Maigret and the Spinster Read Online Free PDF Page A

was saying…or else she found her aunt’s body when she got up about half-past six this morning. I know she woke about then, because her alarm was set for half-past six. She said nothing to anyone. Instead, she came straight here.”
    “It does seem odd…”
    “Not if we assume that she knew the murderer. She wanted to speak to me personally. She didn’t trust the local superintendent of police at Bourg-la-Reine. The fact that she was killed to prevent her from talking proves that she knew.”
    “But supposing you had seen her as soon as you arrived?”
    Maigret flushed, which was unusual for him.
    “Yes, you’ve got a point there…There’s something I can’t quite make out…Maybe the murderer was tied up elsewhere before…Or else he didn’t yet know…”
    With an abrupt, dismissive gesture, he grumbled:
    “It doesn’t make sense!”
    “What doesn’t make sense?”
    “What I’ve just been saying…If last night’s murderer had shown his face in the aquarium…”
    “The aquarium?”
    “Sorry, Chief…that’s the inspectors’ name for the waiting room…Cécile would never have gone anywhere with him, so it must have been someone else. Either someone she didn’t know, or someone she knew and trusted.”
    And Maigret, looking stubborn and determined, stood contemplating the sad little bundle lying crumpled against the wall among the brooms and buckets.
    “It had to be someone she didn’t know!” he said, with sudden decisiveness.
    “Why?”
    “She might have gone off with someone she knew if she’d met him in the street…But not here! I confess, I was half expecting to hear that she’d been found in the Seine or on some patch of waste ground…But…”
    Bending to avoid hitting his head on the low crosspiece of the door frame, he stepped into the cupboard and struck one match and then another, and gave the body a slight push.
    “What are you looking for, Maigret?”
    “Her bag.”
    The bag was as much a part of her as the indescribable green hat. It was a capacious bag, like a small trunk, and, as she sat waiting in the aquarium, Cécile always kept it carefully cradled on her lap.
    “It’s disappeared…”
    “What do you conclude from that?”
    Whereupon Maigret, forgetting the disparity of rank, gave way to a burst of irritability:
    “Conclude! Conclude! Are you able to draw any conclusion?”
    The fair-haired inspector, who was well within earshot, averted his head. Noticing this, Maigret pulled himself up short.
    “I’m sorry, Chief. But you must admit that this place is about as secure as a barn…To think that someone should have been able to go into the waiting room and…”
    He was at the end of his tether. Savagely, he bit the stem of his pipe.
    “Not to mention that accursed door, which should have been boarded up years ago.”
    “If you had interviewed the young woman when…”
    Poor Maigret! He was a pathetic sight, tall and heavily built, looking as solid as a rock, with his head bowed, staring at that limp bundle of clothes at his feet, that lifeless lump, and once again mopping his face with his handkerchief.
    “What are we going to do?” asked the Chief Commissioner, wanting to change the subject.
    Acknowledge publicly that a murder had been committed within the very precincts of police headquarters, or, to be more precise, in this breach in the party wall between police headquarters and the Palais de Justice?
    “There’s just one favor I’d like to ask you. Would you mind if I put Lucas in charge of that business of the Poles?”
    Maybe it was just that Maigret was hungry. He had had nothing to eat since breakfast. On the other hand, he had had three little sips of brandy, which had sharpened his appetite.
    “If that’s what you want…”
    “Shut this door, dear fellow, and stay on guard. I’ll be back shortly.”
    Maigret returned to his office and, still wearing his hat and coat, telephoned Madame Maigret.
    “No…I’ve no idea when I’ll be