The Night at the Crossroads by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page A

here, enough for me to stretch my legs, don’t you think? … But do sit down, chief inspector. It’s rather funny, having you here in secret …’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜That my brother will have a fit when he gets back. He’s worse than any mother. Worse than a jealous lover! He is the one who looks after me and he takes this responsibility seriously, as you can see.’
    â€˜I thought you were the one who wanted to be locked in, because of your fear of burglars.’
    â€˜There’s that, too … I’ve grown so used to solitude that now I am afraid of people.’
    Maigret had sat down in a large upholstered armchair and placed his bowler on the rug. And whenever Else looked at him he turned his face away, still unable to meet her gaze with his usual composure.
    The previous day, she had simply seemed mysterious to him. In the dim light, a formal, almost regal figure, she’d had the presence of a film star, and their first meeting had taken on a theatrical air.
    Now he was trying to discover her human side, but something else was bothering him: the very intimacy of their encounter.
    Else relaxing in her peignoir, dangling a slipper from the tip of a bare foot in that perfumed bedchamber, while the middle-aged Maigret sat slightly flushed, his hat on the rug …
    Wasn’t that a perfect illustration for
La Vie Parisienne
?
    Rather clumsily, the inspector put his pipe away in his pocket even though he hadn’t cleaned it out.
    â€˜So, you find it boring here?’
    â€˜No … Yes … I don’t know … Do you smoke cigarettes?’
    She waved towards a pack of Turkish cigarettes, the price of which was marked on the band: 20 francs 65 centimes. Maigret recalled that the Andersens lived on 2,000 francs a month, and that Carl had been obliged to hurry and collect his wages so
as to pay the rent and local bills on time.
    â€˜Do you smoke a lot?’
    â€˜A pack or two a day …’
    She held out a delicately engraved lighter, then heaved
a sigh that caused the neckline of her peignoir to open a little more revealingly.
    The inspector did not immediately hold it against her, though. Among the clientele of luxury hotels he had seen showily dressed foreign women whom the average citizen would have taken for tarts.
    â€˜Your brother went out, last night?’
    â€˜You think so? … I have no idea …’
    â€˜Didn’t you spend the evening arguing with him?’
    She showed her perfect teeth in a big smile.
    â€˜Who told you that? Did he? We sometimes squabble, but nicely. As a matter of fact, I scolded him yesterday for not receiving you properly. He’s so unsociable! And he was already like that as a boy …’
    â€˜Did you live in Denmark?’
    â€˜Yes. In a big castle beside the Baltic … A very dreary castle, all white amid dusty green foliage … Do you know the country? So gloomy! And yet, it is beautiful …’
    As her gaze grew distant with nostalgia, she felt a shiver of pleasure.
    â€˜We were rich, but our parents were quite strict, like most Protestants. Personally, I pay no attention to religion, but Carl is still a believer … Less so than his father, who lost all his fortune through clinging stubbornly to
his principles. We left Denmark, Carl and I …’
    â€˜That was three years ago?’
    â€˜Yes … Just imagine! My brother was destined to become an important dignitary of the Danish court – and here he is, forced to earn his living designing dreadful fabrics … In Paris, in the second- and third-class hotels
where we had to stay, he was horribly unhappy. He had the same tutor as our crown prince! But he preferred to bury himself out here.’
    â€˜And bury you at the same time.’
    â€˜Yes … I’m used to it. I was a prisoner in our