The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

bare toes and his hands, as nimble as a seamstress’s, were passing a crochet hook
in and out of the holes.
It was here that Marcellin had been killed. The two policemen glanced at the
interior. The center was occupied by a huge caldron like the ones used in the
country for boiling pig swill. Here it was the nets that were put to boil in a brown
mixture which protected them against the action of the sea water.
Marcellin must have used old sails as pillows, and in the corners there were
scattered about pots of paint, oil or petrol cans, pieces of scrap iron, patched-up
oars.
“Do other people ever sleep here?” Maigret asked the fisherman.
The latter raised his head indifferently.
“Old Benoit, sometimes, when it’s raining.”
“And when it’s not raining?”
“He prefers to sleep out of doors. It depends. Sometimes it’s in a cove or on
the deck of a boat. Sometimes on a bench in the square.”
“Have you seen him today?”
“He was over there just now.”
The fisherman pointed at the footpath which continued along the sea at a
certain height and which, on one side, was bordered with pine trees.
“Was he alone?”
“I think the gentleman who is at the Arche joined up with him a little farther
on.”
“Which one?”
“The one with a cloth suit and a white hat.”
It was Charlot.
“Did he come back this way?”
“A good half hour ago.”
The Cormorant was still no more than a white dot, but the white dot, now,
was clearly separated from the shore. Other ships were dotted about the sea,
some motionless, some progressing slowly, leaving a luminous wake behind
them.
Maigret and Mr. Pyke went down to the harbor once more, followed along the
jetty, as on the previous evening, mechanically watching a boy fishing conger
eels with a short line.
When they passed in front of the Dutchman’s small boat Maigret glanced