Chapter 25 Chapter Twenty-Five

This house in Xijie District is very inconspicuous - a small wooden house should have been built more than 50 years ago as a summer house. The original paint has faded, revealing the gray wood, but it can still be clearly seen Before leaving the house, it was painted pale yellow with a white frame.The fence around the yard, small compared to the house, had only been painted crimson a few years ago, as had the railings on the steps, the outer door, and the lattice fence around the small porch. The house was set back from the highway, and Lehn drove up the steep driveway to the back of the house because the gate was open.

After getting out of the car, Martin Baker looked around and took a few deep breaths.He felt a little dizzy because he was prone to motion sickness. The yard is poorly cared for and overgrown with weeds.A grassy path led to an old, broken sundial, rather forlorn and incongruous on a concrete frame overgrown with trees. Lehn slammed the car door shut. "I'm a bit hungry," he said, "do you think we'll have time for something to eat when things are over here?" Martin Baker looked at his watch. Lehn used to have lunch at this time, and it was already ten past twelve.Martin Baker doesn't care much about eating. He even finds it troublesome to eat at work, and would rather eat at night.

"Of course," he said, "come on, let's go in." The two walked around the corner of the house, walked up the steps and knocked on the door.An old man in his seventies immediately came to answer the door. "Come in," he said. He stood quietly aside, watching the two hang their coats in the narrow front hall with inquiring eyes. "Come in," he said again, before stepping aside to let the two of them pass. At the end of the vestibule were two doors, one of which was followed by a short corridor leading to the kitchen with stairs leading to the second floor or attic.Behind the other door was the living room, which was musty and rather dark, for there were several large pots of ferns on the window sills, blocking most of the daylight.

"Please sit down," said the old man, "my wife will bring you coffee later." The room was filled with a rustic set of furniture—a straight-backed pine sofa, four striped pouf chairs surrounding a large table with a large plank of finely grained cedar.Martin Baker and Lehn sat down at opposite ends of the sofa, and the door at the far end of the room was ajar, revealing a crack at the end of a mahogany bed and wardrobe doors with oval mirrors.The man went to open the door and sat down on a chair at the side of the table. The old man was dry and stooped, and the skin on his face was gray and covered with brown age spots.He wore a heavy hand-knit sweater over a gray and white checked flannel shirt.

"When we heard the car, I told my wife how fast you were moving. I'm not sure I made that clear enough on the phone." "It's not hard to find here," Lehn said. "It's not hard to find. You are policemen, and you know all the roads in and out of the city. Because Oak is a policeman, he knows the roads in the city clearly." He took out a pack of squashed cigarettes and handed them over. Martin Baker and Lehn shook their heads. "You're here to talk about Oak," said the old man. "I told you on the phone. I really don't know when he left. The old woman and I thought he'd stay the night, but he must be coming home. Went. He used to come back for the night and it was his birthday, so we thought he was going to have breakfast in bed."

"Does he have a car?" Lehn asked. "Oh yes, he's got a Volkswagen. The old woman's bringing the coffee." Seeing his wife coming out of the kitchen, the old man stood up.The old lady put the tray on the table, wiped her hands on her skirt, and shook hands with the two guests. "I'm Mrs. Eriksson," said the old lady when they got up to give their names. She served coffee for everyone, put the tray on the floor, and sat next to her husband, arms folded in her lap.The old lady looked about the same age as the old man, with silver-gray hair and a hard perm, but her round face was hardly wrinkled, and her rosy cheeks did not look like she had been put on makeup.The old lady looked down at his hands, and when she suddenly looked timidly at Martin Baker, he wasn't sure if she was afraid of strangers, or just too shy.

"We have a few questions about Oak, Mrs. Eriksson." Martin Baker said, "If I'm not mistaken about your husband, Oak was here last night, wasn't he? Do you know when he left?" She looked at her husband as if expecting him to answer for her, but the old man just stirred his coffee and said nothing. "I don't know," she replied hesitantly. "I don't know. I think he left after we went to bed." "What time was that?" She looked at the old man again. "What time was it, Otto?" "At ten-thirty, maybe eleven, we'd usually go to bed earlier, but as Oak was--I think it was nearer ten-thirty."

"Then you didn't hear him go out?" "No," said the old man, "what do you ask that for? Has something happened to the Oak?" "No," Martin Baker said. "He's fine. It's just a routine investigation. Tell me, what is his current job?" The old lady looked down at her hand again, and this time it was the old man who answered. "Still repairing the elevator. He has been doing this job for a year." "And before the elevator was repaired?" "Oh, he did this, he did that, he did this for a while at the plumbing company, then he drove a taxi, then he worked as a night guard. It happened during the elevator vocational training."

"Was there anything wrong when he was here last night?" asked Martin Baker. "What did he say?" The old man didn't answer right away. The old lady took a biscuit and peeled it into small pieces on her plate. "I think he's about the same as usual," said the old man at last. "He didn't say much, but Oak is always very dull. I think he's worried about the rent, and Marlene." "Marlene?" Lean asked. "Marlene is his daughter. They took the child away, and now he can't even keep the house." "Excuse me," said Martin Baker, "I don't quite understand. Who took his daughter? You meant his daughter, didn't you?"

"Yes, it's Marlene," said the old gentleman, and patted his wife's arm. "The child is named after my mother. I thought you knew that the people from the Children's Social Welfare Department took Marlene away from Oak." "Why?" asked Martin Baker. "Why did the police murder his wife?" "Please answer my question," said Martin Baker. "Why did they take the child away from Oak?" "Well, they've tried before, but this time they finally got the papers to show that Oak couldn't take care of the baby. Of course we said we'd take the baby, but they said we were too old, and the house wasn't good enough."

The old lady looked at Martin Baker, but when he looked at her she quickly looked down at her coffee cup.Then the old lady whispered angrily: "Isn't it better for a child to live with a stranger? And anyway, living in the country is better than living in the city." "You took care of your granddaughter before, didn't you?" "Yes, many times," said the old lady. "There is a room in the attic where Marlene can stay when she comes. It was Oak's former room." "Oak's job doesn't allow him to take good care of the children," said the old man. "They think he's insecure. I don't know what that means, but it probably means he doesn't work long. It's not easy work these days." Ah, there are more and more unemployed people, but he has always loved Marlene very much." "When did this happen?" Martin Baker asked. "Is it about Marlene? They just took her away the day before yesterday." "Was Oak annoyed by that last night?" asked Lehn. "I think he's very angry, although he won't talk about it. There's also the rent thing, but our pension is limited, and we really can't help him." "Can't he pay the rent?" "Yeah, he said that people are going to drive him out. The rent is so high, who can afford it?" "Where does he live?" "A new building on Dara Street. He couldn't find another place to live when they knocked down where he used to live, but he was making more money and thought he could afford it. But that didn't matter, it mattered It's about Marlene." "I want to know more about him and the Department of Children's Social Welfare," Martin Baker said. "They don't take children away from their fathers for no reason." "yes?" "At least they'll do a thorough investigation first." "Yeah, there should be. Someone came here to talk to my wife, then looked at the house, and asked all kinds of questions about Orcs. Orcs have been sullen since Maya died, but I miss you It should be understandable. They say he's always been so morose, and not good for the child's mind—I remember they said that, and they always put it beautifully. Also, Oak changed so many jobs, and his schedule It's not normal, and it's not good. Plus he has financial difficulties and can't pay rent and living expenses. Of course, some neighbors in the building complained to the Children's Social Welfare Department that Oak often took Marlene alone at night. People stay at home, children can’t eat normally, etc.” "Do you know who else they talked to?" "Talk to his colleagues. I think they've talked to all of Oak's superiors." "Have you talked to anyone in the police station?" "Yeah, of course, that's the most important part." "And his boss doesn't have a good word for Oak, does he?" Martin Baker said. "Yes, Oak said his boss wrote a letter that made it hopeless for him to keep Marlene by his side." "Do you know who wrote the letter?" asked Martin Baker. "I know, it was written by team leader Nieman, that is, the guy who watched Oak's wife die without even raising his hand." Martin Baker and Le En glanced at each other quickly. Mrs. Eriksson looked from her husband to them, wondering how they would react to her accusation.After all, she was scolding their colleagues.She handed over the cake plate, let Lehn take a large piece of sponge cake, and then handed it to Martin Baker.Martin Baker shook his head. "Did Oak talk about Captain Nieman when he was here last night?" "All he said was that it was Nyman's fault that they took Marlene away, and nothing else. We Oaks don't talk much, but he was quieter than usual last night. Right, old woman? " "Yeah," said the old lady, poking at the cake crumbs on the plate. "Did he do anything here? I mean last night," asked Martin Baker. "He had dinner with us and then we watched TV for a while and then Oak went to his room and we went to bed." Martin Baker noticed a telephone on the front porch as he entered. "Did he call at night?" he asked. "Why do you ask these questions?" said the old woman. "Has the Oak done anything?" "I can only ask you to answer our question first," said Martin Baker. "Did he call from here last night?" The old couple sitting opposite him sat silently for a while. "Perhaps," said the old man. "I don't know. Oak can use the telephone anytime." "So you didn't hear him call?" "No, we were watching TV and I remember him going out for a bit and closing the door, usually he doesn't close the door if he's just going to the bathroom. The phone is in the hallway and if the TV was on you had to close the door. We both My ears are not very good, so the TV is usually turned on very loudly." "When did it happen? I mean when did he call?" "I don't know, but we were watching a movie, halfway through it, probably around nine o'clock. What are you asking?" Martin Baker didn't answer, and Lehn had just finished eating the sponge cake, when he suddenly said: "I remember that Oak was very accurate with the marksman, and he was the best sharpshooter in the game at the time. Does he have a gun with him?" The old woman looked at Le En with strange eyes, and the old man straightened up proudly. It seemed that the old couple had rarely heard anyone praise their son in the past ten years. "That's right," said the old man. "Oak won a lot of prizes, but we didn't put the certificates here. He's got them in the house on Darla Street, and as for the gun—" "He should have sold them all," said the old lady. "Those guns are expensive, and he is short of money." "Do you know what guns he has?" Lehn asked. "Yes, I know," said the old man. "I used to shoot myself when I was young. Oak got his first guns from the local army or Civil Defense, when he was going to night school and got paid, I think it's pretty good." "Do you know what model gun he has?" Lehn pressed. "He's got a Mauser rifle, and a pistol. He's good marksman. He won a gold medal many years ago." "What pistol?" "Hammery International. He showed it to me once, and then he had—" The old man hesitated slightly. "What else?" "I don't know—of course he's licensed for the two guns I mentioned. You know—" "I assure you, we will not be arresting Oak for illegal possession of a firearm." Martin Baker said, "What gun does he have?" "An American automatic rifle, a Johansen, but he must have had a license, too, because I know he's raced with that." "He's got a lot of guns," muttered Martin Baker. "Anything else?" Leon asked. "An old carbine I got from the local army, but it's not worth much, so it's in the wardrobe upstairs. But the barrel is worn out, and the carbine doesn't work very well. I think it's the only thing he still has. The guns that stay here, the rest are not here." "Yeah, he should have moved to his own house," Lehn said. "I think so," said the old man. "Of course, he still has his room upstairs, but all his important possessions are in the house on Darla Street. If they won't let him live in that nice room, Oak will still be there." Can move back in until he gets a job. Our loft is not that big." "Can we go up and see his room?" asked Martin Baker. The old man looked at Martin Baker uncertainly. "I suppose it's all right, but there's really nothing to see." The old lady stood up and brushed the crumbs off her skirt. "Oh, my God," she said, "I haven't been up today, and the room might be a mess." "It's not that bad," said her husband. "I went this morning to see if Oak slept there last night. It doesn't look messy at all. Oak is very clean." The old man looked away and lowered his voice. Said: "Oak is a good boy. We can't blame him for his bad luck. We have worked hard all our lives and have tried our best to train him. We can only blame Oak and our bad luck. When I was young, I had my own beliefs, and I always thought that everything would be fine. , but now we are old and lonely, and nothing is going our way. If we had known that society would become like this, we would never have had children. They have led us by the nose for so many years." "Who are they?" Lean asked. "Those politicians, party leaders, those people who we thought would think of the people, turned out to be hooligans." "Show us the room, please," said Martin Baker. "OK." He led the crowd down a corridor and up a steep, creaking wooden ladder. There was a door at the top of the stairs and the old man pushed it open. "This is Oak's room, which of course looked much nicer when he lived in the house as a child. When Oak got married and moved, he took most of the furniture with him. He rarely lives here now." The old man stopped and propped the door open, allowing Martin Baker and Lehn to enter the small attic.There was a small window on the sloping roof, and the walls were covered with faded floral wallpaper, and on one wall there was a door with the same wallpaper, which probably led to a wardrobe or storage room.Standing against the wall was a narrow folding bed covered with a gray army blanket.A pale yellow lampshade hung from the ceiling with a long, dirty fringe. The framed picture on the wall beside the bed, with broken glass, showed a little blond girl sitting on a green grass with a lamb in her arms.A pink plastic jar sits at the end of the bed. A weekly magazine and a ballpoint pen were spread out on the table, and someone threw a white hand towel with a red border on the wooden chair. There was nothing else in the room. Martin Baker picked up the towel.This towel has been washed many times, it has become thinner, and there are some stains.Martin Baker held the towel up to the light, the yellow stains reminding him of foie gras.Judging from the shape of the stain, someone should have wiped the knife with it.The oil stains from the yellow bag made the hand towel look nearly transparent. Martin Baker rubbed the towel carefully with his fingers, and then put it under his nose to smell it.He immediately smelled what the stain was and what it was used for.At this point Lehn interrupted him and said: "Look here, Martin." Standing at the table pointing at the magazine, Martin Baker stooped to see nine names written in ballpoint pen in the sidebar on the crossword puzzle on the right page. The nine names were divided into three groups, written in human-sized and small fonts, and repeated several times.Martin Baker fixed his eyes on the first column. Stig Oscar Niemann Palmon Harald Hoult martin baker Martin Baker saw other names, including the Commissioner of the State Police, the Inspector, Melander, and Kolberg. Then he turned and looked at the old man by the door.The old man held the doorknob and looked at them suspiciously. "What number on Darla Street does Oak live?" asked Martin Baker. "Number thirty-four," said the old man, "but—" "Go down to your wife," interrupted Martin Baker, "we'll be down right away." The old man walked slowly down the stairs, and at the bottom of the stairs he looked back at Martin Baker in puzzlement.Martin Baker waved him on to the living room.The old man looked at Lehn again. "Call Stenlengren or anyone at the bureau, give them the number here, tell him to contact Kohlberg at Sabasberry immediately, and tell Kohlberg to call right away Come here. Do you have any fingerprint-taking equipment in your car?" "Yes." Lean said. "Very well, but call first." Lehn went downstairs to the corridor to make a phone call. Martin Baker looked around the narrow attic, then looked at his watch.Twelve forty-five.He heard Lehn running up the stairs in three steps in two. Martin Baker saw Le En's pale face and his eyes widened. He immediately knew that the disaster he had been waiting for all day had finally happened.