The Grand Banks Café Read Online Free PDF Page A

the
     background.’
    Maigret stared at the photo. The line of
     the shoulders was inviting. The woman was probably younger than Marie Léonnec. And
     there was something extremely sensual about those breasts.
    But also something vulgar too. The dress
     looked shop-bought. Seduction on the cheap.
    â€˜Is there any red ink in the
     house?’
    â€˜No! Just green.’
    â€˜Did Le Clinche never use red
     ink?’
    â€˜No. He had his own ink, on
     account of having a fountain pen. Special ink. Blue-black.’
    Maigret stood up and made for the
     door.
    â€˜Do you mind excusing
     …?’
    Moments later he was on board the
Océan
, searching first the wireless operator’s cabin and then the
     captain’s, which was dirty and full of clutter.
    There was no red ink anywhere on the
     trawler. None of the fishermen had ever seen any there.
    When he left the boat, Maigret came in
     for sour looks from the man in gaiters, who was still bawling at his men.
    â€˜Do you use red ink in any of your
     offices?’
    â€˜Red ink? What for? We’re
     not running a school …’
    But suddenly, as if he’d just
     remembered something:
    â€˜Fallut was the only one who ever
     wrote in red ink, when he was working at home, in Rue d’Étretat. But
     what’s all this about now? … You down there, watch out
for that truck! All we need now is an accident! … So what
     are you after now with your red ink?’
    â€˜Nothing … Much
     obliged.’
    Louis reappeared bootless and a few
     sheets to the wind, with a roughneck’s cap on his head and a pair of scuffed
     shoes on his feet.

3.
     The Headless Photograph
… and that no one could tell me to
     my face and that I’ve got savings, which are at least the equivalent of a
     captain’s pay.
    Maigret left Madame Bernard standing on
     the doorstep of her small house in Rue d’Étretat. She was about fifty, very
     well preserved, and she had just spoken for a full half-hour about her first
     husband, about being a widow, about the captain, whom she had taken as her lodger,
     about the rumours which had circulated about their relationship and, finally, about
     an unnamed female who was beyond a shadow of a doubt a ‘loose
     woman’.
    The inspector had looked round the whole
     house, which was well kept but full of objects in rather bad taste. Captain
     Fallut’s room was still as it had been arranged in readiness for his
     return.
    Few personal possessions: some clothes
     in a trunk, a handful of books, mostly adventure yarns, and pictures of boats.
    All redolent of an uneventful,
     unremarkable life.
    â€˜â€¦ It was understood though not
     finally settled, but we both knew that we would eventually get married. I would
     bring the house, furniture and bed linen. Nothing would have changed, and we would
     have been comfortably off,
especially in
     three or four years’ time, after he got his pension.’
    Visible through the windows were the
     grocer’s opposite, the road that ran down the hill and the pavement, where
     children were playing.
    â€˜And then this last winter he met
     that woman, and everything was turned upside down. At his age! How can a man lose
     his head over a creature like that? And he kept it all very secret. He must have
     been going to see her in Le Havre or somewhere, for no one here ever saw them
     together. I had a feeling that something was going on. He started buying more
     expensive underwear. And once, even a pair of silk socks! As there wasn’t
     anything definite between us, it was none of my business, and I didn’t want to
     look as if I was trying to defend my interests.’
    The interview with Madame Bernard cast
     light on one whole area of the dead man’s life. The small, middle-aged man who
     returned to port after a long tour on a trawler and spent his winters living like an
     upstanding citizen, with Madame Bernard, who