The Methods of Maigret (aka. 'My Friend Maigret') by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon, Georges]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Google: YyIvAAAAIAAJ
Publisher: Crime Club
Published: 1957-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 6

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There is something to be said for the English. Would a French colleague in Mr. Pyke’s place have been able to resist the desire to score? And hadn’t Maigret, who was not especially given to teasing, all but made a discreet allusion just now to the plug which the Yard Inspector had pulled so many times during the night? Perhaps more alcohol had flowed that evening than either of them had imagined. At all events it was rather unexpected. There were still the three of them, Maigret, Pyke and Jojo, in the kitchen with the door left open. Maigret was finishing his coffee, and Mr. Pyke, in a bathing suit, was standing between him and the light, while Jojo was trying to find some bacon for him in the larder. It was exactly three minutes to eight and then, looking at the clock, Maigret declared in that innocent, inimitable voice, that comes to one in moments of gaffes:

“I wonder if Lechat is still sleeping off his wine from last night.”

Jojo started, but managed not to turn around. As for Mr. Pyke, all his good education failed to prevent the round look of astonishment being seen to light up his face. It was, however, with a perfect simplicity that he uttered:

“I’ve just seen him taking his place on board the Cormorant. I presume the boat will wait for Ginette.”

Maigret had done nothing more or less than forgotten all about Marcellin’s funeral. Worse still, it suddenly came back to him that the day before he had talked about it for a long time, with even a little too much insistence, to the Inspector. Was Mr. Pyke present at that conversation? He couldn’t have said, but he saw himself again, seated on the bench:

“You go with her, old man, do you get the idea? I don’t say it’ll lead anywhere. Perhaps she will show some reaction, perhaps not. Perhaps someone will try to speak to her unobtrusively. Perhaps recognizing a face in the congregation may tell you something. One should always go to funerals; it’s an old principle that has often succeeded. Keep your eyes skinned. That’s all.”

He seemed even to recall that, while speaking in a familiar way with the Inspector, he had related one or two stories of funerals which had put him on the track of criminals.

He understood now why Ginette had made so much noise in her bedroom. He heard her opening her door and calling out:

“Pour me out a cup of coffee, Jojo. How much time have I got?”

“Three minutes, madame!”

Just at that moment the sound of a siren was announcing the Cormorant’s imminent departure.

“I’ll come as far as the landing stage,” the Chief Inspector announced.

In his slippers and with no collar, for he hadn’t time to go up and get dressed. He wasn’t the only one in that attire. There were little groups in the neighborhood of the boat, still the same ones as had been there the day before when the Chief Inspector had landed.

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