The Night at the Crossroads Read Online Free PDF

the Three Widows house … I knew you were in there. The façade was dark, but I could make out a halo of yellow light in the garden.
    â€˜It’s idiotic, I know! But I was afraid! Afraid for you, understand? … Don’t turn around too quickly … It’s Madame Michonnet, lurking behind her curtains …
    â€˜I must be wrong about this, but I’d swear that half the drivers going by are giving us odd looks …’
    Maigret glanced from one point to another of the triangle. The fields had vanished, flooded in darkness. To the right of the main road, across from the garage, the road to Avrainville branched off, not planted with trees like the highway but
lined on one side by a string of telegraph poles.
    Eight hundred metres away, a few lights: the outlying houses of the village.
    â€˜Champagne and toasted almonds!’ grumbled the inspector.
    He began walking slowly, stopping in front of the garage as if out for a stroll. In the glare of an arc lamp, a mechanic in overalls was changing a tyre on a car.
    It was more of a repair shop than a garage. About a dozen cars were there, all old models, and one of them, stripped of its wheels and engine, was just a carcass hanging in the chains of a pulley.
    â€˜Let’s go and have dinner! When is Madame Goldberg due to arrive?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Sometime this evening.’
    The inn at Avrainville was empty. A zinc counter, a few bottles, a big stove, a small billiard table with rock-hard cushions and torn felt, a dog and cat lying side by side …
    The proprietor was the waiter; his wife could be seen in the kitchen, cooking escalopes.
    â€˜What’s the name of the garage owner at the crossroads?’ asked Maigret, swallowing a sardine served as an appetizer.
    â€˜Monsieur Oscar,’ replied the inn-keeper.
    â€˜How long has he been in this area?’
    â€˜Maybe eight years … Maybe ten … Me, I’ve a horse and cart, so …’
    And the man continued serving them half-heartedly. He was not a talker. He even had the shifty look of someone on his guard.
    â€˜And Monsieur Michonnet?’
    â€˜He’s the insurance agent.’
    That was it.
    â€˜Will you have red or white?’
    He spent a long time trying to fish out a piece of cork that had fallen into the bottle and in the end just decanted the wine.
    â€˜And the people in the Three Widows house?’
    â€˜I’ve never seen them … Not the lady, anyway, since it seems there’s one there … The highway’s not really part of Avrainville.’
    â€˜Well done?’ called his wife from the kitchen.
    Maigret and Lucas fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. At nine o’clock, after a synthetic calvados, they went back out to the road, paced up and down for a while, then finally headed for the crossroads.
    â€˜She’s not coming …’
    â€˜I’d like to know what Goldberg was doing out here. Champagne and toasted almonds! … Did they find any diamonds in his pockets?’
    â€˜No. Just a bit over two thousand francs in his wallet.’
    The garage was still lit up. Maigret noticed that Monsieur Oscar’s house was not by the side of the road but behind the workshop, which meant its windows could not be seen.
    Dressed in overalls, the mechanic sat eating on the running board of a car. And suddenly, just a few steps away from the policemen, the garage owner himself came out of the darkness on the road.
    â€˜Good evening, gentlemen!’
    â€˜Good evening,’ grunted Maigret.
    â€˜A lovely night! If this keeps up, we’ll have wonderful weather for Easter.’
    â€˜Tell me,’ the inspector asked bluntly, ‘does your place stay open all night?’
    â€˜Open, no! But there’s always a man there who sleeps on a cot. The door’s locked. Regular customers ring the bell when they need