The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

friends who is an expert on consumptives, and he got her into a sanatorium in
Savoie. That’s all.”
“That’s what you wrote to Pacaud?”
“That’s right. Pacaud was at Fresnes and I hadn’t time to go there myself.”
Maigret gave the file back to Langlois and started down the stairs.
“How about going to eat?”
This was another problem, almost a cause for his conscience. If he took Mr.
Pyke for his meals into too luxurious restaurants he risked giving his colleagues
from over the Channel the impression that the French police spend most of their
time junketing. If, on the other hand, he took him to places where only set meals
are served, perhaps they would accuse him of stinginess.
Same with aperitifs. To drink them or not to drink them?
“Are you expecting to go to Porquerolles?”
Would Mr. Pyke like to make a trip to the Midi?
“It’s not up to me to decide. In theory I don’t operate outside Paris and the
department of the Seine.”
The sky was gray, a lowering, hopeless gray and even the word mistral took
on a tempting allure.
“Do you like tripe?”
He took him to the Market, and made him eat tripe à la mode de Caen and
crepes suzette, which were brought to them on attractive copper plate warmers.
“This is what we call an empty sort of day.”
“So do we.”
What could the Scotland Yard man be thinking of him? He had come to study
“Maigret’s methods” and Maigret had no method. He found only a large, rather
clumsy man who must appear to him to be the prototype of the French public
servant. How long would he go on following him about like that?
At two o’clock they were back at the Quai des Orfèvres, and Caracci was still
there, in the kind of glass cage that served as a waiting room. That meant they
had got nothing out of him and they were going to question him again.
“Has he eaten?” Mr. Pyke asked.
“I don’t know. Possibly. Sometimes they have a sandwich brought up for
them.”
“And others?”
“They let them fast a little to spur their memories.”