007 Maigret at the Crossroads by Simenon Georges

Author:Simenon Georges
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

As he passed the millstone villa, Maigret automatically glanced at the first-floor window, which shone out bright yellow in the darkness. On the illuminated blind there stood out the silhouette of Monsieur Michonnet sitting in his armchair.

At the inn the Chief-Inspector simply gave Lucas a few orders, without any explanation.

‘Get half-a-dozen inspectors over here and post them round the crossroads. Every hour, make sure that Monsieur Oscar is still in Paris, by phoning the Escargot, the theatre, and the hotel. Have somebody following anybody who leaves one of the three houses…’

‘Where will you be?’

‘At the Andersens’ house.’

‘You think that…?’

‘I don’t think anything at all, old chap. See you soon, or else tomorrow morning.’

Night had fallen. On his way back to the main road, the Chief-Inspector checked the cartridge-clip of his revolver and made sure there was some tobacco in his pouch.

Behind the Michonnets’ window the shadow of the armchair and the insurance agent’s moustachioed profile could still be seen.

Else Andersen had exchanged her black velvet dress for the dressing-gown she had been wearing in the morning and Maigret found her stretched out on the divan, smoking a cigarette, calmer than she had been at their last meeting, but with her forehead furrowed in thought.

‘If you only knew what a lot of good it does me to know you are here Chief-Inspector!… There are some people who inspire confidence at the first glance… They are rare birds!… For my part, in any case, I’ve met very few people I could trust instinctively… You may smoke…’

‘Have you had dinner?’

‘I’m not hungry… I can’t think how I keep going… For the past four days, ever since that horrible discovery of the corpse in the motor, I’ve been thinking, thinking… I keep trying to arrive an opinion, to understand…’

‘And you come to the conclusion that it’s your brother who’s guilty?’

‘No… I don’t want to accuse Carl… Especially seeing that, even if he were guilty in the strict sense of the word, it could only be because he had acted in a fit of madness… You’ve picked the worst armchair… If you’d like to lie down, there’s a camp bed in the next room…’

She was calm and agitated at the same time. A calm which was external, deliberate, acquired with considerable difficulty. An agitation which at certain moments showed through in spite of everything.

‘Something horrible has already happened in this house, hasn’t it, a long time ago?…Carl has spoken to me about it, evasively… He’s afraid of frightening me… He always treats me like a little girl…’

She bent forward, with a supple movement of the whole body, to drop the ash of her cigarette into the porcelain bowl on the little table. The dressing-gown opened, as it had done that morning. For a moment one small round breast was visible. It was only a glimpse, and yet Maigret had had time to make out a scar, the sight of which made him frown.

‘You were wounded once?’

‘What do you mean?’

She had blushed. She instinctively drew her dressing-gowr.

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