Free The Night at the Crossroads by Georges Simenon Page A

the right to keep my car locked up?’
    â€˜Are you ill?’ Maigret asked quietly, looking at the blanket around the man’s legs.
    â€˜Who wouldn’t be! I’m fretting myself into an attack of gout! It always goes to my legs … I’m looking at two or three nights sitting sleepless in this chair. I asked you here to tell you this: look at the state
I’m in! You can see for yourself that I’m unable to work, especially without a car! … Enough … I will call you as a witness when I sue for damages. And now, I bid you goodnight, monsieur!’
    He had made his speech with the exaggerated bravado of a small-minded prig confident of being in the right.
    â€˜But while you seem to be skulking around spying on us,’ added Madame Michonnet, ‘the murderer himself is still out there! That’s our justice! Attacking ordinary folks, but leaving the big shots free!’
    â€˜Is that all you have to say to me?’
    Michonnet glared and sat back in his armchair while his wife led the way to the door.
    The interior of the house was of a piece with its façade: spotless suites of furniture, gleaming with polish but seemingly frozen in place, unused.
    Out in the corridor Maigret stopped at an old-fashioned wall-telephone and promptly turned the crank, as Madame Michonnet looked on in outrage.
    â€˜Hello, operator? This is the Police Judiciaire! Can you tell me if there have been any calls this afternoon for the Three Widows Crossroads? … There are two numbers, you say, the garage and the Michonnet villa? … Good,
and when? … A call for the garage from Paris at around one o’clock and another towards five? … And the other
number? … Only one call … From Paris? … At five past five? … Thank you,
mademoiselle.’
    His eyes alight with mischief, he bowed to Madame Michonnet.
    â€˜I wish you a pleasant evening, madame.’
    He opened the gate of the Three Widows house with practised ease, walked around the back to the drawing room and on upstairs.
    Else Andersen met him in a state of great agitation.
    â€˜I’m sorry to make such demands of you, chief inspector; you’ll think I’m presumptuous, but I am so restless, on edge … I’m frightened and I don’t know why! Ever since our conversation this morning
I’ve felt that you are the only one who can protect me from harm … You now know this sinister crossroads as well as I do, these three houses that seem to defy one another … Do you believe in premonitions? I do, like all women – and I sense that something bad will
happen before this night is over …’
    â€˜And you’re asking me again to watch over you?’
    â€˜It’s too much to ask, isn’t it – but I can’t help being afraid!’
    Maigret’s eye had been caught for a moment by a painting of a snowy landscape, which hung crookedly on a wall, but he turned immediately to the girl, who stood waiting for his reply.
    â€˜Aren’t you afraid for your reputation?’
    â€˜What does that matter to someone who’s frightened?’
    â€˜In that case, I will return in one hour. A few orders to give …’
    â€˜Really? You’ll come back? That’s a promise? … Besides,
I have all sorts of things to tell you, things I’ve remembered only in bits and pieces …’
    â€˜About?’
    â€˜My brother … But they may not be important … Well … For example, I remember, after that plane crash, the doctor taking care of him told Father that he could vouch for his patient’s physical health, but
not his mental health. I’d never really thought about what he meant … And other things … His insistence on living far from any city, hiding away … I’ll tell