He wiped the sweat off his forehead, got up and left, after making a joke which sounded hollow. The next evening, the key was sent to Radek.'

Eventually, Maigret sat down heavily on a chair, straddling it as he usually did.

‘It was Radek who told me about the episode of the four aces. I'm convinced that it's true and that Janvier, whom I've sent out to do something for me, will confirm it when he gets back in an hour or two. The rest, which I
shall now tell you, as I have already told what went before, I put together piece by piece, fragment by fragment, while the Czech, whom I was tailing, unknowingly supplied me with new avenues to explore.

‘Picture it. Radek has the key. He is less eager to get his hands on the hundred thousand than to vent his hatred of the world.

‘Crosby, envied or admired by all, is in his power. He's got him! He feels strong!

‘Don't forget that Radek had nothing to expect from life. He was not even sure that he could hold out until his sickness swept him away. Perhaps he would be reduced to jumping in the Seine one night when he no longer had enough small
change to pay for his café au lait.

‘He was nothing! He had absolutely nothing to live for!

‘I said just now that twenty years ago he would have been an anarchist. Nowadays, surrounded by the excitable, slightly unhinged denizens of Montparnasse, he found it far more amusing to pull off
a perfect crime
!

‘A perfect crime. He was just a poor, sick nobody. And the papers would be full of an exploit of his! The wheels of the judicial machinery would start turning at a sign from him! A woman would die! A man like Crosby would quake in his
boots!

‘And he would be the only one in the know as he sat there with his usual café au lait, the only one to savour his power!

‘There was just one indispensable condition: that he must not get caught. And to do that, the safest way would be to feed an innocent man into the great maw of Justice!

‘He met Heurtin one evening on a café terrace. He studied him as he studied everybody. He spoke to him …

‘Heurtin was just as much a fish out of water as Radek. He could have led a quiet life in his parents' inn. In Paris, a delivery man on 600 francs a month, he was unhappy and found escape in daydreams. He devoured cheap novels, went to
the cinema regularly and imagined himself as the hero of marvellous adventures.

‘He had no drive, nothing to protect him against the power of the Czech.

‘“Would you like to earn in one night, with no risk to you, enough for you to live in whatever way you wanted?”

‘Heurtin's heart beat faster. Radek had him! Radek revelled in his power and persuaded his new friend to accept the idea of a break-in.

‘“Just a spot of burglary. The house is unoccupied!”

‘He drew up a plan, anticipated everything his accomplice would do, every move he would make. It was his idea that he should buy a pair of shoes with rubber soles because, he said, they wouldn't make a noise. In reality, it was because
he could then be sure that Heurtin would leave clear evidence that he had been there.

‘It must have been an intoxicating time for Radek. He who didn't have the price of an aperitif – did he not feel omnipotent?

‘And every day he rubbed shoulders with Crosby, who did not know him and found the wait unnerving.

‘What led me to discover the truth about the events at the villa at Saint-Cloud, you know, was one sentence in the medical report. We never read the specialists' reports carefully enough. It was only four days ago that one detail struck
me.

‘The pathologist had written:

‘
Some minutes after death, the body of Madame Henderson, which must have been lying on the very edge of the bed, rolled on to the floor
.

‘Now you will concede that there was no reason why the murderer, several minutes after the crime, should touch the body on which there were no jewels or anything except a night-dress.

‘But I return to the series of events. Radek confirmed them last night.

‘He persuaded Heurtin to break into the villa at
exactly
2.30 a.m., to go up to the first floor and enter the bedroom, all without turning any lights on. He swore to him that there was nobody in the house. And the place he said the
valuables would be was where the bed was located.

‘At 2.20 a.m., Radek, alone, killed both women, hid the knife in the wardrobe and left. Then he kept an eye out for Heurtin to show up. Heurtin carried out his instructions to the letter.

‘Heurtin, groping in the dark, knocked the body on to the floor, panicked, switched a light on, saw the corpses, checked to see that they were really dead and left bloody fingerprints all over the place.

‘When he finally made off, quaking in his boots, he ran into Radek, who behaved very differently, sneering at him and treating him cruelly.

‘The meeting between the two of them must have been quite something. But what could a simple soul like Heurtin do against a man like Radek?

‘He didn't even know the man's name or where he lived.

‘The Czech showed him his rubber gloves and the overshoes which meant that he had left no trace in the house.

‘“You'll go down for this! Who's going to believe you?
No one will believe you!
And then you'll be executed!”

‘A taxi was waiting for them on the opposite side of the Seine, at Boulogne. Radek did not stop talking.

‘“If you keep your mouth shut, I'll save you! Do you understand? I'll get you out of jail, maybe in a month, maybe three.
But out you will get!
”

‘Two days later, Heurtin, now under arrest, said nothing except to repeat that he hadn't killed anybody. He was in a state of shock. He told his mother about Radek, and only her.

‘
But his mother didn't believe him!
Wasn't that the best proof that the other man was right, that the best thing to do was say nothing and wait for the promised help?

‘Months passed. In his cell, Heurtin was haunted by the two dead bodies whose sticky blood he had felt on his hands. His only doubts came on the night when he heard the footsteps of the party of men who came to take the prisoner in the next
cell to his place of execution.

‘Then, the last breath of defiance went out of him. His father had not answered any of his letters and had forbidden his mother and his sister to visit him. He was alone, locked up with a nightmare.

‘And then out of the blue he got a note telling him he was going to escape. He followed the instructions, but did so half-heartedly, going through the motions, and once out in Paris he wandered around aimlessly, eventually found a bed to
collapse on and at last slept in a place which was not High Surveillance, where only men in the shadow of the guillotine ever sleep.

‘The next day, he suddenly found Inspector Dufour standing in front of him. Heurtin scented police and danger and instinctively hit out, got away and resumed his wandering.

‘Freedom did not stop him thinking clearly. He knew exactly what to do. He had no money. No one was waiting for him.

‘And all on account of Radek! He went looking for him in the cafés where they had first met.

‘To kill him, perhaps? But he had no weapon, though he was sufficiently enraged to throttle him with his bare hands! Maybe also to ask him to bail him out, or just simply because he was the only person he could still speak to.

‘He caught sight of him in the Coupole. They wouldn't let him in. So he waited. He walked up and down, like the village idiot, and sometimes pressed his white face against the window.

‘When Radek finally emerged, it was between two policemen. Heurtin wandered off blindly, instinctively going to earth, back to the house at Nandy, where he was no longer welcome … He dropped on to a pile of hay, in an outhouse.

‘And when his father gave him until nightfall to get out, he chose instead to hang himself.'

Maigret shrugged and growled:

‘He'll never swim against the current again. Oh, he'll live but he'll be marked by what happened. Of all Radek's victims he is the most to be pitied.

‘Yes, there were others, and there'd have been more if …

‘But I'll tell you about them later … Once the crime had been committed and Heurtin was behind bars, the Czech took up his life again, going from one café to the next. He did not ask Crosby for his hundred thousand francs,
primarily because it wouldn't be a safe thing to do, or perhaps because his poverty had become necessary to him, since it stoked his hatred for mankind.

‘At the Coupole he could observe the American, whose good humour was no longer quite as carefree. Crosby was waiting … He had never met the man who had written the note … He was convinced that Heurtin was
guilty … But he was scared that Heurtin would give him away!

‘But it never happened. The man charged with the crime allowed himself to be found guilty. There was talk that he would be executed soon, and then Madame Henderson's heir would be able to breathe easily again.

‘What was going on in Radek's mind? He had pulled off his perfect crime. It had gone smoothly down to the very last detail. Nobody suspected him.

‘It was what he had wanted: he was the only person in the entire world who knew the truth! And when he saw the Crosbys sitting round their table in the bar, he thought that one word from him would be enough to put the fear of God into
them!

‘And yet he wasn't satisfied. His life was still just as dull. Nothing had changed except that two women were dead, and a poor devil was about to have his head cut off.

‘I couldn't swear to it, but I'd bet that what weighed most heavily on him was that he had no one to admire him. No one who'd murmur as he passed by:

‘“He's not much to look at but he committed one of the most perfect crimes imaginable! He outsmarted the police, fooled the courts and changed the course of several lives.”

‘It's something that's happened to other murderers. Most of them have felt the need to confide in somebody, even if it was only some tart they'd picked up.

‘But Radek was above that. Anyway, he was never much interested in women.

‘Then one morning the papers reported that Heurtin had escaped. Wasn't this the opportunity he'd been looking for? He decided to give the cards another shuffle and take an active part once more.

‘He wrote to
Le Sifflet
. He took fright when he saw his erstwhile accomplice watching him and delivered himself up into the hands of the police … But what he wanted was admiration … He wanted to be known as a man
who played a good hand.

‘So he threw down the challenge: “You'll never understand anything!”

‘From that moment on, it was all feverish excitement. He sensed that in the end he'd be arrested! Better still, it was in his power to bring that moment nearer! He deliberately committed compromising acts as if an inner force was urging
him to want to seek punishment.

‘He no longer had a role in life. He was doomed. Everything filled him with disgust or indignation … He was dragging out a mean, wretched existence.

‘He knew that I would stay close to him, that I'd get there in the end …

‘And then he developed a kind of neurosis … He showed off. He took satisfaction in pulling the wool over my eyes.

‘Hadn't he got the better of Heurtin and Crosby? Wouldn't he get the better of me too?

‘He made up things to confuse me. For example, he pointed out that all the events connected with the case had taken place not far from the Seine.

‘Surely I'd let myself be put off my stroke and get distracted by a false lead?

‘He proceeded to multiply the false leads. He lived in a state of over-excitement. He was finished but he still went on fighting, playing games with life.

‘Why didn't he make a start by bringing Crosby down with him?