The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

around her yacht.”
They were being watched from the distance. Always little knots of people
who gave the impression of having nothing else to do all day.
“Another fifty yards farther on you can see Marcellin’s boat.”
The harbor was not lined with the backs of houses like the ones in the square,
but with villas, most of them surrounded with vegetation.
“They are empty, all except two,” Lechat explained. “I’ll tell you who they
belong to. This one belongs to Monsieur Émile and his mother. I’ve already told
you about the Minaret.”
A supporting wall divided the gardens from the sea. Each villa had its little
landing stage. At one of these, a local craft, pointed at both ends, about eighteen
feet long, was tied up.
“That’s Marcellin’s boat.”
It was dirty, its deck in disorder. Against the wall was a sort of hearth
composed of large stones, a saucepan, pots blackened by smoke, empty wine
bottles.
“Is it true that you knew him, Chief? In Paris?
“In Paris, yes.”
“What the local people refused to believe is that he was born in Le Havre.
Everyone is convinced he was a real southerner. He had the accent. He was a
queer fish. He lived in his boat. Now and then he would go for a trip to the
‘continent,’ as he would call it, which means that he would go and tie his boat up
to the jetty at Giens, St. Tropez, or Lavandou. When the weather was too bad he
would sleep in the hut you can see just above the harbor. That’s where the
fishermen boil their nets. He had no wants. The butcher would give him a bit of
meat here and there. He didn’t fish much, and then only in summer when he took
tourists out. There are a few like that along the coast.”
“Do you have types like that in England too?” Maigret asked Mr. Pyke.
“It’s too cold. We only have the dockside loafers at the ports.”
“Did he drink?”
“White wine. When people needed him to give a hand they paid him with a
bottle of white wine. He used to win it at bowls, too, for he was an expert bowls
player. It was in the boat that I found the letter. I’ll give it back to you presently.
I’ve left it at the town hall.”
“No other papers?”
“His army book, a photograph of a woman, that’s all. It’s strange that he