Inspector Maigret
by75 books in this series
Maigret is Afraid
The mood of the town was still jittery. It was all very well for people to go about their day-to-day activities as usual, there was a certain anxiety in people's eyes and they seemed to be walking faster, as if they were afraid the murderer would suddenly appear. Maigret would have sworn the housewives didn't normally stand around on the doorsteps talking in hushed tones.
Maigret and the Man on the Bench
Were these yellow shoes part of the reason Maigret was so interested in this man? He would never admit it, but for years he too had longed to wear olive-green shoes. They were fashionable at the time, along with those very short beige raincoats.
Maigret's Revolver
The most exasperating of all was the head clerk at reception, in his elegant morning coat and stiff collar, which was not wilting with a drop of perspiration. He was treating Maigret in a cordial way, or possibly feeling sorry for him, as from time to time he flashed him a smile, intended to be both complicit and encouraging.
Maigret, Lognon and the Gangsters
Maigret was less angry in fact than he seemed. Pozzo was a tough customer, but he didn't mind that. Nor did he mind dealing with characters who had sent the American police packing. Genuine hard men who played for keeps. . . . Maigret hadn't the slightest idea of the identity of the man who had been tipped out onto the pavement on Rue Fléchier, almost at Inspector Lognon's feet. He didn't even know if the stranger was dead or not.
Maigret and the Tall Woman
Maigret's attitude came as a surprise to those who were working alongside him in Rue de la Ferme. Ever since the morning there had been something unusual in the way that the inspector had been directing operations. It wasn't the first search of this type in which he had participated, but as it went on it began to take on a character all of its own.
Maigret Takes a Room
What he thought he had discovered, in place of the joyful candour that she usually displayed, was an irony which was neither less cheerful nor less childish, but which troubled him . . . He wondered now if his exultation wasn't down to the fact that she was playing a part, not just to deceive him, not just to hide something from him, but for the pleasure of acting a part.
Maigret at Picratt's
'Compelling, remorseless, brilliant' John Gray
'He opened the door for her and watched her walk away down the huge corridor, then hesitate at the top of the stairs. Heads turned as she passed. You sensed she came from a different world, the world of the night, and there was something almost indecent about her in the harsh light of a winter's day'
A young cabaret dancer in a black silk dress leads Maigret into a seamy world of nightclubs, drug addiction and exploitation on the streets of Montmartre.
This novel has been published in previous translations as Maigret and the Strangled Stripper and Maigret in Montmartre.
'One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century . . . Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories' Guardian
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness' Independent
'He opened the door for her and watched her walk away down the huge corridor, then hesitate at the top of the stairs. Heads turned as she passed. You sensed she came from a different world, the world of the night, and there was something almost indecent about her in the harsh light of a winter's day'
A young cabaret dancer in a black silk dress leads Maigret into a seamy world of nightclubs, drug addiction and exploitation on the streets of Montmartre.
This novel has been published in previous translations as Maigret and the Strangled Stripper and Maigret in Montmartre.
'One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century . . . Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories' Guardian
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness' Independent
Maigret's Memoirs
I can still see Simenon coming into my office the next day, pleased with himself, displaying even more self-confidence, if possible, than before, but nevertheless with a touch of anxiety in his eyes . . . He trumpeted these last words as if they were a sensational discovery. 'Making it seem truer than life, that's the crux of it. Well, I've made you truer than life.'
Madame Maigret's Friend
'Compelling, remorseless, brilliant' John Gray
When he got to his door, he was surprised not to hear any noise in the kitchen and not to smell any food. He went in, crossed the dining room, where the table had not been laid, and at last saw Madame Maigret, in her slip, busy taking off her stockings. This was so unlike her that he could find nothing to say, and when she saw him standing there wide-eyed, she burst out laughing.
Inspector Maigret's wife turns sleuth after a strange encounter in a Paris square leads her on the trail of a woman in a white hat, and towards a grisly tale of deception and greed.
Penguin is publishing the entire series of Maigret novels in new translations.
'His artistry is supreme' John Banville
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness' Independent
When he got to his door, he was surprised not to hear any noise in the kitchen and not to smell any food. He went in, crossed the dining room, where the table had not been laid, and at last saw Madame Maigret, in her slip, busy taking off her stockings. This was so unlike her that he could find nothing to say, and when she saw him standing there wide-eyed, she burst out laughing.
Inspector Maigret's wife turns sleuth after a strange encounter in a Paris square leads her on the trail of a woman in a white hat, and towards a grisly tale of deception and greed.
Penguin is publishing the entire series of Maigret novels in new translations.
'His artistry is supreme' John Banville
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness' Independent
Maigret and the Old Lady
The moon must have risen above the mist, which was now faintly incandescent, and, when Arlette stopped, he saw the pale shape of her face, with the wide line of her mouth . . .Then, still standing there in front of him, she said in a changed voice, which was painful to hear: 'And . . . don't you want to take advantage of me, like the others?'
Maigret at the Coroner's
'Compelling, remorseless, brilliant' John Gray
The FBI man was convinced, in short, that Maigret was a big shot in his own country but that here, in the United States, he was incapable of figuring out anything . . .well, Maigret happened to believe that men and their passions are the same everywhere.
Maigret is touring the United States to observe American policing methods, when a visit to a coroner's inquest in Arizona draws him into the tragic story of a young woman and five airmen in the desert.
'One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century . . . Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories' Guardian
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness' Independent
The FBI man was convinced, in short, that Maigret was a big shot in his own country but that here, in the United States, he was incapable of figuring out anything . . .well, Maigret happened to believe that men and their passions are the same everywhere.
Maigret is touring the United States to observe American policing methods, when a visit to a coroner's inquest in Arizona draws him into the tragic story of a young woman and five airmen in the desert.
'One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century . . . Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories' Guardian
'A supreme writer . . . unforgettable vividness' Independent
My Friend Maigret
There was a strong mistral blowing. I don't know what the mistral was doing there, but from what I've understood it has a certain importance. It's because of the mistral, in particular, that Marcellin, rather than going to sleep on his boat as he usually does, headed for a shack that stands near the harbour, where the fishermen store their nets.
Maigret's First Case
The profession he had always yearned for did not actually exist . . . he imagined a very clever, above all very understanding man, a cross between a doctor and a priest, a man capable of understanding another's destiny at first glance.
Maigret's first, and unofficial, investigation takes him into the hears of a bourgeois Paris household and a police cover-up.
Maigret's first, and unofficial, investigation takes him into the hears of a bourgeois Paris household and a police cover-up.
Maigret Sets a Trap
High up in Montmartre, there was a festive atmosphere, people were crowding round the little tables where rosé wine was being served ... Yet a hundred metres further on, the little alleyways were deserted, and the killer might find it easy to pounce
Detective Chief Inspector Maigret is known for his infallible instinct, for getting at the truth no matter how complex the case, but when someone starts killing women on the streets of Montmartre, he finds himself confounded. Under increasing pressure, Maigret brings together officers from across the city in a trap that finally catches the murderer out...
Detective Chief Inspector Maigret is known for his infallible instinct, for getting at the truth no matter how complex the case, but when someone starts killing women on the streets of Montmartre, he finds himself confounded. Under increasing pressure, Maigret brings together officers from across the city in a trap that finally catches the murderer out...
Maigret's Dead Man
Without the injuries, the man's face would have been unremarkable, fairly young and probably quite cheerful. Even in death, there were traces of something open and honest in his expression . . . That shoeless foot looked incongruous lying on the pavement next to another foot encased in a shoe made of black kid leather. It was naked, private. It did not really seem dead. It was Maigret who retrieved the other shoe which lay by the kerb six or seven metres away.
Maigret's Holiday
At what point in the day could the note have been slipped into his pocket, his left breast pocket? It was an ordinary sheet of glazed squared paper, probably torn out of an exercise book. The words were written in pencil, in a regular handwriting that looked to him like a woman's.
For pity's sake, ask to see the patient in room 15.
There was no signature. Only those words.
For pity's sake, ask to see the patient in room 15.
There was no signature. Only those words.