The Grand Banks Café Read online

  ‘Which members of the crew saw you when you were on board?’

  ‘It was the fourth night. I felt like a breath of air out on deck. I’d had enough of being locked up. Fallut went outside and checked to make sure there was no one about. It was as much as he could do to let me walk five steps up and down. He must have gone up on the bridge for a moment, and it was then that the wireless operator showed up and spoke to me … He was shy but got worked up. Next day he managed to get into my cabin.’

  ‘Did Fallut see him?’

  ‘I don’t think so … He didn’t mention anything.’

  ‘Did you sleep with Le Clinche?’

  She did not answer. Gaston Buzier sneered.

  ‘Admit it!’ he barked in a voice full of spite.

  ‘I’m free to do as I please! Especially seeing as how you didn’t exactly abstain from female company while I was away! Don’t deny it! Are you forgetting the girl from the Villa des Fleurs? And what about that photo I found in your pocket?’

  Maigret sat as solemn and impassive as the oracle.

  ‘I asked if you slept with the wireless operator.’

  ‘And I’m telling you to go to blazes!’

  She smiled provocatively. Her lips were moist. She knew men desired her. She was counting on the promise of her pouting mouth, her sensuous body.

  ‘The chief mechanic saw you too.’

  ‘What’s he been telling you?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ll recap. The captain kept you hidden in his cabin. Pierre Le Clinche and the chief mechanic would come to you there, on the quiet. Was Fallut aware of this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Although he had his suspicions and prowled round you and never left you alone except when he absolutely had to.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Did he still talk about marrying you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  In his mind’s eye, Maigret saw the trawler, the firemen down in the bunkers, the crew crammed into the foredeck, the wireless room, the captain’s cabin aft, with the raised bed.

  And the voyage had lasted three months!

  All that time three men had prowled round the cabin where this woman was shut away.

  ‘I’ve done some pretty stupid things, but that …!’ she exclaimed. ‘Hand on heart, if I had to do it again … A girl should always be on her guard against shy men who talk about marriage!’

  ‘If you’d listened to me,’ said Gaston Buzier.

  ‘You shut your trap! If I’d listened to you, I know what kind of accommodation I’d be in now! I don’t want to speak ill of Fallut, because he’s dead. But all the same he was cracked. He had peculiar ideas. He’d have thought he’d done something wrong just because he’d broken some rules. And it went from bad to worse. After a week, he never opened his mouth except to go on at me or ask if anybody had been in the cabin. Le Clinche was the one he was most jealous of. He’d say:

  ‘“You’d like that, wouldn’t you! A younger man! Say it! Admit that if he came in when I wasn’t here you wouldn’t turn him away!”

  ‘And he’d laugh so nastily that it hurt.’

  ‘How many times did Le Clinche come to see you?’ Maigret asked slowly.

  ‘Oh, all right, the hell with it. Once. On the fourth day. I couldn’t even tell you how it happened. After that, it wasn’t on the cards, because Fallut kept such a close eye on me.’

  ‘And the mechanic?’

  ‘Never! But he tried! He’d come and look at me through the porthole. When he did that, he looked as white as a sheet … What sort of life do you think that was? I was like an animal in a cage. When the sea was rough I was sick, and Fallut didn’t even try to look after me. He went for weeks without touching me. Then the urge would come back. He’d kiss me as if he wanted to bite me and held me so tight I thought he was trying to suffocate me.’

  Gaston Buzier had lit a cigarette and was now smoking it with a sarcastic expression on his face.

  ‘Please note, inspector, all this had nothing to do with me. While it was going on, I was working.’

  ‘Oh give it a rest, will you?’ she said, losing patience.

  ‘What happened when you got back? Did Fallut tell you that he was intending to kill himself?’

  ‘What, him? He didn’t say anything. When we got back to port, he hadn’t said a single word to me for two weeks. To tell the truth, I don’t think he spoke to anyone. He’d stay put for hours with his eyes just staring in front of him. Meantime I’d made up my mind to leave him. I was fed up with it all, wasn’t I? I’d have sooner starved to death: I’d never give up my freedom … I heard somebody walking along the quayside. Then he came in the cabin and said just a few words:

  ‘“Wait here until I come to fetch you.”’

  ‘Spoken like a captain. Didn’t he ever speak more … fondly?’

  ‘At the finish, no!’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t know anything else. Or rather, the rest I learned from Gaston. He was there, down at the harbour.’

  ‘Talk!’ Maigret ordered the man.

  ‘Like she said, I was down by the harbour. I saw the crew go into the bar. I waited for Adèle. It was dark. Then after a while, the captain came on shore by himself. There were trucks parked nearby. He started walking, and as he did a man jumped him. I don’t know exactly what happened but there was a noise like a body falling into the water.’

  ‘Would you recognize the man?’

  ‘No. It was dark, and the trucks stopped me seeing much.’

  ‘Which way did he go when he left?’

  ‘I think he walked along the quay.’

  ‘And you didn’t see the wireless operator?’

  ‘I don’t know … I’ve no idea what he looks like.’

  ‘And you,’ said Maigret, turning to the woman, ‘how did you get off the boat?’

  ‘Somebody unlocked the door of the cabin where I was shut in. It was Le Clinche. He said:

  ‘“Go quickly!”’

  ‘Was that all?’

  ‘I tried to ask him what was happening. I heard people running along the quayside and a boat with a lantern being rowed across the harbour.

  ‘“Get going!” he repeated.

  ‘He pushed me on to the gangway. Everybody was looking the other way. No one paid any attention to me. I had the feeling that something horrible was going on but I preferred to make myself scarce. Gaston was waiting for me a little further along.’

  ‘And what did the two of you do after that?’

  ‘Gaston was as white as a sheet. We went into bars and drank rum. We spent the night at the Railway Inn. The next day all the papers were full of the death of Fallut. So first we took ourselves off to Le Havre, just in case. We didn’t want to get mixed up in that business.’

  ‘But that didn’t stop her wanting to come back and nose around here,’ snapped Gaston. ‘I don’t know whether it was on account of the wireless operator or …’

  ‘Just shut up! That’s enough! Of course I was curious about what had happened. So we came back here to Fécamp three times. So that we wouldn’t attract attention, we stayed at Yport.’

  ‘And you never saw the chief mechanic again?’

  ‘How do you know about that? One day, in Yport … I was scared by the way he looked at me … He followed me quite a long way.’

  ‘Why were you arguing earlier this afternoon with Gaston?’

  She gave a shrug.

  ‘Because! Look, haven’t you got it yet? He thinks I’m in love with Le Clinche, that the wireless operator killed because of me and I don’t know what else. He keeps going on and on until I’m sick to death of it. I had my fill of scenes on that damned boat …’

  ‘But when I showed you that photo of you, on the hotel terrace …’

  ‘Oh very clever! Of course I knew straight off that you were police. I told myself Le Clinche must have talked. I got scared and told Gaston to get us out of there. Only on the way, we thought there was no point because i
n the end they’d collar us round the next corner. Not to mention the fact that we’d only got two hundred francs between us. What are you going to do with me? … You can’t send me to jail!’

  ‘Do you think the wireless operator is the killer?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Do you own a pair of tan-coloured shoes?’ Maigret suddenly asked Gaston Buzier.

  ‘I … Yes. Why?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just asking. Are you absolutely sure you wouldn’t be able to recognize the man who killed the captain?’

  ‘All I saw was a man’s outline in the dark.’

  ‘Well now, Pierre Le Clinche, who was also there, hidden by the trucks, reckons the murderer was wearing tan shoes.’

  Gaston was on his feet like a shot. His eyes were hard, and his lips curled in a snarl.

  ‘He said that? You’re sure he said that?’

  His anger almost choked him, reduced him to a stammer. He was no longer the same man. He banged the desk with his fist.

  ‘I’m not having this! Take me to him! … Where is he? By God! We’ll soon see who’s lying! Tan-coloured shoes! And that makes me the killer, right? … He’s the one who took my girl! He’s the one who let her off the boat! And he has the nerve to say …’

  ‘Calm down.’

  He could scarcely breathe. He gasped:

  ‘Did you hear that, Adèle? … That’s just like all your lover-boys!’

  Tears of rage filled both eyes. His teeth chattered.

  ‘This is too much! … It wasn’t me who … ha ha ha … this takes the biscuit! It’s better than the films! … And the minute it comes out that I’ve got two convictions, he’s the one who is believed! So I killed Captain Fallut! … Because I was jealous of him, is that it? … What else? … Oh yes, didn’t I kill the wireless operator too?’

  He ran one hand feverishly though his hair, which left it in a mess. It also made him look thinner. His eyes had darker rings under them, his complexion was duller.

  ‘If you’re going to arrest me, what are you waiting for?’

  ‘Shut up!’ snapped Adèle.

  But she too had started to panic, though this did not stop her giving Gaston sceptical looks.

  Did she have her suspicions? Or was this some sort of play-acting game?

  ‘If you’re going to arrest me, do it now … But I demand to confront the man … Then we’ll see!’

  Maigret had pressed an electric bell. The station duty officer showed his face warily round the door.

  ‘I want you to keep the gentleman and the lady here until tomorrow, until we get a ruling from the examining magistrate.’

  ‘You rat!’ Adèle yelled at him and she spat on the floor. ‘You want to lock me up for telling the truth! … Right then, listen to me: every word of what I just told you was made up! … I’m not going to sign any statement! … That’ll put the tin lid on your little scheme! … So this is the way …’

  And turning to Gaston:

  ‘Never mind! … They can’t touch us! You’ll see, when it comes to it it’s us who’ll have the last laugh … Only thing is, a woman who’s been on the Vice Squad’s books, well, all she’s good for is for banging up in the cells … Oh by the way, just asking, was it me who killed the captain? …’

  Maigret left the room without listening to the rest. Outside, he filled his lungs with sea air and knocked the ash out of his pipe. He hadn’t gone ten metres when he heard Adèle from inside the police station regaling officers with the choicest items of her vocabulary.

  It was now two in the morning. The night was unnaturally calm. It was high tide, and the masts of the fishing boats swayed to and fro above the roofs of the houses.

  And over everything the regular murmur, wave after wave, of sea on shingle.

  Harsh lights surrounded the Océan. It was still being unloaded round the clock, and the dock-hands strained to push the trucks as they filled with cod.

  The Grand Banks Café was closed. At the Hôtel de la Plage, the porter, wearing a pair of trousers over his night-shirt, opened the door for the inspector.

  The lobby was lit by a single lamp. It was why it took a moment before Maigret made out the figure of a woman in a rattan chair.

  It was Marie Léonnec. She was asleep with her head resting on one shoulder.

  ‘I think she’s waiting for you,’ whispered the porter.

  She was pale. And possibly anaemic. There was no colour in her lips, and the dark shadows under her eyes showed just how exhausted she was. She slept with her mouth open, as if she was not getting enough air.

  Maigret touched her gently on the shoulder. She gave a start, sat up, looked at him in a daze.

  ‘I must have dropped off … Aah!’

  ‘Why aren’t you in bed? Didn’t my wife see you to your room?’

  ‘Yes. But I came down again. I was very quiet. I wanted to know … Tell me …’

  She was not as pretty as usual because sleep had made her skin clammy. A mosquito bite had left a red spot in the middle of her forehead.

  Her dress, which she had probably made herself from hard-wearing serge, was creased.

  ‘Have you found out anything new? No? Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot. I don’t know how to say this … Before I see Pierre tomorrow, I want you to talk to him. I want you to say that I know all about that woman, that I don’t hate him for it. I’m certain, you see, that he didn’t do it. But if I speak to him first, he’ll feel awkward. You saw him this morning. He’s all on edge, If there was a woman on board, isn’t it only natural if he …’

  But it was too much for her. She burst into tears. She could not stop crying.

  ‘And most of all, nothing must get into the papers. My parents mustn’t know. They wouldn’t understand. They …’

  She hiccupped.

  ‘You’ve got to find the murderer! I think if I could question people … I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. You know better than me. Only you don’t know Pierre. I’m two years older than him. He’s like a little boy really, especially if you accuse him of anything, he is likely to clam up – it’s pride – and not say anything. He is very sensitive. He has been humiliated too often.’

  Maigret put his hand on her shoulder, slowly, holding back a deep sigh.

  Adèle’s voice was still going round and round in his head. He saw her again, seductive, desirable in the full bloom of her animal presence, magnificent in her sensuality.

  And here was this well-brought-up anaemic girl, who was trying to hold back her tears and smile brightly.

  ‘When you really know him …’

  But what she would never really know was the dark cabin around which three men had circled for days, for weeks on end, far away, in the middle of the ocean, while other crewmen in the engine room and in the foredeck dimly sensed that a tragedy was unfolding, kept watch on the sea, discussed changes of course, felt increasingly uneasy and talked of the evil eye and madness.

  ‘I’ll talk to Le Clinche tomorrow.’

  ‘Can I too?’

  ‘Perhaps. Probably. But now you must get some rest.’

  A little later, Madame Maigret, still half-asleep, murmured:

  ‘She’s very sweet! Did you know she’s already got her trousseau together? All hand-embroidered … Find out anything new? You smell of perfume …’

  No doubt lingering traces of Adèle’s overpowering scent which had clung to him. A scent as common as cheap wine in cheap bistros which had, on board the trawler and for months on end, mingled with the rank smell of cod while men prowled round a cabin, as determined and pugnacious as dogs.

  ‘Sleep well!’ he said, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

  The kiss he placed on the forehead of his drowsy wife was solemn and sincere.

  6. The Three Innocents

  The staging was basic: the setting was the same as for most confrontations of witnesses and accused. This one was taking place in a small office in the jail. Chief Inspector Girard, of the Le Havre po
lice, who was in charge of the investigation, sat in the only chair. Maigret stood with his elbows leaning on the mantelpiece of the black granite fireplace. On the wall were graphs, official notices and a lithograph of the President of the French Republic.

  Standing in the full glare of the lamp was Gaston Buzier. He was wearing his tan-coloured shoes.

  ‘Let’s have the wireless operator in.’

  The door opened. Pierre Le Clinche, who had been given no warning, walked in, brow furrowed, like a man in pain who is expecting to get more of the same treatment. He saw Buzier. But he paid him not the slightest attention and looked all round him, wondering which man he should face.

  On the other hand, Adèle’s lover looked him up and down, a supercilious smile hanging on his lips.

  Le Clinche had a crumpled air. His flesh was grey. He did not try to bluster or conceal his dejection. He was as lost as a sick animal.

  ‘Do you recognize this man here?’

  He stared at Buzier, as if searching through his memory.

  ‘No. Who is he?’

  ‘Take a good look at him, from head to foot …’

  Le Clinche obeyed, and the minute his eyes reached the shoes, he straightened up.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes what?’

  ‘I understand what you’re getting at. The tan shoes …’

  ‘So that’s it!’ Gaston Buzier suddenly burst out. He had not said a word until then but his face was now dark with anger. ‘Why don’t you tell them again that I’m the one who did your captain in? Go on!’

  All eyes were on the wireless operator, who looked at the floor and gestured vaguely with one hand.

  ‘Say it!’

  ‘Perhaps those weren’t the shoes.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Gaston crowed, already claiming victory. ‘So you’re backing down …’

  ‘You don’t recognize the man who murdered Fallut?’

  ‘I don’t know … No.’

  ‘You are probably aware that this man is the lover of a certain Adèle, who you most certainly do know. He has already admitted that he was near the trawler at the moment the crime was committed. Also that he was wearing tan-coloured shoes.’