Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Three Sisters

Mr. Ellery Smith made a great sensation in the high society of the Hill District and the intelligentsia of Wrighttown.Like Miss Akin, the librarian who used to study Greek, Mrs. Holmes, who taught comparative literature at Wright High, and of course, Emmeline Dupre, whom the town disrespectfully dubbed "Big Loudspeaker."Everyone from far and near admired Emmeline's unexpected luck to be Mr. Smith's "neighbor", because Emmeline lived on the other side of Ellery's new house.Car traffic in the hills had increased so dramatically, and interested people were coming in from all directions, that if the Wright Town Bus Company decided on a whim to create a new sightseeing bus route to Ellery's doorstep, he wouldn't even think about it. Moved.There are also a host of invitations: for tea, for dinner, for lunch, and one more—Emeline invites him to breakfast: "That way, we can relax in the soft morning coolness, at the end of the morning dew." Before the grass disappeared, we discussed art together." Ben Danzik, owner of the Upper Village stationery store, said that his store's refined stationery products have never sold so well.

It made Mr. Quinn look forward to Patricia's visits in slacks every morning.Then she took him on a tour of the county in her convertible.She knew everyone in Wright and Slocum Township, so she introduced him to people with every last name: O'Haleran, Cybruski, Johnson, Dowling.Goldberger, Venuti, Jacquard, Valedeira, and Broadbeck; hired hands, machinists, assembly line workers, farmers, retailers, employees; white, black, yellow ; the number of their children and the level of cleanliness are unmatched.Through this well-connected Miss Wright, in just a few days, Mr. Quinn's notebook has been filled with funny foreign words, details of dinners, arguments along Route 16 on weekend nights, square dancing, jazz music Meetings and midday whistles and lots and lots of cigarettes and laughter and jostling and all, the real Americana--Wrighttown's version of Americana.

"I don't know where I would be without you," Ellery said to Patricia one morning when they returned from the Lower Village. "You seem to be a perfect country club member, a devoted churchgoer, and a young woman at the same time. How on earth do you manage that, Patricia?" "Not only that," laughed Patricia, "I'm a sociology major—or was, because I got my degree in June; Learned, applied to these helpless masses. If this war continues—” "You mean the Milk Foundation thing?" Ellery asked puzzled. "Don't talk nonsense! The Milk Foundation is a mother's business. My dear sir, sociology is not just concerned with calcium for bone growth. It is the science of human civilization. Take Tsibruski for example— —”

"Give me a break!" cried Mr. Quinn, who had been taught by Tsibruski. "By the way, Patricia, what does your town attorney, Mr. Bradford, think of these matters?" "What about me and sociology?" "I mean the opinion of me going out with you." "Oh," Patricia said with a happy expression, tossing her hair into the wind. "Carter is jealous." "Well, baby, listen to me—" "Come on, don't tell me lofty truths," Patricia said. "Carter deserves it. He's taken me for granted for too long. The truth is we just grew up together, and it's good for him to be jealous."

"I don't know—" Ellery smiled, "I'm playing the part of the love-stimulator." "Ah, don't say that!" Patricia was taken aback. "I really like you, it's fun anyway." Suddenly, Patricia glanced sideways at Ellery: "Do you even know what people say?" "what is the matter?" "You told Mr. Pettigrew that you were a well-known author—" "The adjective 'well-known' was entirely Mr. Pettigrew's own addition." "You also said that you didn't write under the name Ellery Smith, you used a pseudonym . . . but you never told anyone what your pseudonym was."

"My God!" "So people are saying, maybe you're not a famous writer at all," Patricia whispered. "It's not a bad town, isn't it?" "Who said it?" "Someone said it." "You think I'm a fake too?" "Never mind what I think," Patricia retorted. "But you must know that the Carnegie Library has always had a fashion for an archive of writers' photographs, and Miss Akin said you weren't even in it." "Bah!" said Ellery. "Two more spits. I'm just not famous enough." "That's what I told her. But my mom was pissed off, but I told her, 'Mom, how do we know the truth?' And you know what—poor mom didn't sleep a wink that night."

Both laughed.Then Ellery said: "That reminds me—why haven't I seen your sister Nora? Is she unwell?" To Mr. Quinn's surprise, Patricia stopped laughing at the mention of her sister's name. "Nora?" Patricia repeated the name in a very flat voice, one that said nothing. "Well, Mr. Smith, Nora is well. We'll see her some other day." That night, Hermione officially revealed her new treasure.The invitees were all close: Judges and Mrs. Martin, Dr. Willoughby, Carter Bradford.John F．The only surviving sister—Tubisa Wright, a die-hard member of the Wright family who never "accepted" Hermione Bloomfield—and the editor and editor of the Wright Town Chronicle. Publisher Frank Lloyd.Throughout the night, Lloyd and Carter Bradford talked about politics, but the two only pretended to be interested in each other.From time to time, Carter cast very disapproving glances at Patricia and Ellery, who sat in the "lover's seat" in front of the Italian fireplace; and Lloyd, a brash type of man, kept looking at the entrance of the hall stairs.

"Frank had a crush on Nora before Jim... and he still has a crush on her," Patricia explained. "Frank was very overwhelmed during Jim Hayter's courtship and Nora's growing love for him." Frank Lloyd would be a dangerous rival, Ellery thought, watching the bulky daily editor from a distance across the room; there was something hard in his deep green eyes. "When Jim started hanging out with Nora, Frank said—" "What did he say?" "Let's never mind what Frank said," Patricia jumped up. "I talk too much." She walked quickly to Mr. Bradford, to break his heart again.Patricia wore a blue taffeta evening dress that rustled slightly as she moved.

"Milo, this is Ellery Smith." Hermione dragged the burly, heavy-footed Dr. Willoughby together to Ellery, speaking proudly. "Mr. Smith, I don't know if you have had a good influence," the doctor said with a smile. "I just came here after delivering Mrs. Jackwa, those Canadians! Triplets this time. The only difference between me and Dr. Dafoe is that the ladies of Wright have been very considerate and so far No one has more than four at a time. Still like our town?" "I've fallen in love with this town, Dr. Willoughby." "It's a nice town. Hermione, where's my drink?"

"If you're magnanimous enough, you can say that." Judge Martin spoke disdainfully.Her wife, Clarice, hung heavily on Judge Martin's arms, and the two walked slowly.Judge Martin was a small, thin man with sleepy eyes and a straightforward manner.He reminded Ellery of Yado Train's "Mr. Tate." "Eli Martin!" cried Clarice. "Mr. Smith, don't bother with me as a husband. Because of you, he has to wear this banquet suit to attend. I feel extremely miserable in my heart, and I'm afraid I will blame you. Hermione, today This banquet, everything is perfect."

"Where, Kegelis, you're flattering yourself," Hermione exclaimed elatedly. "Just a cozy dinner." "I don't like this pretentious thing," the judge murmured, pointing to a bow tie. "Hey, Tebitha, what are you sniffing at?" "Stupid!" John F.The elder sister glared at the old judge. "Ellie, I can't imagine what Mr. Smith thinks of us." Judge Martin stared sullenly at Mr. Smith, trying to see if Mr. Smith was underestimating him because he was not used to wearing a bow tie, before deciding whether to underestimate Mr. Smith himself.The crisis was resolved when Henry Clay Jackson came out to announce that the dinner party was about to begin.Henry Clay was the only trained chef in Wright Town. The local upper-class ladies shared this chef and his rare chef uniform through a compulsory communist system.There was an unwritten rule among them that Henry Clay should be hired to direct a feast only for extremely special reasons. "Dinner's on," announced Henry Clay Jackson, "serve!" The roast lamb with mint jelly had just left and the pineapple milkshake ice cream dessert arrived when Nora Wright appeared out of the blue.In an instant, the audience was silent.Hermione said in a trembling voice, "Ah, dear Norah." John F.With a mouth full of salted walnuts, she happily said, "Baby Nora!" Clarice Martin panted, "Nora, it's good to see you!" After that, the tension in the scene was lifted. Ellery was the first man to rise to pay his respects.Frank Lloyd was the last, his thick neck turning brick red under his thick hair.It was Patricia who saved the moment by saying: "Nora, now is the time to come down to supper!" she said briskly. "We've just had Ludy's delicious lamb. This is Nora, Mr. Smith." Nora held his hand for him to kiss.That hand was slender and cold, like a delicate porcelain. "Mum told me all about you." Nora said in a voice that hadn't been used in a long time. "Must disappoint you, naturally!" Ellery smiled, pulling out a chair. "Oh, no! Hello, Judge, Mrs. Martin, Aunt Tebita... Doctor... Carter..." Frank Lloyd said: "Hello, Nora." With a husky voice, he pulled the chair away from Ellery, not rudely, but not politely either;Nora sat down blushing.At this time, Henry Clay strode in, carrying a unique milkshake ice cream shaped like a book.Then, everyone started talking again. Nora Wright sat with clasped hands, palms up, as if exhausted; her pale lips tried to smile.Clearly, she's put a lot of thought into how she looks tonight.The red and white striped evening dress fit perfectly on the body, fresh and bright; the fingernails were flawlessly manicured, and the wine brown hair was not messy.Ellery was a little surprised when he first saw this slightly short-sighted girl, and he seemed to be able to imagine her in the upstairs bedroom, imagining how seriously she manicures, combs her hair, and puts on her charming clothes. evening dress; so solemn about this, so solemn about that, that's why it's all the way it is...so solemnly, so unnecessary, that I came down to dinner an hour late. Now she's got it perfect, now she's come downstairs as hard as she can, and she's feeling hollowed out, trying too hard to be worth it.She lowered her head slightly, maintained an unchanged smile, and listened quietly to Ellery's casual conversation, without moving the dessert or the after-dinner coffee in front of her, only occasionally whispering one or two very brief answers... Her It doesn't look like they're bored, but rather overexcited and tired. Then, as suddenly as she had just come in by accident, she said, "I take my leave, please forgive me," and stood up. All conversation in the room was interrupted again, and Frank Lloyd jumped up, pulling back her chair, as if to devour her with his bewildered, deep gaze. She smiled at him, then at the others, and drifted away.Along the arcade from the dining room to the foyer, she quickened her pace and disappeared in an instant. Everyone was immediately talking again and asking for more coffee. Mr. Quinn walked back to his new house in the warm night, carefully screening all the important things he saw and heard that night.The leaves of the great elm tree were talking, the oversized moon jewel hung high in the sky, and his own nose was filled with the scent of flowers that Hermione Wright had placed in her home.The sweet feeling of the night dissipated when he saw a small convertible with single-row seats parked beside the curb in front of his house. There was no light in the car and no one was in it.On a night like this, something should happen.A dark gray cloud covered the bright moon, and Mr. Quinn walked silently from the edge of the lawn to his small house.A Martian light could be seen on the porch of the house, at about the waist height of a man, bobbing back and forth. "I suppose you are Mr. Smith?" A contralto was speaking, and the texture of the voice seemed to be a little rough around the edges, and it had a mocking taste. "Hello!" he responded, stepping up the porch steps. "Do you mind if I turn on the porch light? It's dark in here—" "Go on, I'm as curious about you as you are about me, and I want to see you too!" Ellery flicked the light switch.She was huddled in the swing in the corner, blinking at him from behind the puff of cigarette smoke.The light gray leather trousers were tight at the hips, and the cashmere sweater boldly sculpted her bust.Standing a rich distance away, Ellery's immediate general impression was one of worldly, overripe, and ever-growing bitterness.She smiled—he thought that smile was a little nervous—and tossed the cigarette over the rail into the darkness. "You may turn off the light now, Mr. Smith. I'm an ugly monster anyway; and besides, I shouldn't want my family to feel ashamed of knowing I'm around." Ellery obeyed and turned off the porch light. "So you're Lola Wright." This is the eldest daughter who eloped with someone, got divorced and returned home, and the Wright family didn't mention it. "Sounds like you don't know anything about me!" Lola Wright laughed again, which turned into a hiccup. "Sorry, seventh scotch hiccup. I'm famous, you know—the drinking daughter of the Wrights." Ellery couldn't help smiling. "I've heard such vicious rumors." "Based on the flattering rumors I've heard these days, I'd been prepared to loathe you as a person; but, actually, you look all right. Shake hands!" The swing creaked, and the sound of footsteps was mixed with discordant laughter. She was groping in the dark, and the damp heat of her palm touched his neck. He quickly reached out and grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling. "Look," he said, "you should stop drinking at the sixth cup." She put her palm against his starched shirt and pushed hard. "Oh, good Gilanimo! That guy must think this Lola stinks." He heard her staggering back to the swing, and then the swing's creak. "Oh, Mr. Smith, the famous author, tell me what you think of us people? Dwarfs and giants, sweet and sour, toothy and smooth-talking magazine ads--all good stuff for a book, huh? " "Excellent material." "You've come to the right place." Lola Wright lit another cigarette, the lighter flame flickering. "Wrighttown! Lobbyy, mean, narrow-minded -- great American mud! Dirtier than a backyard sheet in New York or Marseilles." "Oh, I don't know that," argued Mr. Quin. "I've been looking around, back and forth, and to me it's a pretty good place." "Not bad!" she laughed. "Don't scare me. I was born here, and it's filthy—the birthplace of filth." "If that's the case," replied Mr. Quin, "why did you come back?" The red light of her cigarette flashed three times in quick succession. "It's none of your business. Do you like my family?" "I like it very much. You are very similar to your sister Patricia, and you have the same body." "The only difference is that Patricia is young and mine is fading." Laura Wright mused for a moment. "I guess you've got to be polite to the Wright family. Look, Brother Smith, I don't know why you're in Wright, but if you stick with our family, you're bound to hear a lot about the Gera What happened when I was a kid, and... well... I don't care what people in Wright Town think of me, but an outsider... It's different. Thank God, I still have my self-esteem!" "I haven't heard your family talk about you yet." "No?" He heard her laugh again. "Tonight I feel like I'm still willing to bare my heart. You'll hear people say I love to drink, it's true, I've learned it, from... you'll hear people say that in all kinds of horrible places in town See me - and worse, see me alone. Think about it! I'm seen as 'slutty', the truth is, I do what I like, but these women in the hills are hawks Claws, have been tearing me apart!" She's done. "Would you like something to drink?" Ellery asked. "Not now. I don't blame my mother, she's as narrow-minded as the rest of the women; her social life is her whole life. If I play by her rules, she'll let me go back—I'll give her This courage, but, I don't want to play this game. It's my own life. Fuck his rules! Do you understand?" She laughed again. "Say you understand, come on, tell me." "I understand," Ellery said. She was silent.Then he said: "You must be bored. Good night." "Hope to see you again." "See you no more. Good night." Her shoes grazed the unseen porch floor.Ellery turned on the light again, and she raised her arm over her eyes. "Then let me take you home, Miss Wright." "Thank you, no need. I—" She broke off. Patricia's happier voice called from the darkness below: "Ellery? Shall I come up and have a cigarette with you? Carter's home and I see your porch light—" Patricia also fell silent.The two sisters stared at each other. "Hey, Lola!" Patricia called, leaping up the steps and kissing Lola passionately. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Mr. Quinn quickly turned off the lights, but there was still time to see how Lola hugged—briefly—her sister, who was taller and younger than her. "Let go, Nasal girl," he heard Lola say under her breath. "You messed with my hair." "It's true," Patricia said happily. "Ellery, do you know that my sister is the most attractive girl Wrighttown has ever seen, and she hides her glory under rumpled trousers!" "Patricia, you're lovely," Lola said, "don't bother me too much, you know it's useless." Patricia said pitifully: "Dear Lola...why don't you come home?" "I think," said Mr. Quinn, "that I'll go over to the hydrangea bushes and see how they're doing." "No," Lola said. "I'm leaving, really." "Lola!" Patricia swallowed. "See, Mr. Smith? That's been the way Snazzy has been since she was a kid. Come on, Patricia, don't do it every time you meet me." "I'm fine." Patrician moved his nose in the dark. "I'll drive you." "No, Patricia. Good night, Mr. Smith." "Good night." "I've changed my mind. Come over for a drink whenever you like. Good night, little twang!" Lola is gone. After the sound of the engine in Lola's 1932 car died away, Patricia said softly: "Lola now lives in a small two-room apartment in the Lower Village near the machine shop. She won't take alimony from her husband, who was a scumbag until his death. She won't take money from Papa either. The clothes she is wearing now are old clothes from six years ago, part of the dowry. Now she makes a living by teaching those potential students in Xiacun to play the piano, charging fifty cents a time." "Patricia, why did she stay in Wright? What made her come back here after the divorce?" "Salmon or elephant or something, don't they all go back to where they were born... to end their lives? Sometimes, I feel like Lola is... hiding." Patricia's silk evening dress suddenly rustled . "You keep me talking. Good night, Ellery." "Good night, Patricia." Mr. Quinn stared into the darkness for a long time.Yes, it's slowly taking shape; luckily, the material is here, brilliant and gory.But crime—crime, where?Has it already happened? Ellery goes to bed in the "Haunted House" with events of the past, present, and future. On the afternoon of Sunday, August 25, almost three weeks after Ellery had arrived in Wright, he sat on the porch smoking an after-dinner cigarette while enjoying the unreal sunset.Ed Hotchkiss' taxi drove up the hills and stopped in front of Wright's house next door.A young man without a hat jumped out of the taxi.Mr. Quin felt a sudden uneasiness and rose to get a better view. The young man shouted something to Ed Hotchkiss, then jumped up the steps and rang the Wright doorbell hastily.Old Rudy came to answer the door, and Ellery saw her raise her arms as if to avoid some attack.Then, she walked quickly out of sight, and the young man hurried through the door after her.The door slammed shut.Five minutes later, the door was pushed open, and the young man rushed out, stumbled into a waiting taxi outside, and yelled at the driver to drive. Ellery slowly sat back in his seat.Not impossible, he would find out sooner or later, and Patricia would come running to tell him... Look, here she was. "Ellery! You'll never guess!" "Jim Hyatt is back," Ellery said. Patricia stared at him dumbfounded. "You're amazing. Think about it - three years! What a torture to Nora when Jim left like that! I can't believe he's back. He looks so much older... He's noisy and insists on seeing Nora. Where's she? Why didn't she come downstairs? Yes, he knew Mom and Dad missed him, but they could wait--Where's Nora? He kept pumping his fists in front of Dad and jumping like a psycho Come and jump!" "and then?" "I ran upstairs and told Nora, and she listened, and threw herself on the bed with a pale face, and said, 'Jim's back?' and burst into tears. She said she'd rather die than why he didn't stay away; and said Well, she would never see him, even if he crawled to beg her--anyway, it's the usual woman's stupid way. Poor Nora!" Patricia said, shedding tears herself. "I knew it was no use arguing with her—Nora was terribly determined when she got her way. I had to tell Jim the truth, and he got even more agitated and wanted to run upstairs. Dad was so mad, he swung a golf five-iron Heading the bat, standing on the stairs like Horatius at the end of a bridge, ordered Jim to get out of our house, and... well, Jim couldn't make it through without knocking my dad down, so he ran out of my house, Yelling that he must see Nora, even if he had to drop a bomb to get into my house. I was busy waking my mom during that chaotic moment, because every time something sad happened, she would Habitual fainting... I have to go back quickly!" After Patricia finished speaking, she started running, stopped a few steps, turned around and said: "Mr. Ellery Smith, what is the matter," she asked slowly, "that I have come to tell you the most intimate things about our family?" "Probably because," Ellery smiled, "I'll be kind." "Don't be smug, you think I'm in love with—" Patricia bit her lip, her tanned face flushed slightly, and she hurriedly ran and jumped away. Mr. Quinn lit another cigarette, but his fingers were not able to hold it stably.Despite the heat, he suddenly felt a chill.Then he threw the unsmoked cigarette on the grass, went into the house and pulled out the typewriter.