for it at Ãpernay. The draft arrived at around this time
of day, I think.
âThing is, Iâd left a few debts unpaid in Paris. Iâd asked Mary once or twice why she didnât sell her necklace. She could easily have told her husband sheâd lost it or said it had been stolen.
âThursday evening was the party, as you know. But you really shouldnât get any wrong ideas about what went on. The moment Lampson catches sight of pretty women, he has to invite them on board.
âThen a couple of hours later, when heâs had too much to drink, he tells me to get rid of them as cheaply as possible.
âOn Thursday, Mary got up much earlier than usual, and by the time weâd all staggered out of our bunks, sheâd already gone outside.
âAfter lunch, there was a brief moment when the two of us were alone. She was very affectionate. Affectionate in a special way, a sad way.
âAt one point, she put her necklace in my hand and said: âJust sell it.â
âIâm sorry if you donât believe me â¦Â I felt awkward, had a qualm or two. If youâd known her, youâd understand.
âAlthough she could be a real bitch at times, at others she could be quite touching.
âDonât forget that she was over forty. She was looking out for herself. But she must have had an inkling that her time had gone.
âThen someone came in. I slipped the necklace into my pocket. In the evening, the colonel dragged us all off to the palais de danse, and Mary stayed on board by herself.
âWhen we got back, she wasnât there. Lampson wasnât worried. It wasnât the first time sheâd run off like that.
âAnd not for the reasons you might think. On one occasion, for instance, during the festival of Porquerolles, there was a rather jolly orgy at the Petit Langoustier which lasted the best part of a week. For the first couple of days, Mary
was the life and soul of the party. But on day three, she disappeared.
âAnd do you know where we found her? Staying at an inn at Giens, where she was happily passing the time playing mummies with a couple of unwashed brats.
âI was not comfortable with the business of the necklace. On Friday, I went up to Paris. I nearly sold it. But then I told myself that if there were problems I could land myself in serious trouble.
âThen I remembered the two girls from the night before. With girls like that, you can get away with anything. Besides, Iâd already met Lia in Nice and knew I could count on her.
âI gave the necklace to her. Just in case, I told her that if anyone asked, she was to say that Mary herself had given it to her to sell.
âItâs as simple as that, and very stupid! I would have been far better off keeping quiet. All the same, if I come up against policemen who arenât very bright, itâs the sort of thing that could well land me in court.
âI realized this yesterday the minute I heard that Mary had been strangled.
âI wonât ask you what you think. To be honest, Iâm expecting to be arrested.
âThat would be a mistake, a big mistake! Look, if you want me to help, Iâm ready to lend you a hand.
âThere are things that may strike you as odd but are quite straightforward really.â
He was now almost flat on the bed, still smoking, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Maigret took up a position by the window to cover his perplexity.
âDoes the colonel know that youâre here telling me all this?â he asked, turning round suddenly.
âNo more than he knows about the business with the necklace. Actually, though Iâm obviously in no position to ask, I would prefer if he went on not knowing.â
âAnd Madame Negretti?â
âA dead weight. A beautiful woman who is incapable of existing except on a couch, smoking cigarettes and drinking sweet liqueurs. She started the day she first came on board and has been
of day, I think.
âThing is, Iâd left a few debts unpaid in Paris. Iâd asked Mary once or twice why she didnât sell her necklace. She could easily have told her husband sheâd lost it or said it had been stolen.
âThursday evening was the party, as you know. But you really shouldnât get any wrong ideas about what went on. The moment Lampson catches sight of pretty women, he has to invite them on board.
âThen a couple of hours later, when heâs had too much to drink, he tells me to get rid of them as cheaply as possible.
âOn Thursday, Mary got up much earlier than usual, and by the time weâd all staggered out of our bunks, sheâd already gone outside.
âAfter lunch, there was a brief moment when the two of us were alone. She was very affectionate. Affectionate in a special way, a sad way.
âAt one point, she put her necklace in my hand and said: âJust sell it.â
âIâm sorry if you donât believe me â¦Â I felt awkward, had a qualm or two. If youâd known her, youâd understand.
âAlthough she could be a real bitch at times, at others she could be quite touching.
âDonât forget that she was over forty. She was looking out for herself. But she must have had an inkling that her time had gone.
âThen someone came in. I slipped the necklace into my pocket. In the evening, the colonel dragged us all off to the palais de danse, and Mary stayed on board by herself.
âWhen we got back, she wasnât there. Lampson wasnât worried. It wasnât the first time sheâd run off like that.
âAnd not for the reasons you might think. On one occasion, for instance, during the festival of Porquerolles, there was a rather jolly orgy at the Petit Langoustier which lasted the best part of a week. For the first couple of days, Mary
was the life and soul of the party. But on day three, she disappeared.
âAnd do you know where we found her? Staying at an inn at Giens, where she was happily passing the time playing mummies with a couple of unwashed brats.
âI was not comfortable with the business of the necklace. On Friday, I went up to Paris. I nearly sold it. But then I told myself that if there were problems I could land myself in serious trouble.
âThen I remembered the two girls from the night before. With girls like that, you can get away with anything. Besides, Iâd already met Lia in Nice and knew I could count on her.
âI gave the necklace to her. Just in case, I told her that if anyone asked, she was to say that Mary herself had given it to her to sell.
âItâs as simple as that, and very stupid! I would have been far better off keeping quiet. All the same, if I come up against policemen who arenât very bright, itâs the sort of thing that could well land me in court.
âI realized this yesterday the minute I heard that Mary had been strangled.
âI wonât ask you what you think. To be honest, Iâm expecting to be arrested.
âThat would be a mistake, a big mistake! Look, if you want me to help, Iâm ready to lend you a hand.
âThere are things that may strike you as odd but are quite straightforward really.â
He was now almost flat on the bed, still smoking, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Maigret took up a position by the window to cover his perplexity.
âDoes the colonel know that youâre here telling me all this?â he asked, turning round suddenly.
âNo more than he knows about the business with the necklace. Actually, though Iâm obviously in no position to ask, I would prefer if he went on not knowing.â
âAnd Madame Negretti?â
âA dead weight. A beautiful woman who is incapable of existing except on a couch, smoking cigarettes and drinking sweet liqueurs. She started the day she first came on board and has been
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