A Crime in Holland Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought to switch on the electric light, while the maid closed the curtains.
    â€˜Please forgive me,’ said Maigret. ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you at supper time.’
Madame Popinga vaguely gestured towards an armchair and looked around her distractedly, while her sister retreated as far as possible into the room.
    A similar atmosphere to the farm. Some modern furniture, but very conservatively modern. Muted colours combining in an elegant but gloomy harmony.
    â€˜You’ve come to …’
    Madame Popinga’s lower lip trembled, and she had to put her handkerchief to her mouth to stifle a sob that had suddenly broken out. Any didn’t move.
    â€˜Forgive me. I’ll come back …’
    Madame Popinga shook her head. She was struggling to regain her composure. She must have been a good few years older than her sister. A tall woman, much more feminine. Regular features, a hint of broken veins in the cheeks, the odd grey hair.
    And a modest dignity in every gesture. Maigret recalled that she was the daughter of a headmaster, spoke several languages and was well educated. But that didn’t affect her timidity, the timidity of a respectable woman in a small town, liable to take fright at the slightest thing.
    He also remembered that she belonged to the most austere of Protestant sects, and that she presided over all the Delfzijl charities and hosted the women’s literary circles.
    She regained her self-control. She looked at her sister as if asking for help.
    â€˜I’m sorry! But it’s just so unbelievable, isn’t it? Conrad! A man everyone loved.’
    Her gaze fell on the wireless loudspeaker, standing in a corner, and she almost burst into tears.
    â€˜That was his only distraction,’ she stammered. ‘And his little boat on the Amsterdiep, on summer evenings. He worked so hard. Who could have done this?’
    And as Maigret said nothing, she added, turning a little pink, in the tone she might have used if someone had argued with her:
    â€˜I’m not accusing anyone. I don’t know. I just can’t believe it, do you understand? The police thought of Professor Duclos, because he came out holding the revolver. But I don’t know what happened. It’s too horrible! Someone killed Conrad. But why? Why him? It wasn’t even a burglary. So …’
    â€˜And you told the police what you saw from the window?’
    She blushed deeper. Standing upright, one hand leaning on the dinner-table, she said:
    â€˜I didn’t know if I should … I don’t think Beetje did anything. It was just that by chance I saw. They told me the smallest little detail might help their enquiries. I asked the minister for advice. He told me to speak up. Beetje’s a perfectly nice girl. Really, I don’t see who … Somebody who should be in a lunatic asylum!’
    She had no need to search for the right words. Her French was perfect, pronounced with a very slight accent.
    â€˜Any told me you’ve come from Paris. Because of Conrad! Are we to believe that?’
    She had calmed down. Her sister, still standing in a corner of the room hadn’t stirred, and Maigret could only partly see her, by way of a mirror.
    â€˜You’ll need to look over the house, I assume?’
    She was resigned to it. But she sighed:
    â€˜Could you go with … Any?’
    A black dress moved in front of the inspector. He followed it up a staircase fitted with brand-new carpeting. The Popinga home, no more than ten years old, was built like a doll’s house, with lightweight materials, hollow bricks and pine boards. But the paint which had been
applied to all the woodwork gave it a fresh and bright look.
    The bathroom door was the first to be opened. There was a wooden lid over the bath, transforming it into an ironing board. Maigret leaned out of the window, and saw the bicycle shed, the well-kept kitchen garden, and across the