‘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 in 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 police, 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.’

  All this time, Buzier was facing him down, bristling with impatience and fury.

  ‘That’s right! Make him talk! But he’d better be telling the truth or else I swear I’ll …’

  ‘Hold your tongue! Well, Le Clinche?’

  The young man passed his hand over his brow and winced, literally, with pain.

  ‘I don’t know! He can go hang for all I care!’

  ‘But you did see a man wearing tan shoes attack Fallut.’

  ‘I forget.’

  ‘That’s what you said when you were first interviewed. That wasn’t very long ago. Are you sticking to what you said then?’

  ‘No, that is … Look, I saw a man wearing tan shoes. That’s all I saw, I don’t know if he was the murderer.’

  The longer the interview went on, the more confident Gaston Buzier, who also looked rather seedy after a night in the cells, became. He was now shifting his weight from one leg to the other, with one hand in his trouser pocket.

  ‘See? He’s backing down! He doesn’t dare repeat the lies he told you.’

  ‘Answer me this, Le Clinche. Thus far, we know for certain that there were two men near the trawler at the time when the captain was murdered: you were one, and Buzier the other. You say you didn’t kill anybody. Now, after pointing the finger at this man, you seem to be withdrawing the accusation. So was there a third person there? If so, then it is impossible you could not have seen him. So who was it?’

  Silence. Pierre Le Clinche continued to stare at the ground.

  Maigret, still leaning with elbows propped up on the fireplace, had taken no part in the interrogation, happy to leave it to his colleague and content just to observe the two men.

  ‘I repeat the question: was there a third person on the quay?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the prisoner in a crushed voice.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  A shrug of the shoulder which meant: ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘It was dark.’

  ‘In that case tell me why you said the murderer was wearing tan shoes … Wasn’t it a way of drawing attention away from the real murderer who was someone you knew?’

  The young man clutched his head in both hands.

  ‘I can’t take any more!’ he groaned.

  ‘Answer me!’

  ‘No! You can do what you like …’

  ‘Bring in the next witness.’

  The moment the door was open, Adèle walked through it with an exaggerated swagger. She swept the room with one glance to get a sense of what had been going on. Her eye lingered in particular on the wireless operator, whom she seemed shocked to see looking so defeated.

  ‘I assume, Le Clinche, that you recognize this woman, whom Captain Fallut hid in his cabin throughout the entire voyage and with whom you were intimate.’

  He looked at her coldly. Yet already Adèle’s lips were parting and preparing to frame a captivating smile.

  ‘That’s her.’

  ‘To cut a long story short, there were three of you on board, who, in plain language, were sniffing around her: the captain, the chief mechanic and you. You went to bed with her at least once. The chief mechanic got nowhere. Was the captain aware that you had deceived him?’

  ‘He never spoke to me about it.’

  ‘He was very jealous, wasn’t he? And it was because he was so jealous that he didn’t speak to you for three months?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Was there some other reason?’

  Now he was red-faced, not knowing which way to look, talking too fast:

  ‘Well it could have been that. I don’t know …’

  ‘What else was there between you that might have created hatred or suspicion?’

  ‘I … There wasn’t anything … You’re right, he was jealous.’

  ‘What feelings did you have that led you to become Adèle’s lover?’

  A silence.

  ‘Were you in love with her?’

  ‘No,’ he sighed in a small dry voice.

  But the woman screeched:

  ‘Thanks a million! Always the gentleman, eh? But that didn’t stop you hanging round me until the very last day! Isn’t that the truth? And it’s also true that you probably had another girl waiting for you on shore!’

  Gaston Buzier pretended to be whistling under his breath, with his fingers hooked in the arm-holes of his waistcoat.

  ‘Tell me again, Le Clinche, if, when you went on board after witnessing the death of the captain, Adèle was still locked inside her cabin.’

  ‘Locked in, yes!’

  ‘So she couldn’t have killed anyone.’

  ‘No! It wasn’t her, I swear!’

  Le Clinche was getting ruffled. But Chief Inspector Girard went on remorselessly:

  ‘Buzier states that he didn’t kill anybody. But, after accusing him, you withdraw the accusation … Another way of looking at it is that the pair of you were in it together.’

  ‘Oh very nice, I must say!’ cried Buzier in a burst of brutal contempt. ‘When I take up crime, it won’t be with a … a …’

  ‘All right! Both of you could have killed because you were jealous. Both of you had been sleeping with Adèle.’

  Buzier said with a sneer:

  ‘Me jealous! Jealous of what?’

  ‘Have any of you anything further to add? You first, Le Clinche.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Buzier?’

  ‘I wish to state that I am innocent and demand to be released immediately.’

  ‘And you?’

  Adèle was putting on fresh lipstick.

  ‘Me …’ – a thick stroke of lipstick – ‘… I …’ – a look in her mirror – ‘… I’ve nothing to say, not a thing … All men are skunks! You heard that boy there, the one I’m supposed to have been prepared to do silly things for … It’s no good looking at me like that, Gaston. Now if you want my opinion, there’s things we know nothing about in this business with the boat. The minute you found out a woman had been on board, you thought it explained everything … But what if there was something else?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘How should I know? I’m not a detective …’

  She crammed her hair under her red straw toque. Maigret saw Pierre Le Clinche look away.

  ‘The two chief inspectors exchanged glances. Girard said:

  ‘Le Clinche will be returned to his cell. You two will stay in the waiting room … I’ll let you know whether you are free to go or not in a quarter of an hour.’

  The two detectives were left alone. Both looked worried.

  ‘Are you going to ask the magistrate to let them go?’ asked Maigret.

  ‘Yes. I think it’s the best thing. They may be mixed up in the killing, but there are other things we may be missing …’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Hello, operator? Get me the law courts at Le Havre … Hello? … Yes, public prosecutor’s office please …’

  A few moments later, while Chief Inspector Girard was talking to the magistrate, there was the sound of a disturbance outside. Maigret ran to see what was happening and saw Le Clinche on the ground, struggling with three uniformed officers.

  He was terrifyingly out of control. His eyes were bloodshot and looked wild and staring. Spittle drooled from his mouth. But he was being held down now and couldn’t move.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘We hadn’t ’cuffed him, seeing as how he was always so quiet … Anyway, as we were moving him down the corridor, he made a grab for the gun in my belt … He got it … was going to use it to kill himself … I stopped him firing it.’

  Le Clinche lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. His teeth were digging into the flesh of his lips, reddening his saliva with blood.

  But most disturbing were the tears which streamed down his leaden cheeks.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48