Read Cécile is Dead for Free Online

sister Berthe, who
     didn’t get on with her aunt either, left home. She’s a salesgirl in the
     Galeries Lafayette. So the old lady took advantage of that to let the other half of the
     apartment to those Hungarians, the Siveschis. They have two daughters, Nouchi and Potsi
     … Potsi is the plump one, she’s always going about half-naked. But it’s a
     fact that Nouchi, who’s no more than sixteen, isn’t much better. She’s
     everywhere in the evening, all over the place, sometimes even hanging around by the
     front door …’
    It seemed best to let the concierge talk on
     as she pleased and try to work it all out for himself. So on the first floor there was
     the Bourniquel family, four children, Bourniquel himself away a lot of the time, a maid,
     and Madame Bourniquel, who was expecting again.
    On the fifth floor, the Siveschis. Maigret
     had met one of the family that morning, the plump and forthcoming
Potsi, and he had just caught a sight of her thinner sister
     Nouchi.
    â€˜â€¦ Their mother never tells them off.
     People like that, they don’t think the same way we do. Would you believe it, only
     last week I went upstairs with post for them? I knock on the door. “Come
     in,” says a voice, so I open the door, thinking nothing of it, and what do I see?
     Madame Siveschi without a stitch of clothing on her, smoking a cigarette and looking
     back at me as bold as brass. And her daughters were there, too!’
    â€˜What is Monsieur Siveschi’s
     profession?’
    â€˜His profession – oh, my dear sir,
     with all due respect! He comes and goes, he always has books under his arm, he’s
     the one who does the family shopping. They’re behind with the rent, but he
     doesn’t seem to mind when the bailiff turns up. In fact you’d think it
     amused him. Not like poor little Monsieur Leloup – Monsieur Gaston, I call him. He keeps
     the bicycle shop. A good, deserving young fellow, used to be a newspaper vendor, but he
     bravely set up in business. He finds things difficult at the end of the month, and at
     those times I swear he doesn’t dare to look people in the face, not even me,
     although … well, he got married hardly three months ago, and what do you think? To save
     on their own accommodation they sleep at the back of the shop, among the tyres and spare
     wheels. Wait a minute – I think that little pest Nouchi …’
    It was Maigret who went to open the door. He
     had made out the little Hungarian girl’s face behind it: her big dark eyes, her
     blood-red lips.
    â€˜Did you want something?’ he
     asked.
    To which, not in the
     least taken aback, she replied, ‘Oh yes, I wanted to see you. They say
     you’re the famous Detective Chief Inspector Maigret.’
    She was looking him straight in the face.
     She might be thin and narrow-hipped, but she had well-shaped, pointed breasts, shown off
     to advantage by a blouse that fitted rather too tightly.
    â€˜Well, you’ve seen me
     now.’
    â€˜Aren’t you going to question me
     too?’
    â€˜Do you have anything to tell
     me?’
    â€˜I might have.’
    Outraged, Madame With-All-Due-Respect sighed
     and shook her head so far as her stiff neck allowed.
    â€˜Come in. So what’s it
     about?’
    The girl seemed to be very much at home in
     the lodge. She was triumphant. Anyone would have thought she’d won a bet that she
     could succeed in approaching the inspector.
    â€˜I wanted to talk to you about
     Monsieur Dandurand.’
    â€˜Who’s he?’ asked Maigret,
     turning to the concierge.
    Indignant at Nouchi’s presence, she
     replied, ‘I’ve no idea what she’s thinking of telling you, but with
     all due respect these girls tell lies as easy as breathing … Monsieur Dandurand is a
     retired lawyer, a very nice gentleman, very serious, quiet and all. He occupies the
     whole fourth