The Grand Banks Café by Georges Simenon

Only the captain had a metal bed.
    Under each of its legs a wooden block
     had been placed.
    â€˜You don’t think
     that’s strange? It’s as if …’
    â€˜Go on.’
    All trace of ill-humour had gone.
     Maigret saw the girl’s pale face lighten as her mind worked and her elation
     grew.
    â€˜It’s as if … but
     you’ll only laugh at me … as if the bed’s been propped up so that
     someone could hide underneath … Without those pieces of wood, the bedstead would be
     much too low, but the way it is now …’
    And before he could stop her, she lay
     down flat on the floor regardless of the dirt on the floor and slid under the
     bed.
    â€˜There’s enough room!’
     she said.
    â€˜Right. You can come out
     now.’
    â€˜Just a minute, if you don’t
     mind. Pass me that lamp for a minute, inspector.’
    She went quiet. He couldn’t work
     out what she was doing. He lost patience.
    â€˜Well?’
    She reappeared suddenly, her grey suit
     covered with dust and eyes shining.
    â€˜Pull the bed out … You’ll
     see.’
    Her voice broke. Her hands shook.
     Maigret yanked the bed away from the wall and looked at the floor.
    â€˜I can’t see anything
     …’
    When she didn’t answer he turned and saw that she
     was crying.
    â€˜What did you see? Why are you
     crying?’
    â€˜There … Read it.’
    He had to bend down and place the lamp
     against the wall. Then he could make out words scratched on the wood with a sharp
     object, a pin or a nail.
    Gaston – Octave – Pierre – Hen …
    The last word was unfinished. And yet it
     did not look as if it had been done in a hurry. Some of the letters must have taken
     an hour to inscribe. There were flourishes, little strokes, the sort of doodling
     that’s done in an idle moment.
    A comic note was struck by two
     stag’s antlers above the name ‘Octave’.
    The girl was sitting on the edge of the
     bed, which had been pulled into the middle of the cabin. She was still crying, in
     silence.
    â€˜Very curious!’ muttered
     Maigret. ‘I’d like to know if …’
    At this point, she stood up and said
     excitedly:
    â€˜Of course! That’s it! There
     was a woman here! She was hiding! … All the same, men would come looking for her …
     Wasn’t Captain Fallut called Octave?’
    The inspector had rarely been so taken
     off guard.
    â€˜Don’t go jumping to
     conclusions!’ he said, though there was no conviction in his words.
    â€˜But it’s all written down!
     … The whole story is there! Four men who …’
    What could he say to calm her down?
    â€˜Look, I’ve a lot of experience, so take it
     from me. In police matters, you must always wait before making judgements … Only
     yesterday, you were telling me that Le Clinche is incapable of killing.’
    â€˜Yes,’ she sobbed.
     ‘Yes, and I still believe it! Isn’t it …’
    She still clung desperately to her
     hopes.
    â€˜His name is Pierre …’
    â€˜I know. So what? One sailor in
     ten is called Pierre, and there were fifty men on board … There’s also a
     Gaston … And a Henry …’
    â€˜So what do you think?’
    â€˜Nothing.’
    â€˜Are you going to tell the
     examining magistrate about this? And to think it was me who …’
    â€˜Calm down! We haven’t found
     out anything, except that the bed was raised for one reason or another and that
     someone has written names on a wall.’
    â€˜There was a woman
     there.’
    â€˜Why a woman?’
    â€˜But …’
    â€˜Come on. Madame Maigret is
     waiting for us on the quay.’
    â€˜You’re right.’
    She wiped her tears, meek now, and
     sniffled.
    â€˜I shouldn’t have come … But
     I thought … But it’s not possible that Pierre … Listen! I