The Grand Banks Café Read Online Free PDF Page B

address.’
    The news had already got out, for when
     Maigret had nearly reached the trawler, the head of French Cod called out to him
     with aggressive sarcasm:
    â€˜So, it seems Fallut strangled
     himself! Who came up with that bright idea?’
    â€˜If you’ve got something to
     say, you can tell me which of the
Océan
’s officers are still on
     board.’
    â€˜None of them. The first mate has
     gone on the spree to Paris. The chief mechanic is at home, at Yport and won’t
     be back until they’ve finished unloading.’
    Maigret again looked round the
     captain’s quarters. A narrow cabin. A bed with a dirty quilt over it. A
     clothes press built into the bulkhead. A blue enamel coffee-pot on an
     oilcloth-covered table. In a corner, a pair of boots with wooden soles.
    It was dark and clammy and permeated
     with the same acrid smell which filled the rest of the ship. Blue-striped knitted
     pullovers were drying on deck. Maigret nearly lost his footing as he walked across
     the gangway, which was slippery with the remains of fish.
    â€˜Find anything?’
    The inspector gave a shrug, took yet another gloomy look
     at the
Océan
, then asked a customs officer how he could get to Yport.
    Yport is a village built under the
     cliffs six kilometres from Fécamp. A handful of fishermen’s cottages. The odd
     farm round about. A few villas, most let furnished during the summer season, and one
     hotel.
    On the beach, another collection of
     bathing costumes, small children and mothers busily knitting and embroidering.
    â€˜Could you tell me where Monsieur
     Laberge lives?’
    â€˜The chief mechanic on the
Océan
or the farmer?’
    â€˜The mechanic.’
    He was directed to a small house with a
     small garden round it. As he came up to the front door, which was painted green, he
     heard the sound of an argument coming from inside. Two voices: a man’s and a
     woman’s. But he could not make out what they were saying. He knocked.
    It all went quiet. Footsteps approached.
     The door opened and a tall, rangy man appeared looking suspicious and cross.
    â€˜What is it?’
    A woman in housekeeping clothes was
     quickly tidying her dishevelled hair.
    â€˜I’m from the Police
     Judiciaire and I’d like to ask you a few questions.’
    â€˜You’d better come
     in.’
    A little boy was crying, and his father
     pushed him roughly into the adjoining room, in which Maigret caught sight of the
     foot of a bed.
    â€˜You can leave us to it!’ Laberge snapped at
     his wife.
    Her eyes were red with crying too. The
     argument must have started in the middle of their meal, for their plates were still
     half full.
    â€˜What do you want to
     know?’
    â€˜When did you last go to
     Fécamp?’
    â€˜This morning. I went on my bike.
     It’s no fun having to listen to the wife going on all day. You spend months at
     sea, working your guts out, and when you get back …’
    He was still angry. However, his breath
     smelled strongly of alcohol.
    â€˜Women! They’re all the
     same! Jealous don’t say the half of it! They imagine a man’s got nothing
     else on his mind except running after skirts. Listen to her! That’s her giving
     the kid a hiding, taking it out on him!’
    The child could be heard yelling in the
     next room, and the mother’s voice getting louder.
    â€˜Stop that row, you hear! … Just
     stop it!’
    Judging by the sounds, the words were
     accompanied by slaps and thumps, for the crying started up again, with interest.
    â€˜Ah! What a life!’
    â€˜Had Captain Fallut told you he
     was worried about anything in particular?’
    Laberge scowled at Maigret, then moved
     his chair.
    â€˜Who made you think he
     had?’
    â€˜You’d been sailing with him
     for a long time, hadn’t you?’
    â€˜Five years.’
    â€˜On board you took your meals