Read Online The Misty Harbour by Georges Simenon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Georges Simenon
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from so many others
were the shells piled high on the ruins of the altar. Shells of every shape and
kind, and there were words written on all of them, mostly in pencil, in the clumsy
handwriting of children and simple souls, or sometimes the firmer script of more
literate supplicants.
May the fishing be good in
Newfoundland and Papa need never sign up again …
The floor was of beaten earth. Where the
wall had fallen, the view was of sandy beach and silvery sea in the white haze. And
in spite of herself, having no idea how to handle the situation, Julie kept glancing
anxiously at the shells.
‘Did you bring one here?’
asked Maigret.
Julie shook her head.
‘When I arrived, though, you were
going through them. What were you looking for?’
‘Nothing, I …’
‘You …?’
‘Nothing!’
And she glared stubbornly, clutching her
coat more tightly around her.
Now it was the inspector’s turn to
pick up the shells one by one to read what was written on them. Suddenly, he smiled.
On an enormous clam shell he read, ‘Notre-Dame-
des-Dunes, help my brother Louis succeed so we will all
be happy.’
The date on it was 13 September. So this
primitive ex-voto had been brought here three days before Captain Joris
vanished!
And hadn’t Julie come here to
remove it?
‘Is this what you were hunting
for?’
‘What business is it of
yours?’
Her eyes never left the shell. She
seemed ready to jump at Maigret to tear it from his hands.
‘Give it to me! Put it back where
it belongs!’
‘All right, I’ll leave it
here, but you must, too. Come on, we’ll talk about it on the walk
back.’
‘I’ve nothing to say to
you.’
They set out, leaning forwards because
their feet sank into the soft sand. The wind was so sharp that their noses were red
and their cheeks gleamed.
‘Everything your brother has done
has gone wrong, hasn’t it?’
She stared straight ahead at the
beach.
‘Some things are impossible to
hide,’ he continued. ‘I’m not talking only about … about
what landed him in prison.’
‘Of course! It’s always
that! After twenty years they’ll still be saying—’
‘No, no, Julie! Louis is a good
sailor. Even an excellent one, I hear, able to serve as a first mate. Except that
one fine day he gets drunk with some fellows he’s just met and does some
stupid things, doesn’t return to his boat, drags around for weeks without a
job. Am I right? At times like that, he asks you for help. You – and just a few
weeks ago,
Joris. Then he becomes
responsible and hardworking again for a while.’
‘So?’
‘What was the plan that you
wanted, on the 13th of September, to make turn out well?’
Julie stopped and looked into his face.
She was much calmer now. She had had time to reflect. And there was an appealing
gravity in her eyes.
‘I knew it would bring us trouble.
And yet, my brother did nothing! I swear to you that if he had killed the captain, I
would have been the first to pay him back in kind.’
Her voice was low and heavy with
emotion.
‘It’s just that, there
are
some coincidences, and then that time in prison always hanging
around his neck. Whenever anyone does something wrong, Louis gets blamed for
everything that happens afterwards.’
‘What was the plan Louis
had?’
‘It wasn’t a plan. It was
quite simple. He’d met a really rich man, I don’t remember any more if
it was in England or at Le Havre. He didn’t tell me his name. A gentleman
who’d had enough of life ashore and wanted to buy a yacht and travel. He asked
Louis to find him a boat.’
They were still standing on the beach,
where all they could see of Ouistreham was the lighthouse, a raw white tower set off
by the paler sky.
‘Louis talked to his skipper about
it. Because for some time, on account of the slump, Lannec had been wanting to sell
the
Saint-Michel
. And that’s the whole of
were the shells piled high on the ruins of the altar. Shells of every shape and
kind, and there were words written on all of them, mostly in pencil, in the clumsy
handwriting of children and simple souls, or sometimes the firmer script of more
literate supplicants.
May the fishing be good in
Newfoundland and Papa need never sign up again …
The floor was of beaten earth. Where the
wall had fallen, the view was of sandy beach and silvery sea in the white haze. And
in spite of herself, having no idea how to handle the situation, Julie kept glancing
anxiously at the shells.
‘Did you bring one here?’
asked Maigret.
Julie shook her head.
‘When I arrived, though, you were
going through them. What were you looking for?’
‘Nothing, I …’
‘You …?’
‘Nothing!’
And she glared stubbornly, clutching her
coat more tightly around her.
Now it was the inspector’s turn to
pick up the shells one by one to read what was written on them. Suddenly, he smiled.
On an enormous clam shell he read, ‘Notre-Dame-
des-Dunes, help my brother Louis succeed so we will all
be happy.’
The date on it was 13 September. So this
primitive ex-voto had been brought here three days before Captain Joris
vanished!
And hadn’t Julie come here to
remove it?
‘Is this what you were hunting
for?’
‘What business is it of
yours?’
Her eyes never left the shell. She
seemed ready to jump at Maigret to tear it from his hands.
‘Give it to me! Put it back where
it belongs!’
‘All right, I’ll leave it
here, but you must, too. Come on, we’ll talk about it on the walk
back.’
‘I’ve nothing to say to
you.’
They set out, leaning forwards because
their feet sank into the soft sand. The wind was so sharp that their noses were red
and their cheeks gleamed.
‘Everything your brother has done
has gone wrong, hasn’t it?’
She stared straight ahead at the
beach.
‘Some things are impossible to
hide,’ he continued. ‘I’m not talking only about … about
what landed him in prison.’
‘Of course! It’s always
that! After twenty years they’ll still be saying—’
‘No, no, Julie! Louis is a good
sailor. Even an excellent one, I hear, able to serve as a first mate. Except that
one fine day he gets drunk with some fellows he’s just met and does some
stupid things, doesn’t return to his boat, drags around for weeks without a
job. Am I right? At times like that, he asks you for help. You – and just a few
weeks ago,
Joris. Then he becomes
responsible and hardworking again for a while.’
‘So?’
‘What was the plan that you
wanted, on the 13th of September, to make turn out well?’
Julie stopped and looked into his face.
She was much calmer now. She had had time to reflect. And there was an appealing
gravity in her eyes.
‘I knew it would bring us trouble.
And yet, my brother did nothing! I swear to you that if he had killed the captain, I
would have been the first to pay him back in kind.’
Her voice was low and heavy with
emotion.
‘It’s just that, there
are
some coincidences, and then that time in prison always hanging
around his neck. Whenever anyone does something wrong, Louis gets blamed for
everything that happens afterwards.’
‘What was the plan Louis
had?’
‘It wasn’t a plan. It was
quite simple. He’d met a really rich man, I don’t remember any more if
it was in England or at Le Havre. He didn’t tell me his name. A gentleman
who’d had enough of life ashore and wanted to buy a yacht and travel. He asked
Louis to find him a boat.’
They were still standing on the beach,
where all they could see of Ouistreham was the lighthouse, a raw white tower set off
by the paler sky.
‘Louis talked to his skipper about
it. Because for some time, on account of the slump, Lannec had been wanting to sell
the
Saint-Michel
. And that’s the whole of
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