Free Maigret in Montmartre by Georges Simenon Page A

walls were painted red, the lighting was bright pink, and things and people looked rather unreal in the atmosphere thus created. Maigret felt as though he were in a photographer’s dark room. It took him a little time to get used to the place. People’s eyes seemed darker and more gleaming, while the outline of their lips disappeared, the colour sucked out of them by the pink light.
    “If you’re staying on, give your coat and hat to my wife. You’ll find her at the far end,” said Fred. “Rose!” he called.
    She came out of the kitchen; she was wearing a black satin dress with a little embroidered apron over it. She took away Maigret’s coat and hat.
    “You don’t want to sit down yet, do you?”
    “Are the women here?”
    “They’ll be down any minute. They’re changing. We have no dressing-rooms, so they use our bedroom and wash-place. You know, I’ve been thinking carefully about what you asked me this morning. Rose and I have talked it over. We both feel certain that it wasn’t by listening to clients that Arlette got her information. Come here, Désiré.”
    This was the waiter, who was bald except for a ring of hair that encircled his head, and closely resembled the waiter on the poster advertising a well-known brand of apéritif . He was no doubt aware of the resemblance and did his best to foster it: he had even grown side-whiskers for the purpose.
    “You can talk quite frankly to Inspector Maigret. Were there any clients at table four last night?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Did you see two men come in together and stay for some time—one of them short, middle-aged and” (with a glance at Maigret) “rather like me?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Who did Arlette talk to?”
    “She was quite a long time with her young man. Then she had a few drinks with the Americans at their table. That’s all. Towards closing time she and Betty sat down together and ordered brandy. It’s entered to her account—you can see for yourself. She had two glasses.”
    A dark-haired woman now emerged from the kitchen, looked with a professional eye round the empty room, where Maigret was the only stranger to be seen, went over to the platform, sat down at the piano, and began talking in a low voice to the two musicians. They all three looked across at Maigret. Then she struck an introductory chord, the younger man blew a few notes on his saxophone, the other sat down to the percussion instruments, and a moment later a jazz tune burst upon the air.
    “It’s important for people to hear music as they go past the door,” explained Fred. “ It’ll probably be at least half an hour before anyone comes in, but when they do they mustn’t find the place silent, or the men and girls sitting round like wax dummies. What can I offer you? If you’re going to take a table, I’d rather make it a bottle of champagne.”
    “I’d prefer a glass of brandy.”
    “I’ll give you brandy in your glass and put the champagne bottle on the table. You see, as a general rule, especially at the beginning of the evening, we only serve champagne.”
    He took evident pleasure in his work, as though it were his life’s dream come true. Nothing escaped his attention. His wife was already seated on a chair at the far end of the room, behind the musicians, and she, too, seemed to be enjoying herself. They must have looked forward for a long time to setting up on their own, and it was still a kind of game for them.
    “I know—I’ll put you at number six, where Arlette and her boy-friend were sitting. If you want to talk to Tania, wait till they play a rumba. Then Jean-Jean takes his accordion and she can leave the piano. We used to have a pianist, but when we took her on and I discovered she could play, I thought we might as well cut down expenses by using her in the orchestra.
    “There’s Betty coming down. Shall I introduce her?”
    Maigret had already taken his seat in the box, like an ordinary client, and Fred now brought over a sandy-haired