Showing posts with label Maigret. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maigret. Show all posts

Sunday, June 16, 2019

Maigret by Georges Simenon (Penguin 1934)



'You have to admit,’ ventured Amadieu, tugging at his moustache, ‘that your method is impossible to apply in a case like this one. The chief and I were arguing about it earlier.’

Well, well, the chief really was taking a close interest in the case!

‘What do you mean by my method?'

'You know better than I do. Usually, you get involved in people’s lives; you try to understand their thinking and you take as much interest in things that happened to them twenty years earlier as you do in concrete clues. Here, we’re faced with a bunch about whom we know pretty much everything. They don’t even try to put us off the scent. And I’m not even sure that, in private, Cageot would even bother to deny having killed.'



Monday, May 20, 2019

Lock No. 1 by Georges Simenon (Penguin Books 1933)



Berthe gave a heavy sigh. He gave her a baleful look. It was none of her business! He was not worried about either her or his wife!

‘Do you understand, old friend? Oh, say something!’

He walked round and round Gassin, not daring to look at him directly and leaving lengthy pauses between sentences.

‘But all in all, of us two, you were the happy one!’

Despite the chill of night, he felt hot.

‘Shall I give you the dynamite back? I don’t care if I get blown up. But somebody’s got to stay with the kid, on the barge.





Sunday, May 19, 2019

Georges Simenon's Maigret

Nicked from wiki. I need this to get back on board my deferred Maigret Read-a-thon. The usual rules: striked out titles means I've already read the book in the series.

List of Maigret novels with date of French-language publication as well as the Penguin reissue dates and titles.[3]
TitleDatePenguin UK Reissue DateReissue #Reissue TitleOther English title(s)
Pietr-le-Letton19317 Nov 20131Pietr the LatvianThe Strange Case of Peter the Lett
The Case of Peter the Lett
Maigret and the Enigmatic Lett
Le Charretier de la Providence19316 Feb 20144The Carter of La ProvidenceThe Crime at Lock 14
Maigret Meets a Milord
Lock 14
M. Gallet décédé19315 Dec 20132The Late Monsieur GalletThe Death of Monsieur Gallet
Maigret Stonewalled
Le Pendu de Saint-Pholien19312 Jan 20143The Hanged Man of Saint-PholienThe Crime of Inspector Maigret
Maigret and the Hundred Gibbets
La Tête d'un homme
(L'Homme de la Tour Eiffel)
19315 Jun 20149A Man's HeadA Battle of Nerves
Maigret's War of Nerves
Le Chien jaune19316 Mar 20145The Yellow DogA Face for a Clue
Maigret and the Concarneau Murders
Maigret and the Yellow Dog
La Nuit du carrefour19313 Apr 20146Night at the CrossroadsMaigret at the Crossroads
The Night at the Crossroads
Un Crime en Hollande19311 May 20147A Crime in HollandMaigret in Holland
Au Rendez-vous des Terre-Neuves19315 Jun 20148The Grand Banks CafeThe Sailors' Rendezvous
Maigret Answers a Plea
La Danseuse du Gai-Moulin19317 Aug 201410The Dancer at the Gai MoulinAt the Gai Moulin
Maigret at the Gai Moulin
La Guinguette à deux sous19324 Sep 201411The Two-Penny BarGuinguette by the Seine
Maigret and the Tavern by the Seine
Maigret to the Rescue
A Spot by the Seine
The Bar on the Seine
L'Ombre chinoise19322 Oct 201412The Shadow PuppetThe Shadow in the Courtyard
Maigret Mystified
L'Affaire Saint-Fiacre19326 Nov 201413The Saint-Fiacre AffairMaigret and the Countess
Maigret Goes Home
Maigret on Home Ground
Chez les Flamands19324 Dec 201414The Flemish ShopMaigret and the Flemish Shop
The Flemish House
Le Port des brumes19325 Feb 201516The Misty HarbourDeath of a Harbour Master
Maigret and the Death of a Harbor Master
The Port of Shadows
Le Fou de Bergerac19321 Jan 201515The Madman of Bergerac
Liberty Bar19325 Mar 201517Liberty BarMaigret on the Riviera
L'Écluse nº 119332 Apr 201518Lock No. 1The Lock at Charenton
Maigret Sits It Out
La femme rousse1933The Redhead
Maigret19347 May 201519MaigretMaigret Returns
La Maison du juge19426 Aug 201522The Judge's HouseMaigret in Exile
Les Caves du Majestic19422 Jul 201521The Cellars of the MajesticMaigret and the Hotel Majestic
The Hotel Majestic 
Cécile est morte19424 Jun 201520Cecile is DeadMaigret and the Spinster
Signé Picpus19443 Sep 201523Signed, PicpusMaigret and the Fortuneteller
Félicie est là19445 Nov 201525FélicieMaigret and the Toy Village
L'Inspecteur Cadavre19441 Oct 201524Inspector CadaverMaigret's Rival
Maigret se fâcheAugust 19453 Dec 201526Maigret Gets AngryMaigret in Retirement
Maigret à New YorkMarch 19467 Jan 201627Maigret in New YorkInspector Maigret in New York's Underworld
Maigret in New York's Underworld
Les Vacances de MaigretNovember 19474 Feb 201628Maigret's HolidayA Summer Holiday
No Vacation for Maigret
Maigret on Holiday
Maigret et son mortJanuary 19483 Mar 201629Maigret's Dead ManMaigret's Special Murder
La Première enquête de Maigret, 1913October 19487 Apr 201630Maigret's First Case
Mon ami MaigretFebruary 19495 May 201631My Friend MaigretThe Methods of Maigret
Maigret chez le coronerJuly 19492 Jun 201632Maigret at the Coroner's
L'Amie de Mme MaigretDecember 19494 Aug 201634Madame Maigret's FriendMadame Maigret's Own Case
The Friend of Madame Maigret
Les Mémoires de MaigretSeptember 19501 Sep 201635Maigret's Memoirs
Maigret et la vieille dameDecember 19507 Jul 201633Maigret and the Old Lady
Maigret au "Picratt's"December 19506 Oct 201636Maigret at Picratt'sMaigret and the Strangled Stripper
Maigret in Montmartre
Inspector Maigret and the Strangled Stripper
Maigret en meubléFebruary 19513 Nov 201637Maigret Takes a RoomMaigret Rents a Room
Maigret et la grande percheMay 19511 Dec 201638Maigret and the Tall WomanInspector Maigret and the Burglar's Wife
Maigret and the Burglar's Wife
Maigret, Lognon et les gangstersSeptember 19515 Jan 201739Maigret, Lognon and the GangstersInspector Maigret and the Killers
Maigret and the Gangsters
Le Revolver de MaigretJune 19522 Feb 201740Maigret's Revolver
Maigret et l'homme du banc19532 Mar 201741Maigret and the Man on the BenchMaigret and the Man on the Boulevard
The Man on the Boulevard
Maigret a peurMarch 19536 Apr 201742Maigret is AfraidMaigret Afraid
Maigret se trompeAugust 19534 May 201743Maigret's Mistake
Maigret à l'écoleDecember 19531 Jun 201744Maigret Goes to School
Maigret et la jeune morteJanuary 19546 Jul 201745Maigret and the Dead GirlInspector Maigret and the Dead Girl
Maigret and the Young Girl
Maigret chez le ministreAugust 19543 Aug 201746Maigret and the MinisterMaigret and the Calame Report
Maigret et le corps sans têteJanuary 19557 Sep 201747Maigret and the Headless Corpse
Maigret tend un piègeJuly 19555 Oct 201748Maigret Sets a Trap
Un échec de MaigretMarch 19562 Nov 201749Maigret's Failure
Maigret s'amuseSeptember 19567 Dec 201750Maigret Enjoys HimselfMaigret's Little Joke
None of Maigret's Business
Maigret voyageAugust 19574 Jan 201851Maigret TravelsMaigret and the Millionaires
Les scrupules de MaigretDecember 19571 Feb 201852Maigret's DoubtsMaigret Has Scruples
Maigret et les témoins récalcitrantsOctober 19581 Mar 201853Maigret and the Reluctant Witnesses
Une confidence de MaigretMay 19595 Apr 201854Maigret's SecretMaigret Has Doubts
Maigret aux assisesNovember 19593 May 201855Maigret in Court
Maigret et les vieillardsJune 19607 Jun 201856Maigret and the Old PeopleMaigret in Society
Maigret et le voleur paresseuxJanuary 19615 Jul 201857Maigret and the Lazy BurglarMaigret and the Lazy Burglar
Maigret and the Idle Burglar
Maigret et les braves gensSeptember 19612 Aug 201858Maigret and the Good People of MontparnasseMaigret and the Black Sheep
Maigret et le client du samediFebruary 19626 Sep 201859Maigret and the Saturday CallerMaigret and the Saturday Caller
Maigret et le clochardMay 19624 Oct 201860Maigret and the TrampMaigret and the Dosser
Maigret and the Bum
La colère de MaigretJune 19621 Nov 201861Maigret's AngerMaigret Loses His Temper
Maigret et le fantômeJune 19636 Dec 201862Maigret and the GhostMaigret and the Ghost
Maigret and the Apparition
Maigret se défendJuly 19643 Jan 201963Maigret Defends HimselfMaigret on the Defensive
La Patience de MaigretMarch 19657 Feb 201964Maigret's PatienceThe Patience of Maigret
Maigret Bides His Time
Maigret et l'affaire NahourFebruary 19667 March 201965Maigret and the Nahour CaseMaigret and the Nahour Case
Le voleur de MaigretNovember 19664 April 201966Maigret's PickpocketMaigret's Pickpocket
Maigret and the Pickpocket
Maigret à VichySeptember 19676 June 201968Maigret in VichyMaigret Takes the Waters
Maigret in Vichy
Maigret hésiteJanuary 19682 May 201967Maigret HesitatesMaigret Hesitates
L'ami d'enfance de MaigretJune 1968Maigret's Boyhood Friend
Maigret et le tueurApril 1969Maigret and the Killer
Maigret et le marchand de vinSeptember 1969Maigret and the Wine Merchant
La Folle de MaigretMay 1970Maigret and the Madwoman
Maigret et l'homme tout seulFebruary 1971Maigret and the Loner
Maigret et l'indicateurJune 1971Maigret and the Flea
Maigret and the Informer
Maigret et Monsieur CharlesFebruary 1972Maigret and Monsieur Charles

Monday, January 25, 2016

Maigret and the Loner by Georges Simenon (A Harvest/HBJ Book 1971)




The door was so rotten that it would no longer serve even as firewood. It was Maigret who pushed it open. Standing on the threshold, he could see what the Police Superintendent had meant when he had promised him a surprise.

It was a fair-sized room, and the panes of both windows had been replaced with cardboard or stiff paper. The uneven floor, with gaps of more than an inch between the boards, was covered with an incredible litter of bric-a-brac, most of it broken, all of it useless.

Dominating the room was an iron bedstead on which lay, fully dressed, on an old straw mattress, a man who was unmistakably dead. His chest was covered with clotted blood, but his face was serene.
His clothes were those of a tramp, but the face and hands suggested something very different. He was elderly, with long silvery hair shot through with bluish highlights. His eyes, too, were blue. Maigret was beginning to feel uneasy under their fixed gaze, when the Superintendent closed them.

The man had a white moustache, slightly turned up at the ends, and a short Vandyke beard, also white.

Apart from this, he was close-shaven, and Maigret saw, with renewed surprise, that his hands were carefully manicured.

“He looks like an elderly actor got up as a tramp,” he murmured. “Did he have any papers on him?”

“None. No identity card, no old letters, nothing. Several of my inspectors, all assigned to this district at one time or another, came and had a look at him, but none of them recognized him, though one thought he might have seen him once or twice rummaging in trash cans.”

The man was very tall and exceptionally broad-shouldered. His trousers, which had a tear over the left knee, were too short for him. His tattered jacket, fit only for the rag bag, was lying crumpled on the filthy floor.

“Has the police doctor seen him?”

“Not yet. I’m expecting him any minute. I was hoping you’d get here before anything had been touched.”


Monday, December 28, 2015

Maigret's Boyhood Friend by Georges Simenon (Harcourt Books 1968)





The fly circled three times around his head before alighting on the top left-hand corner of the report on which he was making notes.

With pencil poised, Maigret eyed it with amused curiosity. The fly had repeated this maneuver over and over again in the past half-hour. At any rate, Maigret presumed that it was the same fly. It seemed to be the only one in the office.

Each time, it circled once or twice in a patch of sunlight, then buzzed around the Chief Superintendent’s head, and finally came to rest on the papers on his desk. And there it stayed for a while, lazily rubbing its legs together and looking at him with an air of defiance.

Was it really looking at him? And if so, what did it take this huge mound of flesh to be—for that was how he must appear to it.

He was at pains not to frighten it away. He sat motionless, with pencil still poised above his papers, until, quite suddenly, the fly took off and vanished through the open window.

It was the middle of June. From time to time a gentle breeze stirred the air in the office, where Maigret, in shirt sleeves, sat contentedly smoking his pipe. He had set aside this afternoon to read through his inspectors’ reports, and was doing so with exemplary patience.

Nine or ten times, the fly had returned to alight on his papers, always on the same spot. It was almost as though it had established a kind of relationship with him.

It was an odd coincidence. The sunshine, the little gusts of cooler air blowing through the window, the intriguing antics of the fly, all served to remind him of his schooldays, when a fly on his desk had often engaged a larger share of his interest than the teacher who had the class.

There was a discreet knock at the door. It was old Joseph, the messenger, bearing an engraved visiting card, which read: Léon Florentin, Antique Dealer.

“How old would you say he was?”

“About your age.”

“Tall and thin?”

“That’s right. Very tall and thin, with a real mop of gray hair.”

Yes, that was the man, all right. Florentin, who had been at school with him, at the Lycée Banville in Moulins, the clown of the class.

“Send him in.”

He had forgotten the fly, which, feeling slighted perhaps, seemed to have gone for good. There was a brief, embarrassed silence as the two men looked at one another. This was only their second meeting since their school days in Moulins. The first had been a chance encounter in the street about twenty years ago. Florentin, very well groomed, had been accompanied by an attractive and elegant woman.

“This is my old school friend, Maigret. He’s a police officer.”

Then, to Maigret:

“Allow me to introduce my wife, Monique.”

Then, as now, the sun was shining. They had really had nothing to say to one another.

“How are things? Still happy in your work?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Are you living in Paris?”

“Yes. Sixty-two Boulevard Haussmann. But I travel a good deal on business. I’ve just come back from Istanbul. We must get together some time, the two of us, and you and Madame Maigret… I suppose you’re married?”

The encounter had been something of an embarrassment to both of them. The couple’s pale green, open sports car had been parked nearby, and they had got into it and driven off, leaving Maigret to continue on his way.

The Florentin now facing Maigret across his desk was more seedy than the dashing figure he had seemed to be on the Place de la Madeleine. He was wearing a rather shabby gray suit, and his manner was a good deal less self-assured.



Wednesday, October 01, 2014

R-r-r-r-esult

That moment you find a copy of a book for $2 in a bookshop when the cheapest copy available on the internet is $63. That.

Let me correct that. The only copy available on the internet is $63 . . . and, for all I know, it's in worse condition than the copy that I just picked up.

The copy I just picked up is falling to bits as I write and won't survive a second reading - like I ever read a book a second time - but I never thought I'd see a copy of the this most wanted book this side of winning the lottery. (And, trust me, I looked for it.)

Thursday, September 18, 2014

My Friend Maigret by Georges Simenon (Penguin Classics 1949)




When the detectives had passed the yacht, Mr Pyke spoke again, slowly, with his habitual precision.

'He's the sort of son good families hate to have. Actually you can't have many specimens in France.'

Maigret was quite taken aback, for it was the first time, since he had known him, that his colleague had expressed general ideas. Mr Pyke seemed a little embarrassed himself, as though overcome with shame.

'What makes you think we have hardly any in France?'

'I mean not of that type, exactly.'

He picked his words with great care, standing still at the end of the jetty, facing the mountains which could be seen on the mainland.

'I rather think that in your country, a boy from a good family can commit some bêtises, as you say, so as to have a good time, to enjoy himself with women or cars, or to gamble in the casino. Do your bad boys play chess? I doubt it. Do they read Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Kierkegaard? It's unlikely, isn't it? They only want to live their life without waiting for their inheritance.'

They leant against the wall which ran along one side of the jetty, and the calm surface of the water was occasionally troubled by a fish jumping.

'De Greef does not belong to that category of bad characters, I don't think he even wants to have money. He's almost a pure anarchist. He has revolted against everything he has known, against everything he's been taught, against his magistrate of a father and his bourgeois mother, against his home town, against the customs of his own country.'

He broke off, half-blushing.

'I beg your pardon . . . '

'Go on, please.'

'We only exchanged a few words, the two of us, but I think I have understood him, because there are a lot of young people like that in my country, in all countries, probably, where morals are very strict. That's why I said just now that one probably doesn't come across a vast number of that type in France. Here there isn't any hypocrisy. Perhaps there isn't enough.'

Was he alluding to the surroundings, the world the two of them had been plunged in since their arrival, to the Monsieur Émiles, the Charlots, the Ginettes, who lived among the others without being singled out for opprobrium?

Maigret felt a little anxious, a little piqued. Without being attacked, he was sung by an urge to defend himself.


Sunday, June 01, 2014

Maigret on the Riviera by Georges Simenon (Harcourt Brace 1932)



This was unexpected. She seized the bottle and threw it on the floor, where it smashed into pieces.

“And me thinking…”

The light in the alley outside was faint through the two doors. The barman opposite could be heard putting up his shutters. It must have been very late. The streetcars had stopped ages ago.

“I can’t bear the thought of it,” she shrieked. “I can’t… I won’t… Anything but that… It’s not true… It’s…”

“Jaja!”

But the sound of her name did not calm her. She had worked herself into a frenzy. With the same impetuosity with which she had seized the bottle, she stooped and picked up something from the floor.

“Not Haguenau!… It’s not true. Sylvie didn’t…”

In all his years of service, Maigret had seen nothing like this. She had picked up a small piece of glass and, talking all the time, had cut into her wrist, right down to the artery.

Her eyes almost popped out of her head. She looked raving mad.

“Haguenau… I… It wasn’t Sylvie!”

A gush of blood spurted out as Maigret reached her. His right hand was covered with it, and it even splashed on his tie. He seized her by both arms.

For a few seconds Jaja, bewildered, helpless, looked at the blood—her own blood—as it ran down. She fainted. Maigret let her sink to the floor.

His fingers felt for the artery and pressed it. But that was no good—he must find something to tie it with. He looked around the room. Spotting an electric cord, he wrenched it free of the iron it belonged to.

As Jaja lay motionless on the floor, he wound the cord around her wrist, and tightened it. 



Sunday, January 05, 2014

The Madman of Bergerac by Georges Simenon (Penguin Mystery 1932)



What he found strange was not Samuel's profession, but to find in a place like Bergerac links extending from Warsaw to Algiers.

People like this Samuel—he had dealt with hundreds in his time. And he had always studied them with curiosity that was mixed with some other feeling—not quite repulsion—as they belonged to a different species altogether from the one we call human.

You'd find them as barmen in Scandinavia, as gangsters in America, as casino owners in Holland, or else as headwaiters or theater directors in Germany, or wholesalers in North Africa.

And now they were cropping up again in this peaceful little town of Bergerac, which you would have taken for the most remote place imaginable from all the terror, sordidness, and tragedy that their doings involved.

Eastern and Central Europe between Budapest and Odessa, between Tallinn and Belgrade, an area teeming with a mass of humanity. In particular, there hundreds of thousands of hungry Jews whose only ambition was to seek a better existence in some other land. Boat-loads and trainloads of emigrants with children in their arms, and dragging their old folk behind them, resigned, tragic faces queuing at border checkpoints.

There were more Poles in Chicago than Americans . . . France alone had absorbed trainloads and trainloads. In every town in the country there were people who at every birth, death, or marriage had to spell their outlandish names letter by letter at the town hall . . . 

Some were legal emigrants, with their papers in order. Others didn't have the patience to wait, or were unable to obtain a visa.

That's where Samuel came in, Samuel and his like. Men who spoke ten languages, who knew every frontier in Europe. the rubber stamp of every consulate, and even the signatures of the officials. They could see to everything!

Their real activity would be concealed behind the façade of some other business, preferably international.

Postage stamps. What could be better?

To Mr A. Levy, Chicago.

Sir,

I am this day dispatching two hundred rare Czechoslovakian stamps with orange vignettes . . . 

There was another traffic, too, which no doubt interested Samuel, as it did most of his kind.

In the maisons spéciales of South America it was French girls who formed the quality. Their purveyors worked in Paris on the Grands Boulevards. But the smaller fry, the cheaper end of the market, came from Eastern Europe. Country girls who left home at fifteen or sixteen, returning—if ever they did—at twenty, with their dowries in their pockets.








Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Maigret and the Death of a Harbor-Master by Georges Simenon (Harcourt, Brace and Company 1932)




“How’s your investigation getting on?” the mayor inquired.

Maigret made an evasive gesture. He was keeping a hold on himself to prevent his eyes from straying to the door leading into the next room, the drawing-room. The door was vibrating in a most peculiar manner.

“No results, eh?” the mayor continued.

“Nothing, so far.”

“Like to have my opinion? It was a mistake treating this as a complicated case.”

“Obviously,” Maigret grunted. “Clear as daylight, isn’t it? One night a man disappears, and his movements for a month and more cannot be traced. Six weeks later he turns up in Paris. He’s been shot through the head and had his skull patched up. His memory’s gone. He is brought home and poisoned that very night. Meanwhile three hundred thousand francs have been paid into his account, from Hamburg… A simple case! Nothing complicated about it!”

The tone was mild, but now there was no mistaking the Inspector’s meaning.

“Yes, yes… But all the same, it may be simpler than you think. And even supposing there’s some mystery behind it, in my opinion it’s a great mistake to go about creating—deliberately creating—feelings of uneasiness in the village. You know how those men are; they drink like fish, their nerves are none too steady at the best of times. If one keeps harping on such matters in the local bars, it may throw them altogether off their balance.”

He had spoken slowly, emphatically, with a stern look on his face and in the tone of a committing magistrate.

“On the other hand, no attempt has been made to cooperate with the proper authorities. I, the mayor of the town, haven’t a notion what you’re up to, down in the harbor.”


Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Flemish Shop by Georges Simenon (Beadley Brothers 1932)




She cut the tart and handed Maigret a slice with such authority that there was no question of his refusing. Madame Peeters entered the room, her hands clasped in front of her, greeting the guest with a timid smile, a smile full of sadness and resignation.

“Anna told me you were coming. It’s very kind of you…”

She was more Flemish than her daughter, and she spoke with a decided accent. Her features, however, were of considerable refinement, and her strikingly white hair invested her with a certain distinction. She sat on the edge of her chair, like a woman who never sits for more than a few minutes at a time.

“You must be hungry after your journey. For my part, I’ve lost all appetite since…”

Maigret thought of the old man by the kitchen stove. Why didn’t he come for a cup of coffee and a slice of tart? At the same moment Madame Peeters said to her daughter:

“Take a slice to your father.”

And to the inspector:

“He hardly ever leaves his chair. In fact, he doesn’t realize…”

The atmosphere was so far from being dramatic that it was hard to believe that anything could disturb it. The impression one had on entering was that even the most fearsome events outside could make little headway against the peace and quiet of this Flemish house, where there was not a particle of dust, not a breath of air, and no sound but the gentle snoring of the stove.

And Maigret, while starting on his thick slice of tart, began asking questions.

“When did it happen, exactly?”

“On January 3rd.”

“And it’s now the 20th.”

“Yes. They didn’t think of accusing us at the beginning.”

“This girl—what do you call her? Germaine…”

“Germaine Piedbœuf,” answered Anna, who was now back in the room. “She came about eight in the evening. My mother went into the shop to see what she wanted.”

“What did she want?”

Madame Peeters brushed away a tear as she answered:

“The same as usual… She complained that Joseph never came to see her or even sent her a word… And to think of all the work he has to do! It’s wonderful how he does it, with all this trouble hanging over our heads…”