3 January, and no one had seen her again since
then.
The inspector noticed for the first time
that the kitchen was separated from the shop only by a glass door. It was decorated
with a tulle curtain, so that one could vaguely make out the outlines of the
figures.
Someone got up.
âDonât let me disturb
you!â Maigret exclaimed.
And he went into the kitchen, walking in
on the normal daily routine. It was Madame Peeters who had got up to go to the shop.
Her husband was in his wicker armchair, still so close to the stove that one might
have worried that he was going to catch fire. In his hand he held a meerschaum pipe
with a long cherry-wood stem. But he wasnâtsmoking any more.
His eyes were closed. Regular breaths issued from his half-open lips.
As to Anna, she was sitting at the
sanded white wooden table, which had been polished by the years. She was doing some
calculations in a little notebook.
âBring the inspector to the dining
room, Anna â¦â
âNo!â he protested.
âIâm just passing through â¦â
âGive me your coat â¦â
And Maigret noticed the Madame Peeters
had a beautiful, serious voice, deep and warm, a faint Flemish accent making it all
the more delightful.
âYou will have a cup of
coffee!â
He wanted to know what she had been
doing before he got there. At her place he saw steel-rimmed glasses and the
dayâs newspaper.
The old manâs breath seemed to
provide a rhythm to the life of the house. Anna closed her notebook, put a cap on
the pencil, got up and went to fetch a cup from a shelf.
âYou will forgive me â¦â she
murmured.
âI hoped to meet your sister,
Maria.â
Madame Peeters nodded sadly. Anna
explained:
âYou wonât see her for a few
days, unless you pay her a visit in Namur. One of her colleagues, who also lives in
Givet, came just now ⦠Marie was getting off the train, this morning, when she
sprained her ankle â¦â
âWhere is she?â
âAt the school ⦠They have a room
for her there â¦â
Madame Peeters sighed, still
nodding:
âI donât know what
weâve done to offend the Lord!â
âAnd Joseph?â
âHe wonât be back before
Saturday. Although thatâs only tomorrow â¦â
âYour cousin Marguerite
hasnât paid you a visit?â
âNo! I saw her at vespers
â¦â
Boiling coffee was poured into the cup.
Madame Peeters went out and came back in with a little glass, a bottle of
genever.
âItâs old
Schiedam.â
He sat down. He didnât expect to
find anything out. Perhaps even his presence was barely relevant to the case.
The house reminded him of an
investigation he had conducted in Holland, but with differences that he was unable
to define. There was the same calm, the same heaviness in the air, the same
sensation that the atmosphere was not fluid, but formed a solid body that one would
break by moving.
From time to time the wicker of the
armchair creaked even though the old man hadnât moved. And his breathing still
provided a rhythm for life, for the conversation.
Anna said something in Flemish, and
Maigret, who had learned some words in Delfzijl, more or less understood:
âYou should have given him a
bigger glass â¦â
Every so often a man in clogs passed
along the quay. The rain could be heard hammering on the front window.
âYou told me it was raining,
didnât you? As hard as it is today? â¦â
âYes ⦠I think so â¦â
And the two women, sitting down again,
watched him pick up his glass and bring it to his lips.
Anna didnât have her
motherâs fine features, nor herbenevolent, indulgent smile.
As usual, she didnât take her eyes off Maigret.
Had she noticed that the portrait was
missing from her room?
then.
The inspector noticed for the first time
that the kitchen was separated from the shop only by a glass door. It was decorated
with a tulle curtain, so that one could vaguely make out the outlines of the
figures.
Someone got up.
âDonât let me disturb
you!â Maigret exclaimed.
And he went into the kitchen, walking in
on the normal daily routine. It was Madame Peeters who had got up to go to the shop.
Her husband was in his wicker armchair, still so close to the stove that one might
have worried that he was going to catch fire. In his hand he held a meerschaum pipe
with a long cherry-wood stem. But he wasnâtsmoking any more.
His eyes were closed. Regular breaths issued from his half-open lips.
As to Anna, she was sitting at the
sanded white wooden table, which had been polished by the years. She was doing some
calculations in a little notebook.
âBring the inspector to the dining
room, Anna â¦â
âNo!â he protested.
âIâm just passing through â¦â
âGive me your coat â¦â
And Maigret noticed the Madame Peeters
had a beautiful, serious voice, deep and warm, a faint Flemish accent making it all
the more delightful.
âYou will have a cup of
coffee!â
He wanted to know what she had been
doing before he got there. At her place he saw steel-rimmed glasses and the
dayâs newspaper.
The old manâs breath seemed to
provide a rhythm to the life of the house. Anna closed her notebook, put a cap on
the pencil, got up and went to fetch a cup from a shelf.
âYou will forgive me â¦â she
murmured.
âI hoped to meet your sister,
Maria.â
Madame Peeters nodded sadly. Anna
explained:
âYou wonât see her for a few
days, unless you pay her a visit in Namur. One of her colleagues, who also lives in
Givet, came just now ⦠Marie was getting off the train, this morning, when she
sprained her ankle â¦â
âWhere is she?â
âAt the school ⦠They have a room
for her there â¦â
Madame Peeters sighed, still
nodding:
âI donât know what
weâve done to offend the Lord!â
âAnd Joseph?â
âHe wonât be back before
Saturday. Although thatâs only tomorrow â¦â
âYour cousin Marguerite
hasnât paid you a visit?â
âNo! I saw her at vespers
â¦â
Boiling coffee was poured into the cup.
Madame Peeters went out and came back in with a little glass, a bottle of
genever.
âItâs old
Schiedam.â
He sat down. He didnât expect to
find anything out. Perhaps even his presence was barely relevant to the case.
The house reminded him of an
investigation he had conducted in Holland, but with differences that he was unable
to define. There was the same calm, the same heaviness in the air, the same
sensation that the atmosphere was not fluid, but formed a solid body that one would
break by moving.
From time to time the wicker of the
armchair creaked even though the old man hadnât moved. And his breathing still
provided a rhythm for life, for the conversation.
Anna said something in Flemish, and
Maigret, who had learned some words in Delfzijl, more or less understood:
âYou should have given him a
bigger glass â¦â
Every so often a man in clogs passed
along the quay. The rain could be heard hammering on the front window.
âYou told me it was raining,
didnât you? As hard as it is today? â¦â
âYes ⦠I think so â¦â
And the two women, sitting down again,
watched him pick up his glass and bring it to his lips.
Anna didnât have her
motherâs fine features, nor herbenevolent, indulgent smile.
As usual, she didnât take her eyes off Maigret.
Had she noticed that the portrait was
missing from her room?
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