The Night at the Crossroads (18 page)

She must also have mentioned the part played by the inspector in that event, since her father looked at him in astonishment tinged with irony, before, with a stiff bow, going off to the cowshed.

‘So, is the professor in prison?' Maigret asked.

‘No, he's at the Van Hasselt Hotel, with a gendarme attached to him.'

‘And Conrad?'

‘His body has been taken to Groningen … Thirty kilometres away. A big town with a university, population a hundred thousand. Where Jean Duclos had been welcomed the day before. It's all so dreadful, isn't it? Nobody can understand it.'

Dreadful, perhaps. But it was hard to feel that way! No doubt because of the clear air, the cosy, welcoming surroundings, the tea steaming on the table and the little town itself, looking like a toy village someone had set down by the seaside for fun.

By leaning out of the window one could see, looming over the brick houses, the smokestack and gangway of a large cargo vessel being unloaded. And the boats floating down the Ems towards the sea.

‘Did Conrad usually accompany you home?'

‘Every time I went to their house. He was a good friend.'

‘And Madame Popinga didn't mind?'

Maigret made the remark almost at random, since his gaze had fallen on the young woman's tempting bosom, and perhaps because the sight of it had brought some warmth to his own cheeks.

‘Why would she?'

‘I don't know. Night time … the two of you …'

She laughed, showing healthy teeth.

‘In Holland, it's always … Cor used to see me home too.'

‘And
he
wasn't in love with you?'

She didn't say yes or no. She chuckled. A little chuckle of satisfied coquettishness.

Through the window, her father could be seen taking the calf out of the shed, carrying it like a baby and placing it on the grass in the field, in the sunlight.

The creature wobbled on its slender legs, almost fell to its knees, then suddenly tried to gallop for a few metres before stopping still.

‘And Conrad never kissed you?'

Another laugh, accompanied by a very slight blush.

‘Yes, he did.'

‘And Cor?'

This time she was more formal, looking away for a moment.

‘Yes, he did too, but why do you ask?'

She looked at him oddly. Perhaps she was expecting Maigret to kiss her as well.

Her father was calling from outside. She opened the window. He spoke to her in Dutch. When she turned back, it was to say:

‘Excuse me, please. I have to go to town to find the mayor, about the calf's pedigree. It's very important. You're not going to Delfzijl too?'

He went out with her. She took the handlebars of her nickel-plated bicycle and walked alongside him, swinging her hips, already those of a mature woman.

‘It's so beautiful here, isn't it? Poor Conrad! He will never see it again. The swimming opens tomorrow. He used to come every day, other years. He'd stay in the water for an hour.'

Maigret, as he walked, kept his eyes on the ground.

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First published in French as
La nuit du carrefour
by Fayard 1931
This translation first published 2014

Copyright 1931 by Georges Simenon Limited
Translation © Linda Coverdale, 2014
GEORGES SIMENON ® Simenon.tm
MAIGRET ® Georges Simenon Limited

Cover photograph (detail) © Harry Gruyaert/Magnum Photos
Front cover design by Alceu Chiesorin Nunes

All rights reserved

The moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted

ISBN: 978-0-698-15750-7

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