Maigret in Montmartre (19 page)

“At Picratt’s.”

“Not for me,” said Janvier. “My wife will be waiting for me, and the baby wakes us early.”

Lapointe said nothing. But he followed Maigret into the taxi.

They reached the Rue Pigalle just in time to see the new girl do her act. Fred came to meet them as they went in.

“In the bag?” he inquired.

Maigret nodded; and a few moments later a bucket with a bottle of champagne appeared on their table—which, as it so happened, was number six. The black dress was slipping slowly down over the white body of the girl, who was gazing at them with a scared expression, she was reluctant to uncover her belly and as soon as her nakedness was revealed she put both hands to cover it, as she had done at the evening rehearsal.

Did Fred do it on purpose? At that precise moment he should have turned off“the spotlight and left the room in darkness, giving the dancer time to pick up her dress and hold it in front of her. But the spotlight did not go out, and the poor girl, completely at a loss, decided, after a long pause, to scuttle off to the kitchen—thus displaying a round, white behind.

The few clients in the place burst out laughing. Maigret thought Lapointe was laughing too; but looking more closely, he saw that tears were running down the Inspector’s cheeks.

“I beg your pardon,” he stammered. “I ought not to…I know it’s stupid. But you see I…I loved her!”

He was even more ashamed when he woke up next morning, for he had no notion whatever of how he had got home.

His sister, who seemed to be in a particularly cheerful mood—Maigret had had a word with her—greeted him, as she drew back the curtains with:

“A fine idea, having yourself put to bed by the Inspector!”

That night, Lapointe had buried his first love. And killed his first man. As for Lognon, nobody had thought to release him from his watch, and he was still shivering on the steps above the Place Constantin-Pecqueur.

EOF