Chapter 8 chapter eight

Mr. Aristide Glenn and Dr. Dermot Kinross walked into Angel Road faster than the pudgy police chief liked. "It's pure luck!" He was furious. "Luck bestowed by the devil! There is no doubt that Miss Ganice must have gone to tell Miss Neil about it." "I think it's very likely," Dermot said. The chief of police, wearing a bowling cap (which made his head appear rounder), carried a cane, and his leather boot-covered feet struggled to keep pace with Dermot's strides, all the while bellowing loudly: "You speak to Ms. Neil for me, and give me your impressions fairly, preferably at once. The examining magistrate will be furious. I have called him, but he is not there. I know that as soon as he understands What's going to happen after the situation - the salad basket will be delivered in a second, and then Ms Neil will have to sleep at the fiddle tonight."

Dermot blinked. "Salad basket? Violin?" "Ah! I forgot! The salad basket is..." Mr. Glenn was looking for the right words, trying to explain it through detailed movements, but it seemed vague. "Prison van?" Dermot ventured a guess. "That's it! That's it! I've heard that word. And 'violin' is your English word for 'prison.'" "It's extremely stuffy, and there are 'knocking' sounds everywhere." "I've taken notes," said Mr. Glenn, pulling out his little memorandum. "But don't I think too highly of my English? I speak English a lot with the Laws."

"You speak good English, but I beg you to stop saying 'meet' as 'communication'." Mr. Glenn tilted his head: "Isn't it the same thing?" "It's not the same thing at all, but..." Dermot stopped on the sidewalk.As he looked around, the quiet street stretched out in the evening light, taking on a country home feel.On the gray garden wall stretched the leaves of some chestnut trees. Back then in London, not many colleagues recognized Dr. Kinross.That's partly down to his casual attire, baggy sport coat, sloppy-looking but comfortable hat.Since coming to La Bondelet, he looked less tired and freed from the pressures of a job that never let him out.There was an extra gleam in the eyes, and more life in the dark face (a face that only showed traces of plastic surgery in certain lights).This state of relaxation lasted until he heard Mr. Glenn explain the murder in detail.

Their appearance really surprised the people inside the door.Two women stood in the darkened doorway, one of them held the doorknob with his hand. One of the two, Dermot thought, must be Yvette Ladour.She is plump and sharp-looking, with black hair that seems to blend in with the background of the living room behind her.After the astonishment passed, a vicious expression of satisfaction flashed across her face, and light appeared in her small black eyes, but she immediately returned to her original expression of numbness.However, it was the woman in her twenties who appeared elsewhere that made Mr. Glenn's eyebrows almost reach the tip of his hair.

"Tiens." (French for "caught") he took off his hat and muttered in a hollow tone, "tiens, tiens, tiens·" "What did you say, sir?" Yvette said. "Nothing, nothing." "This is my sister, sir," said Yvette calmly, "and she is going." "A'voir (French, goodbye), my dear," said the girl. "A'voir, baby," Yvette replied, with warmth in his voice, "Say hi to Mommy for me." Then the girl came out gracefully. It is not difficult to see the family characteristics shared by the two, but the girl feels very different from Yvette.She was slender and dignified; in other words, stylish and elegant.The big black eyes look forward to shine, and the corners of the mouth are slightly upturned in a smile, conveying the unique comfort of French women.When she avoids you decently, but with a hint of frivolity.She seemed to be swaying down the steps under the scent of perfume (perhaps a little too much) around her.

"Miss Prue," Mr. Glenn greeted courteously. "Sir." The girl saluted, politely walked sideways, and left along the road. "We're here for Ms. Nair," the chief of police said to Yvette. "I'm sorry, Mr. Glenn, but you should go across the way. Ms. Neil is having tea with the Rouses." "Thank you, miss." "You are too kind, sir." Yvette maintained a flat politeness on her face, but as soon as the door closed, a Dermot's inscrutable look slid across her face - it seemed to be mocking.Mr. Glenn watched the closed door, tapped his teeth with the tip of his stick, and put on his hat.

"Tiens." he muttered. "Friend, I have a feeling..." "Ok?" "The scene just now seemed to have some meaning, but I couldn't figure it out." "I feel the same way," Dermot agreed. "Those two people seem to have a plan, and I can smell it based on my intuition in this business. But I don't want to speculate." "You know that girl?" "Miss Prue? Oh, yes." "she……" "Is it good manners? Do you want to say that?" Mr. Glenn chuckled suddenly. "You Brits always ask that first!" He tilted his head to one side and considered the question carefully. "Yes, as far as I know her character is above reproach. She has a florist's shop in Harp Road, not far from my friend Mr. Veer's antique shop."

"The dealer who sold the snuff bottles to Sir Morris?" "Yes, but the payment has not yet been made." The police chief pondered again. "But this," he grumbled, making a not-too-ugly grimace, "doesn't help us. We're here to see Ms. Neil, not to study why Miss Prue should, and should Came to see her sister. I reckon we'll go straight across the street and hear Ms. Neil." They quickly found their target. Behind the brick wall, there is a neat lawn in the garden in front of the happiness villa.The front door is closed, but the French windows to the right are open.It was past six o'clock in the evening, and the shadows in the garden were getting darker, making the living room in front more and more hazy. However, this did not seem to be caused by electric lighting, but by subtle emotions.When Mr. Glenn pushed open the door, there was a sound in the living room. It was a young woman speaking English.The lively and active character of Janice Laws suddenly emerged clearly in Dermot's mind.

"Go on!" the voice urged. "I—I can't," another woman's voice called after a moment. "Don't do this!" Ganice almost begged, "Don't stop just because Toby is here." "What are you doing?" came a deep male voice, sounding confused. "Dear Toby, I was just about to tell you." "It's been a tough day at the office. None of you women seem to be understanding. The poor supervisor left me a mess to clean up, and I'm not in the mood for games right now." "Game?" Ganice repeated. "Isn't it just a game! Why can't you let me be quiet for a while!"

"The night Papa was murdered," said Janice, "Eva was outside her house and came back covered in blood. She had the key to our front door and a small snuff bottle stuck in the lace of her nightgown. Fragments." Mr. Glenn beckoned to his companion, and walked noiselessly across the thick lawn, peering through the nearest window. The rectangular living room is full of furniture, and the door of the living room is shining with a lake blue that is slightly lighter than the sky.It was a very comfortable room, full of knick-knacks like ashtrays.A golden-brown beagle sleeps beside the tea service table, the easy chairs are upholstered in rough tanned leather, and the mantelpiece is white marble.On the small table next to it, asters bloom in a blue bowl, looking dim in the dusk.The clothes of the people in the living room seem to be darker than the shadows, only their faces are slightly angry.

According to Mr. Glenn's description, Dermot could easily distinguish Elena Laws from Benjamin Phillips, who was sitting by the tea table with an empty pipe.Janice sat on a low stool with her back to the window. Eva Nair was out of sight, and Toby Lawes was walking into the living room.Toby, in a cool gray coat with black mourning veil wrapped around the sleeves, stood by the fireplace with a slightly goofy expression, raising one hand as if to shield his eyes. His incredulous gaze went from Janice to his mother and back, and even the mustache seemed expressive.Then he raised his voice: "God, what the hell are you talking about?" "Of course, Toby," Irene hesitated, "all this can be explained." "Explanation?" "Yeah, it's all because of Eva's husband, Mr. Atwood." "Oh?" Even though he hadn't recovered from the shock of those incomprehensible words, Toby raised his eyebrows, and after a while, only this monosyllabic word burst out.Although it appears to be very restrained on the surface, it is full of meaning and jealousy to the ears of sensitive people. "I said, Mom," Toby licked his lips, "you should remember that guy is no longer married to Eva." "But he probably doesn't remember, Eva said," interjected Janice, "he went back to La Bondelet." "Yes, I heard he's back." Toby replied mechanically.Immediately, he took off the hand that was covering his eyes, and made a crazy movement for him, "I want to know what's going on..." Janice replied, "Mr. Atwood broke into Eva's house the night Papa died." "Break in?" "He sneaked a key when he lived there before. When he came upstairs, Eva was barely dressed." Toby stood there dumbfounded. Even in the twilight, his face was expressionless.He took a step back but bumped into the fireplace, and quickly stretched out his hands to feel for it, only then did he regain his senses.He began to look around for Eva, but clearly had the best side in mind. "Go on." His voice was hoarse. "I didn't make this up," said Janice. "Ask Eva herself and she'll tell you. Eva, you gotta keep talking! Don't make Toby worry about you. Just be He's not here at all." A low growl rose from the throat of Mr. Aristide Glenn, Chief Constable of La Bondelet.He took a deep breath, and his indifferent round face relaxed into amiability.He shrugged his shoulders, took off his hat, walked briskly, made a crisp sound on the smooth hardwood floor, and walked forward into the living room. "Miss Neil, just pretend I'm not here," he said.