The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

again the coughing sound which made one want to go and help to get it going
properly once and for all.
He felt he wanted to dress and go out of doors, then looked at the time by his
watch, which he had put on the bedside table, and found it was only half past
four in the morning. The smell was still more pronounced than the day before,
probably because of the damp of the dawn. There was no sound in the house, no
sound in the square where the foliage of the eucalyptus trees was motionless in
the rising sun. Only the motors in the harbor, an occasional voice, then even the
thrumming of the motors died away in the distance and for a very long time was
no more than a vibration in the air.
When he opened his eyes once more another smell reminded him of all the
mornings since his early childhood, the smell of fresh coffee. From most parts of
the house came the buzz of activity, and footsteps could be heard on the square,
brooms frisking against the stones in the roadway.
He was at once aware that there was something of vital importance that he had
to remember, but could bring back to mind no distinct memory. His mouth was
lined with fur because of the anisette. He felt for a bell button in the hope of
having some coffee sent up. There was none. Then he put on his trousers, his
shirt, his slippers, ran a comb through his hair and opened his door. A strong
smell of scent and soap was issuing from Ginette’s room where she must have
been busy at her toilet.
Wasn’t it about her that he had made, or thought he had made, a discovery?
He went down and, in the dining room, found the chairs in pyramids over the
tables. The doors were open and the chairs from the terrace were similarly
arranged. There was nobody about.
He went into the kitchen, which seemed dark to him, and had to accustom his
eyes to the half-light.
“Good morning, Chief Inspector. Did you sleep well?”
It was Jojo, in her black dress, which was too short and which literally clung
to her body. She hadn’t yet washed either, and she seemed to be naked
underneath.
“Will you have some coffee?”
For a second he thought of Madame Maigret, who at that hour would be
preparing the breakfast in their flat in Paris with the windows open onto
Boulevard Richard-Lenoir. It struck him that it was raining in Paris. When he
had left it was almost as cold as in winter. From here it seemed incredible.
“Would you like me to get a table ready for you?”