A weak entry. It had promise as something a little different, with Maigret’s adversary not being the killer (who never even appears on stage) but a young woman with an imagination shaped by romance and detective fiction. Set in the “make-believe village” of a retirement community full of “toy houses” (not unlike how our hero saw the town of Delfzijl in A Crime in Holland) the potential for some kind of postmodern Maigret was there. But the events are far-fetched and the resolution just a confusing whirl of telephone calls describing actions that are hard to follow. In the end I wasn’t sure how seriously Simenon wanted us to take it. The character of Félicie is problematic to say the least, but Maigret adores her. Should we? To only be amused at her behaviour strikes me as little better than the delight the decadent heiress has in the machinations of Madame Le Cloagulen in Signed, Picpus. Is their only difference one of class?