{"product_id":"inspector-maigretisbn-9780141394794","title":"Inspector Maigret","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e“A writer as comfortable with reality as with fiction, with passion as with reason.” —John Le Carré\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn Inspector Maigret mystery and a gripping tale of lost identity\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e“A man picked up for wandering in obvious distress among the cars and buses on the Grands Boulevards. Questioned in French, he remains mute . . . A madman? In Maigret's office, he is searched. His suit is new, his underwear is new, his shoes are new. All identifying labels have been removed. No identification papers. No wallet. Five crisp thousand-franc bills have been slipped into one of his pockets.”\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA distressed man is found wandering the streets of Paris, with no memory of who he is or how he got there. The answers lead Maigret to a small harbour town, whose quiet citizens conceal a poisonous malice.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Georges Simenon:\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the greatest writers of the twentieth century . . . Simenon was unequaled at making us look inside, though the ability was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Guardian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “These Maigret books are as timeless as Paris itself.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The matchless French crime novelist.” —Adam Gopnik, \u003ci\u003eThe New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Maigret ranks with Holmes and Poirot in the pantheon of fictional detective immortals.” —\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I love reading Simenon. He makes me think of Chekhov.” —William Faulkner\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “An astute observer of human nature, writing in a spare and vivid style.” —Amor Towles\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I never read contemporary fiction–with one exception: the works of Simenon.” —T.S. Eliot\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A writer as comfortable with reality as with fiction, with passion as with reason.” —John Le Carré\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “One of the most important writers of our century.” —Gabriel García Márquez\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A favorite writer of mine.” —Sigrid Nunez\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A great writer of detail, of atmosphere.” —Leïla Slimani\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Feels incredibly modern…A great writer.” —Ian Rankin\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The greatest of all, the most genuine novelist we have had in literature.” —André Gide\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A supreme writer . . . Unforgettable vividness.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Independent\u003c\/i\u003e (London)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Superb . . . The most addictive of writers . . . A unique teller of tales.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Observer\u003c\/i\u003e (London)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Compelling, remorseless, brilliant.” —John Gray\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A truly wonderful writer . . . Marvelously readable—lucid, simple, absolutely in tune with the world he creates.” —Muriel Spark\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A novelist who entered his fictional world as if he were a part of it.” —Peter Ackroyd\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Extraordinary masterpieces of the twentieth century.” —John Banville\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Gem-hard soul-probes . . . not just the world's bestselling detective series, but an imperishable literary legend . . . he exposes secrets and crimes not by forensic wizardry, but by the melded powers of therapist, philosopher and confessor\" ―\u003ci\u003eTimes\u003c\/i\u003e (London)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Strangely comforting . . . so many lovely bistros from the Paris of mid-20th C. The corpses are incidental, it's the food that counts.\" ―Margaret Atwood\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"One of the greatest writers of the 20th century . . . no other writer can set up a scene as sharply and with such economy as Simenon does . . . the conjuring of a world, a place, a time, a set of characters - above all, an atmosphere.\" ―\u003ci\u003eFinancial Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Gripping . . . richly rewarding . . . You'll quickly find yourself obsessing about his life as you tackle each mystery in turn.\" ―Stig Abell, \u003ci\u003eThe Sunday Times\u003c\/i\u003e (London)\u003cb\u003eGEORGES SIMENON \u003c\/b\u003e(1903–1989) was born in Liège, Belgium. Best known in the English-speaking world as the author of the Inspector Maigret books, his prolific output of more than four hundred novels and short stories have made him a household name in continental Europe.\u003csection epub:type=\"cover\"\u003e                    \u003c\/section\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                    \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003csection epub:type=\"title\"\u003e            \u003cp\u003eGeorges Simenon\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cbr\u003e------------------------------\u003cbr\u003e            \u003cp\u003eTHE MISTY HARBOUR\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cb\u003e                \u003ci\u003eTranslated by Linda Coverdale\u003c\/i\u003e            \u003c\/b\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                            \u003c\/p\u003e        \u003c\/section\u003e            \u003csection epub:type=\"copyright-page\"\u003e            \u003cb\u003ePENGUIN BOOKS\u003c\/b\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAn imprint of Penguin Random House LLC\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e375 Hudson Street\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eNew York, New York 10014\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003epenguin.com\u003c\/p\u003e                        \u003cp\u003eFirst published in French as \u003ci\u003eLe port des brumes\u003c\/i\u003e by Fayard 1932\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThis translation first published in Penguin Books 2015\u003c\/p\u003e                        \u003cp\u003eCopyright © 1932 by Georges Simenon Limited\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e Translation copyright © 2015 by Linda Coverdale\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e GEORGES SIMENON ® Simenon.tm\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eMAIGRET ® Georges Simenon Limited\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003ePenguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eISBN 978-0-698-19417-5\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e Cover photograph (detail) © Harry Gruyaert\/Magnum Photos\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eCover design by Alceu Chiesorin Nunes\u003c\/p\u003e                                                                    \u003c\/section\u003e            \u003csection epub:type=\"toc\"\u003e            \u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e                        \u003cp\u003e                Title Page            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                Copyright            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                About the Author            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                1. The Cat in the House            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                2. The Inheritance            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                3. The Kitchen Cupboard            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                4. The \u003ci\u003eSaint-Michel\u003c\/i\u003e            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                5. Notre-Dame-des-Dunes            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                6. The Fall Down the Stairs            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                7. Orchestrating Events            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                8. The Mayor’s Inquiry            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                9. The Conspiracy of Silence            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                10. The Three Men of the \u003ci\u003eSaint-Michel\u003c\/i\u003e            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                11. The Black Cow Shoal            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                12. The Unfinished Letter            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                13. The House Across the Street            \u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                EXTRA: Chapter 1 from \u003ci\u003eLiberty Bar\u003c\/i\u003e            \u003c\/p\u003e        \u003c\/section\u003e            \u003cb\u003eABOUT THE            AUTHOR\u003c\/b\u003e        \u003cp\u003eGeorges Simenon was born on 12 February            1903 in Liège, Belgium, and died in 1989 in Lausanne, Switzerland, where he had lived            for the latter part of his life. Between 1931 and 1972 he published seventy-five novels            and twenty-eight short stories featuring Inspector Maigret.\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003eSimenon always resisted identifying himself            with his famous literary character, but acknowledged that they shared an important            characteristic:\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e            \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy motto, to the extent that I have                one, has been noted often enough, and I’ve always conformed to it. It’s                the one I’ve given to old Maigret, who resembles me in certain points …                ‘understand and judge not’.\u003c\/p\u003e                \u003cp\u003ePenguin is publishing the entire series of            Maigret novels.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                        PENGUIN CLASSICS        \u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cb\u003eTHE MISTY HARBOUR\u003c\/b\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘I love reading Simenon. He makes me think of            Chekhov’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— William Faulkner\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘A truly wonderful            writer … marvellously readable – lucid, simple, absolutely in tune with the            world he creates’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— Muriel Spark\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘Few writers have ever conveyed with such a            sure touch, the bleakness of human life’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— A. N. Wilson\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘One of the greatest writers of the twentieth            century … Simenon was unequalled at making us look inside, though the ability            was masked by his brilliance at absorbing us obsessively in his stories’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— \u003ci\u003eGuardian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘A novelist who entered his fictional world            as if he were part of it’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— Peter Ackroyd\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘The greatest of all, the most genuine            novelist we have had in literature’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— André Gide\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘Superb … The most addictive of            writers … A unique teller of tales’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— \u003ci\u003eObserver\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘The mysteries of the human personality are            revealed in all their disconcerting complexity’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— Anita Brookner\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘A writer who, more than any other crime            novelist, combined a high literary reputation with popular appeal’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— P. D. James\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘A supreme writer … Unforgettable            vividness’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e — \u003ci\u003eIndependent\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘Compelling, remorseless,            brilliant’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— John Gray\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e‘Extraordinary masterpieces of the twentieth            century’\u003c\/p\u003e        \u003cp\u003e— John Banville\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003csection epub:type=\"chapter\"\u003e                        \u003cp\u003e1. The Cat in the                House\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eWhen they had left Paris at around three                o’clock, the streets were still bustling in the chilly late-autumn sunshine.                Shortly afterwards, near Mantes, the lights had come on in the train compartment.                Darkness had fallen outside by the time they reached Évreux, and now, through                windows streaming with droplets, they saw a thick mist gleaming in soft haloes                around the track lights.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eSnug in his corner, resting his head                against the back of the banquette, Detective Chief Inspector Maigret had not taken                his half-closed eyes from the unlikely couple across from him.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eCaptain Joris was asleep. His clothes                were wrinkled, his wig askew on his gleaming pate.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAnd Julie, clutching her imitation                crocodile handbag, stared off into space while endeavouring, despite her fatigue, to                look thoughtful.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eJoris! Julie!\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eInspector Maigret of the Police                Judiciaire was used to having people suddenly take over his life like this,                monopolize him for days, weeks, months, and then sink back into the anonymous                crowd.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe rhythmic sound of the wheels carried                his thoughts along, and they were always the same at the beginning of each case: would this investigation be challenging or                dull? Thankless and demoralizing, or painfully tragic?\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAs Maigret considered Joris, a faint                smile touched his lips. A strange fellow! And for five days back at Quai des                Orfèvres, everyone had called him That Man, because they couldn’t find out who                he was.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eA man picked up for wandering in obvious                distress among the cars and buses on the Grands Boulevards. Questioned in French, he                remains mute. They try seven or eight languages. Nothing. Sign language proves                fruitless as well.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eA madman? In Maigret’s office, he                is searched. His suit is new, his underwear is new, his shoes are new. All                identifying labels have been removed. No identification papers. No wallet. Five                crisp thousand-franc bills have been slipped into one of his pockets.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe inquiry could not be more                aggravating! Criminal records and case files are searched. Telegrams are sent at                home and abroad. And although subjected to exhausting interrogation, That Man smiles                affably all day long! A stocky fellow of about fifty, broad-shouldered, who neither                protests nor gets upset, who smiles and sometimes seems to try to remember, but                gives up almost immediately …\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAmnesia? When the wig slides off his                head they discover that a bullet has pierced his skull not more than two months                earlier. The doctors marvel: whoever operated on him displayed superb surgical                skill.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eFresh telegrams go out to hospitals and                nursing homes in France, Belgium, Germany, Holland …\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eFive whole days of                these painstaking investigations. The absurd results obtained by analysing some                stains on his clothing and fine debris from his pockets: traces of salted                cod’s roe, dried and pulverized on the far shores of Norway for sardine                bait.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eDoes That Man come from up there? Is he                Scandinavian? There are indications that he has travelled a long way by train. But                how can he have done this on his own, without speaking, with the befuddled                appearance that makes him so conspicuous?\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eHis picture appears in the newspapers. A                telegram arrives from Ouistreham: \u003ci\u003eUnknown man identified!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe telegram is followed by a woman –                more of a girl, really – who shows up in Maigret’s office, her haggard face                inexpertly rouged and powdered: Julie Legrand, the mystery man’s maid.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eHe is no longer That Man: he has a name                and a profession. He is Yves Joris, formerly a captain in the merchant navy, now the                harbourmaster at Ouistreham, a small port between Trouville and Cherbourg in Lower                Normandy.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eJulie bursts into tears! Julie cannot                understand! Julie begs him to speak to her! And he looks at her calmly, pleasantly,                the way he looks at everyone.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eCaptain Joris had disappeared from                Ouistreham on 16 September. It is now the end of October.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eWhat has happened to him while he was                missing for six weeks?\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘He went out to the lock to work                the tide, as usual. An evening tide. I went off to bed. The next morning, he                wasn’t in his room …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eOn account of the                fog that night, everyone thinks Joris had slipped and fallen into the water. They                hunted for him with grappling hooks. Then they assumed he had simply gone off for                some peculiar reason of his own.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Lisieux! … Departure in                three minutes!’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eMaigret goes to stretch his legs on the                platform and refill his pipe. He has smoked so much since Paris that the air in the                compartment has turned grey.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘All aboard!’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eIn the meantime Julie has powdered her                nose; her eyes are still a bit red from weeping.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eIt’s strange … There are                moments when she is pretty, with a certain polish. At other times, though it would                be hard to say why, she seems like a gauche little peasant.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eShe straightens the wig on the                captain’s head, for \u003ci\u003eher monsieur\u003c\/i\u003e, as she puts it, and looks at                Maigret as if to say: ‘Haven’t I every right to take care of                him?’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eFor Joris has no family. He has lived                alone, for years, with Julie, whom he calls his housekeeper.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘He treated me like his                daughter …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAs far as anyone knows, he has no                enemies! Has had no adventures, no love affairs, no grand passions!\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eA man who, after sailing the seven seas                for thirty years, could not resign himself to idleness and, despite his retirement,                applied for the position of harbourmaster at Ouistreham. He had a small house built                there …\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAnd one fine evening, on 16 September,                he vanished – then reappeared in Paris six weeks later in this sorry state.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eHaving never seen him in anything but a                naval officer’s uniform, Julie had                been dismayed to find him wearing an off-the-peg grey suit.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eShe is anxious, uneasy. Whenever she                looks at the captain, her face reflects both pity and a nameless fear, a haunting                anguish. It really is him, obviously! It’s \u003ci\u003eher monsieur\u003c\/i\u003e, all right.                And yet, he is no longer completely himself.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘He’ll get well again,                won’t he? I’ll take good care of him …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe mist is now turning into large,                blurry drops on the windows. Maigret’s big, stolid face rocks a little from                side to side as the train rattles along. Placidly, he goes on watching his                companions: Julie, who pointed out to him that they might just as well have                travelled third class, as she normally does, and Joris, who is waking up only to                look around him vacantly. One more stop, at Caen. Then on to Ouistreham.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Around a thousand people live in                the village,’ a colleague originally from there had told Maigret. ‘The                harbour is small but important, because of the canal linking the roadstead to the                city of Caen. The canal can handle ships of five thousand tons or more.’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eMaigret doesn’t bother trying to                imagine what the place looks like; he knows that’s a fool’s game. He                waits, and his eyes keep turning to the wig, which hides the raw pink scar.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eWhen Captain Joris disappeared, he had                thick, dark brown hair with only a touch of silver at the temples. Another torment                for Julie, who can’t bear the sight of his bare skull … Every time                the wig slips, she quickly straightens it.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘In short,                someone tried to kill him …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eHe was shot, and that’s a fact.                But he was also given the very best of medical care. He had no money when he                vanished – yet was found with five thousand francs in his pocket.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eBut there is more to come. Julie                suddenly opens her handbag.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘I forgot! I brought along the                captain’s mail.’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAlmost nothing. Brochures for marine                supplies. A receipt for dues paid to the Association of Merchant Navy Captains.                Postcards from friends still in the service, including one sent from Punta                Arenas …\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eA letter from the Banque de Normandie,                in Caen. A printed form, the blanks filled in on a typewriter.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e                \u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e… beg to inform you that the                    sum of three hundred thousand francs has been transferred as per your                    instructions from the Dutch Bank in Hamburg and credited to your Account No.                    14173 …\u003c\/p\u003e                        \u003cp\u003eAnd Julie has already insisted over and                over that the captain is not a wealthy man! Maigret looks from one to the other of                the pair seated across from him.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eSalted cod’s                roe … Hamburg … The made-in-Germany shoes … And only                Joris could explain all this. Joris, who beams a nice broad smile his way because he                sees that Maigret is looking at him …\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘This station is Caen! Passengers                for Cherbourg remain on board; change here for Ouistreham, Lion-sur-Mer,                Luc …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eIt is seven                o’clock. The air is so humid that the lights on the platform can barely shine                through the milky mist.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘How do we go on to our                destination now?’ Maigret asks Julie as the other passengers push past                them.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Well, the local train runs only                twice a day in the winter …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThere are taxis outside the station.                Maigret is hungry. Having no idea what awaits him in Ouistreham, he prefers to have                dinner in the station buffet.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eCaptain Joris is still behaving well and                eats what he is served, like a child who trusts those in charge of him. A passing                railway employee pauses at their table to consider the captain.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Isn’t that the                harbourmaster of Ouistreham?’ he asks Maigret, and twirls a finger at his                temple. At a nod from Maigret he goes on his way, visibly amazed.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAs for Julie, she takes refuge in                practical matters.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Twelve francs for a dinner like                this, and it wasn’t even cooked with butter! As if we couldn’t simply                have eaten when we got home …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAs she speaks, Maigret is thinking,                ‘A bullet in the head … Three hundred thousand                francs …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eHe stares searchingly into the                captain’s innocent eyes, while his mouth sets in a hard line.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe next taxi in line, once a fine                limousine, has lumpy seats and creaking joints. The three passengers must crowd                together in the back because the jump seats are broken, and Julie is pinned between                the two men, squashed by first one, then the other, as the car swerves.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘I’m trying to remember if I                locked the garden gate!’ she murmurs,                increasingly concerned about her domestic duties as they get closer to the                house.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eLeaving the village, they literally                drive into a wall of fog. A horse and cart appear abruptly, barely two metres away,                like phantoms, and the trees and houses flitting by on both sides of the road seem                like ghosts as well.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eThe driver slows down. They’re                going barely ten kilometres an hour, which doesn’t prevent a man on a bicycle                from bursting out of the fog and into the side of the taxi, which stops. The cyclist                is unhurt.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eAs they go through Ouistreham, Julie                rolls down the partition window to speak to the driver.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Keep going to the harbour and                across the swing bridge … Then stop at the cottage that’s right by                the lighthouse!’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eBetween the village and the harbour lies                about a kilometre of road, now deserted, outlined by the feeble glow of streetlamps.                At one corner of the bridge they see a lighted window and hear voices.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘That tavern is the Buvette de la                Marine,’ Julie points out. ‘Everyone in the harbour spends most of their                time in there.’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eBeyond the bridge there’s hardly                any road at all, and what little there is goes wandering through the marshes along                the banks of the Orne, leading at last only to the lighthouse and a cottage                surrounded by a garden.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eWhen they stop, Maigret watches the                captain, who gets out of the taxi as calmly as you please and walks over to the                gate.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Did you see that,                inspector!’ cries Julie delightedly. ‘He recognizes the house! I’m sure he’ll                eventually be completely himself again.’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eShe fits the key into the lock, pushes                open the squeaky gate and heads up the gravel path. After paying the driver, Maigret                quickly joins her, but now that the taxi is gone it is pitch dark.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Would you mind striking a match?                I can’t find the keyhole …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eA tiny flame; the door is opened. A dark                form brushes past Maigret’s legs. Already inside, Julie switches on the light                and, looking curiously along the floor, asks softly, ‘That was the cat going                outside just now, wasn’t it?’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eShe takes off her hat and coat with                practised ease, hangs them on a coat peg, pushes open the door to the kitchen and                turns on the light, thus inadvertently revealing that this is the room where                everyone usually gathers.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eA well-lit kitchen with tiled walls, a                big sand-scoured pine table, sparkling copper pots and pans. And the captain goes                automatically to sit in his wicker armchair over by the stove.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘But I’m sure I put the cat                out when I left, the way I always do …’\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003eShe’s worried, talking to                herself.\u003c\/p\u003e            \u003cp\u003e‘Yes, I’m certain of it. I                left all the doors locked. Oh, inspector, would you please go through the house with                me? I’m frightened …’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003c\/section\u003e","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304909164773,"sku":"NP9780141394794","price":15.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780141394794.jpg?v=1730758811","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/inspector-maigretisbn-9780141394794","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}