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inquired, ‘I suppose that after what you’ve all just been
     through you would prefer something a little stronger than tea? A liqueur brandy,
     then? … And your wife, is she still in Fontainebleau?’
    Everywhere, people were talking. Maigret
     heard snatches of conversations.
    ‘No, ten ducks per night is the
     limit … But I assure you, it isn’t cold at all! The blind is
     heated …’
    On another side: ‘… hit hard
     by the drop in business?’
    ‘That depends on the company. Here
     we’ve been relatively unaffected. Locally, none of our vessels is in trouble.
     The smaller concerns, on the other hand, especially those with only schooners for
     the coastal trade, are beginning to suffer. I might even say that those companies
     depending
on schooners are in general
     looking to sell them, for they cannot cover their expenses …’
    ‘No, madame,’ insisted the
     deputy public prosecutor soothingly, ‘there is no reason for alarm. The
     mystery – if there is one – of this man’s death will soon be resolved.
     Isn’t that so, inspector? … But … Haven’t you been
     introduced? May I present Detective Chief Inspector Maigret, a man of stellar
     reputation from the Police Judiciaire.’
    Maigret stood stiffly with a most
     unwelcoming expression on his face, and when young Gisèle smilingly held out to him
     a plate of petits fours, he gave her an odd look.
    ‘No, thank you.’
    ‘Really? You don’t like
     cakes?’
    ‘To your good health!’
    ‘Here’s to our charming
     hostess!’
    The public prosecutor, a tall, thin man
     of about fifty who could barely see through the thick lenses of his glasses, now
     took Maigret aside.
    ‘I’m giving you carte
     blanche, of course. But telephone me every evening to keep me up to date. What do
     you think of this case? A sordid affair, is it not?’ Noticing Monsieur
     Grandmaison approaching, he added in a louder voice, ‘And besides, you are
     lucky to be dealing with a mayor like Grandmaison here, who will be of great
     assistance in your inquiry. Is that not so, dear friend? I was just telling the
     inspector …’
    ‘If he wants,’ replied the
     mayor, ‘we’d be delighted to have him stay in our house. I suppose you
     are at present at the hotel?’
    ‘I
     am,’ replied the inspector, ‘and thank you for your invitation, but the
     hotel is so conveniently situated …’
    ‘And you believe you will ferret
     something out at the tavern? A word of warning, inspector! You don’t know
     Ouistreham! Consider what people who spend their lives in a tavern can conjure up
     through sheer imagination! They’d point the finger at their own parents simply
     to have a good tale to tell.’
    ‘Why don’t we talk about
     something else?’ suggested Madame Grandmaison with a gracious smile.
     ‘Inspector, a petit four? … Really? … You don’t like
     sweets?’
    For the second time! Unbelievable! And
     Maigret was almost moved to pull out his big fat pipe in protest.
    ‘If you will excuse me. There are
     some matters I must attend to.’
    No one tried to detain him. All things
     considered, they were no more enamoured of his presence than he was of theirs.
     Outside, he filled his pipe and walked slowly back to the harbour. The local people
     knew him now, knew that he had stood a round of drinks at the bar, so they greeted
     him with a hint of friendliness.
    As he approached the quay, he noticed
     the hearse carrying the captain’s body drive away towards Caen and saw
     Julie’s face, framed in a downstairs window at the cottage. The other women
     were trying to cajole her back into the kitchen.
    A fishing boat had just come in, and
     people gathered around it as the two fishermen sorted out their catch. The customs
     officials up on the bridge parapet whiled away the slow hours of their shift.
    ‘I’ve
     just had a confirmation!’ called out Captain Delcourt, hurrying over to
     Maigret. ‘The
Saint-Michel
will arrive