The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

And off they went. The land was flat, deserted, the road lined with tamarisks,
with a palm tree here and there, then white salt marshes on the right. The change
of scene was as absolute as if they had been transported to Africa— with a blue
porcelain sky, and the air perfectly still.
“And the mistral?” Maigret asked, with a touch of irony.
“It stopped quite suddenly yesterday evening. It was high time. It’s blown for
nine days and that’s enough to drive everyone mad.”
Maigret was skeptical. The people from the North—and the North begins
around Lyons—have never taken the mistral seriously. So Mr. Pyke was
excused for displaying indifference as well.
“No one has left the island. You can ask everyone there when Marcellin was
murdered. The fishermen were not at sea that night because of the storm. But a
torpedo boat from Toulon and several submarines were doing exercises in the lee
of the island. I rang up the Admiralty. They are positive. No boat made the
crossing.”
“Which means the murderer is still on the island?”
“You’ll see.”
Lechat was showing off his familiarity with the island and its people. Maigret
was the newcomer, which is always rather a distasteful role. The car, after half
an hour, was slowing to a halt at a rocky promontory on which there was nothing
to be seen except a typical Provence inn and several fishermen’s cottages painted
pink and pale blue.
The sea was an incredible blue, like the color one normally sees only on
picture post cards, and, over on the horizon, an island stretched lazily in the
middle of the dazzling surface, with bright green hills, and red and yellow rocks.
At the end of the wooden landing stage a fishing boat was waiting, painted
pale green picked out with white.
“That’s for us. I asked Gabriel to bring me over and wait for you. The boat
which does the regular service—the Cormorant—only comes at eight in the
morning and five in the evening. Gabriel is a Galli. Let me explain. There are the
Gallis and the Morins. Almost everyone on the island belongs to one of the two
families.”
Lechat was carrying the luggage, which seemed to grow larger at the end of
his arms. The engine was already turning over. It was a little unreal and it was
hard to believe that they were there solely to concern themselves with a dead
man.
“I didn’t suggest showing you the body. It’s at Hyères. The post-mortem took