Free The Shadow Puppet by Georges Simenon; Translated by Ros Schwartz Page B

it? … What does he want now?’
    Maigret couldn’t see her. The
     voice was that of someone
lying in bed,
     very weary, but who still has all her wits about her.
    â€˜The detective chief inspector
     came to inquire after you.’
    â€˜Tell him to come in. Wait! Pass
     me a wet towel and the mirror. And the comb.’
    â€˜You’ll get yourself all
     upset again.’
    â€˜Hold the mirror straight, will
     you! No! Put it down … You’re hopeless … Take away that
     bowl. Honestly, men! As soon as their wife’s not there, the place looks like a
     pigsty. You can show him in now.’
    Like the dining room, the bedroom was
     drab and cheerless, furnished in poor taste with a profusion of old curtains, old
     fabrics and faded rugs. The minute he stepped inside, Maigret felt Madame
     Martin’s eyes boring into him. Her gaze was calm and extraordinarily
     clear.
    Her drawn face broke into an
     invalid’s syrupy smile.
    â€˜The place is a terrible mess!
     Please don’t take any notice,’ she said. ‘It’s because I was
     taken ill.’
    And she stared mournfully in front of
     her.
    â€˜But I’m feeling better. I
     must be back on my feet tomorrow, for the funeral. It is tomorrow, isn’t
     it?’
    â€˜Yes, it’s tomorrow!
     You’re prone to these attacks—’
    â€˜I had them even as a child, but
     my sister—’
    â€˜The sister who—?’
    â€˜I had two sisters. Now
     don’t you go believing what’s not … The youngest suffered fits
     too. She got married. Her husband turned out to be a good-for-nothing and one fine
     day, when she was having an attack, he had her put away. She died a week
     later.’
    â€˜Don’t get upset!’ implored Martin, who didn’t know where to
     put himself or where to look.
    â€˜Insane?’ asked Maigret.
    The woman’s features hardened
     again and there was malice in her voice.
    â€˜In other words, her husband
     wanted to get rid of her! Not even six months later, he married someone else. Men
     are all the same … You devote yourself, you kill yourself for
     them—’
    â€˜I beg you!’ sighed her
     husband.
    â€˜I don’t mean you! Although
     you’re no better than the others.’
    And Maigret suddenly sensed a whiff of
     hatred in the air. It was fleeting, hazy, but he was convinced he was not
     mistaken.
    â€˜All the same, if it weren’t
     for me—’ she went on.
    Did her voice contain a threat? Her
     husband busied himself doing nothing. To keep up appearances, he counted out drops
     of a potion into a glass, one by one.
    â€˜The doctor said—’
    â€˜I don’t give a fig for what
     the doctor said!’
    â€˜But you must … Here!
     Drink it slowly. It’s not so bad.’
    She looked at him, then she looked at
     Maigret, and finally she gave a resigned shrug and drank.
    â€˜You haven’t really come to
     inquire after my health,’ she stated suspiciously.
    â€˜I was on my way to the laboratory
     when the concierge told me—’
    â€˜Have you found any
     clues?’
    â€˜Not
     yet.’
    She closed her eyes, to indicate
     fatigue. Martin looked at Maigret, who rose.
    â€˜Well, I wish you a speedy
     recovery. You’re already much better.’
    She let him leave. Maigret stopped
     Martin from seeing him out.
    â€˜Please, stay with your
     wife.’
    Poor fellow! He seemed afraid to stay;
     it was as if he were clinging to Maigret because when there was another person
     there, things were not so dreadful.
    â€˜You’ll see, it will turn
     out to be nothing serious.’
    As he walked through the dining room, he
     heard a rustle in the corridor. And he caught up with old Mathilde just as she was
     about to go back into her room.
    â€˜Good morning.’
    She looked at him fearfully, without
     replying, her hand