The Methods of Maigret ( PDFDrive )

change my life.”
“That doesn’t worry me.”
She pretended to joke.
“And supposing it worried me?”
Nonetheless she removed her hat, then her dress, which he helped her to undo
at the back.
“This has sort of done something to me,” she sighed. “I think he was happy
here.”
On the other evenings Marcellin, at this hour, would have been taking part in
the bowls on the square, in the setting sun.
“Everyone is very kind. He was well liked.”
She hastily removed her corsets, which had left deep marks on her milky skin.
Maigret, facing the attic window, had his back to her.
“Do you remember the question I asked you?” he said in a neutral voice.
“You repeated it enough times. I would never have believed you could be so
hard.”
“On my side I would never have believed that you would try to hide anything
from me.”
“I have hidden something from you?”
“I asked you why you had come here, to Porquerolles, when Marcel’s body
was already in Hyères.”
“I answered you.”
“You told me a lie.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the telephone call?”
“What telephone call?”
“The one Marcellin made to you the day before he died.”
“I didn’t remember it.”
“Nor the telegram?”
He didn’t have to turn around to discover her reaction, and kept his gaze fixed
on the game of bowls in progress opposite the terrace, from where there came a
confused murmur of voices. The clink of glasses could be heard.
It was very soft, very reassuring, and Mr. Pyke wasn’t there. As the silence
continued behind him, he asked: