Chapter 7 fallen angel of july

Marcus Tarius Cicero is a famous rhetorician in the world. He once kindly told everyone that the two characters of water and fire have become "proverbs", that is to say, they are the most basic two Ancient life elements that generate and inhibit each other.To further extend its meaning, it means that where the fire of life is burning, the god of death is always hovering around, waiting for an opportunity to extinguish it at any time. The case of Miles Sant and others exemplifies this point.When it comes to fire, fire comes. Although New York has more than ten days to officially enter summer, it is already scorching hot. The heat of purgatory bakes the garden of the Sant family like a burnt bread crust So brittle, while the stones of the garden wall are more tormented like being propped on a barbecue grill.Speaking of water, there is a river flowing under the east wall. The Sant family's mansion is one of the few riverside buildings in Manhattan. It stands proudly by the East River, gazing at the messy commercial center in Queens on the other side of the river.

This ancient harmony is not limited to geographical locations and seasons.Mythology and art are also involved in Sant's case.The house, designed in an age of grandeur, has a cathedral-like character to its architecture, with hideous genies adorning many parts of the house.After years of wind and rain erosion, this mansion looks like it has been washed in a holy water basin with laxatives. The monotonous and boring red and black mixed colors still reveal a hint of the taste of a country latrine.When building this mansion, the wealthy ancestor of the Sant family—probably wanting this house to be handed down from generation to generation—had prayed to God to bless the house as a permanent building , or at least outlast a few laxatives.He asked the architect to take inspiration from the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris.So it was built as it is now, which doesn't look uncomfortable at all, it can be said to be a bit vulgar and ugly.It was here that Miles Sant was born, and for six months he sat in his work chair lost in remembrance of the past, of the grotesque nightmares that used to visit him as a child.

The most frightening scene in the queen's dream is related to the stone carvings protruding from the roof. These stone carvings are strangely shaped, like abnormal tumors growing on the roof.This is the Chimeras Ante version of Notre Dame Cathedral.Chimera was originally a fire-breathing monster, but was killed by Bellerophon.This brings us back to fire.As for the water, the purpose of this monster on the roof is to be used as a gutter to drain the rainwater from the roof.In order to set the record straight, the founder, Sant, called this monster with the head of a lion, the body of a sheep, and the body of a snake "angel" when he was dying, and his grandson Miles even insisted on this name.Not so Miles’ younger brother David, a painter with a studio on the roof, for whom destroying images is as easy as creating them.He called the house "The Cathedral," much to the annoyance of his brother.Whenever Miles referred to the trough monster as an angel in front of his guests, David always said that it had inspired his grandfather a lot about heaven... even if it hadn't enlightened Miles.

These are trifles, though, and a bit off topic.We are now speaking of a very serious matter, which happened on a recent hot summer night in the garden of the Sant's house by the East River. In the garden, two young ladies were sitting in the bright moonlight, sweating profusely. One was Miles' wife, the current Mrs. Sant, and the other was Nicky Porter, who came here to meet a nearby Publishers talk about deadlines for a book.In order to be able to visit this friend whom she had not seen for many years, Nicky set off one day earlier and left the boss here alone.This reunion had a special meaning to Nicky, for she learned that Dorothy was now Mrs. Miles Sant, which she hadn't been the last time news of her had been heard.

After the two met, she found that something was wrong with Dorothy, she seemed to be guarding against something under the rolling eyes, and her complexion was not very good, with a strong smile on her face, which did not match the festive atmosphere of the newlyweds.At dinner, the whole table looked dead, and everyone was depressed.Mr. Hart, Miles Steiner's confidential secretary, a smooth Princetonian with a crew cut, was the first to sneak back to his room cautiously relieved at his opportunity.Then the young hostess dismissed her husband with a smile, and led Nicky into the dark garden.As soon as she sat down in the garden, Dorothy wept.

Nicky didn't persuade her, and let Dorothy cry for a while, wondering if it was because of the house.This horribly repulsive house hadn't been painted in probably decades and was generally dilapidated and had a musty smell to it.All the bedrooms in the house faced the river, listening to the noise of the river all the time.And Miles Sant, although he seems to be a kind-hearted person at first glance, is indeed a bit too old-fashioned and lacks interest.In fact, Nikki was even taken aback when she first met him.He claimed to be forty-five, but he looked to be sixty, and his real age was probably fifty-five or so.But Dorothy was only twenty-six.Although Dorothy was the kind of practical girl who never imagined anything and admired successful people, she didn't seem like the kind of person who could fall in love with a rich man twice her age.Or is it because of David?Although the artist didn't come to dinner, Nikki heard something about him at the dinner table—"David's mind was only watercolors," Miles Sant said, "he was always on his own. in his studio." Nicky got the impression that David was sweet, a little bit mischievous, full of the latest outlandish ideas—"literally a Greenwich Village guy," his brother said. When he spoke, there was infinite love in his tone, "a complete rebel."

She was really taken aback when Dorothy said that Davy was thirty-five.In Miles' eyes, his younger brother seemed to be forever a teenager, his source of income, who accommodated him and taught him when he was naughty.A painting of Davy's self-portrait hung in the living room—"David called it the nave," Dorothy said with a laugh, and Myers frowned.From the portrait, he has a romantic and melancholy temperament like Byron, with dark skin, handsome face, and magic in his eyes, or at least he painted this magic.It seemed he was the reason Dorothy was crying.Yes, it must be because of David.

Apparently that was the case.Dorothy began by praising her husband when she began to explain why she was crying.She said Miles was the most tender, caring, generous husband in the world.Then she said that she was the most ungrateful and confused woman, and she could even be said to be the most irresponsible bad woman, seducing a good man to marry her.Oh, she thought she was in love with him, Miles was so dependable, so obsessed with her.Of course...she didn't really try to seduce him, it could also be said that he seduced himself.But she wasn't loyal after all, she just thought, she... "Oh, Nikki, don't think too bad of me. I'm in love with someone else."

Look, that's what happened. Nicky sipped the cold drink they'd wisely brought out into the garden. "Well, even if you fall in love with someone else," she said, her tone of voice was a bit evasive, like the long shadows of two people on the river bank, clearly distinguishable but swaying, "this is not the first time Happen, Dorothy." "But, Nikki, what am I going to do? I don't want to hurt Miles. He's a flawed man, of course, but he's absolutely honest and worthy, and I'm afraid if I leave him now... so soon, I'll Meaning, I'm afraid—"

"What are you afraid of?" Dorothy began to cry again. "Look, Dottie," Nicky said, "you can't spit it out after eating the cake, or it's gonna be a mess." "How could it be so bad," said Dorothy, wiping her eyes irritably. "My boss," Nicky said, taking another sip, "has always been very detail-oriented, very clear and detailed, and I've got that problem too. Dottie, honey, we're both girls, There's no man around at the moment either. What do you want from another man?" "another person?" "It's the one you love."

"Nicky, I love him! It's true!" "Then what does he think about it?" "He said--" "Wait," Nikki said suddenly, putting her hand on her friend's bare shoulder, "smile, Dottie, someone's coming." Miles Santer's figure flickered in the northeast corner of the house, and he stopped in the path, the lights in the front hall illuminating him.They saw him dab his half-bald forehead with a handkerchief, and look out into the dim garden. "Dorothy?" he called hesitantly. "Are you with Miss Potter?" "Yes, Miles!" said Dorothy. "Oh," said her husband, and fell silent again.Then he cleared his throat, "It's so stuffy in the room...the radio says the weather won't be too good these days...I think you and Miss Potter might want to play Canasta..." Sant turned to them He took a small step in that direction, still holding the handkerchief in his hand. Nikki thought the poor man was like a fish out of water.She suddenly felt that Miles Sant wasn't completely dull after all, he didn't know everything.Thinking of this, a burst of sympathy suddenly surged in her heart.Seeing him approaching, Nikki shifted her eyes to other places, and in this way, Nikki happened to see the "angel" on the roof suddenly fall down—this monster used as a drip tank was already motionless on the roof. It had been standing for seventy-five years, and now it fell suddenly. If Siant took another step forward, the monster would just hit him on the head.Nicky yelled, the monster hit the ground, and Siant also fell down.Dorothy screamed as if possessed, and her scream was long and shrill in the dark, full of despair. Old Grande, Sant's doctor, who was dozing in the garden next door, rushed over upon hearing the news.He bent down to check Siant who was lying on the ground, and said, no matter if it was a devil or an angel, they had miscalculated anyway and failed to succeed.He lifted Miles Sant and knelt on the ground, as if expressing his gratitude to God in this gesture. Dorothy's husband got up, paler than the fallen monster, and looked up, but not as if praying for his own survival.A black head suddenly poked out from the roof, looking like another monster against the moonlight—it was David, and he asked curiously what happened.Neither Miles nor his wife said anything, and Dr. Grande told him what had happened in a chirping chirp.After hearing this, David Sant didn't say a word, and retracted his head again.Nicky suddenly felt a chill in the air, which made her a little uncomfortable.When David comes running from the corner of the house to help his brother inside, Nikki sees him as more of a Byronic poet than his portrait shows.The discovery was equally unpleasant to her. Nicky spoke to her boss about it the next day, and Ellery reminded her, as calmly as possible, that he could invent far more devious crime stories than this.He asked Nicky to concentrate on typing, because her social interaction had already affected his fulfillment of the client's contract—not to mention the publisher's request for early delivery.He said publishers won't be able to pay until manuscripts are delivered. "But Ellery, it sure wasn't an accident," Nicky said, resting her elbows on the typewriter. "Isn't it?" said Ellery, sarcastically. "That's your arbitrary conclusion again, isn't it?" "I just wanted to tell you that I went up to the roof last night to check, that's where the thing fell—" "Do you have a magnifying glass and calipers? Did you find anything?" "I've already said it. Are you listening to me anyway?" "You found the place where the drip trough was supported in a dilapidated state. Incredible! How much did you say the drip trough weighed?" "Mr. Sant says about a hundred pounds." "I suggest you check out Duke Isaac Newton's book anyway, and work on the law of gravity. Can we concentrate on writing now?" "From a logical point of view, I still don't think it was an accident," said Miss Porter calmly. "That's why I suggested last night to Myer Sant—" The doorbell rang, and Nicky stopped talking. A wave of overwhelming doubt passed through Ellery's mind, and his face darkened. "Nicky," he said sternly, "what did you suggest to Miles Sant last night?" Nicky glanced towards the reception room, but said nothing.At the moment the reception room is full of voices. Ellery sighed resignedly. "Honey, I know you don't mind!" Nicky walked out quickly. Presently Ellery heard her talking to someone so plausibly that Mr. Quin could hardly wait. Ellery was surprised to find himself immediately feeling sorry for the man.It turned out that the president of Sant Pharmaceutical Company came.Mr. Miles Sant slowly came into Ellery's sight. He walked slowly and hesitantly, with a nervous expression, coupled with bewildered eyes and gray stubble, he looked like a A poor drug dealer selling his stuff.He stretched out his trembling hand, declined the drink, and took the cigarette, but he didn't light it for a long time, and kept saying thank you, thanking Mr. Quinn for taking the time to see him, and saying that The fact is...it's too difficult...Miss Potter is Dorothy's friend etc...if it wasn't for Nikki, he would have been... "Mr. Sant," said Ellery, "what do you want to say?" Mr. Sant looked at a loss, his eyes fixed on the cigarette in his hand, and he kept pinching it between his fingers. "Quinn, I think my wife and my brother are in love." There was an ashtray next to him, but he pocketed the cigarettes. "The two of them are in love," he repeated, and then paused, as if expecting some violent reaction from Ellery. But Ellery didn't make a sound at all, and Nicky was playing with her fingernails with pleasure. "I haven't caught any evidence," muttered Sant, "but there's something wrong with Dorothy's behavior... Well, I can't quite say, but something has happened between us lately. I'm too polite!" he blurted out, "David's an artist, young and handsome, and irresistibly attractive to women. Maybe I shouldn't expect too much—but who knows what they say about me, an old fool ?—but why didn't they come to me? Instead... you see, Mr. Quin," cried Miles Sant, "what do you think of it?" "On your premise? Let's see. Your brother and your wife are in love, and last night the drip trough fell off the roof and nearly hit you on the head, and your brother's studio happens to be There it is. It's as if your brother is trying to kill you, Mr. Sant." "So you agree with me." He huddled in the chair. "Oh, no," Ellery said, laughing, "I'm just inferring a possible conclusion from two facts, and one of them isn't a fact, it's just speculation." "Well, there's a third fact I didn't mention," said Sant, his voice hardened. "Anyone will believe it. My father left all of the Sant family property to Me. When I die, it will all belong to David." Ellery sighed and said, "So people do stupid things, don't they?" He stood up. "I don't quite agree with your guess, Mr. Sant, but I fully understand your fear right now. I How or when will you be able to check the roof without your brother knowing? I mean, the sooner the better." Miles Sant promised to notify Ellery as soon as he got an opportunity, and he called later that night to say that an investigation would be possible that night. "I'll have my secretary wait for you at the side door in the middle of the night." He hung up before Ellery could react. Ellery parked the car on First Avenue and walked toward the river with Nikki, walking slowly because they had arrived a few minutes early and the night was foggy.Everything in front of me is a bit illusory, fuzzy, and floating.When they arrived at Sant's house, the whole building seemed to be moving erratically, as if it was about to transform into something else.Ellery felt a tight grip on his arm, and he explained in a low voice that it was just an illusion caused by the heat or something, but Nicky still held on to him until a figure came out of the big iron gate, and she recognized it. The man was Miles Sant's secretary. "Oh, Mr. Hart, glad it was you and not some Black Mass priest!" Mr. Hart was puzzled, shook Ellery's hand vigorously, complained about the weather, and led them across the front lawn.Ellery looked around curiously as he walked, the whole building still seemed so floating and unreal against the sky, as if by magic. Nikki followed him closely. "I suppose you know why we're here tonight, Mr. Hart?" "Mr. Sant just told me." Sant's secretary replied in a professional tone. "What's your opinion?" "A man of my stature has no opinion. Isn't that right, Miss Porter? . . . Davy? Well, Davy has a cottage in Westport, and when he's upset or when he wants to paint a Connecticut cowshed, he Just going there. He was going to leave tonight for his holiday, but Mr. Sant didn't know which train he was going to catch, so he made it at midnight...I'm sure he's gone. I haven't seen him since—I Just came from there after a party - but it's late... this way please. Mr. Sant is waiting for you upstairs in his own room. He's giving the servants the evening off so there's no one Excuse me. As for Mrs. Sant? I can't say that. I think Mr. Sant has arranged." Mr. Hart behaved politely and worldly, as if deliberately playing the role of the most tight-lipped— And it's an outsider—the role of a secretary. The house has three doors.The doorways are decorated with wonderful and eccentric things.Passing through the main entrance in the middle, they seemed to have entered some medieval fantasy realm. The room was very dark, and they couldn't see anything clearly, they could only guess.There was no one around, and the hall was eerily silent, like a Hollywood soundtrack, and Ellery would not have been surprised if a man in leggings had suddenly appeared, eating and drinking and ordering the set to be removed, because These old ornaments, like a background curtain, withered oak trees, and dark iron products, look unreal. They went up the huge ornate staircase, and Ellery wondered, "Are we in a museum in London, Mr. Hart?" Halfway up the stairs, there was a faint, short explosion from somewhere above. ,boom!Kind of like thunder. Then it fell silent again, and they listened carefully for a while, but the sound did not appear again.Everyone looked at each other. "What was that sound just now?" Nicky asked, her voice was a little weird. "It can't be," said Miles Sant's secretary, with an unnatural smile on his face, "that sounds like it." "Why not?" Ellery asked loudly, before leaving. They found him a moment later in the upstairs living room, kneeling next to a sprawling figure lying in a pool of blood that looked like he had plunged headlong into a mound of ketchup. "Oh, no," said Hart blankly. "Oh yes," Nicky said, "I was right, and he was right, murder." "Not exactly," Ellery said, with a quick glance around. "The head injury should be a bloody mess. There's no sign of a gunshot wound... I don't think it's fatal. Nikki, stick your head out the window, shout loudly." "shout loudly?" "Call that doctor! Didn't you say he's next door? Hart, come with me." Ellery said, already in the hall. "But Mr. Sant," said the secretary. "Don't touch him!" Hart followed him into the hall in the dark. "Whoever shot Santer, he must not have gone far. Hart, where's the other way down?" "Another way down the stairs?" "Don't be a fool, Hart! We came up by the front stairs and saw no one, so Sant's murderer must have escaped another way! Is there a second staircase here?" "Oh, yes, Mr. Quinn. Back stairs, down the hall—" Ellery ran there, Hart trotting along grimly.Behind them, Nikki yelled at Dr. Grande at the top of her lungs. A shadowy rear staircase led to an oak door hung with large iron posts, which led to the rear of the hall. "Hart, you check the front—the lawn, the bushes, the street. I'm in the back." He gave the secretary a push. It was dark in the kitchen.Ellery groped his way past a few copper stoves, bumping into something now and then, cursing.At last, he spotted a star, walked in a straight line, and touched the door in a short while.He found himself in a narrow area of ​​the back garden, and at a glance he could see a slender figure crouching on top of it not ten feet away, and the house of Sant's neighbor was beyond the wall. Ellery jumped up and clung to the man.His hands clasped the man's ankle tightly. "Oh, thank you," said a voice impatiently, "I'm not as flexible as I used to be when I climbed the wall. I think I had to climb it once a week when Elmer Sant always felt that he couldn't do it." Yeah. Catch me."—Ellery took first a medicine kit, then a thin, panting old gentleman—"Here, here? What's the matter? Tell me The lady yelled something murdered. Who is it? You?" "It's Miles Sant, doctor, in his upstairs sitting room with a bullet grazed his scalp. You'd better hurry." Dr. Grande had an expression of disbelief, then he grabbed the medicine box and ran into the house quickly. The wall that separated the Sant's house from the Grande's house led straight to the river, and Ellery walked along the wall, turned north at the end, and came to Sant's flower bed.There were two windows in the house that were lit, and the light was shining directly on the other side of the garden, and Ellery saw Nicky's figure through the windows.Then his hand touched something rough and uneven, and it seemed to break the wall of the river. On closer inspection, he found that it was a wooden step, the rear of which extended into the garden, and the front of it stretched northward into the river. .It turned out to be a boathouse.It occurred to Ellery what a privilege this was for the murderer. Holding the flashlight, Ellery began to walk cautiously down the steps. The wooden steps creaked, and he simply jumped over the last few steps and climbed up from the corner of the boathouse.He found a door, went to the door, raised his flashlight and shone inside, and saw the panicked face of a young woman.There was no one else in the room, and the atmosphere was tense and depressing.Sitting on a pile of coiled nylon rope, Ellery asked, "Was anyone else here a few minutes ago? I mean, besides yourself?" "Why do you ask that?" "Because I think you're Mrs. Miles Sant, if you are," said Ellery in a grave tone. "I'm sorry to tell you that your husband was shot upstairs. So now Can you answer my question, Mrs. Sant?" "Nobody's been here." "You don't look surprised at all." "Is Miles dead?" "I didn't have time to see the result. So you didn't see anyone else, so I want to ask—" "Don't ask," said Dorothy Sant, "I did it." When Sergeant Quinn Sr. arrived, his sleep-deprived eyes were bloodshot. "You can choose to live a life dealing with murderers all the time," he said to his son, "but I'm your father, and I'm so old. Can't you let the local people handle it? " "I think this is a case that needs more mental work," said Ellery thoughtfully. The old police officer's expression immediately became alert.Ellery followed him around, looking thoughtful the whole time. After Dorothy Sant and Nikki Potter made a fuss hysterically in front of everyone for a while, they finally calmed down.Officer Quinn was more satisfied with what had happened.People came and went, phones rang and stopped.In the end they finally waited until Dr. Grande came out.Dr. Grande opened the door of Miles Sant's bedroom at a little before two and said, wiping his hands with a floral towel, "It's all right. Now he's got a place to grow." Hair and nothing else, gentlemen. These Santes are in good health. It's not easy to kill them." Then he saw the face of Dorothy Santes, and his face changed. "Try to hurry up, officer." Then he stood aside. After entering the room, they saw Miles lying on the bed. From a distance, they looked like a headless zombie. When they got closer, they could clearly see that his head was wrapped in thick gauze, and his face was bloodless. Miles Sant saw his wife, and there was a weak but eager light in his eyes, but immediately, the light dimmed, and he closed his eyes. "Mr. Scant," said the old sergeant, "can you tell us what happened?" "I don't know. I've been talking to my secretary, Mr. Hart, before I sent him downstairs to wait for Mr. Quinn. I was the only one left here. The door opened and I was about to turn around when I heard a bang. , I don’t know anything when it’s dark.” "So you didn't see who shot you?" "No." The person lying on the bed said lightly. "Well, then, Mrs. Sant," said the old sergeant, "please tell your husband what you told me." Miles Sant immediately opened his eyes. Dorothy Sant said in a measured tone: "I left the house after dinner, saying I was going to see some friends. I walked over to Central Park and sat on a bench for a while. Then I got up and went out for a while. I walked back. It was almost midnight. I passed Miles' living room on the way back upstairs. He was talking to Harry Hart, and they didn't see me. I waited for Hart to come downstairs Afterwards, I took a gun from the room, which I always had, and I went to Miles' room and shot him." - The person lying on the bed moved slightly, then calmed down Down—"I ran downstairs into the garden. I saw the boathouse. I threw the gun as far as I could into the water, and ran to the boathouse and stayed there. I don't know why." Miles Sant narrowed his eyes, as if the light was too harsh. "Now, about that gun, Mrs. Sant," said the sergeant, wiping his face, "it's a twenty-two millimeter revolver, isn't it?" "yes." "Is that the kind of barrel that is cylindrical and can be rotated, Mrs. Sant?" "Yes. But I threw it in the river." "You said it was twenty-two millimeters," said the old police officer, turning down his collar, and added, "This is a bit strange, Mrs. Sant. My son found your husband lying on the ground. Casings were also found, and revolvers don't spit out casings when they're fired, they stay in the chamber. Automatic pistols spit out casings, Mrs. Sant. And there's nothing wrong with the casings. Not a 22mm pistol, but a 38mm. So I'm sorry to say, you've been lying, Mrs. Sant, and now what I want to know is: Who are you covering for ?” Dorothy gripped the arm of her husband's bed. "I'll tell you who she's covering," said her husband, staring at the curtain above the bed, "she's covering my brother David. David didn't go to Westport at all, but hid somewhere and shot him Me. And Dorothy saw him do it, and she was madly in love with him—" "Harry, no!" screamed Domancy. However, Miles Sant's secretary was already shaking his head: "It's useless, Dotty. I can't let things go on like this. That person is not David, it's me." Miles Sant raised his body subconsciously.He stared at Harry Hart as if he were meeting him for the first time.He seemed to see everything through.His head flopped limply back on the bed, and he turned his face away. Hart's face was completely pale: "We tried our best to avoid this, but we couldn't. It happened anyway, that's it. I want to tell you—" "But I never underpaid you," said the man lying on the bed. "Well, Harry?" Hart plucked up his courage and went on: "Dorothy thought I was going to kill you tonight, so she said she did it herself." "It's so noble." The other fell silent. "So it's all about love, Harry?" "For love," said Hart quietly. "It's touching. But I'm a businessman, Harry. I've got a business mind. That's not how I see it. You know I'm leaving Dorothy an inheritance, and I think what you're after is enjoyment." , liberty and luxury, Harry, and the only thing standing in the way of it is my simple-minded husband who is losing his hair. One shot and it's all over—" "These are just hypotheses," said a voice, and everyone jumped, even Scant looked around.It was Ellery who spoke, and his expression was still thoughtful, "Harry Hart is undoubtedly a smart guy, Mr. Sant, but if he is the one who shoots tonight, then unless he knows the clone technique. When Nikki and I heard the gunshot above, Hart was walking up the stairs with Nikki and me, walking between us. So, maybe it was for love--human nature is greedy, Dad, but, to To kill people, it must be insane. Shouldn't we be objective first?" "It should look like this," said old Sergeant Quinn a little sullenly. "Well, Mr. Sant, let's call it a day. I think you are bored, and Dr. Grande's face is not very bright." Looks good. We will go to your brother to find out some information, and we won't bother you until then." "My brother?" Miles Sant repeated painfully. "We know that, according to your father's will, the Seant Pharmaceutical Company property will go to David after your death, which, as far as I know, is an excellent motive for killing—Mr. You have to go find your brother." It's a dark night, no stars, no moon.When Nicky walked into the garden, she couldn't tell how much time had passed, and everything around her was difficult to distinguish in the dark night.Nicky fumbled to find a bamboo chair and was about to sit down when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. Nicky screamed. "It's me," said a voice, and it took a moment for Nikki to make out the outline of Ellery, lying on a bamboo chair with his head propped on one arm. "Nicky..." "You idiot," Nikki said sullenly, "do you want to back down when you get stuck?" "I was thinking about my next move," Ellery said. "Look at those stars, Nikki..." "I've done everything I have to do," Nicky said, falling into the bamboo chair. "Yes, another romance. I put Dorothy on a pill that Dr. Grande gave me, I finally got her to sleep, and I didn't forget to tell Mr. Hart a few words. I know his kind of guy. He's a pro at golfing and dealing with women, but he doesn't know anything about the stock market. He's an old hat When do you say that the weather like a steamer here is the end?" "Looks like," Ellery said intently, "it's just getting started." He pointed to the sky. "The stars, Nikki, look at the stars." "What star?" Nicky looked in the direction his arm was pointing, "Oh, I'm not in the mood to play games!" "Me too." Ellery still squinted his eyes and looked at the sky, "but there is a trick to this game. I lie here quietly, waiting for you, while thinking. How can a person just go to Westport? Just disappeared without a trace, like he did it, so I feel like there must be something else going on in the moonlight here. Nikki, look at that roof... look over there. Right there . . . above the arch, the penthouse." “那是戴维·斯安特的画室，”妮奇说，“你又想到什么事了？” “看见那个烟囱了吗？” “当然看见了。” “那是什么东西在上面盘旋？” “看上去像是一层……薄雾。” “是烟。” “嗯，就算是吧，”妮奇深吸一口气说，“从一个烟囱里还能看到什么呢？” “不该有烟，妮奇。这该死的夏天来了有十天了。现在快到凌晨三点了，温度计指针标在九十一度，这会儿绝对不该有烟。”埃勒里从竹椅上站起身来，仍然伸长脖子张望着，“妮奇，有人在那上面玩火，我想马上搞清楚真相。跟我一起来好吗？” “当然，”妮奇说，“没准屋顶上还能凉快些呢。” 几分钟后，埃勒里趴在戴维·斯安特的壁炉旁，仔细检查炉膛里还在燃烧的灰烬，像猎狗一样警觉地嗅来嗅去。这位艺术家的工作室凌乱不堪，而且燥热异常，仿佛是专门用来做热科学实验的实验室。可是埃勒里全然不顾这些，他全神贯注地做着自己的事，汗水滴在壁炉里发出嘶嘶的响声。屋顶并不凉快，不过这儿比火炉般的工作室里要强点儿。 “见鬼，是谁在这么热的天生火呢？”妮奇埋怨着，“或者干脆说，除了魔鬼，谁还会干这事儿？” “的确是这样，”埃勒里说着，鼻子嗅嗅这儿，嗅嗅那儿，“所以说点火肯定不是为了取暖。让它自个儿烧着，烧成灰。从这些灰我们可以看出这堆奇怪的火是大约三个小时前点燃的。木头有点潮，所以燃烧得很慢。而且，炉子的阀门半关着——” “里面有什么东西，”妮奇疲倦地说，“没印度雪茄吗？” “没有，”埃勒里提高嗓门接着说，“但是有这个东西。” 他拎起一个东西，妮奇猛一看时被吓了一跳，以为是一只烧焦的人手，实际上不过是一只厚厚的白色棉手套，这种手套的样式不分男女，在任何一个商场的园艺柜台都可以买到。 手套已经被烧焦了，上面有一缕一缕的黑灰，还布满了神秘的黑色斑点。本来已经放松下来的妮奇立刻又绷紧了神经。这只手套显然是那个长夜里所发生的整个凶杀案件的物证，它的出现使这堆莫名其妙的火显得不仅愈发邪恶，而且更糟的是，显得很不合时宜。 埃勒里舔了舔上面的几块黑斑，像个美食家似地仔细品味着，最后称这些黑斑是火药粒，妮奇沮丧地点点头。 “这么说他就是戴着这只手套向他哥哥开枪的。他事先把生火的准备做好，完事后跑到这儿，用火柴把火点着，把手套扔在里面，在我们发现迈尔斯的时候就逃跑了。一个艺术家，办事能力肯定不怎么样，他至少能够看着火烧起来再走。” “他太慌张了。”埃勒里小心翼翼地把烧着的手套拿开，“而且真是不走运。瞧这儿，妮奇。” 妮奇望过去，她所能看见的只是一些红色纸屑，凌乱地粘在壁炉一面的墙上。 "what is this?" “留下的罪证，妮奇。更加反常的怪事。你在这儿待一会儿，好吗？我让爸爸上来一下。” “你要去哪儿？” “我去一下花园，”埃勒里说着，飞快地走了出去，妮奇都没来得及告诉他不能把她一个人留在屋顶上。但既然他已经走了，她也就只好待在那儿，直到老警官上来。 警官一上来就开始大呼小叫，妮奇赶紧捂着耳朵走开了。她在房屋的东北角找到了埃勒里，看见他在小路上指指戳戳，手电筒在灌木丛附近照来照去，好像是在找什么东西。 “在哪儿，妮奇？”埃勒里头也不抬地问。 “什么在哪儿？” “那个滴水槽，差点把迈尔斯·斯安特砸死的那个。” “哦，看在上帝的分上，”妮奇恼火地说，“我怎么知道？” “它不是掉在这儿了吗？” 妮奇听出了奎因语调里有某种不寻常的东西，那个大家伙的确不在那儿。 “上次我还看到它在这儿，就在这条小路上。对，是前天。看见了吗？看没看见地上滴水槽砸下的坑？” “看见了。”埃勒里严肃地说，然后转身进了屋。 接下来的一个钟头真是热闹。埃勒里四处打听着找那个滴水槽，把所有人都吵醒了，逼着让每个人都帮着找。那东西毕竟没伤人命，他为什么非要拼命地找它呢？对此埃勒里缄口不语。哈里·哈特是被叫醒的，多萝西·斯安特则是被吵醒的，连隔壁的格兰德医生也没能幸免，尽管对他的盘问是上门进行的。最后，整栋房屋从地下室到地面到天花板每个角落都被翻腾了一遍，也没找到那个滴水槽。没人记得从头一天下午起再见过它，只有男管家那天晚些时候在路上被绊了一下，就在那个东西掉下来的地方。毕竟是管家，又不是园丁，他只不过嘟嚷着骂了几句就忙自己的事儿去了。而园丁，那个爱尔兰人报着多一事不如少一事的职业态度，简单地说了句“没人让我把那个东西弄走”就又上床睡觉去了。 那么，正像老奎因警官说的，它在不在那儿，到底有什么区别呢？ “除非是没了。”埃勒里茫然地说。 “好了，埃勒里。不管是谁想置斯安特于死地都会把这该死的东西弄走，因为留下它总归是一条线索——” “他的指纹，”妮奇的语调里又现出一丝生气。 “在石头上，妮奇？不管怎么样，如果真是这样的话，他干吗不立刻擦掉它呢？而且，既然他用了一次手套，那就可以再用一次，这倒提醒了我一些比这失踪的天使更重要的事，有关那个想烧掉证据的失踪的弟弟。” “维利！”老警官喊了起来。 维利警佐拖着疲惫的脚步赶来，一面用一块小手帕擦着他的大脸盘。 “你发现了什么了吗？” “从西港警察局什么也没发现，只捞了几句臭骂。他们说最近一个月没有迹象表明戴维去过他那边的小屋。总之，他不在西港。昨晚从纽约出发到西港的火车也说不记得有他那样特征的人。格兰德中心的售票员也说不记得有这么个人。我们还调查了出租汽车——” “现在你满意了吧？”老警官转过身说，“真见鬼，埃勒里去哪儿了？” “在迈尔斯·斯安特的书房。”妮奇说。 这时书房门开了，埃勒里走了出来。 “戴维·斯安特的确失踪了，这回你该满意了吧？” “这么说他确实失踪了？” “维利，通缉戴维·斯安特。办完这件事咱们就各自回家，冲个淋浴。找到斯安特以后我再来，就这样吧。” “估计……”埃勒里看了一下手表，“估计得用七八个小时，爸爸。我以你的名义叫人把打捞设备中午运来，这得用点时间。” “打捞设备？中午？” “你想找到戴维·斯安特，是不是？” “当然，我是想找到他！” "noon." "here?" 埃勒里坐在一张长沙发上，两膝分开，手支着脑袋，像一个累极了的老太太。 “这可是道老算术题，”他说，“二加二，翻不出什么新花样——一块重一百磅的大石头不见了，一个人也失踪了。这栋屋子旁边流着一条河。失踪的人，失踪的大石头，深水。戴维·斯安特被谋杀了，尸体被扔进了东河，只要港口警察局找到潜水员，把打捞设备运到这儿就行——” 他们只用了二十五分钟就把戴维·斯安特的尸体打捞出来了，而老奎因警官也压根儿就没回家。这会儿他咚咚地走进屋，压抑着怒火向大家宣布，迈尔斯·斯安特的艺术家弟弟脑袋上有一个枪眼，种种迹象表明，他被枪击的时间至少是在十二个小时之前。 “他们还在找那把枪，”警官说着扫了一眼迈尔斯的卧室，这会儿大家都被召集在这儿，“会找到的，会找到的，等找到了——” “我看，”埃勒里说，“不用等那么久。斯安特太太，您还是坐下好吗？至于谁谋杀了戴维，又差点谋杀了你，斯安特先生，证据，我是说逻辑上的证据已经有了，我们只要把思路捋捋顺就行。还有，斯安特先生，你现在感觉如何？还可以经受住下面的打击吗？这里有四个因素：没被烧完的棉手套上的火药粒；粘在壁炉墙上的红色纸屑；我们上楼时从上面房间传来的枪声；还有，当然，是日期。” “日期。”奎因警官说。 “日期？”妮奇说。 “这几乎是最精彩的部分，”埃勒里热切地说，“夏天通常在六月二十一日，也就是十天前正式开始，而戴维·斯安特打算去西港渡假的日子显然是七月四日，这没必要解释。把七月四日和火药粒、红纸屑和那一声巨响联系在一起，你就不难想到……爆竹。” “我们到这儿的时候是半夜，妮奇，”埃勒里说，“我在凌晨三点的时候告诉你屋顶工作室的火烧了大概有三个钟头，所以我们上楼时听见的那声响，妮奇，我们以为是枪声，实际上是戴维工作室壁炉里的爆竹声。又因为我们只听见一声响，所以，斯安特先生，你不可能是那会儿被枪击中的。你一定是在几分钟前中弹的。” “那么，为什么我们没听见真正的枪声呢？”妮奇问。她知道她看上去挺恼火，“当时四周特别安静，只要有一丁点声音，哪怕是从街上传来的，我们都听得见。” “问题的答案，我想，”奎因警官严肃地说，“马上就出来了。那把枪呢，维利？就是裹在枕头里的那把。”他的表情有所缓和，又像个和蔼可亲的老绅士了，“就那样吧，警佐。就那么裹着拿走吧，出去后把门关上。” 屋里寂静无声，只听见维利警佐沉重的脚步声和开门关门声。老警官拍了拍胳膊，四下望了一眼。 “一声爆炸故意设计得让人听到，”埃勒里轻快地说，“而在这之前的一声爆炸又故意设计得让人听不到。要达到什么目的呢？简直不可思议，那就是要让爆竹声被误以为是枪声，要造成一种错觉，你是在我们上楼的时候中弹的，斯安特先生，实际上你却是在这几分钟前就已经中弹了。伪造开枪时间只可能有一个目的：想给凶手制造一个案发时不在犯罪现场的证据，而实际上凶手只不过在爆竹声响起来时不在案发现场。 “爆竹声响的时候谁有不在案发现场的证据呢？”埃勒里说着，脸上笑意荡漾，“你，多萝西·斯安特？不，你一个人待在船库里。你，斯安特先生——荒唐吗？不，你一个人待在自己的起居室里。你，格兰德医生——可笑吗？不，你也是一个人在你的花园里打瞌睡。就连戴维·斯安特也是孤零零地——一个人待在东河的水底。 “所以，恐怕，”埃勒里说，此刻他脸上的笑意消失了，“就剩你了，哈特，真是巧啊，你正好有爆竹响时不在案发现场的证据。一个强有力的证据，哈特，事实上，最有可能的就是你。你那会儿正上楼，就走在我和妮奇·波特中间。一个完美的设计好的骗局。 “但是你在操作上却屡屡失误。你有两次企图对迈尔斯·斯安特下手，结果都失败了。第一次你把滴水槽弄得活动了，然后在迈尔斯·斯安特走在下面的路上时把它推下去。你选了这种方式是因为他的弟弟戴维的工作室就在屋顶，而戴维，因为财产的原因，自然会成为被怀疑对象。结果这招没奏效，这下你可要孤注一掷了。昨天是你把滴水槽藏起来了，晚上你用枪打死了戴维，把他的尸体绑在滴水槽上，沉到了河底，你想他肯定会成为一个最好的替罪羊，因为他大概永远也不会被发现。然后你到了迈尔斯·斯安特的起居室，跟他聊天，再走出去，之后立刻又走回来，用枕头包住的枪向斯安特的头部射去——你是不是亲眼目睹了这一切，斯安特太太？我想是的。可是你疏忽了，哈特，斯安特先生没有死。接下来，你就开始争分夺秒了。你把枪从其中一扇窗户扔进河里，再跑到工作室，那儿你早准备好了一只爆竹。你把手套扔进壁炉，你是戴着这只手套办妥前面的这一切的。你在事先准备好的柴禾上扔了根火柴，这堆火是早准备好要用来销赃灭迹的——然后你赶紧跑下楼在大门口接我和妮奇，等爆竹响的时候，你就铁板钉钉地有了不在案发现场的证据。聪明啊，哈里，你可真聪明，但不知你是否同意我的分析？最复杂的事情到最后往往是最简单的。” 这样水火二字就从狂热的爱好者们口中逐渐流传，最后成为谚语。如果时间能够证明这一点。埃勒里将会深感欣慰，因为他一直视马库斯·塔里乌斯·西塞罗为他最为推崇的说教家之一。