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years
     ago … I mean my sister in Blois, the one who married a police inspector.
     You see that—’
    â€˜That—?’
    Nothing. She was warning him. It was
     time to make him aware that she wasn’t just anyone!
    She was on edge, because the entire
     speech she had rehearsed was pointless, and it was the fault of this burly
     inspector.
    â€˜When did you hear about the death
     of your first husband?’
    â€˜Why … this morning,
     like everyone else! It was the concierge who told me you were handling this case
     and, seeing as my situation is rather awkward … You can’t possibly
     understand.’
    â€˜I think I can! By the way,
     didn’t your son visit you yesterday afternoon?’
    â€˜What are you
     insinuating?’
    â€˜Nothing. It’s a simple
     question.’
    â€˜The concierge will tell you that
     he hasn’t been to see me for at least three weeks.’
    She spoke sharply. The look in her eyes
     more aggressive. Had Maigret perhaps been wrong not to let her make her speech?
    â€˜I’m delighted that
     you’ve come to see me, as it shows great delicacy and—’
    The mere word ‘delicacy’
     caused something in the woman’s grey eyes to change, and she bowed her head by
     way of thanks.
    â€˜Some situations are very
     painful,’ she said. ‘Not everybody understands. Even my husband, who
     advised me not to wear mourning! Mind you, I’m wearing it without wearing it.
     No veil. No crape band. Just black clothes.’
    He nodded his chin and put his pipe down
     on the table.
    â€˜Just
     because we’re divorced and Raymond made me unhappy, it doesn’t mean that
     I must—’
    She was regaining her assurance and
     imperceptibly launching into her prepared speech.
    â€˜Especially in a large building
     like ours, where there are twenty-eight households. And what households! I’m
     not talking about the people on the first floor. And even then! Although Monsieur de
     Saint-Marc is well-bred, his wife’s something else, she wouldn’t say
     hello to her neighbours for all the gold in the world. When one has been properly
     brought up, it’s distressing to—’
    â€˜Were you born in
     Paris?’
    â€˜My father was a confectioner in
     Meaux.’
    â€˜How old were you when you married
     Couchet?’
    â€˜I was twenty. Of course, my
     parents wouldn’t let me serve in the shop. In those days, Couchet used to
     travel. He stated that he earned a very good living, that he could make a woman
     happy.’
    Her gaze hardened as she sought
     reassurance that there was no threat of mockery from Maigret.
    â€˜I’d rather not tell you how
     much he made me suffer! All the money he earned he lost in ridiculous gambles. He
     claimed he was growing rich, we moved home three times a year, and by the time my
     son was born, we had no savings at all. It was my mother who had to pay for the
     layette.’
    Finally she rested her umbrella against
     the desk. Maigret mused that she must have been speaking with the same sharp
     vehemence the previous evening when he’d seen her shadow against the
     curtain.
    â€˜When a man isn’t capable of
     feeding a wife, he has no
business getting
     married! That’s what I say. And especially when he has no pride left. I hardly
     dare tell you all the jobs Couchet’s had. I told him to look for a proper
     position, with a pension attached, in the civil service, for example. At least if
     anything happened to him, I wouldn’t be left destitute. But no! He even ended
     up following the Tour de France as some sort of dogsbody. His job was to organize
     food for the cyclists, or something of the sort. And he came back without a
sou
! That’s the man he was. And that’s the life I
     had.’
    â€˜Where did you live?’
    â€˜In Nanterre. Because we
     couldn’t even afford to live in