By Georges Simenon
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Extra info for Maigret and the Hundred Gibbets
Sample text
When I told him we were going to have a baby, he stared at me like a madman. “It was from then on, and especially after the baby was born, that he started to drink, in bouts, in spasms… “Yet I know he loved the baby! He used to look at him, from time to time, the way he used to look at me at first, adoringly… “The next day, he’d come back drunk, go to bed, lock the bedroom door, and spend whole hours, whole days there. “The first few times, he cried and asked me to forgive him. Perhaps if mother hadn’t interfered, I’d have managed to keep him.
A fly had settled on them. That morning, Maigret had sent to Paris photographs of the dead man, asking Police Headquarters to have them published in as many newspapers as possible. Was that where the search should be made? At least the Inspector had an address in Paris: the one to which Jeunet sent himself thirty thousand-franc notes from Brussels. Ot should the search be made in Liège, where Clothing B had been bought some years earlier? Or in Rheims, where the dead man’s shoes came from? Or in Brussels, where Jeunet had made his package of thirty thousand francs?
All he did, at stations where there was a long wait, was swallow down some coffee and sometimes a roll or a brioche. He did not know the line, because he kept asking for information, and worrying if he were going in the right direction, worrying unduly, in fact. He was not strong. Yet his hands bore the marks of manual labour. His nails were black but too long, which indicated that he had not worked for some time. His complexion suggested anaemia, maybe poverty. Maigret had gradually forgotten the trick he was going to play on the Belgian police by bringing them a criminal bound hand and foot, as a joke.