The Yellow Dog Read Online Free PDF Page B

feet—’
    Maigret was no angel of patience. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he snarled, ‘Leave me alone!’
    And he headed back to the centre of town.
    It was idiotic! He’d never known anything like it. It made him think of a storm in a film: you’re seeing a cheerful street scene, a clear sky. Then an image of a cloud slides over the scene, it blocks the sun. A violent wind sweeps
through; dim light, banging shutters, whirling dust, some fat drops splash, and suddenly the street is lashed by rain, under a dramatic sky.
    Concarneau was changing before his eyes. The piece in the
Brest Beacon
was only the beginning: for some time now, word of mouth had far outstripped the written version.
    And besides, it was Sunday. The townspeople had time on their hands. You could see them deciding, for their walk, to go and take a look at Jean Servières’ car, where two policemen had been posted. The idlers hung around for an hour or so, as
the better-informed among them explained the situation.
    When Maigret got back to the Admiral Hotel, the proprietor, in his chef’s toque, clutched nervously at his sleeve. ‘I’ve got to talk to you, inspector … This is becoming impossible.’
    â€˜Just give me some lunch.’
    â€˜But—’
    Maigret, in a temper, sat down in a corner and ordered. ‘Bring me a beer! … Have you seen my officer?’
    â€˜He went out. I think he was called over to the mayor’s house … Someone just telephoned again from Paris. A newspaper has reserved two rooms, for a reporter and a photographer.’
    â€˜Where’s the doctor?’
    â€˜He’s upstairs. He told us not to let anyone up.’
    â€˜And Monsieur Le Pommeret?’
    â€˜He’s just left.’
    The yellow dog was gone. Several young fellows, flowers in their buttonholes, hair slicked down with pomade, were seated around the tables, but they were not drinking the lemonades they had ordered. They had come to watch and they were visibly
proud of themselves for their boldness.
    â€˜Come here, Emma.’
    There was an instinctive rapport between the waitress and the inspector. She approached readily and let him draw her into the corner.
    â€˜You’re sure the doctor never went out last night?’
    â€˜I swear I didn’t sleep in his room.’
    â€˜So he might have gone out?’
    â€˜I don’t think so. He’s afraid … I told you he made me lock the door to the quay this morning.’
    â€˜How come that yellow dog knows you?’
    â€˜I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before … He comes, he goes … I wonder who feeds him.’
    â€˜Has he been gone long?’
    â€˜I wasn’t paying attention.’
    Leroy came back in a nervous state. ‘You know, sir, the mayor is furious … And he’s a very influential man! He told me he’s a cousin of the minister of justice. He claims all we’re doing is churning things up and
throwing the town into a panic … He wants us to arrest someone, anyone, to calm people down. I promised him I’d talk to you about it. He kept telling me our careers – yours and mine, that is – are on the line.’
    Maigret scraped serenely at the bowl of his pipe.
    â€˜What are you going to do?’ asked Leroy.
    â€˜Nothing at all.’
    â€˜But—’
    â€˜You’re young, Leroy! … Did you pick up any worthwhile evidence at the doctor’s house?’
    â€˜I’ve sent everything to the laboratory – the glasses, the cans, the knife. I even made a plaster cast of the footprints, the man’s and the dog’s. That was hard, because the plaster they’ve got here is very poor
quality … Do you have any ideas?’
    By way of answer, Maigret pulled a notebook from his pocket. The officer, more baffled than ever, read:
Ernest Michoux
(known