Inspector Cadaver Read Online Free PDF Page B

of
himself. She didn’t make a move or say a word to encourage him. She just stood
there, her hands clasped on her stomach, her face almost the colour of wax, and
waited.
    ‘I have been charged with
investigating the rumours concerning your son’s death …’
    ‘By whom?’
    ‘Detective Chief Inspector Maigret,
Police Judiciaire. I should add that at the moment my investigation is entirely
unofficial.’
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘That the judicial authorities have
not been formally apprised of the case.’
    ‘What case?’
    ‘I apologize for bringing up such
painful matters but it won’t have escaped you, madame, that certain rumours have
been circulating about the death of your son.’
    ‘You can’t stop people
talking.’
    Playing for time, Maigret had turned to a
photograph in an oval gilt frame that was hanging on the left of the walnut kitchen
dresser.
    The enlarged photograph showed a man in his
thirties with cropped hair, his top lip overshadowed by a bushy moustache.
    ‘This is your husband?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I believe you had
the misfortune to lose him in an accident when your son was still very young. From what
I have been told, you were forced to take the dairy to court to get a
pension.’
    ‘Somebody’s been telling you
stories. There was no trial. Oscar Drouhet, the manager of the dairy, did what he had to
do.’
    ‘And then later, when your son was old
enough to work, he took him on in his office. Your son was his book-keeper, I
believe?’
    ‘He did the work of an assistant
manager. He would have had the title of one too if he hadn’t been so
young.’
    ‘You don’t have a picture of
him?’
    Maigret regretted asking because, as he did
so, he saw a little photograph on a side table covered in red plush. He snatched it up
before Madame Retailleau could object.
    ‘How old was he when this photograph
was taken?’
    ‘Nineteen. It was last
year.’
    A handsome lad, healthy, vigorous, with a
slightly wide face, eager lips, eyes sparkling with merriment.
    Madame Retailleau stood and waited, sighing
from time to time.
    ‘He wasn’t engaged?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You don’t know of any liaisons
he may have had?’
    ‘My son was too young to have anything
to do with women. He was conscientious. All he thought about was his career.’
    That wasn’t the message conveyed by
the young man’s ardent gaze, thick, glossy hair and sturdy frame.
    ‘What was your
reaction when … I’m sorry … I’m sure you understand what
I’m thinking … Did you believe it was an accident?’
    ‘You can’t help but believe
that.’
    ‘I mean, didn’t you have any
suspicions?’
    ‘About what?’
    ‘He had never talked to you about
Mademoiselle Naud? He didn’t sometimes come home late at night?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Monsieur Naud hasn’t paid you a
visit since then?’
    ‘We have no reason to see one
another.’
    ‘Naturally. But he might have …
Nor Monsieur Groult-Cotelle, of course?’
    Was he imagining things? It seemed to
Maigret for a moment that the woman’s eyes flashed with a harder light.
    ‘No,’ she said flatly.
    ‘So you disapprove of the rumours
concerning the circumstances of this tragedy …’
    ‘Yes. I don’t listen to them. I
don’t want to know about them. If you have been sent by Monsieur Naud, you can
tell him what I have just told you.’
    For a few seconds, Maigret remained
motionless, his eyes half-shut, repeating the statement as if engraving it on his
memory:
    If you have been sent by Monsieur Naud, you can tell him what I have just told
you.
    Did she know Étienne Naud had met him
at the station yesterday? Did she know Naud was indirectly responsible for bringing him
here from Paris? Or did she merely suspect as much?
    ‘Forgive me for
taking the liberty of calling on you, madame, especially at such a time of
day.’
    ‘Time means nothing to me.’
    ‘Goodbye, madame.’
    She let him head for the door and shut it
after himself without a word or a gesture. The