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Authors: Georges Simenon

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BOOK: Inspector Cadaver
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Naud's voice could be heard on the
telephone:

‘Right away, yes … My daughter
… I'll explain … No … Come as you are, in your dressing gown, it
doesn't matter …'

As he passed Naud, Maigret took a letter the
man was holding out of his hand. He had seen it on the girl's bedside table but
hadn't had time to grab it.

‘What are you doing?' Naud
exclaimed, hanging up the telephone. ‘That's to me and her mother
…'

‘I'll give it back to you in a
moment … Go up to her.'

‘But …'

‘I assure you your place is
there.'

As for him, he went into the drawing room
and carefully closed the door. He was holding the letter in his hand, in two minds as to
whether to open it.

‘Well,
Groult?'

‘You don't have the right to
arrest me.'

‘I know …'

‘I haven't done anything illegal
…'

That outrageous statement almost earned him
another slap, but Maigret would have had to cross the drawing room to give it to him and
he didn't have the strength.

He toyed with the letter, hesitating to tear
open the purple envelope. Eventually he did.

‘Is that letter addressed to
you?' Groult protested.

‘Not to me, or to you …
Geneviève wrote it when she was about to take her life … Do you want me to
give it back to her parents?'

Dear Mama, dear Papa,

I love you, please believe that,
I beg you. But I have to go away for ever. There's nothing else I can do.
Don't try to find out why and, most of all, never let Alban into this house
again. He …

‘Tell me, Cavre. While we were
upstairs, did he tell you everything?'

Maigret was sure that, in his panic, Alban
would have confessed out of a need to cling to someone, to have someone on his side. Who
better than a man whose job it was, and whom he would only have to pay?

As Cavre bowed his head, Maigret added:

‘What do you reckon, eh?'

Groult, his cowardice
knowing no bounds, protested, ‘She was the one who started it …'

‘I suppose she was the one who gave
you dirty little books to read?'

‘I never gave her any
…'

‘You didn't show her any of the
etchings I spotted in your library either?'

‘She found them when I had my back
turned …'

‘And no doubt you felt the need to
explain them?'

‘I'm not the first man of my age
to have had a young girl as a mistress … I didn't force her … She was
very much in love …'

Maigret laughed insultingly, looking the
fellow up and down.

‘It was her idea to call Retailleau
too, was it?'

‘Admit it: if she took another lover,
that's none of my business. I think you've got a nerve blaming me for that!
Just now, in front of my friend Naud …'

‘What did you say?'

‘In front of Naud, if you prefer, I
didn't dare reply. You had the upper hand …'

A car stopped by the porch. Maigret went to
open the door and said, as if he was the master of the house, ‘Quick, go up to
Geneviève's room …'

Then he went back into the drawing room,
still holding her letter in his hand.

‘It was you, Groult, who were seized
with panic when she told you she was pregnant. You are a coward. You have always been a
coward. Life scares you so much you don't
dare live it yourself,
you have to worm your way into other people's lives …

‘Groult was going to palm off that
child on some fool who'd take responsibility for being the father …

‘It's so convenient! … A
young man is seduced and believes himself to be genuinely loved … Then one fine
day he is told that his embraces have had repercussions … All he has to do is go
and see Papa, get down on bended knee, beg forgiveness and declare himself willing to
make up for it … Meanwhile you'd have carried on as the lover,
eh?'

‘Bastard!'

It was a little thing Pockmarks had said
that had put him on the trail:

Albert was furious … He knocked back a few brandies one after the other before
he went to see her …

Then there was the young man's
attitude towards Geneviève's father. He had been insolent. He had used the
filthiest language to talk about Geneviève.

‘How did he find out?'

‘I don't know …'

‘Would you rather I go and ask the
girl?'

Groult shrugged. What difference did it make
anyway? They couldn't do anything to him.

‘Retailleau went to the post office
every morning to pick up his employer's post while it was being sorted. He used to
go behind the counter. Sometimes he'd help with the sorting. He recognized
Geneviève's handwriting on a letter she had written to me because she
hadn't been able to see me in private for a few days.'

‘I understand
…'

‘Apart from that, everything was
working out fine. And if you hadn't interfered …'

Of course Albert was furious when he set off
that night, with the famous letter in his pocket, to break it off with the girl who had
deceived him. And how could he not have believed they had all conspired to delude him,
including her parents?

They had put on an act for him. And they
still were. Now the father was just pretending to catch him to force him to marry her
…

‘How did you know that he had
intercepted the letter?'

‘I went to the post office soon
afterwards. The postmistress said, “Oh, I think there's a letter for
you.”

‘She looked but couldn't find
it. I telephoned Geneviève. I asked the postmistress who was there when the post
was being sorted and then I realized. I …'

‘You sensed things were going wrong
and felt the need to go and see your friend, the prefect's private secretary, in
La Roche …'

‘That's my business
…'

‘What do you reckon,
Justin?'

But the latter refrained from answering.
They heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. The door opened. Étienne Naud appeared,
morose and exhausted, his large eyes full of questions he was trying vainly to answer.
Maigret had the letter in his hand, and just at that moment he dropped it so clumsily
that it landed on the logs and immediately caught fire.

‘What are you doing?'

‘I'm sorry … Not that it
matters, of course, because
your daughter is safe and she'll be
able to tell you what was in the letter herself …'

Was Naud fooled? Or was he like one of those
patients who senses he's being told a lie, who only half-believes the
doctor's optimistic words, or doesn't even believe them at all, but begs to
hear them all the same, such is his need for reassurance?

‘She's better, isn't
she?'

‘She's asleep. It seems as if
the danger is past thanks to your quick response. Thank you from the bottom of my heart,
inspector …'

The poor fellow looked lost in the drawing
room, as if it were a piece of clothing that had grown too big for him. He eyed the
bottle of Armagnac and almost poured himself a glass, but a sense of propriety
restrained him. Maigret had to pour him one and one for himself.

‘To your daughter's health and
to an end to all these misunderstandings …'

Naud looked up at him wide-eyed with
surprise. ‘Misunderstandings' was the last word he expected to hear.

‘We have been chatting while you were
upstairs. I think your friend Groult has something very important to tell you. Believe
it or not, he has entered into divorce proceedings without telling anyone.'

Naud looked bewildered.

‘Yes. He has other plans. You may not
be particularly thrilled by it all. Not to break is better than to mend, I know, but
it's a start … Come on then! I'm asleep on my feet …
Didn't someone say earlier that there's a train in the morning?'

‘At eleven minutes
past six …' Cavre put in. ‘Incidentally I think I'll take that
one …'

‘Well then, we'll travel
together … In the meantime I'm going to lie down for a couple of hours
…'

He couldn't help stopping in front of
Alban and saying flatly, ‘A dirty trick!'

It was still foggy. Maigret had forbidden
anyone to accompany him to the station, and Étienne Naud had respected his
wishes.

‘I don't know how to thank you,
inspector. I haven't behaved well towards you …'

‘You have made me feel very welcome,
and I have enjoyed some excellent meals at your table.'

‘You'll tell my brother-in-law
…'

‘Of course! … Ah, a piece of
advice, if I may … About your daughter … Don't put her through the
mill …'

A weak, fatherly smile showed Maigret that
Naud had understood, perhaps more than he might have suspected.

‘You are a very decent sort,
inspector. Very, very decent! … My gratitude …'

‘Your gratitude will last to your
dying breath, as one of my friends used to say … Goodbye. Send me a little
postcard now and then …'

He left behind him the light on the
façade of the house, which otherwise seemed asleep. Only two or three plumes of
smoke rose from the village's chimneys and merged with the fog. Looking like a
factory from a distance, the dairy was working at full capacity, while old
Désiré was steering his boat full of milk churns along the canal.

No doubt Madame Retailleau
was in bed, and the little postmistress, and Josaphat, sleeping off his drink, and
…

Up until the last minute, Maigret was afraid
of running into Louis Pockmarks. He had put so much faith in him. Soon no doubt, when he
found out he'd left, he would say bitterly:

‘
He was one of them
too!
'

Or:

‘
They
got him!
'

If
they
had got him, it
wasn't with money, at least, or fine words.

As he waited for the train at the end of the
platform, keeping an eye on his suitcase, Maigret talked to himself:

‘You see, son, I'm like you,
I'm also one of those people who wishes everything was beautiful and pristine on
earth … I feel hurt and outraged too when …'

Ah, look! Cavre had appeared and was
standing fifty metres from the inspector.

‘Take that character there. He's
a bad lot. A devious trick hasn't been invented that he wouldn't stoop to. I
am speaking from experience. But I still feel a little sorry for him. I know him. I know
what he's worth and what he goes through … What good would it have done
getting Étienne Naud convicted? Would he have been convicted, for a start?
There's no evidence against him. The case would have stirred up so much dirt.
Geneviève would have been put on the stand. As for Alban, he wouldn't even
have come to the police's attention. The truth is, he would have been delighted to
be relieved of his responsibilities …'

There was no sign of Pockmarks. It was for
the best. Despite
everything, Maigret didn't feel proud of
himself. Leaving in the early morning like this felt a bit like running away.

‘You'll understand later …
They
are strong, as you said …
They
stick up for each other
…'

Justin Cavre had seen Maigret and come over,
but didn't dare speak to him.

‘You hear that, Cavre? I'm
talking to myself like an old man.'

‘Do you have any news?'

‘News of what? The girl's fine.
The father and mother … I don't like you, Cavre. I pity you, but I
don't like you. It's one of those things. There are some animals you feel
drawn to and others you don't … But, between you and me, I'll tell you
something … There is one expression I consider the most repellent in the whole
language, from the highest to the most humble – every time I hear it it makes me
start and sets my teeth on edge. Do you know what it is?'

‘No.'

‘
Everything will work out
fine!
'

The train was pulling in. Amid the growing
din, Maigret shouted:

‘Well, you'll see, everything
will work out fine …'

Two years later, as a matter of fact, he
happened to hear that Alban Groult-Cotelle had got married to Mademoiselle
Geneviève Naud in Argentina, where her father had set up a large cattle ranch.

‘Too bad for our friend Albert, eh,
Louis? There's always got to be some poor fellow who carries the can for everyone
else!'

BOOK: Inspector Cadaver
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