Maigret Read Online Free PDF

around so as not to mark the floor.
    ‘Are you from the North?’ he
     asked, without looking at her.
    ‘How can you tell?’
    Finally he went over and stood in front
     of her. Her hair was vaguely blonde, with an auburn tinge, her features irregular –
     an elongated mouth, a pointed nose covered in freckles.
    ‘I’m from
     Roubaix.’
    You could tell from the way the
     apartment was arranged and polished and from the spick-and-span kitchen in
     particular. Maigret was sure that in the morning, Fernande sat there by the stove
     and drank a big bowl of coffee while she read the paper.
    Now she gazed at her companion with a
     hint of anxiety.
    ‘Aren’t you getting
     undressed?’ she repeated, rising and going over to the mirror.
    Then, immediately suspicious:
    ‘Why did you come?’
    She sensed something was not quite
     right. Her mind was busy working it out.
    ‘You’re right, I
     didn’t come for
that
,’ admitted Maigret with a smile.
    His grin broadened as she grabbed a
     bathrobe, suddenly overcome with modesty.
    ‘So what
do
you
     want?’
    She could not guess. Even though she was
     adept at categorizing men. She took in her visitor’s shoes, tie and eyes.
    ‘But you’re not from the
     police, are you?’
    ‘Sit down.
     We’re going to have a nice friendly chat. You’re not entirely mistaken,
     because I was a detective chief inspector with the Police Judiciaire for many
     years.’
    She frowned.
    ‘Don’t be afraid. I’m
     not there any more! I’ve retired to the countryside and the reason I’m
     in Paris now is because Cageot’s up to his old tricks.’
    ‘So that’s why!’ she
     said under her breath as she recalled the two men sitting at the table and behaving
     oddly.
    ‘I need proof, and there are
     people whom I can’t question.’
    She no longer treated him like a punter
     – now she addressed him formally.
    ‘You require my help? Is that
     it?’
    ‘You’ve guessed it. You know
     as well as I do, don’t you, that the Floria is full of crooks and
     scum?’
    She sighed to signal her assent.
    ‘The real boss is Cageot, who also
     owns the Pélican and the Boule Verte.’
    ‘People say he’s opened a
     place in Nice too.’
    Now they were sitting at the table
     facing each other, and Fernande asked:
    ‘Would you like a hot
     drink?’
    ‘Not now. You’ve heard about
     the business in Place Blanche, a couple of weeks ago. A car drove past, with three
     or four men inside, at around three in the morning. Between Place Blanche and Place
     Clichy, the door opened and one of the men was thrown out on to the road. Dead.
     He’d just been stabbed.’
    ‘Barnabé!’ said
     Fernande.
    ‘Did you know
     him?’
    ‘He used to come to the
     Floria.’
    ‘Well, that was Cageot’s
     doing. I don’t know if he was in the car himself, but Pepito was with them.
     And last night, he copped it.’
    She said nothing. She was thinking and
     her brow was furrowed, making her resemble an ordinary housewife.
    ‘What’s it to you?’
     she protested at length.
    ‘If I don’t catch Cageot, my
     nephew will be convicted in his place.’
    ‘The tall redhead who looks like a
     tax clerk?’
    Now it was Maigret’s turn to be
     surprised.
    ‘How do you know him?’
    ‘He’s been hanging around
     the bar at the Floria for the last couple of days or so. I clocked him because he
     didn’t dance and he spoke to no one. Last night, he bought me a drink. I tried
     to worm some information out of him and he more or less admitted it, stammering that
     he couldn’t tell me anything, but that he was on an important
     mission.’
    ‘The fool!’
    Maigret rose and got straight to the
     point.
    ‘So, are we agreed? There’ll
     be two thousand francs for you if you help me nail Cageot.’
    She couldn’t help smiling. She
     found this entertaining.
    ‘What do I have to do?’
    ‘First of all, I need to know
     whether or not Cageot showed his face in the Tabac Fontaine last night.’
    ‘Shall I