Maigret by Georges Simenon Page A

breathe in the
     sharp morning air. An empty van pulled out of police HQ, where it had just deposited
     its cargo of prisoners.
    ‘Will you be
     able to walk up the stairs?’
    ‘Maybe. In any case, I don’t
     want a stretcher!’
    Their destination was in sight.
     Maigret’s chest felt tight with impatience. The taxi pulled up outside number
     36. Maigret paid the fare and called over the uniformed orderly to help him get
     Audiat out of the car.
    The orderly was talking to a man with
     his back to the street who wheeled round on hearing Maigret’s voice. It was
     Cageot, wearing a dark overcoat, his cheeks grey with a two-day stubble. Audiat
     didn’t spot him until he was out of the taxi, as Cageot, without even looking
     at him, resumed his conversation with the officer.
    No words were exchanged. Maigret
     supported Audiat, who pretended to be much more seriously injured than he was.
    Once they had crossed the courtyard, he
     sank down on to the first stair, like a man whose strength has failed him. Then,
     looking up, he sniggered:
    ‘Ha, ha! I had you, didn’t
     I! I’ve got nothing to say. I don’t know anything. But I didn’t
     want to stay in your room. Do I know you? How can I be sure it wasn’t you who
     pushed me in front of the car?’
    Maigret clenched his fist but kept it
     thrust in his overcoat pocket, hard as a rock.

7.
    Eugène arrived first, just before eleven
     o’clock. Although it was not yet spring, his clothes reflected the sunny
     weather. He wore a light-grey linen suit, so soft that with every movement his
     muscles rippled beneath the fabric. His hat was the same shade of grey, and his
     shoes of fine buckskin. And when he pushed open the glass door of the Police
     Judiciaire, a gentle fragrance wafted into the corridor.
    This was not the first time he had set
     foot inside Quai des Orfèvres. He glanced to the right and to the left, like a
     regular visitor, still smoking his gold-tipped cigarette. The morning briefing was
     over. People were waiting gloomily outside the inspectors’ offices.
    Eugène went up to the clerk, greeting
     him by raising a finger to his hat.
    ‘Say, my good man, I believe
     Inspector Amadieu is expecting me.’
    ‘Take a seat.’
    He sat down casually, crossed his legs,
     lit another cigarette and opened a newspaper at the racing section. His blue
     limousine seemed to be stretching in front of the gate. Maigret spotted it from a
     window and went down into the street to inspect the left wing, but there were no
     scratches on it.
    A few hours earlier, he
     had entered Amadieu’s office without removing his hat, his expression
     wary.
    ‘I’ve brought in a man who
     knows the truth.’
    ‘That’s a matter for the
     examining magistrate!’ Amadieu had replied, continuing to leaf through a pile
     of reports.
    Then Maigret had knocked on the
     chief’s door and had gathered at once that his visit was not welcome.
    ‘Good morning, sir.’
    ‘Good morning, Maigret.’
    They were both equally ill at ease and
     needed few words to communicate.
    ‘Chief, I’ve worked all
     night and I’ve come to ask you to arrange for three or four individuals to be
     brought in for questioning.’
    ‘That’s up to the examining
     magistrate,’ objected the head of the Police Judiciaire.
    ‘The examining magistrate
     won’t get anything out of them. You know what I mean.’
    Maigret knew he was a thorn in
     everyone’s side and that they would have liked to tell him to go to hell, but
     still he persisted. He stood there for ages, his massive bulk hovering over the
     chief, blocking his line of vision. Eventually the chief gave in and phone calls
     were made from one office to another.
    ‘Come in here for a moment,
     Amadieu!’
    ‘Coming, chief.’
    Words were exchanged.
    ‘Our friend Maigret tells me that
     …’
    At nine, Amadieu steeled himself to go
     over toGastambide’s office via the back corridors of the
     Palais de Justice. When he returned