Read Online My Friend Maigret by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online

major wouldn’t come,” he announced. “He’s in his garden, doing nothing. I told him you asked him to step along here. He replied that if you wanted to see him, you had only to go and drink a bottle with him.”
    â€œHe’s within his rights.”
    â€œWho do you want to question now?”
    â€œNobody. I’d like you to telephone to Hyères. I presume there is a telephone at the Arche? Ask for Ginette, at the Hôtel des Palmes. Tell her from me that I would be glad if she would come and have a chat with me.”
    â€œWhere shall I find you?”
    â€œI don’t know. Probably at the harbor.”
    They walked slowly across the square, Mr. Pyke and he, and people followed them with their eyes. One might have thought it was with some distrust, but it was only that they didn’t know how to behave in the presence of the famous Maigret. The latter, on his side, felt an estranger , as they say locally. But he knew that it would not take much for every one of them to start talking freely, perhaps too freely.
    â€œDon’t you find you have the impression of being miles away, Mr. Pyke? Look! That’s France you can see over there, twenty minutes away by boat, and I’m as lost as if I were in the heart of Africa or South America.”
    Some children stopped playing, so as to examine them. They reached the Grand Hôtel, came in sight of the harbor, and Inspector Lechat was back with them already.
    â€œI couldn’t get her on the line,” he announced. “She’s left.”
    â€œHas she gone back to Nice?”
    â€œProbably not, as she told the hotel that she’d be back tomorrow morning in time for the burial.”
    The jetty, the small boats of all colors, the big yacht blocking the harbor, the North Star , far out, near a rocky promontory, and people watching another boat arriving:
    â€œThat’s the Cormorant ,” Lechat explained. “In other words, it’s just about five o’clock.”
    A youth, with a cap bearing the words “Grand Hôtel” in gold letters, was waiting for the guests-to-be beside a barrow intended for luggage. The small white boat approached, with silvered mustaches given it by the sea, and Maigret was not long in spotting, in the bows, a female figure.
    â€œProbably Ginette, coming to meet you,” the inspector said. “Everyone at Hyères must know you are here.”
    It was a strange sensation to see the people in the boat, slowly growing in size, becoming more clearly defined as on a photographic plate. Above all, it was distressing to see a woman, with Ginette’s features, very fat, very respectable, all in silk, all made up, and, no doubt, heavily scented.
    Truth to tell, when Maigret had met her in the Brasserie des Ternes, was he not himself more slim, and wasn’t she feeling at that moment just as disappointed as he, while she watched him from the deck of the Cormorant ?
    She had to be helped down the gangway. Apart from her there was no one on board besides Baptiste, the captain, except the dumb sailor and the postman. The lad with the gold-braided cap tried to take possession of her luggage.
    â€œTo the Arche de Noé!” she said.
    She went up to Maigret, hesitated, perhaps on account of Mr. Pyke, whom she didn’t know.
    â€œThey told me you were here. I thought you might like to speak to me. Poor Marcel!…”
    She didn’t say Marcellin, like the others. She didn’t affect any great sorrow. She had become a mature person, sober and calm, with a glimmer of a slightly disillusioned smile.
    â€œAre you staying at the Arche as well?”
    It was Lechat who took her case. She seemed to know the island and walked quietly, without haste, like one who easily gets out of breath, or who isn’t made for the open air.
    â€œ Le Petit Var says it’s because he mentioned you that he was killed. Do you believe it?”
    Now and again she cast a