Chapter 5 fourth quarter

Margot Green turned onto West Seventy-second Street, the morning sun shining directly in front of her door.She lowered her head, blinked for a long moment, then tossed her long, beautiful brown hair and walked briskly across the street.The New York Museum of Natural History stands proudly in front of it like an ancient forest. Behind the forest of purple-leaved beeches, the thick and wide art-style facade stretches to the sky. Margo turned onto the cobbled driveway leading to the staff entrance, walked past the loading dock, and headed straight for the marble tunnel that connected the museum's internal exhibition halls.Suddenly she slowed down and became alert.Red lights flashed, coloring the entrance to the tunnel ahead.At the other end of the tunnel, ambulances, police cars and emergency vehicles were parked in a haphazard manner.

After entering the tunnel, Margot walked towards the glass sentry box.Usually at this time in the morning, the doorman old Curley would always sit on a chair, leaning against the corner of the sentry box and dozing off, with a blackened gourd pipe resting on his strong chest.But today he was not only awake, but standing.He opens the door. "Good morning, Doctor," he said.From the master student to the curator, he said that he is a doctor, and whether you really have this title is secondary. "What's wrong?" Margo asked. "I don't know," Corley replied. "They just got here two minutes ago. You'd better show me the papers today."

Margo rummaged through her tote bag, suspecting that she hadn't brought a work permit at all.It had been months since anyone had asked for her ID. "I don't know if I have brought it with me," she said. Margo was a little annoyed that she hadn't cleaned up the bits and pieces from last winter still in her bag.A friend from the anthropology department recently added a title to this tote bag: "The whole museum is dirty and messy." The sentry box phone rang and Corley reached for it.Margot finally found the work card, picked it up and pasted it on the window glass, but Corley ignored him, his eyes widened and he was stunned by the content from the microphone.

He put down the microphone without saying a word, and stood stiffly. "How?" Margot asked, "What's the matter?" Corley took off his pipe. "Bad news that you probably don't want to hear," he said. The phone rang again, and Corley picked up the receiver. Margot had never seen him so agile.She shrugged, threw the papers back in her bag, and walked on.The deadline for the next chapter of her doctoral dissertation was approaching, and she couldn't afford to miss a day.She hadn't gotten anywhere in the last week—father's funeral, formalities, phone calls.Now she didn't want to delay even a minute.

Crossing the courtyard, she entered the museum through the staff gate, turned right, and hurried along a long passage to the Department of Anthropology.The lights in each office are dark, and the owner usually does not show up until 9:30 to 10:00. Turning a right-angle turn, Margo stopped.A strip of yellow tape blocked off the aisle.Margot read the words: NYPD - Crime Scene - Do Not Cross.Jimmy, who is usually on duty in the Peruvian gold showroom, stands in front of the tape, next to Gregory Kawakita, a young research assistant in the evolutionary biology department. "What happened?" Margot asked.

"Typical museum efficiency," Chuanbei said with a wry smile, "we were locked out." "No one would tell me what happened, but told me not to let anyone in," the security guard said nervously. "I said," Kawakita said, "I'm giving a speech to the National Science Foundation next week, and I have a lot of business to attend to today. Just let me—" Jimmy said uneasily, "I'm just completing the tasks assigned by my superiors." "Forget it," Margot said to Chuanbei, "let's go to the lounge and have a cup of coffee. Maybe someone there knows what's going on."

"Let me go to the bathroom first, but I have to find an unsealed one," Chuanbei replied angrily, "See you in the lounge." The ever-open door to the staff lounge was closed today.Margo grabbed the doorknob, hesitating whether to wait for Chuanbei.She thought for a while and pushed open the door.Today is destined to be a bad day, and she needs Chuanbei's assistance. There were two police officers talking in the room, their backs to her.One of them snickered, "How many times? The sixth time?" "Don't remember," replied the other, "but I'm afraid he hasn't had breakfast to vomit either." The two walked away, revealing the lounge they had obscured.

There were not many people in the spacious room.A figure is sprawled over the sink in the far kitchen area.He spat, wiped his mouth, and turned around.Margo recognized him as Charlie Plaine, the new conservationist in the anthropology department, who had been hired by the museum on a temporary fund set aside six months earlier to restore objects for the new exhibition.He was pale and expressionless. Two policemen walked up to Plain and kindly urged him to keep going. Margot stepped aside to let them pass.Plain moved stiffly, like a robot.Margo's eyes moved down instinctively. Plain's shoes were soaked in blood.

Plain, with a dazed expression, looked at Margo and noticed the change in her expression.He followed Margo's gaze and stopped suddenly. The policeman behind him had no time to stop and hit him on the back. Plain opened his eyes wide, revealing large whites.Police grabbed his arm and he resisted, screaming in terror.The police quickly took him out of the lounge. Margo leaned against the wall, praying for her heart to slow down.At this time, Chuanbei and several other people walked into the room. "Half the museum is closed," he shook his head and poured a cup of coffee. "No one can enter the office."

The ancient public address system of the museum seemed to have woken up, and it creaked and called out: "Please pay attention. All non-rescue personnel in the museum, please report to the staff lounge immediately." As soon as they sat down, other staff also entered the room in twos and threes.Mostly lab technicians and non-tenured research assistants, it's too early for the leaders to go to work.Margo looked at them absent-mindedly, Chuanbei was talking, but she couldn't make out what he said. In less than ten minutes, the room was packed with people.Everyone was talking, expressing indignation at not being able to get into the office, complaining that no one would report on the situation, spreading speculation in terrified tones.Apparently, in such a peaceful museum, there was finally a little chop or ripple.

Chuanbei took a big sip of coffee and made a face. "What kind of mud is this?" he said, turning his face to Margo. "Scared out of your wits? You haven't said a word since we sat down." She stammered about Plaine.Chuanbei's handsome face crumpled into a ball. "My God," he said at the end, "what do you think happened?" A thick baritone rang in her ears, and Margo realized that the lounge had suddenly become silent.Standing in the doorway was a stocky, balding man in an awkward brown suit with a police phone tucked in his jacket pocket and an unlit cigar dangling from his mouth.He strode into the break room, followed by two plainclothes police officers. He stopped in the middle of the front of the lounge, pulled up his trousers, took out his cigar, picked up a small piece of tobacco on his tongue, and cleared his throat. "Attention, everyone," he said, "some circumstances have caused inconvenience to everyone, and we apologize for your understanding." A harsh voice suddenly sounded from the back of the room: "I'm sorry, sir..." Margot turned to look. "Fred," Kawakita whispered.Margot had heard of Frank Fred, a ichthyological researcher with a irascible personality. The man in the brown suit turned to look at Fred. "Lieutenant D'Agosta," he snapped, "NYPD." This answer would make most people shut up immediately, but despite Fred's frail appearance and long gray hair, he bravely greeted him. "Perhaps," he said sarcastically, "could you tell us what happened to the museum? We seem to have a right to..." "I would be happy to tell you what happened," continued D'Agosta, "but at this point we can only say that a body was found in the museum and the police are investigating the details. If—" There was an uproar in the room, and D'Agosta raised a hand wearily. "At this moment, I can only say that the homicide team has arrived at the scene and the investigation is ongoing," he continued, "The museum is temporarily closed and will be implemented immediately. From now on, people outside are not allowed to enter, and people inside are not allowed to leave. The police also hope that this stage will pass quickly." He paused: "If there is a murder, it is possible—just possible—the murderer is still in the museum. Please cooperate, and please don't leave for the next hour or two, so that the police can investigate. Police officers will come to register everyone’s basic information.” In the ensuing shock and silence he walked out of the room, turned and closed the door.One of the remaining policemen dragged a chair to the door and sat down heavily.Everyone gradually picked up the conversation again. "We're not prisoners, why should we be kept here?" cried Fred. "It's ridiculous!" "My God," said Margot in a low voice, "you don't think Plaine is a murderer, do you?" "What a horrible thought," Kawakita said.He stood up, went to the coffee machine, and knocked out the last few drops of coffee in the jug with brute force, "But it's nothing compared to not being able to prepare my speech." Margot knows Chuanbei very well. This young scientist is in a period of rapid rise, a 100% blue-chip stock, and never fights unprepared. “Graphs are everything these days,” Kawakita continued. “Pure science doesn’t get funded anymore.” Margot nodded again.She heard Chuanbei's words and the noise around her, but none of these were important to her.The only thing she's concerned about is the blood on Plaine's shoe.

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