Maigret's Holiday (4 page)

‘May I show you the way?'

The stocky chief inspector was secretly
thrilled to be showing a famous name like Maigret around his station. Thrilled and a
little anxious. In a spacious office, two inspectors were perched on the tables,
smoking. One of them had his hat pushed back, like in American films.

Mansuy greeted them distractedly, opened the
door to his office, then retraced his steps.

‘No news?'

‘We've kept Polyte for you
… The sub-prefect requested that you telephone him …'

It was a glorious day. Since he had been at
Les Sables d'Olonne, Maigret had not had a single day of rain. The windows were
open, allowing the sounds of the town to filter in, and families could be seen wending
their way back from the beach.

When Polyte was brought in,
he was handcuffed to make it look as if the police were doing their job. He was a
pathetic wretch, of indeterminate age, the sort you find at least one of in every
village, shaggy, bedraggled, with a gaze that is both innocent and sly.

‘In trouble again, Polyte? I imagine
that this time you won't deny it?'

Polyte didn't move, didn't
reply, staring docilely at Mansuy, who was slightly intimidated by the presence of the
famous Maigret and was keen to impress him.

‘You won't deny it, I
imagine?'

He had to repeat his question twice before
obtaining any kind of response from the vagrant. A nod.

‘What does that mean? That you
confess?'

He shook his head.

‘You deny having broken into Madame
Médard's garden?'

Heavens, this was comforting! Maigret felt
so much more at home here than among the nuns. Polyte must be a regular. He lived in a
wooden shack on the outskirts of the town, with a wife and seven or eight lice-ridden
brats.

That same morning, he had turned up at a
second-hand goods dealer's and tried to sell him two pairs of almost new sheets,
as well as towels and women's clothing. The second-hand dealer pretended to be
interested and alerted the police officer standing watch on the corner of the street,
and Polyte had been arrested before he had gone two hundred metres. As for Madame
Médard, the victim of the theft, she was already at the police station.

‘You broke into her garden, where she
had left some
washing out to dry … This isn't the first
time you've jumped over her hedge … Last week you opened the door of her
hutch and took her two biggest rabbits.'

‘I never stole her
rabbits—'

‘She formally identified one of the
skins found at your place.'

‘It's my job to collect rabbit
skins.'

‘Even if the meat is still inside
them?'

There was nothing to be done, no matter how
many questions the red-cheeked Mansuy put to him, no matter how many times he tried to
trip him up.

‘This man sold me the
linen.'

‘Where?'

‘In the street.'

‘Which street?'

‘Over there …'

‘What's his name?'

‘Don't know …'

‘Had you seen him before?'

‘Don't think so
…'

‘And he came up to you to sell you
sheets and blouses?'

‘I told you before …'

‘You realize the judge won't
believe you and will come down hard on you?'

‘That will be unfair
…'

Polyte gave off a smell that was reminiscent
of a Salvation Army shelter, only more pungent. He was obstinate. It was clear that even
if the interrogation went on for hours, he would give away nothing more, and his shrewd
little eyes seemed to be saying:

‘You see this
isn't getting you anywhere!'

Two officers finally led him away, still
handcuffed, leaving Maigret alone with the chief inspector, the windows open, the
station almost empty, apart from the men in the guardroom.

‘There you are! … That's a
bit different from the cases you're used to dealing with, isn't it? …
Here I have the time to play bridge nearly every afternoon.'

‘You won't forget to telephone
the sub-prefect?'

‘To invite myself to dinner tomorrow,
I already know what it's about … Have you met him? … A charming man
… Earlier on you were talking to me about Philippe Bellamy … What do you
think of him? … He's a character, isn't he? … I only transferred
to Les Sables d'Olonne two years ago, but I've had time to get to know
everyone … You've seen the main local characters … Some of them are
quite colourful … Doctor Bellamy outclasses them all … Do you know that
he's very distinguished in his field? … I happened to mention him to a
friend, who's a doctor in Bordeaux … Bellamy is one of today's
foremost neurologists … For a long time he was a consultant in a Paris hospital,
where he took his teaching exams … He could have been made professor in a top
university … But instead he chose to live here, with his mother …'

‘Does his family come from Les Sables
d'Olonne?'

‘They've been here for several
generations. You haven't met the mother, Madame Bellamy? A fairly stout, stocky
old lady who walks with a stick that she wields like a sabre! … Once a week or so
she has a run-in with the market women.'

‘What did the girl
die of?'

‘I'm certain that the
sub-prefect has invited me to dinner to discuss that very subject … He telephoned
me this morning about it … He is in contact, naturally, with Doctor Bellamy
… They see each other quite frequently.'

It relaxed him to puff gently away on his
pipe as he paced up and down the office, pausing by the window from time to time, framed
against the square of light, and chatting casually in languid little snippets.

‘Unsurprisingly, people are talking a
great deal about the accident … I'm surprised you haven't heard
…'

‘I know so few people here
…'

‘It was … let me think …
two days ago … Yes, the 3rd of August … The report must still be in my
secretary's office, but I wouldn't know where to lay my hands on it …
Doctor Bellamy had driven to La Roche-sur-Yon, with his sister-in-law …'

‘How old was she?'

‘Nineteen … A strange girl,
interesting-looking rather than pretty … Now don't start getting ideas,
whatever you do … Lili Godreau was sweet, but her sister − whom Bellamy
married − is one of the most beautiful women you'll ever come across …
Unfortunately, you won't get much opportunity to see her, since she rarely leaves
the house …'

‘How old is she?' repeated
Maigret.

‘Around twenty-five …
Bellamy's love for his wife is almost legendary around here … It's a
real passion and everyone will tell you that he is fiercely jealous … Some people
say that he locks her inside the house when he goes
out, like for
example when he comes every afternoon to play cards … I think they're
exaggerating … On the other hand, Bellamy's mother never seems to be away
from the house at the same time as her son and I wouldn't be surprised if she
stays at home to keep an eye on her daughter-in-law. You saw the doctor telephone
… He can't be away from home for two hours without calling her, without
making contact with her, perhaps to check that she's there …'

‘What sort of family is she
from?'

‘Well, her mother's life
isn't exactly reassuring for a husband … Does this really interest you?
I'll try and tell you what I know … Bellamy's wife is called Odette
and her maiden name is Godreau … Her mother was from a fairly good family, the
daughter of a naval officer, I think … She was, and still is, a very beautiful
woman.

‘For twenty years, at Les Sables
d'Olonne, her name was a byword for sin … I don't know whether
you've lived in a provincial town and whether you know what I'm talking
about … She wasn't married … She was a kept woman … She was the
mistress of two or three rich gentlemen in succession, including Monsieur Lourceau, whom
you saw at the café … Curtains twitched when she walked past, lustful
schoolboys and married men would turn around to gaze at her. When she entered a shop,
conversations would stop and the ladies would put on a tight-lipped air …

‘She had two daughters, said to be
from different fathers, Odette and Lili …

‘Odette grew into a young woman even
more stunning
than her mother had been, and Doctor Bellamy met her
before she had even reached twenty …

‘He married her.

‘You saw him. I told you he was a
character. He married the young lady, but he didn't want the mother-in-law around.
He gave her an allowance so that she'd leave town … Apparently she lives in
Paris now with a retired industrialist …

‘Since there was a younger sister, who
was thirteen at the time they got married, the doctor took responsibility for her
… He brought her up … Today, or rather yesterday, she was nineteen
…

‘The two of them went to La
Roche-sur-Yon in Bellamy's car …'

‘With Odette?'

‘No, alone … Lili was a pianist
and went to all the concerts … There was one on at La Roche-sur-Yon at four
o'clock … Her brother-in-law drove her there … On the way
back—'

‘At what time?'

‘Just after seven … It was still
broad daylight … The road was far from empty … I'm telling you all
this because it's important … The door, which probably hadn't been
closed properly, swung open and Lili Godreau was flung on to the road … The car
was going very fast … The doctor is in the habit of speeding but the gendarmes,
who know him, turn a blind eye …'

‘In other words, an accident
…'

‘An accident …'

Chief Inspector Mansuy faltered, almost
corrected
himself, even opened his mouth. Maigret watched him with
curiosity. But he repeated:

‘An accident, yes.'

‘It couldn't possibly be
otherwise, could it?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘As you said earlier, it is hard to
imagine that Bellamy could have had intimate relations with his
sister-in-law?'

‘He's not that sort of
person.'

‘Were there any other cars in the
vicinity?'

‘There was a delivery van a hundred
metres behind the car … We questioned the driver. He didn't notice anything
unusual … The doctor's car overtook him at top speed and, a few moments
later, he saw the door swing open and someone fly out on to the tarmac
…'

If the stocky inspector with a large head
had known Maigret better, he would have noticed the change that had come over the latter
during the last few minutes. Earlier, he had still been a slightly irresolute, large man
puffing half-heartedly on his pipe and gazing about him with a bored expression.

But now he was somehow more substantial. His
footsteps were heavier, his movements more deliberate.

Lucas, for example, who knew the chief
better than anyone, would have understood at once and been delighted.

‘I'll see you tomorrow, no
doubt?' grunted Maigret, extending his big paw.

Mansuy was disconcerted. He had been
expecting to leave with Maigret and walk part of the way with him, perhaps for them to
have a drink together. Maigret was
ditching him here, in his office,
where he had been so pleased to do the honours and where there was nothing to detain him
further. Awkwardly he picked his hat up from the table suggesting that he too was ready
to leave.

‘You're forgetting to telephone
the sub-prefect,' Maigret reminded him.

Without irony. He wasn't doing it on
purpose, his mind was elsewhere, that was all. To be more precise, he was thinking. Or
to be even more precise, he was stirring up images that were still hazy.

In the doorway, he turned round.

‘Had it been possible to question the
girl?'

‘No. She was in a coma up until her
death, which occurred last night. She had a fractured skull.'

‘Who was treating her?'

‘Doctor Bourgeois.'

And, on the very day of her death, her
brother-in-law had gone, as usual, and played bridge at the Brasserie du
Remblai
.

It was vague. Although Maigret was already
heavier, he wasn't yet in a trance, as they called it at Quai des Orfèvres.
He followed the pavement, turned left, and ended up going into a bar where he
hadn't yet set foot and which would probably be added to his collection of daily
watering holes.

‘A white wine … No …
Something dry …'

For pity's sake …
said
the note that someone had slipped into his pocket.

What would have happened if he had found the
note
earlier, if he'd gone straight to the hospital and demanded
to see patient 15? Hadn't Lili Godreau been in a coma?

He went and sat in his favourite corner at
the hotel. Before going upstairs, he had to have a drink with Monsieur Léonard.

‘Do you know Doctor
Bellamy?'

‘He's an extraordinary man
… He treated my wife for her headaches, four years ago now. And he wouldn't
accept any payment … I had a tough job getting him to accept a bottle of vintage
chartreuse that I was saving for a special occasion …'

He slept, woke, reacquainted himself with
the familiar sounds, the breakers on the sand, the baby bawling in the adjacent room,
then the cacophony of the four children arguing with their mother and the droning of the
elderly couple on his right.

Nothing had been set in motion yet, nothing,
but, like the previous evening, there was a little more heaviness about him, and a haze
in his mind.

White wine with the owner.