Read A Man's Head for Free Online

Despite the distance, Maigret was ninety per cent
certain that a shot had been fired.
    Those minutes were interminable. The taxi, which had crossed the bridge, was limping along the unmade, rut-scarred road which ran along the opposite bank of the Seine.
    It was moving so slowly that when it was still 200 metres from the Citanguette Sergeant Lucas jumped out and started running. Perhaps he had heard the shot being fired?
    The shrill blast of a whistle. Lucas or Janvier was calling for assistance.
    Then inside the bistro, behind the filthy windows with their raised letters spelling out
Consume your own food here
– with the
C
and the
f
missing – a candle was lit, which illuminated figures bending over a body.
    But the view was unclear. The figures, so badly lit and seen from a distance, were unrecognizable.
    Without moving from his window, Maigret was speaking into the telephone in a hushed voice:
    â€˜Hello? … Is that Grenelle police station? … I want men, now, in cars, in position around the Citanguette … And I want a man arrested if he tries to escape: tall, with a large head and pasty face … And
send for a doctor …’
    Lucas was now on site. His taxi had parked outside one of the front windows and was obstructing Maigret’s view of part of the interior of the bistro.
    Standing on a chair, the landlord was replacing the lightbulb, and once more the room was flooded with harsh light.
    The phone rang.
    â€˜Hello? Is that you, detective chief inspector? … Coméliau here … I’m at home, yes … I have guests for dinner … But I needed to be reassured that …’
    Maigret remained silent.
    â€˜Hello? Don’t hang up … Are you still there?’
    â€˜I’m still here.’
    â€˜Well? … I can hardly hear you … Have you seen the evening papers? … They’ve all picked up on the revelations in
Le Sifflet
 … I think it would be a good idea to …’
    Janvier ran out of the Citanguette, sped off to the right into the shadow that shrouded the patch of waste ground.
    â€˜That apart, is everything going along well?’
    â€˜Everything’s fine,’ shouted Maigret and hung up.
    He was bathed in sweat. His pipe had dropped to the floor and the still-burning tobacco was starting to singe the carpet.
    â€˜Hello, operator? Get me the Citanguette!’
    â€˜I’ve just put a call through to you.’
    â€˜And now I’m asking you to connect me to the Citanguette … Is that clear?’
    Then he could tell by the movement in the bistro that the phone was ringing.
    The landlord started forwards, but Lucas beat him to it.
    â€˜Hello? … That you, sir?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Maigret wearily. ‘Got away, did he?’
    â€˜Of course he did!’
    â€˜And Dufour?’
    â€˜I don’t think it’s serious … A nick on the scalp … He didn’t even pass out.’
    â€˜Reinforcements from Grenelle are on the way.’
    â€˜It won’t help … You know what it’s like around here … With all these building sites and heaps of debris, factory yards and the back streets of Issy-les-Moulineaux …’
    â€˜Was there any shooting?’
    â€˜Someone fired a shot, but I haven’t been able to establish who it was … They’re all a bit dazed, quiet as lambs … They don’t seem to have any idea about what happened.’
    A car came round the corner of the quayside, dropped two policemen and then, a hundred metres further along, two more.
    Four more officers got out when the car stopped outside the bistro, and one of them walked round to the back of the building to cover the rear exit. The usual drill.
    â€˜What do I do now?’ asked Lucas after a moment’s