The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

smoothed down, a freshly lit cigarette at his lips. He wanted to appear bold. He
addressed himself directly to Maigret.
“You have some questions to put to me, Inspector?”
The latter pretended not to notice him.
“Do you often buy paintings, madame?”
“Fairly often. It’s one of my hobbies. Without having exactly what you might
call a picture gallery, I have some pretty good ones.”
“At Fiesole?”
“At Fiesole, yes.”
“Italian masters?”
“I don’t rise to that. I’m more modest and content my self with more modern
works.”
“Cézannes or Renoirs, for example?”
“I’ve a charming little Renoir.”
“Degas, Manet, Monet?”
“A Degas drawing, a dancer.”
“Van Gogh?”
Maigret was not looking at her but stared straight at Philippe, who appeared to
have swallowed his saliva and whose gaze became completely rigid.
“I’ve just bought a Van Gogh.”
“How long ago?”
“Several days. What day did we go to Hyères to send it off, Philippe?”
“I don’t remember exactly,” the latter replied in a colorless voice.
Maigret prompted them.
“Wasn’t it the day before or two days before Marcellin’s death?”
“Two days before,” she said. “I remember it now.”
“Did you find the picture here?”
She didn’t stop to think and a moment later she bit her lip.
“It was Philippe,” she said, “who, through a friend…”
She understood by the silence of the three men, looked at them in turn, then:
“What is it, Philippe?”
She had risen with a start, was advancing toward the Chief Inspector.
“You don’t mean?… Explain to me! Speak! Why don’t you say something?
Philippe? What’s…?”