The Late Monsieur Gallet Read Online Free PDF Page B

the undertaker’s
men.
    A little later, the stretcher bumped into the corridor walls as it was carried in. Madame Gallet uttered a small sob, and her son patted her on the shoulder while still looking elsewhere.
    There was a great contrast between the ostentatious splendour of the hearse and the two figures who began to walk after it, preceded by a puzzled master of ceremonies.
    It was still as hot as ever. The man with the wheelbarrow made the sign of the cross, and went off along another path, while the funeral procession, taking small steps, went down the avenue, which was wide enough for regiments to march down
it.
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    A small group of locals gathered in the square as the religious ceremony took place, but Maigret went off into
the town hall, where he found no one. He had to go and fetch the schoolteacher, whose
classroom was next to the town hall, and the children were left to their own devices for a little while.
    â€˜All I can tell you,’ said the teacher, ‘is what’s recorded in our registers. Wait, here we are:
    â€˜Gallet, Émile Yves Pierre, born Nantes, 1879, married Aurore Préjean in Paris, October 1902 … A son, Henry, born in Paris 1906, registered at the town hall of the IXth arrondissement …’
    â€˜Don’t the local people like them?’
    â€˜It’s just that the Gallets, who had the villa built in 1910 when the forest was sold off in plots, never wanted to see anyone … they’re very proud. I’ve been known to spend a whole Sunday fishing in my skiff
less than ten metres away from Gallet’s. If I needed something he’d let me have it, but I wouldn’t get the slightest bit of conversation out of him afterwards …’
    â€˜How much do you think this lifestyle cost?’
    â€˜I can’t say exactly, because I don’t know what he spent when he was away, but they’ll have needed at least 2,000 francs a month just for the upkeep of their household. If you’ve seen the villa, you’ll know
that it has every convenience. They send to Corbeil or Melun for almost everything they need … and that’s another thing that …’
    But looking out of the window, Maigret saw the funeral procession going round the church and into the graveyard. He thanked the teacher and, once out in the road again, heard the first spadeful of earth falling on the coffin.
    He did not let the mourners see him but went a long way round back to the villa and was careful to arrive a
little while after the Gallets. The maid opened the door to him and looked at him
hesitantly.
    â€˜Madame can’t …’ she began.
    â€˜Tell Monsieur Henry that I need to talk to him.’
    The squinting maidservant left him outside. A few moments later, the figure of the young man appeared in the corridor. He came towards the doorway and asked, looking past Maigret, ‘Couldn’t you postpone this visit to another day? My
mother is absolutely devastated.’
    â€˜I have to talk to you today. Please forgive me if I insist.’
    Henry half turned, thus implying that the police officer had only to follow him. He hesitated at the doors on the ground floor and finally opened the door to the dining room, where the sitting-room furniture had been stacked so that you could
hardly get round it. Maigret saw the portrait photo of Henry as a boy ready for his First Communion, but looked in vain for the photo of Émile Gallet. Henry did not sit down or say anything, but he took off his glasses to clean the lenses with a gesture of annoyance, while his eyelashes
fluttered as he adjusted to the bright light.
    â€˜I’m sure you know that it is my job to find whoever killed your father.’
    â€˜Yes, which is why I’m surprised to see you here, at a time when it would be more proper to leave my mother and me alone!’
    And Henry put his glasses back on, pulling up