Authors: Georges Simenon
âI could do with a drink,' sighs
Ernest Lapie. âÃtienne! Julie! Stop running across those flower-beds! There
must be some wine here somewhere.'
âIn the wine store,' Maigret
tells him.
Lapie's wife walks round to
Mélanie's to buy cakes for the children and, since she's there, decides
to bring some back for everybody.
âThere's no reason, inspector,
why my brother should have made a will. I know he was a strange character. He kept
himself to himself and we didn't have much to do with him any more. But that
doesn't mean â¦'
Maigret rummages through the drawers of a
small desk in one corner of the room. From it he takes out bundles of old bills,
carefully classified, and then an old note-case
with a grey bloom on
it which contains a single brown envelope.
To be opened after my death
âWell, gentlemen, I think this is
what we're looking for.'
I, the undersigned, Jules Lapie,
being of sound mind and body, in the presence of Ernest Forrentin and François
Lepape, both residing in Jeanneville in the commune of Orgeval â¦
Maigret reads in a voice which grows
increasingly solemn.
âSo Félicie was right!' he
said finally. âShe inherits the house and all its contents.'
The family are all dumbstruck. The will
contains one brief phrase which they are unlikely to forget:
Given the attitude which my
brother and his wife chose to adopt after my accident â¦
âI only told him that it was
ridiculous to go stirring heaven and earth just because â¦' comments Ernest
Lapie.
Given the conduct of my nephew,
Jacques Pétillon â¦
The young man who has come from Paris looks
like the class dunce on speech-day.
None of it matters. Félicie has
inherited everything. And Félicie, God only know why, has disappeared.
Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!