Maigret's Holiday by Georges Simenon Page B

to console him, ‘to know what goes on in those big houses …
People like us, we say what we think and even more … but others—’
    â€˜Look,’ broke in Francis.
‘Just take this evening, for instance … Usually, I wait for Monsieur to ring
for his whisky … Every night, at around ten, when he is in his library, he has a
nightcap … Even though I have a room in the house, he knows that I don’t
sleep there … I put the tray down on the desk, I put the ice in the glass, and
invariably he says to me: “Good night, Francis … you may go
…”’
    â€˜Tonight
…’
    He sensed that Maigret was tense and it made
him awkward, as if he were afraid of letting him down once again.
    â€˜It’s only a detail … It
came back to me because La Popine just said that you never know what’s going on in
big houses … Usually, I prepare the tray in advance and I sometimes sit there for
a quarter of an hour watching the clock … I am alone at that moment … Jeanne
is in her room, smoking cigarettes and reading novels in bed … The cook is married
and sleeps in town. At ten fifteen when I realized that Monsieur hadn’t rung for
me, I quietly went upstairs with the tray … There was some light under the door
… I waited for a while, then I looked through the keyhole … He wasn’t
in his chair … I knocked but I saw no one. I went into every room, except
Madame’s bedroom, of course, but he was nowhere to be found … Not
downstairs, nor in his consulting room in the annexe … I went up to Jeanne’s
room and she told me that he wasn’t in Madame’s room either, and that her
door was locked.’
    â€˜Just a moment … Is the door
usually locked?’
    â€˜Not when Monsieur is out … Mind
you, I didn’t think anything of it and, at half past ten I put the tray out for
him and left … It’s the first time he’s ever gone out without telling
me. What’s more, he’d left his light on.’
    â€˜Are you sure he had gone
out?’
    â€˜His hat wasn’t on the coat
stand.’
    â€˜Did he take the car?’
    â€˜No, I looked in the garage
…’
    Just then, La Popine and Francis both stared
at Maigret,at first surprised, then anxious as he stood up, his face
inscrutable.
    â€˜Do you have a telephone?’ he
asked.
    He had to go into the shop and lean on the
icy marble counter, next to the enamel scales.
    â€˜Hello! … Is that the Brasserie
du Remblai? … Tell me … Have you seen Doctor Bellamy this
evening?’
    They didn’t ask who was calling.
    â€˜No, not this afternoon … After
dinner, that’s right … You haven’t seen him? … Just a moment,
please … Is the chief inspector there by any chance? … He never comes in the
evening? … Don’t hang up, mademoiselle … Am I talking to the waiter?
… The manager? … None of the gentlemen who play bridge are there? …
Yes. Monsieur Rouillet, Monsieur Lourceau … Right … Put Monsieur Lourceau
on, would you? …’
    A languid voice on the other end, that of a
man who is on his fifth or sixth hour of bridge and at least his sixth little
tipple.
    â€˜Hello! Monsieur Lourceau …
I’m sorry to disturb you … Chief Inspector Maigret … It doesn’t
matter … I’d like a simple piece of information … Do you know where
I’m likely to find Bellamy at this hour? … No, he’s not at home
… Really? … He never goes out at night? … You have no idea? …
Thank you very much …’
    He became increasingly heavy, and there was
a hint of anxiety in his eyes. He flicked through the telephone directory and called the
coroner.
    â€˜Hello … Inspector Maigret here
… No, it’s not about an investigation … I would simply like to know
whetherDoctor