Cécile is Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

thin chest – you couldn’t help
     thinking that the old concierge’s chest wouldn’t be a pretty sight – was
     telling her rosary of grievances with much the same avid satisfaction as she must have
     felt when eating her pig’s trotter a little earlier. From time to time she glanced
     at the glazed door.
    â€˜As you see, the house is quiet. At
     this time of day everyone has come home, or almost everyone.’
    â€˜How long has Madame Boynet been the
     owner of this apartment building?’
    â€˜For ever, I should think. Her husband
     was a building contractor. He had several apartment blocks built in Bourg-la-Reine. He
     died quite young, he was less than fifty, the best thing that could happen to him, poor
     man. When he died she came to live here. Fifteen years ago, that was. With all due
     respect, she was the same then as now, except that she could walk all right, and she was
     always jumping down my throat – the same with the tenants, too. Woe betide you if she
     saw a dog or a cat on the stairs. And if anyone had the nerve to ask for repairs to be
     done …! Guess what, our building was the last in the whole district to get
     electricity!’
    Up on the first floor, Maigret could hear
     footsteps and a baby crying.
    â€˜That’s in Madame
     Bourniquel’s apartment,’ Madame With-All-Due-Respect told him. ‘Her
     husband’s a commercial traveller. He has a little car; he must be down in the
     south-west at the moment. He stays away for three
months at a time. They already have four children, and
     there’s a fifth on the way, although there’s been trouble over the pram.
     Madame Boynet, God rest her soul, wouldn’t have it left out in the corridor, so it
     had to be taken upstairs and down again twice a day … look, here comes their maid
     putting out the rubbish.’
    The timer switch had turned the electric
     light on, and a small maid in a white apron came past, her shape distorted by the
     enormous galvanized metal rubbish bucket she was holding at arm’s length.
    â€˜What was I saying? Oh yes … Will you
     take a glass of wine, inspector? Yes, yes, please do! I have a bottle open, Monsieur
     Bourniquel gave it to me, he’s in the wine trade, you see. Well, one fine day, it
     must be about a dozen years ago, Madame Boynet’s sister died in Fontenay, she was
     a widow too, and Madame Boynet took in her three children, two girls and a boy. Everyone
     around here was amazed by her generosity … she occupied the whole of the fifth floor at
     the time. Monsieur Gérard, the boy, he was the first to leave. He enlisted, probably so
     that he could move out of his aunt’s apartment. Then he married. He lives in Paris
     near the Bastille. He doesn’t come to visit often. I’ve an idea things
     aren’t going well for him.’
    â€˜Have you seen him
     recently?’
    â€˜Usually when he visits he waits
     outside until his sister comes downstairs. He’s not proud. His wife’s in the
     family way, too. He did come last week, and he went upstairs … I think he must have
     needed money. He wasn’t looking happy when he came down again. With all due
     respect,
you had to be pretty spry to get
     anything out of his aunt … To your very good health!’
    She turned abruptly and stared at the door.
     The timer switch had not come on, but a slight noise could be heard, and Madame
     With-All-Due-Respect rose and brusquely opened the door. Maigret saw the figure of a
     young girl retreating.
    â€˜Wandering around on the stairs again,
     Mademoiselle Nouchi? Asking for trouble, if you ask me!’
    She sat down again, saying peevishly,
     ‘And me with a big building like this to look after! Those people … they’re
     the tenants on the fifth floor, the landlady’s neighbours. Well, as I was saying,
     first Monsieur Gérard left to go into the army, then his younger