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 changeof scene was as absolute as if they had been transported to Africa— with a blueporcelain 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 fornine days and that’s enough to drive everyone mad.”Maigret was skeptical. The people from the North—and the North beginsaround Lyons—have never taken the mistral seriously. So Mr. Pyke wasexcused for displaying indifference as well.“No one has left the island. You can ask everyone there when Marcellin wasmurdered. The fishermen were not at sea that night because of the storm. But atorpedo boat from Toulon and several submarines were doing exercises in the leeof the island. I rang up the Admiralty. They are positive. No boat made thecrossing.”“Which means the murderer is still on the island?”“You’ll see.”Lechat was showing off his familiarity with the island and its people. Maigretwas the newcomer, which is always rather a distasteful role. The car, after halfan hour, was slowing to a halt at a rocky promontory on which there was nothingto be seen except a typical Provence inn and several fishermen’s cottages paintedpink and pale blue.The sea was an incredible blue, like the color one normally sees only onpicture post cards, and, over on the horizon, an island stretched lazily in themiddle 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, paintedpale green picked out with white.“That’s for us. I asked Gabriel to bring me over and wait for you. The boatwhich does the regular service—the Cormorant—only comes at eight in themorning and five in the evening. Gabriel is a Galli. Let me explain. There are theGallis and the Morins. Almost everyone on the island belongs to one of the twofamilies.”Lechat was carrying the luggage, which seemed to grow larger at the end ofhis arms. The engine was already turning over. It was a little unreal and it washard to believe that they were there solely to concern themselves with a deadman.“I didn’t suggest showing you the body. It’s at Hyères. The post-mortem took
place yesterday morning.”There were about three miles between Giens Point and Porquerolles. As theyadvanced over the silky water the contours of the island became more distinct,with its peaks, its bays, its ancient fortresses in the greenery and, right in themiddle, a small group of light-colored houses, the church steeple which mighthave come from a child’s building set.“Do you think I might be able to get hold of a bathing suit?” the Englishmanasked Lechat.Maigret hadn’t thought of that and, leaning over the rail, he suddenlydiscovered, with a sense of vertigo, the bottom of the sea which was slippingaway under the boat. It was a good thirty feet below, but the water was so clearthat the minutest details of the underwater landscape were visible. And it reallywas a landscape, with its plains covered in greenery, its rocky hills, its gorgesand precipices, among which shoals of fish passed like sheep.A little put out, as though he had been surprised playing a child’s game,Maigret looked at Mr. Pyke, but only to score another point: the Scotland YardInspector, almost as stirred as he was himself, was also gazing at the bottom ofthe water.It is only after a while that one begins to take in the atmosphere of a place. Atfirst everything seems strange. The harbor was tiny, with a jetty on the left, arocky promontory, covered with sea pines, on the right. In the background weresome red roofs, white and pink houses among the palm trees, the mimosa and thetamarisk.Had Maigret ever seen mimosas before outside the flower girls’ baskets inParis? He couldn’t remember whether the mimosas had been in flower at thetime of the case he had conducted in Antibes and Cannes a few years before.On the jetty a handful of people were waiting. There were also somefishermen in boats painted like Christmas decorations.They were watched as they disembarked. Perhaps the people on the islandformed several groups. Maigret needn’t bother about these details until later. Forexample, a man dressed in white with a white cap on his head greeted him with ahand to his forelock, and he didn’t recognize him at first.“That’s Charlot!” Lechat whispered in his ear.The name, on the spur of the moment, conveyed nothing to him. A sort ofcolossus with bare feet piled the luggage on to a barrow without uttering a wordand pushed it in the direction of the village square.Maigret, Pyke, and Lechat followed. And, behind them, the locals followed in
- Page 2 and 3: The Methods of Maigretalso publishe
- Page 4 and 5: downpours. It had been raining like
- Page 6 and 7: mistaking the question in the Engli
- Page 8 and 9: “Tell me Langlois… By the way,
- Page 10 and 11: friends who is an expert on consump
- Page 12 and 13: to be seen there. Everyone knows ev
- Page 14 and 15: “I don’t know.”It was true. O
- Page 16 and 17: CHAPTER 2« ^ »And so the first ro
- Page 20 and 21: turn: all this in an odd silence.Th
- Page 22 and 23: “Where?”“To the water. Paul l
- Page 24 and 25: is sixty-five. It appears she had h
- Page 26 and 27: should have kept your letter, don
- Page 28 and 29: Paul’s a good chap. But there’s
- Page 30 and 31: wearing a butcher’s yellowish apr
- Page 32 and 33: stayed, perhaps even wrote home for
- Page 34 and 35: “They prefer not to think about i
- Page 36 and 37: “It’s she who runs the Sirènes
- Page 38 and 39: friendship, I sometimes act as her
- Page 40 and 41: “Of course.”“Were there other
- Page 42 and 43: that it was all futile, that he oug
- Page 44 and 45: for the open air.<P“Le Petit Var
- Page 46 and 47: “What about?”“I know perfectl
- Page 48 and 49: to her apron strings and that is wh
- Page 50 and 51: “When?”“When Justine dies.”
- Page 52 and 53: “You must do as you wish,” she
- Page 54 and 55: be heard calling in the distance:
- Page 56 and 57: one probably doesn’t come across
- Page 58 and 59: CHAPTER 5« ^ »He had thought abou
- Page 60 and 61: Marcellin ever happen to go up to s
- Page 62 and 63: It is always ridiculous to play the
- Page 64 and 65: could be heard. Only the movement o
- Page 66 and 67: had only had occasion to visit Porq
place yesterday morning.”
There were about three miles between Giens Point and Porquerolles. As they
advanced over the silky water the contours of the island became more distinct,
with its peaks, its bays, its ancient fortresses in the greenery and, right in the
middle, a small group of light-colored houses, the church steeple which might
have come from a child’s building set.
“Do you think I might be able to get hold of a bathing suit?” the Englishman
asked Lechat.
Maigret hadn’t thought of that and, leaning over the rail, he suddenly
discovered, with a sense of vertigo, the bottom of the sea which was slipping
away under the boat. It was a good thirty feet below, but the water was so clear
that the minutest details of the underwater landscape were visible. And it really
was a landscape, with its plains covered in greenery, its rocky hills, its gorges
and precipices, among which shoals of fish passed like sheep.
A little put out, as though he had been surprised playing a child’s game,
Maigret looked at Mr. Pyke, but only to score another point: the Scotland Yard
Inspector, almost as stirred as he was himself, was also gazing at the bottom of
the water.
It is only after a while that one begins to take in the atmosphere of a place. At
first everything seems strange. The harbor was tiny, with a jetty on the left, a
rocky promontory, covered with sea pines, on the right. In the background were
some red roofs, white and pink houses among the palm trees, the mimosa and the
tamarisk.
Had Maigret ever seen mimosas before outside the flower girls’ baskets in
Paris? He couldn’t remember whether the mimosas had been in flower at the
time of the case he had conducted in Antibes and Cannes a few years before.
On the jetty a handful of people were waiting. There were also some
fishermen in boats painted like Christmas decorations.
They were watched as they disembarked. Perhaps the people on the island
formed several groups. Maigret needn’t bother about these details until later. For
example, a man dressed in white with a white cap on his head greeted him with a
hand to his forelock, and he didn’t recognize him at first.
“That’s Charlot!” Lechat whispered in his ear.
The name, on the spur of the moment, conveyed nothing to him. A sort of
colossus with bare feet piled the luggage on to a barrow without uttering a word
and pushed it in the direction of the village square.
Maigret, Pyke, and Lechat followed. And, behind them, the locals followed in
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