Speak Softly My Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t occur to him,
not really, that he might have called them.
    Better
to leave well enough alone, as Levain would say.
    Sunday evening, unfashionably early, he went to a favoured
nearby ristorante for spaghetti and meat-balls. There was a salad, rolls and
butter, and refills on the coffee. The wine was fine, and that was
about all he could say for it. The place was an old standby, hot
food at a good price. No waiting, no line-ups and no
reservations.
    Belly full and back at home in his old familiar armchair,
Sylvestre, who had been following him around the house all weekend,
hopped up into his lap. Gilles set the book aside and scratched the
animal behind the ears. A black short-haired cat with a white
muzzle, he’d always thought the name very fitting. Madame Lefebvre
had initially been opposed. She’d wanted to call it Monsieur Thom. It was
one of the few times he’d pulled rank on her, he being the owner
and she merely the housekeeper. Even now, he still grinned when he
thought of it.
    The
cat’s claws began to knead at his red sweater and the thing curled
up on its side, seemingly fascinated as it bit and tugged at a bit
of loose thread. It being an old sweater, Gilles let it go
on.
    The
phone rang.
    “ All right, Sylvestre. Down you go.”
    “ Meow?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ Mawrr…mawrr.”
    “ Uh, huh.”
    Gilles
dragged himself out of the chair on the third ring and shuffled
over. It was very dark on the other side of that glass. Time just
flew when you were on your own and there was nothing much going
on.
    The
clock on the mantel said seven forty-three p.m.
    “ Hello?”
    “ Hello. Is this Gilles Maintenon?”
    It
reminded him of his mother, and he’d always been tempted to say no,
this is not me.
    “ Ah, yes, who’s calling?”
    “ Sergeant Girard.”
    “ Ah.” Maintenon took the thin black cigarillo out of the
corner of his mouth.
    He’d had
the phone installed with an unusually long base cord. Picking up
the heavy lower part of the unit, he went and stood and looked out
the window. What he expected to see was a good question. His
reflection impressed him as that of a terribly desperate and lonely
old man. The fact that it was just the highlights, all the dark
tones going transparent, completely disappearing, may have had
something to do with it.
    “ Okay, sir. As you may recall. We sent out the Belinotypes.”
These were wire-photos, a real sign of the times. “All major and
regional detachments, n’est pas? And the funny thing is we got a
hit, almost right away.”
    “ Where?”
    “ Lyon.”
    “ Go on.”
    “ You’re going to like this.”
    “ What is it, a body?” Gilles turned again to take another
quick look out the window, some odd prickling sensation at the base
of the neck.
    It was
dark, and windy. With the windows closed tight, he was alone with
nothing but the sounds of the old place settling. It was cracking
away from the adjoining properties.
    “ No, Inspector. They have a missing persons report. Going by
the picture they sent…well, we don’t know what to
think.”
    “ Interesting.”
    “ It is.”
    “ You know what’s even more interesting, Inspector?”
    Gilles
waited.
    “… the gentleman’s name is Didier Godeffroy.”
    “ No!”
    “ Yes.”
    Gilles
stood there.
    “ Who made the report?”
    “ A woman claiming to be his wife.”
    “ What’s the wife’s name?”
    “ Her name is Lucinde. They have two children, age five and
seven. He’s a couple of years younger than the wife, and she says
they’ve been married about eight years. Their anniversary is coming
up. The pictures bear an uncanny resemblance. She says he’s a wine
representative for Gaston e Cie. That’s all I know.
Sir.”
    “ Interesting.”
    “ So what do you think, Inspector?”
    “ Damn it all. Does Inspector David know about this
yet?”
    “ He’s not around, Inspector Maintenon.” There was a
hesitation. “His kid’s in a bad way and he’s a bit distracted
lately. We try not to