検索キーワード： 著者 "Simenon Georges" すべてのカテゴリー

In Maigrets 56. Fall wird der pensionierte Botschafter Comte Saint-Hilaire in seinem Arbeitszimmer erschossen. Das Außenministerium fordert höchste Diskretion. Maigret ermittelt zwischen Standesdünkel, strengen Erbgesetzen und verborgenen Liebschaften in der verschlossenen Welt des französischen Hochadels – und lässt sich von Rang und Namen nicht einschüchtern. Große Kriminalliteratur voller Atmosphäre, feiner Beobachtungen und menschlicher Abgründe: Walter Kreye liest die Maigret-Fälle 56 bis 62 in bester Simenon-Tradition.

'Just take a look,' Duclos said in an undertone, pointing to the scene all round them, the picture-book town, with everything in its place, like ornaments on the mantlepiece of a careful housewife . . . 'Everyone here earns his living. Everyone's more or less content. And above all, everyone...

'Try to imagine a guest, a wealthy woman, staying at the Majestic with her husband, her son, a nurse and a governess . . . In a suite that costs more than a thousand francs a day . . . At six in the morning, she's strangled, not in her room, but in the basement locker room' Below stairs at a...

Le cadavre d'une jeune fille est découvert place Vintimille, à Paris. Maigret parvient à identifier la victime : il s'agit de Louise Laboine, d'origine niçoise. En venant tenter sa chance à Paris quelques années plus tôt, elle se lie d'amitié dans le train avec Jeanine Armenieu, une jeune Lyonnaise.

Maigret shrugged his shoulders, buried his hands in his pockets and went off without answering. He had just spent one of the most wretched days in his life. For hours, in his corner he had felt old and feeble, without idea or incentive. But now a tiny flame flickered. 'You bet we'll see' he...

Maigret savoured the sensations of his youth again: the cold, stinging eyes, frozen fingertips, an aftertaste of coffee. Then, stepping inside the church, a blast of heat, soft light; the smell of candles and incense. The last time Maigret went home to the village of his birth was for his...

What was the woman doing here? In a stable, wearing pearl earrings, her stylish bracelet and white buckskin shoes! She must have been alive when she got there because the crime had been committed after ten in the evening. But how? And why? And no one had heard a thing! She had not screamed. The...

Quando Pierre Chave, in una notte di pioggia scrosciante, attraversa illegalmente la frontiera tra il Belgio e la Francia (dov'è ricercato per diserzione), non ignora che la sua sarà una corsa contro il tempo: per impedire che una bomba scoppi in una fabbrica di aerei, nella periferia di Parigi, facendo decine di vittime innocenti, deve a ogni costo riuscire a trovare Robert, il «ragazzino» infelice e bisognoso di affetto che, dopo averlo venerato come un maestro, si è sottratto alla sua influenza lasciandosi indurre a compiere un attentato.

He went out, lit his pipe and walked slowly to the harbour. He could hear scurrying footsteps behind him. The sea was becoming swollen. The beams of the lighthouses joined in the sky. The moon had just risen and the judge's house emerged from the darkness, all white, a crude, livid, unreal white...

He recalled his travelling companion's agitated sleep - was it really sleep? - his sighs, and his sobbing. Then the two dangling legs, the patent-leather shoes and hand-knitted socks . . . An insipid face. Glazed eyes. And Maigret was not surprised to see a grey beard eating into his cheeks. A...

The fifth book in the new Penguin Maigret series: Georges Simenon's gripping tale of small town suspicion and revenge, in Linda Asher's timeless translation. There was an exaggerated humility about her. Her cowed eyes, her way of gliding noiselessly about without bumping into things, of...

In his mind's eye he would see that slim figure in the striking clothes, those wide eyes the colour of forget-me-not, the pert nose and especially the hat, that giddy, crimson bonnet perched on the top of her head with a bronze-green feather shaped like a blade stuck in it . . . Félicie had...

'She came forward, the outlines of her figure blurred in the half-light. She came forward like a film star, or rather like the ideal woman in an adolescent's dream. 'I gather you wish to talk to me, Inspector . . . but first of all please sit down . . .' Her accent was more pronounced than...

In everyone's eyes, even the old ladies hiding behind their quivering curtains, even the kids just now who had turned to stare after they had passed him, he was the intruder, the undesirable. No, worse, he was fundamentally untrustworthy, some stranger who had just turned up from who knew where...

The second book in the new Penguin Maigret series: Georges Simenon's devastating tale of misfortune, betrayal and the weakness of family ties, in a new translation by Anthea Bell. Instead of the detail filling itself in and becoming clearer, it seemed to escape him. The face of the man in the...

'Let's be clear that it's not your professionalism which I question. If you understand nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, it's because from the very start you've been working with facts which had been falsified.' Maigret sets out to prove the innocence of a man condemned to death for a...

A man picked up for wandering in obvious distress among the cars and buses on the Grands Boulevards. Questioned in French, he remains mute . . . A madman? In Maigret's office, he is searched. His suit is new, his underwear is new, his shoes are new. All identifying labels have been removed. No...

It had a smell of holidays. The previous evening, in Cannes harbour, with the setting sun, had also had the smell of holidays, especially the Ardena, whose owner swaggered in front of two girls with gorgeous figures.. Dazzled at first by the glamour of sunny Antibes, Maigret soon finds himself...

A small, thin man, rather dull to look at, neither young nor old, exuding the stale smell of a bachelor who does not look after himself. He pulls his fingers and cracks his knuckles and tells his tale the way a schoolboy recites his lesson. A mysterious note predicting the murder of a...

'A radiant late afternoon. The sunshine almost as thick as syrup in the quiet streets of the Left Bank . . . there are days like this, when ordinary life seems heightened, when the people walking down the street, the trams and cars all seem to exist in a fairy tale.' A story told by a condemned...