Maigret's Dead Man Read Online Free PDF

attics of the Palais de Justice. He half opened a door with
frosted glass panels and, observing Moers hunched over his instruments, continued on his way as
far as Records.
    Even before he could open his
mouth to speak, the fingerprint expert had given a negative shake of his head.
    â€˜Nothing, sir …’
    In other words, Nine’s husband had never
been in trouble with the law.
    Maigret walked out of the card-index library and
went back to see Moers. He took off his overcoat and, after a moment’s hesitation, removed
his tie, which was too tight around his neck.
    The dead man was not here, yet his presence was
just as strong as it was in the corpse stored in the racks of the Forensic Institute –
drawer 17 – where the mortuary assistant had put him.
    No one spoke much … Everyone got on with
their own work without even noticing that a sliver of sunshine was slanting in through the attic
window. In one corner stood an articulated manikin which Maigret had often used before and now
used again. Moers, who had had time to give the clothes a good shaking in their various waxed
paper bags, was at work analysing the fragments which he had collected in this way.
    Maigret meanwhile busied himself with the
clothes. With the careful gestures of a window-dresser, starting with the shirt and underpants,
he began to dress the manikin, which was about the same size as the dead man.
    He had just put the jacket on it when Janvier
walked in, looking fresh as a daisy because he had slept in his own bed and had not got up until
day was breaking.
    â€˜So they got him, sir.’
    He looked round for Moers and
gave him a wink, which meant that Maigret was not in a chatty mood.
    â€˜There’s been a report of another
yellow car. Lucas, who looked into it, says it’s not ours. In any case the number plate
ends in nine, not eight.’
    Maigret took a step back, to get a view of his
handiwork.
    â€˜See anything odd?’ he asked.
    â€˜Wait a moment … No … I
can’t see … The man was a bit smaller than the manikin. The jacket looks too short
…’
    â€˜That all?’
    â€˜The slit made by the knife isn’t
very wide.’
    â€˜Nothing else?’
    â€˜He wasn’t wearing a
waistcoat.’
    â€˜What strikes me is that the jacket
isn’t made of the same cloth as the trousers and isn’t the same shade.’
    â€˜That happens, you know.’
    â€˜But hold on a minute. Take a close look at
the trousers. They’re virtually new. They’re part of a suit. This jacket is part of
another suit but is at least two years old.’
    â€˜It certainly seems like it.’
    â€˜Now the man was quite dapper if his socks,
shirt and tie are anything to go by … Phone the Caves du Beaujolais and the other bars.
Try to find out if yesterday he was wearing a jacket and a pair of trousers which didn’t
match.’
    Janvier sat himself down in a corner. His voice
formed a kind of background noise in the lab. He called the bars one by one and repeated time
after time:
    â€˜It’s the Police Judiciaire, the
inspector you talked to yesterday … Could you tell me if …’
    Unfortunately, the man had
not taken his raincoat off anywhere. He may have unbuttoned it, but no one had paid any
attention to the colour of his jacket.
    â€˜What do you do when you get
home?’
    Janvier, who had been married for only a year,
answered with a knowing smile:
    â€˜I give my wife a kiss …’
    â€˜After that?’
    â€˜I sit down and she brings me my
slippers.’
    â€˜After that?’
    Janvier thought a moment and then hit his
forehead with the heel of his hand.
    â€˜Got it! I change my jacket!’
    â€˜Do you keep a jacket to wear in the
house?’
    â€˜No. But I put an old one on that I feel
more comfortable in.’
    And with these words they caught a glimpse of the
private life of this unidentified man. They could