In the second image, the map is on the other side of the panel.

Maps feature heavily, but the central spatial machinery connecting places in the film is the sending of postcards:

There are more of Varda's maps here, here and here, and also here:

To find someone seen at a porte de Paris, the members of the group divide up Paris and each make enquiries with a photograph at a different crossing point into the city.

At the edges of the city there are also maps:

There are two métro maps in the film, one in a studio set, the other in the real streets of Paris.

The other maps in the film are all in the set representing police headquarters, quai des Orfèvres:

This pre-credit sequence shifts to street signage to identify more precisely the district of Paris around which the film is centred. The dissolve from street view to map signals that a sense of topography may be useful in reading the film, or at least suggests two that there are levels of reading. The human figure who passes in front of the map, and who will be followed by the film  until he is shot dead, introduces another level of reading (for the story).

This opening is matched towards the end of the film when the gangland boss who had ordered the killing of the man above is himself on the run, first in the métro and that at the surface, emerging in the same place as his victim, earlier:

Between these sights of modern métro station signage we glimpse a vestige from an older world, in a more salubrious district:

(For other maps at métro entrances, see here.)

Eventually we see a map of Paris in a corner of the room, as background to the interrogation of suspects:

(For other maps in Paris police stations, see here and here and here.)

  

Of the film's many attractions, all I can find of pertinence to this blog are these additions to collections posted earlier (see here, here and here). 

Fuller coverage of things the Cine-Tourist is interested in would have signalled: 
Nico as star (pre-Warhol, pre-Velvets, pre-Delon, pre-Garrel); 
Serge Gainsbourg as composer and pianist (with a theme sung by Juliette Greco - listen here); 
Big Joe Turner as himself; 
some nice places and things (views of Paris, bridges, stairs, neon signs, cars, cameras...);
and a selection of Europe's finest  striptease artistes (including Poupée La Rose, Cherry Liberty, Nadia Safari and Rafa Temporel)...

(You can see more of  Nico here.)

We get a brief glimpse in an outer office of this splendid map of the Paris region, but the principal room at police headquarters is dominated, unusually, by a map of France rather than Paris (though it has a tiny map of the Paris region in the corner):

Towards the end of the film we see a map of Paris spread out on a coffee table. This overhead view connects to the aerial views of Paris in the film's opening sequence and later in several vertiginous action scenes:

The one other map in the film is in a control room of the métro system, where the train on which the hero is chasing a villain is being tracked:

We see a similar control-room map in Claire Denis's 35 rhums (2008):

Maps at entrances to the métro are often just an incidental part of the street scene, like any other characteristic piece of Parisian street furniture:

But they can serve more specific purposes. Since they often have displayed above them the name of the station, they enable us to identify exactly where we are in the city:

These place names can be an important part of a narrative development, as in Le Samourai, where the protagonist's location underground is exactly traced on a map at police headquarters (see here and here), while the location of policemen waiting for him above ground is just as precisely identified for us:

Unlike, for example, the London Underground map, on which the only overground feature is the river,  this Paris map combines both levels on the one surface. For Le Samourai this corresponds to an idealised levelling, in contrast with the city's layered complexity (where, for example, the underground figures the criminal underworld).  

Dichotomies of under- and over-ground are common in Paris cinema, and the métro entrance map, when associated with a stairway, can serve as a simple figure of that multi-layered reality. This is true of the Fantômas image (near the top of this post) and also here, where visitors to Paris in Petit à petit embark on a fantasy-ascent through Paris, from underground to funicular and cable car (ending up in another world entirely):

Among other functions served by these maps is the occasion to show a protagonist attempting to orient themselves in the city, allowing the cine-tourist in the audience a comfortable space of identification, the reassurance that he is not alone in trying to work out where he is in the film:

Several of these images also appear in The Stairs: Paris, a slideshow.