The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

yacht as well as the North Star. I suppose he caught the Dutchman in the middle
of signing a canvas with a name that wasn’t his own. Then he saw the same
canvas in Mrs. Wilcox’s possession and he tumbled to it. It took him a bit of
time to find out how the system was worked. He wasn’t sure. He had never even
heard of Van Gogh and he telephoned a girl friend to find out about him.”
Philippe was staring fixedly at the floor, a peevish look on his face.
“I don’t say it was you who killed him.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“You’re probably too much of a coward for that sort of a job. Marcellin told
himself that as the two of you were getting fat off the old woman’s bank balance
there was no reason why he shouldn’t be a third. He put it to you. You wouldn’t
play. Then, to dot all the i’s, he began to talk about his friend Maigret. How
much did he ask?”
“I shan’t answer.”
“I’ve plenty of time. That night Marcellin was killed.”
“I’ve an alibi.”
“Namely that at the time of his death you were in the grandmother’s bed.”
One could smell, even from the small town-hall room, the aperitifs that were
being served on the terrace at the Arche. De Greef must still have been there.
Probably Anna had joined him with her provisions. Lechat, at the neighboring
table, was watching him and if necessary would stop him going away.
As for Charlot, he had surely realized by now that he was too late. There was
another one who had been hoping to have his cut!
“Do you expect to talk, Philippe?”
“No.”
“Note that I’m not trying to make you do so by telling stories. I’m not telling
you that we’ve got proof, that De Greef has taken the bait. You’ll talk in the end
because you’re a coward, because you’re venomous. Give me your cigarettes.”
Maigret took the packet the young man handed to him and threw it out of the
window.
“May I ask you to do me a service, Mr. Pyke? Will you go and ask Lechat,
who is on the terrace at the Arche, to bring in the Dutchman? Without the young
girl. I’d also like Jojo to bring some beer.”
As though from scruple, he did not utter a word during his colleague’s
absence. He went on walking up and down, his hands behind his back, and
Sunday life continued on the other side of the window.