Inspector Cadaver (14 page)

He kept an ear open for the raised voices.
Groult-Cotelle was shouting the loudest, as if he refused to listen to reason at any
price. Cavre's voice was deeper, more commanding.

Why did Maigret almost feel the urge to
cross the street and press his face to that kitchen window, behind which the
postmistress was doubtless reading? Was it intuition? Moments later the thought had gone
out of his mind. He knew Louis was studying him anxiously, impatiently, wondering what
could be going on in the great man's brain.

What had he sensed as he stepped over the
threshold? Let's see … Paris was part of it … It was that book and the
shops in Faubourg Saint-Martin selling books like it
that had reminded
him of Paris … Groult-Cotelle had gone to Paris … Geneviève Naud would
have been there at the same time …

He saw the expression on her face when Alban
had grotesquely produced his alibi. It wasn't just a look of disdain. Nor had she
seemed like a girl at that moment either. She was a woman … a lover who was
suddenly realizing how base her …

There, that was when the lightning had
flashed across his mind and sadly vanished just as quickly. He was left with a vague
sense of something despicable.

Yes, this business struck Maigret as very
different now. Thus far he had considered it a purely bourgeois affair, an
upper-middle-class family outraged to discover a kid without money or position in their
daughter's bed. Had Naud killed him in a fit of rage? It was possible. He was
close to pitying Naud, and especially Madame Naud. She knew everything and was
desperately trying to remain silent, to master her terror. Every minute spent alone with
the inspector was pure agony for her.

But now Étienne Naud and his wife
receded into the background.

How did these thoughts fit together? Alban,
that dusty, balding character, had an alibi. Was that really just a coincidence? Was it
also just a coincidence that he had suddenly come across the bill from the Hotel de
l'Europe?

No doubt he had really gone there. It needed
checking but the inspector felt sure he had.

But why had he gone to La Roche-sur-Yon on
that
particular evening? Was the prefect's private secretary
expecting him?

‘Needs checking!' growled
Maigret.

He was still looking at the murky light of
the post office. He still had his tobacco pouch in one hand and his pipe, which it
hadn't occured to him to fill, in the other.

Albert Retailleau was furious …

Who had told him that? His companion,
that's right, little Louis, the dead man's friend.

‘Was he really furious?' the
inspector suddenly asked.

‘Who?'

‘Your friend Albert. You told me that
when he left you on that last evening …'

‘He was very worked up. He knocked
back a few brandies before going to see her.'

‘He didn't say
anything?'

‘Wait … He said he didn't
reckon he'd be staying around in this filthy town much longer.'

‘How long had he been Mademoiselle
Naud's lover?'

‘I don't know … Wait
… They weren't going together in midsummer. It must have started around
October …'

‘He wasn't in love with her
before?'

‘He didn't talk to her, at least
…'

‘Shh …'

Maigret had stopped moving and was listening
intently. The voices had fallen silent. Instead, a noise was audible that struck the
inspector.

‘The telephone!' he said.

He had recognized the characteristic sound
of country
telephones, with their handle you have to turn to call the
post office operator.

‘Run and look in the
postmistress's window … You'll be quicker than me …'

He hadn't been mistaken. A second
light went on in the window next to the first. The postmistress had gone into the post
office, which only required her to step through a half-open door.

Maigret took his time. He was loath to run.
Oddly enough, it was young Louis' presence that bothered him. He wanted to
maintain a certain dignity in front of the kid. Finally he filled his pipe, lit it and
slowly crossed the street.

‘Well?'

‘I
knew
she'd
listen,' Pockmarks said under his breath. ‘That old bag always listens. The
doctor even complained to La Roche once, but she carries on regardless
…'

They could see her, a diminutive figure
dressed in black, with black hair and an ageless face. She had an earpiece in one hand,
the answering jack in the other. The call must have just ended because she replaced the
jacks and walked over to the light switch.

‘You think she'd let us
in?'

‘If you knock on the little door round
the back. Come this way. We'll go in through the yard.'

They squelched around in the pitch dark for
a moment, threading their way between some tubs full of washing. A cat jumped off a
rubbish bin.

‘Mademoiselle Rinquet!' called
the kid. ‘Open up for a moment …'

‘What is
it?'

‘It's me, Louis … Open up
for a moment, please …'

As soon as she drew the bolt, Maigret
hurriedly stepped inside for fear the door would be immediately shut again.

‘No need to be afraid, mademoiselle
…'

He was too tall and too burly for the
kitchen, which was as minuscule as the postmistress herself. She had filled it with
embroidered doilies and the sort of bone china and spun glass knick-knacks you find at
fairgrounds.

‘Groult-Cotelle has just made a
telephone call.'

‘How do you know?'

‘He rang his friend Naud … You
listened to the conversation.'

Caught out, she made a clumsy attempt to
defend herself.

‘But the post office is closed,
monsieur. I'm not supposed to put through any more calls after nine o'clock
… I do it all the same because I'm just next door and I like to be of
service …'

‘What did he say?'

‘Who?'

‘Look, if you don't answer me
with a good grace, I'll have to come back tomorrow, officially this time, and
write a report that will go through formal channels. What did he say?'

‘There were two of them.'

‘Talking at the same time?'

‘Almost. Sometimes they'd both
start. They'd try to drown each other out and after a while I couldn't
understand a word … They must have each had an earpiece and
been jostling each other in front of the telephone.'

‘What were they saying?'

‘Monsieur Groult said first:
“Listen, Étienne, this can't go on. The inspector has just left. He
came face to face with your man. I'm certain he knows everything and if you carry
on …”'

‘Well?' said Maigret.

‘Wait … The other one butted
in:

‘“Hello … Monsieur Naud?
Cavre here … It's obviously unfortunate that you couldn't find a way
to detain him and prevent his finding me here, but …”

‘“But I'm the one
compromised here,” yelled Monsieur Groult. “I've had enough, do you
hear, Étienne? Manage by yourself from now on! Call your idiot of a brother-in-law
and tell him he's finished making a hash of everything. In a sense, he is that
wretched policeman's superior, so, since he sent him here, he'd better pull
some strings and get him recalled to Paris … I'm warning you, if you put me
in the same room as that man again, I …”

‘“Hello! Hello! …”
Monsieur Étienne cried in a panic at the other end of the line. “Are you
still there, Monsieur Cavre? Alban is unnerving me … Is that really
…”

‘“Hello … It's Cavre
here … Well, keep quiet then, Monsieur Groult … Let me get a word in …
Stop pushing me … Is that you, Monsieur Naud? Yes … Well, there
wouldn't be any danger if your friend Groult-Cotelle wasn't panicking
… What? Should you call your brother-in-law? Well now, I would have advised
against it a moment ago … No, he doesn't scare me …”'

The postmistress, who was
getting a taste for this reconstruction, pointed at Maigret to clarify. ‘He was
talking about you, wasn't he? So, he said that you didn't scare him, but
because Groult-Cotelle was a loose cannon … Shh …'

The telephone was ringing in the post
office. The little old woman rushed in and switched on the light.

‘Hello … What? … Galvani
17 98? I don't know … No, there shouldn't be a delay at this time of
night … I'll call you back …'

Maigret recognized Bréjon's home
number.

He looked at his watch. It was ten to
eleven. Unless he had gone to the cinema or the theatre with his family, the examining
magistrate would be in bed because it was common knowledge in the Palais de Justice that
he was up by six every morning and studied his cases at dawn.

The jacks changed sockets.

‘Is that you, Niort? … Will you
put me through to Galvani 17 98? Line three is free? Give it to me, will you … Two
was terrible just now … I'm fine, how are you? Are you working all night?
What? No, you know I never go to bed before one in the morning … Yes, it's
the same here … You can't see more than a couple of metres in front of your
face … It'll be icy tomorrow morning … Hello! Paris? … Paris?
Hello! Paris? Galvani 17 98? Come on, answer, dearie … Speak more clearly …
Put me through to Galvani 17 98 … What? It's ringing? I can't hear
anything … Let it ring … It's urgent … Ah yes, here's
someone …'

She turned round, startled, as the bulky
Maigret loomed over her, his hand outstretched, ready to grab her headset at the
appropriate moment.

‘Monsieur Naud?
… Hello! … Monsieur Naud? Yes, I'm putting you through to Galvani
… One second, it's ringing … Hold the line … Galvani 17 98?
Saint-Aubin here … I'm connecting three … Go ahead, three
…'

She did not dare protest as the inspector
firmly took the headset from her and put it on his head. With a flourish, she inserted
the answering jack in the socket.

‘Hello! Is that you, Victor?
What?'

There was static on the line and Maigret had
the impression the examining magistrate was taking the call in bed. After his
brother-in-law had said who was calling, he heard him repeat:

‘It's Étienne
…'

Presumably he was talking to his wife lying
next to him.

‘What? Is there any news? No? Yes?
You're shouting too loud … It's making the receiver vibrate
…'

Étienne Naud was one of those men who
yell on the telephone as if they're permanently afraid of not being heard.

‘Hello! … Listen, Victor …
There's no news as such, no … I'll explain … I'll write
you a letter too … Perhaps I'll come and see you in Paris in two or three
days …'

‘Speak more slowly … Give me a
bit more room, Martha …'

‘What did you say?'

‘I told Martha to give me some more
room … So? What's going on? Did the inspector get there all right? What do
you think of him?'

‘Yes … That's by the by
… But I am calling about him …'

‘Doesn't he
want to look into your case?'

‘No, he does … He's
obsessed with it … Listen, Victor, you've got to find a way to get him back
to Paris … No, I can't talk now … Knowing the postmistress
…'

Maigret smiled as he looked at the little
postmistress, who was bursting with curiosity.

‘I'm sure you'll find a
way … What? … It's difficult? It must be possible though … I
assure you it's absolutely essential …'

It wasn't hard to imagine the
examining magistrate frowning at his growing suspicions about his brother-in-law.

‘It's not what you think …
But he storms around, talking to everyone, doing more harm than good … Do you
understand? At this rate, the whole town will be in turmoil and I'll be in an
impossible position …'

‘I don't know what to do
…'

‘Aren't you on good terms with
his boss?'

‘Yes … Obviously, I could ask
the head of the Police Judiciaire … It's tricky … The inspector will
find out about it sooner or later. He only agreed to go as a favour to me … Do you
understand?'

‘Do you want to get your niece –
who's your god-daughter, let me remind you – into trouble, yes or
no?'

‘You think it's that
serious?'

‘Isn't that what I just
said?'

Étienne Naud was clearly stomping his
feet with impatience. Alban's panic had rubbed off on him, and the fact Cavre
hadn't advised him against asking for Maigret to be recalled had done nothing to
reassure him.

‘Won't you put
my sister on the line?'

‘Your sister is in bed …
I'm on my own downstairs …'

‘What does Geneviève
think?' The examining magistrate was clearly wavering, taking refuge in chit-chat.
‘Is it raining there too?'

‘I've no idea!' yelled
Naud. ‘I don't give a damn, do you hear? All that matters is that you get
your confounded detective chief inspector to leave this house …'

‘What in heaven's name is
wrong?'

‘What's wrong? What's
wrong? What's wrong is that, if this goes on, we won't be able to stay here.
He pokes his nose into everything, he never says a word, he … he
…'

‘All right, calm down. I'll
try.'

‘When?'

‘Tomorrow morning … I'll
see the head of the Police Judiciaire first thing, but I tell you, I don't like
this. It's the first time in my career that …'

‘But you'll do it, won't
you?'