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Authors: Georges Simenon; Translated by Shaun Whiteside

The Saint-Fiacre Affair (19 page)

BOOK: The Saint-Fiacre Affair
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‘No! Women of that kind never kill themselves. More coffee? A piece of cake? Anna made it.'

A new feature to be added to the image of Anna. She was sitting calmly on her chair. She watched the inspector as if their roles had been swapped, as if she belonged to the Quai des Orfèvres, and he to the Flemish house.

‘Do you remember what you did that evening?'

It was Anna who replied, with a sad smile.

‘We have been asked about this so many times that we've had to remember the tiniest details. After coming home, I went up to my room to get some wool to knit with. When I came down, my sister was at the piano, in this room, and Marguerite had just arrived.'

‘Marguerite?'

‘Our cousin. The daughter of Dr Van de Weert. They live in Givet. I should tell you straight away, since you'll find out anyway, that she's Joseph's fiancée.'

Madame Peeters got up with a sigh, because the bell had rung in the shop.

She could be heard speaking Flemish, in an almost playful voice, and weighing out beans or peas.

‘It was a source of great pain to my mother. It had been decided long since that Joseph and Marguerite would get married. They had got engaged at sixteen. But Joseph had to finish his studies. That was when that child came along.'

‘And in spite of that they expected to get married?'

‘No! Except that Marguerite didn't want to marry anyone else. They still loved each other.'

‘Did Germaine Piedboeuf know that?'

‘Yes! But she was counting on getting married! So much so that my brother, to have a bit of peace, had promised he would. The wedding was to be held after his exams.'

And the bell in the shop rang. Madame Peeters tottered through the kitchen.

‘I was asking you what happened on the evening of the third.'

‘Yes. I was saying that when I came downstairs my sister and Marguerite were in this room. We played the piano until half past ten. My father had gone to bed at nine, as usual. My sister and I walked Marguerite to the bridge.'

‘And you didn't meet anyone?'

‘No one. It was cold. We came back. The next day we didn't suspect a thing. That afternoon people were saying that Germaine Piedboeuf had disappeared. It was only two days later that people thought of accusing us, because someone had seen her coming in here. The police chief called us in, then your colleague from Nancy. Apparently Monsieur Piedboeuf made a complaint. They searched the house, the cellar, the sheds, everything. They even dug up the garden.'

‘Wasn't your brother in Givet on the third?'

‘No! He only comes on Saturdays, on his motorbike. Rarely on any other weekday. The whole town is against us, because we are Flemish and have some money.'

A note of pride in her voice. Or rather a superior degree of confidence.

‘You can't imagine all the things they made up.'

Again the bell in the shop rang, then the sound of a young voice:

‘It's me! Don't disturb yourselves on my account …'

Hurried footsteps. A very feminine figure swept into the dining room, stopping abruptly in front of Maigret.

‘Oh! Excuse me. I didn't know …'

‘Inspector Maigret, who's come to help us. My cousin Marguerite.'

A little gloved hand in Maigret's paw. And a nervous smile.

‘Anna told me you'd accepted …'

She was very elegant, more elegant than pretty. Her face was framed by blonde, slightly wavy hair.

‘I gather you were playing the piano.'

‘Yes. Music is my only love. Especially when I'm sad …'

And she smiled like one of the pretty girls on an advertising calendar. Lips in a pout, a veiled expression, her face leaning slightly forwards …

‘Maria isn't back?'

‘No! Her train must be late.'

The fragile chair creaked when Maigret tried to cross his legs.

‘What time did you get here on the third?'

‘Half past eight. Perhaps a little earlier. We eat early. My father had friends for bridge.'

‘Was the weather the same as today?'

‘It was raining. It rained for a whole week.'

‘Was the Meuse already in spate?'

‘It was starting to be. But the barriers weren't knocked over until the fifth or the sixth. There were still trains of barges on the water.'

‘A piece of cake, inspector? No? A cigar, then?'

Anna held out a box of Belgian cigars and murmured as if in apology:

‘It isn't contraband. Part of the house is in Belgium and part in France.'

‘So your brother, at least, is completely ruled out because he was in Nancy.'

Anna said stubbornly:

‘Not even that! Because of a drunk who claims to have seen him riding his bike along the quay. He said that a fortnight later. As if he could remember! It was Gérard, Germaine Piedboeuf's brother, who found him. There's not much to do around here. So he spends his time looking for witnesses. Just think, they want to bring a civil case and claim 300,000 francs.'

‘Where's the child?'

Madame Peeters could be heard hurrying into the shop, where the bell had rung. Anna put the cake on the side table and set the coffee pot down on the stove.

‘Their house!'

And the voice of a sailor ordering some genever burst from behind the partition wall.

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