Free The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau by Graeme Macrae Burnet

generalisation.
    Gorski did not budge from his seat.
    â€˜On the previous night,’ he continued, ignoring Manfred’s statement, ‘you were also here. You drank a bottle of wine at the counter and left around ten o’clock.’
    â€˜I couldn’t say what time it was, but yes, that’s correct.’
    â€˜You’re quite a regular here, aren’t you?’ said Gorski.
    Manfred shrugged. It wasn’t a crime, was it? ‘I suppose you could say that.’
    â€˜A creature of habit?’
    Manfred stared at Gorski, not sure what expression to adopt. Was he going to bring up the fact that on the day Adèle had last been seen, Manfred had, in a complete reversal of his normal routine, ordered the
choucroute
instead of the
pot-au-feu
and had a second glass of wine? Perhaps he had been told of the little compliment he had paid Adèle during the card game. Taken together, these actions could easily form a picture of a character who, around the time of the waitress’s disappearance, had been behaving strangely. Why else would the detective have mentioned that he had been described in this way? Manfred felt his cheeks begin to colour.
    â€˜I don’t know if I’d say that,’ he said.
    â€˜Well, everyone I’ve spoken to,’ he made a vague gesture with his hand, ‘has described you in the same way, as a creature of habit.’
    Manfred could not help glancing around the room. He intensely disliked the idea that Gorski had been asking about him, asking
everyone
about him. He wondered what else they had said.
    â€˜Is there something wrong with that?’ he said.
    Gorski pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. ‘Not at all.’ He leaned forward as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Let me ask you one question: did you notice anything unusual in the restaurant on Wednesday night?’
    Manfred gave this some thought, or at least attempted to give the impression that he was giving it some thought. He decided that this would be a good time to take a mouthful of food and did so. When he had swallowed, he shook his head.
    â€˜Nothing I can think of,’ he said.
    Gorski looked a little disappointed.
    â€˜Really?’ he said. ‘It seems to me that in a place like this,’ he made a gesture with his hand to indicate that he meant the restaurant, ‘not a great deal happens. One night is pretty much like any other. Accordingly, when anything out of the ordinary does occur, no matter how banal it might seem to an outsider, it does not go unnoticed by the regulars of the establishment.’
    Manfred found Gorski’s manner of expressing himself quite irritating. He took the last sip of his wine. He would have liked to order a second glass, but after having done so the previous day, this would then be taken as a new habit and he would then be obliged to take two glasses of wine at lunch every day.
    â€˜I’ve asked everyone the same question and received the same response. On the night in question Adèle had asked M. Pasteur if she could leave a little early. Before she left she changed her clothes and put on some make-up.’
    â€˜You could hardly expect me to notice something as trivial as that,’ said Manfred.
    â€˜Lemerre, Petit and Cloutier, whom I questioned separately, all noticed it and mentioned it unprompted,’ said Gorski.
    â€˜Perhaps only one of them noticed and drew it to the attention of the others.’ Manfred felt this was a rather clever remark. Gorski tipped his head as if to acknowledge that this was a possibility. Manfred felt that he had won a small victory.
    â€˜They sit by the door. They’re hardly likely to fail to notice a provocatively dressed woman,’ he added.
    â€˜I didn’t say that Adèle was provocatively dressed. I merely said that she had changed her clothes.’
    Manfred stalled. He would do better to keep his mouth shut.
    Gorski allowed his previous