The Grand Banks Café Read Free Page B

was very
     short. And that from someone who used to send me a letter pages and pages long every
     day! He said it would be best for me and my parents if I told everyone back home
     that it was all over between us.’
    They passed near the
Océan
,
     which was still being unloaded. It was high tide, and its black hull dominated the
     wharves. In the foredeck three men stripped to the waist were getting washed. Among
     them Maigret recognized Louis.
    He also noticed a gesture: one of the
     men nudged the third man with his shoulder and nodded towards Maigret and the girl.
     Maigret scowled.
    â€˜Just shows how considerate he
     is!’ continued the voice at his side. ‘He knows how quickly scandal
     spreads in a small town like Quimper. He wanted to give me back my
     freedom.’
    The morning was clear. The girl, in her
     grey two-piece suit, looked like a student or a primary-school teacher.
    â€˜For my parents to have let me
     come here, they must
obviously trust him
     too. But my father would prefer me to marry someone in business.’
    At the police station Maigret left her
     in the waiting room, sitting some considerable time in the waiting room. He jotted
     down a few notes.
    Half an hour later, they both walked
     into the jail.
    It was Maigret in his surly mood, hands
     behind his back, pipe clenched between his teeth, shoulders bent, who now stood in
     one corner of the cell. He had informed the authorities that he was not taking an
     official interest in the investigation, that he was following its progress out of
     curiosity.
    Several people had described the
     wireless operator to him, and the picture he had formed corresponded exactly to the
     young man he was now seeing in the flesh.
    He was tall and slim, in a conventional
     suit, though a little on the shabby side, with the half-solemn, half-timid look
     about him of a schoolboy who is always top of his class. There were freckles on his
     cheeks. His hair was cropped short.
    He had started when the door was opened.
     For a moment, he stayed well away from the girl who walked straight up to him. She
     had had to throw herself into his arms, literally, and cling on hard while he looked
     around in bewilderment.
    â€˜Marie! … Who on earth …? How
     …?’
    He was quite disoriented. But he
     wasn’t the sort to get excited. The lenses of his glasses clouded over, that
     was all. His lips trembled.
    â€˜You shouldn’t have come.’
    He caught sight of Maigret, whom he
     didn’t know, and then stared at the door, which had been left half-open.
    He wasn’t wearing a collar, and
     there were no laces in his shoes. He also had a beard, gingerish and several days
     old. He was still feeling awkward about these things, despite the sudden shock
     he’d had. He felt his bare neck and his prominent Adam’s apple with an
     embarrassed movement of his hand.
    â€˜Is my mother …?’
    â€˜She didn’t come. But she
     doesn’t think you’re guilty any more than I do.’
    The girl was no more able than he was to
     give vent to her feelings. The moment fell flat. Maybe it was the intimidating
     effect of the surroundings.
    They looked at each other and, not
     knowing what to say, groped for words. Then Mademoiselle Léonnec turned and pointed
     to Maigret.
    â€˜He’s a friend of
     Jorissen’s. He’s a detective chief inspector in the Police Judiciaire
     and he’s agreed to help us.’
    Le Clinche hesitated about offering his
     hand, then did not dare to.
    â€˜Thanks … I …’
    Another moment that failed entirely. The
     girl knew it and felt like crying. She had been counting on a touching interview
     which would win Maigret over to their side.
    She gave her fiancé a look of
     resentment, even of muted impatience.
    â€˜You must tell him everything that
     might help your defence.’
    Pierre Le Clinche sighed, ill at ease and unsettled.
    â€˜I’ve