Chapter 9 Chapter nine

At ten to eight McGarry stopped at the hotel desk when the proprietor had just arrived and was going through the passenger list with the night watchman.A dirty bucket blocked the passage; a broom was propped against the wall, and McGregor seized it with the utmost seriousness, examining the wooden handle with great care. "Can I use a broom?" he asked the boss. "Please use it..." the boss stammered. As soon as the words fell, he imitated the ground as if he had realized something, and asked with an uneasy expression: "Is your room not clean?" McGarry smoked his first pipe of the day with ease.

"No, the room is not dirty!" he replied pleasantly. "I am not interested in the broom, but a short wooden handle of the broom." A cleaning lady approached, wiping her hands on her blue apron, and she must have thought the traveler was crazy. "You probably don't have saws, do you?" McGregor asked the night shift. "That's easy, Joseph," said the boss, "go get Mr. McGregor a saw..." And so began the fateful day with a pleasant and wild affair.The weather was fine for two consecutive mornings, with warm sunshine shining on the earth.A maid serving the lodgers passed by with a breakfast tray.The floor of the hallway has been washed with water.The postman came in and reached into Qing's mail bag.

McGarry held the broom and waited for the saw. "I suppose there's a telephone in the living room?" he asked the boss. "Of course, Mr. McGarry. At the table on the left. I'll get you through right away." "No need." "Don't you want to call?" "Thanks. Not now." He walked into the living room with the broom, and the cleaning lady hurriedly took the opportunity to explain to her boss: "You see, if I haven't cleaned the room, it's not my fault. Don't blame me later, because the living room hasn't been cleaned yet!"

The night watch returned with a rusty saw which he had found in the cellar.McGarry came out with the broom, picked up the saw, and started sawing down the broomstick.He pressed the end of his broom against the edge of his desk.Sawdust falls on the washed terrazzo floor.The other end of the broom dawdled back and forth on the roster, and the boss felt worried when he saw it. "Look, that's all right! Thank you," thanked the sheriff when he was done at last, picking up the thin piece of wood he had just sawed. He casually returned the broom that had been sawed off by a few centimeters to the female cleaner.

"Is this what you just asked for?" asked the hotel owner with a very serious expression. "That's right." McGarry found Luca in the back of the restaurant of the New Bridge Hotel, which, like the hotel, was full of maids and buckets. "Do you know, boss? We worked all night in the whole battalion last night. After Amadeo bid you farewell, he wanted to fight for the top spot, rushing ahead of you, and throwing all his men into this matter." The case is up. Well, I can tell you that you went to the Royard Theater with a lady..." "And then I went to the Floria's bar. Poor Amadillo! And what about the gang?"

"Eugène is also at Flore. You may have seen him. At a quarter to three he left with a whore." "It's Fernand, I know it. I'm pretty sure they're sleeping together at Fernand's house in the Rue Blanche." "You're absolutely right. He even parked the car on the sidewalk all night, and it's still there." McGregor's words sounded very unpleasant, even though he was not her lover.It was he who stayed in her sunny suite that morning, Fernand drinking coffee with milk, barely dressed, and there had been a trusting intimacy between them.

It wasn't jealousy, but he didn't like men like Eugene.In his imagination, Eugene was still lazily lying on the bed, but Fernand was busy making coffee for him and bringing it to the bedside for him to drink!He should show a smile like a young master! "Let her do whatever he wants!" McGregor exclaimed, "Luca, go on." "The Maasai guy hung out in two or three nightclubs for a long time before returning to the Alsina Hotel. Now it's time for him to sleep, because he never gets up until eleven or two o'clock in the afternoon." "What about the little deaf man?"

"His name is Colin, and he lives with his wife, because they are officially married, and they live in a flat in the rue Collencourt. Whenever he comes home late, his wife quarrels with him. His wife used to The overseer of his whorehouse." "What is he doing now?" "Purchase. He has been responsible for the purchase all the time. He wears a large scarf around his neck and slippers from Charente on his feet." "Where's Odia?" "He drank in several bars and got very drunk. It was nearly one o'clock at midnight when he got back to his hotel in Rue Lepic, and the night watchman had to help him up the stairs."

"As for Caro, I suppose he's at home, isn't it?" Walking out of the Pont Neuf, McGregor seemed to see the people he was looking for scattered and hiding on the heights around the Sacré-Coeur, the white church emerging above the morning fog in Paris. It took McGregor ten minutes to assign tasks to Luca in a low voice. Finally, he held Luca's hand and whispered: "Got it? Surely you won't take more than half an hour?" "Are you armed, sir?" McGarry patted his trouser pockets and hailed a taxi. "Rue Batignol!" The gatehouse was open, and in the frame stood a gas company clerk.

"What's the matter?" asked a piercing shrill voice as McGregor passed the porter. "I'm looking for Mr. Caro, sorry." "Turn left, middle second floor." McGarry paused on a loose door rug, gasped, and tugged on the ridiculously wide doorbell ribbon, and a child's toy bell installed in the suite rang. Someone inside could be heard sweeping the floor, and sometimes a piece of furniture was touched.A woman's voice said: "Are you going to open the door yourself?" Then, a faint sound of footsteps was heard.A chain was pulled out.The key turned in the keyhole, and the door opened, but only less than ten centimeters.

It was Karo himself who opened the door. He was wearing a dressing gown, his hair was disheveled, and his thick eyebrows were more conspicuous.He didn't panic at all, he fixed his eyes on McGregor, and said eccentrically: "What do you want?" "Let's talk in the house." "Are you sent by the government? Do you have any legal documents?" "No." Ka Ruo wanted to close the door again, but the sheriff had already put a foot on it, making it impossible to close the door. "Don't you think it would be best for us to talk?" he asked Caro as he blocked the door. Caro realized that it was impossible to keep him out, so his eyes immediately became dark. "I can call the police..." "Of course! But I think that's futile, and we'd better talk about it." Behind the "notary," a black-clad cleaning woman stopped what she was doing to listen to their conversation.All the doors in the suite were left open for cleaning.McGarry noted, "On the right side of the passage, there is a bright room facing the street." "Then please come in." Caro locked the door again, fastened the chain, and said to the visitor: "Please turn right...to my office..." This is a typical suite for the petty bourgeoisie in Montmartre. The kitchen is no more than one meter wide and faces the courtyard. There is a bamboo hanger at the entrance of the suite, and there is a dark dining room. The dark, sprig-patterned wallpaper was faded. What Caro called the office was actually the room designed by the architect to serve as the living room, and it was the only room in the whole suite that had two windows to let light in. The floor was waxed.In the center of the room was a worn-out carpet and three velvet armchairs. The velvet was as old as the carpet, so old that it couldn't tell what color it was. The walls are garnet red, covered with golden frames, and oil paintings and photos are posted inside.In each corner of the room are a few small round tables and shelves, on which some worthless knick-knacks are displayed. Near the window stood a mahogany desk covered with a Moroccan sheepskin.Ka Ruo went to sit behind the desk, and picked up some papers that were messed up on the right side when he came in. "Marthe! Bring me the chocolate here." He no longer looked at McGregor, he waited quietly, preferring to let the opponent attack first. As for the sheriff, he was sitting in a chair that seemed too thin for him, unbuttoned his overcoat, and was stuffing tobacco with his thumb, looking around.One window was left open, perhaps for cleaning.When the cleaning lady came in with chocolates, McGregor asked Caro: "You don't mind closing the window, do you? I had a cold the day before yesterday, and I don't want it to be serious." "Close the window, Marthe." Martha didn't have the slightest affection for the visitor, which was evident from the way she walked to and fro around them.She bumped McGarry's knee on purpose as she passed, without even saying a word of apology. The aroma of chocolate can be smelled throughout the house.Caro held the cup of chocolate as if to warm her hands.Delivery trucks rolled down the street with roofs almost as high as the windows, as did buses with silvery roofs. The cleaning lady left, but left the door ajar, and continued to bustle about at the entrance. "I won't treat you to chocolate," said Caro, "because I think you must have had breakfast." "I have, yes. But if you have white wine--" Everything has to be pondered over, even if it is said casually, it must be weighed. Therefore, Caro frowned, thinking about why the guests wanted to drink. McGregor guessed what he was thinking, and a smile appeared on his face. "I'm used to working outside. It's cold in winter and hot in summer. So whether it's winter or summer, right? Always want something to drink..." "Marthe, bring a bottle of wine and a glass." "Ordinary?" "Yeah, I like normal," McGregor replied. He put his bowler hat on his desk next to the telephone.Caro sipped the chocolate in small sips, keeping her eyes on the guests. His face was paler in the morning than in the evening, or his skin was bloodless, his eyes were as dull as his hair and eyebrows, and his head was long and thin.Ka Ruo belongs to the kind of middle-aged people who can't guess the exact age. It's hard to imagine that he grew up from a baby to a child in elementary school, and then a young man who fell in love with girls like ordinary people.He never held a woman in his arms and said something tender to her. On the contrary, his hands are hairy, white and tender, as if he always holds a pen.Desk drawers must be filled with bills, securities, bills, invoices, receipts, and logbooks. "You're up pretty early," McGregor said, looking at his watch. "I couldn't sleep for three hours every night." Indeed it is!It is difficult to say where this is perceived, but it is easily perceived. "Then you read a lot?" "I read, or I work." They cooperated very well and seemed to agree to take a break and recharge their batteries.The two sides decided to wait until Marte delivered the white wine before starting to argue. McGregor did not see a bookcase in the room, but saw a small table next to the desk, on which were placed some hardcover books, including "Code of Civil Law", "Complete Works of Dalozzi", and judicial works. "Marthe, you can go." Caro said to her immediately after the wine bottle was brought to the table. As soon as she entered the kitchen, Karo almost called her back to close the door, but he changed his mind immediately. "Please pour yourself a drink." As for him, he opened a drawer of his desk with demeanor, took out an automatic pistol, and kept it within reach.The action was done without the slightest provocation, as if it was a habit he had developed long ago.Then he pushed the empty glass away and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. "I'll listen to your suggestion first." He said in the tone of a businessman receiving customers. "How can I expect to make any suggestion to you?" "Then why did you come up here? You've left the police station, so you can't come and arrest me. You can't even interrogate me because you're no longer a sworn police officer, so whatever you have to say would be worthless." McGregor smiled in agreement, and at the same time lit the pipe he had just extinguished. "Besides, your nephew has been deeply involved in it, and there is nothing you can do to help it." McGarry put the matchbox on the brim of his hat, and within a few minutes he picked it up three times in a row, because the tobacco might be too packed and extinguished easily. "In short," Caro concluded, "you need me, and I don't need you. Now, I will listen to you." His tone was as dry as his expression.With such a head and such a voice, it looks like a presiding judge. "Okay then!" said McGregor, as if making up his mind, as he stood up and paced the room. "In order to rescue my nephew, what conditions do you want?" "Me? What do you want me to do?" McGregor smiled silly. "Tell me! Don't be modest, you need someone to tie the bell. How much will it cost?" Ka Ruo was silent for a moment, paying attention to the proposal made by the other party. "I'm not interested in it," he said at last. "why?" "Because I don't have any reason to care about this young man. What he did should be in prison. I don't know him." McGarry sometimes stopped in front of a portrait, and sometimes in front of the window. He shifted his gaze to the street, and saw a group of housewives clustered around a cart, scrambling to buy fresh vegetables. "As an analogy," he said very calmly, lighting his pipe again, "if my nephew were acquitted of the case, I would have no reason to have any further involvement in the case. You just said, I have left the police station, as it is. I can tell you frankly that I will immediately take the first train for Orleans back home, and in two hours I will be rowing and fishing." "You don't drink!" McGregor poured a full glass of white wine and drank it down. "As far as you can go, there are plenty," McGregor went on, sitting down and putting the matchbox on the brim of his hat, "and Odia, on the second confrontation, can show that his memory is not so accurate. , and stop insisting that it is Philip with all seriousness. It happens all the time." Caro was thinking, and from his hesitant eyes, McGregor could see that Caro was not listening to him, or was just listening reluctantly.No, he's not listening!The questions he considered were definitely: "Why did this devil come to my head?" From this point on, McGregor's concern was to keep Caro's eyes from the hat and the telephone.He pretended to be thinking about what he had said, but, in reality, he had said nothing.In order to make himself more convincing, he poured out another glass of wine and drank it. "Is the wine okay?" "Wine? Not bad. I know what you're going to say to me, because if Philip is released the investigation must be intensified, otherwise the courts will have no criminals in their hands." Ka Ruo raised his head secretly, interested in the continuation of this sentence.At this moment, McGregor's face flushed suddenly, because a thought flashed through his mind. What if, at this moment, Eugene, the Marseilles, the owner of the Tobacco Hotel, or any of them called Caro?It's very possible, even very possible.The day before, this group of people were all summoned by the Police Headquarters. Among them, "there must be a certain feeling of uneasiness. I wonder if Karuo is used to giving orders and receiving reports by phone?" At this moment, however, the telephone was out of order, and it was going to be out of order for a long time, maybe an hour more. McGarry placed his hat on the desk as soon as he entered the room, placing it just so that it blocked his master's view of the telephone.While he kept reaching for matches, he had slipped the log he sawed that morning under the phone earpiece. In other words, the call has been connected.At the central office, Luca was waiting with two stenographers who could testify if necessary. "I understand you need a criminal," said the sheriff softly, looking at the carpet. Such things are very likely to happen. For example, Ou Ren wanted to make a phone call, but he couldn't get through. If he was in a hurry, he might come to see him in person.Wouldn't this be a failure?Everything has to start all over again!Or to be more precise, it was impossible to start over at all, because Ka Ruo was vigilant. "It's not difficult," McGregor continued, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just take any lad who looks like my nephew? There are plenty of such lads in Montmartre, and you'll be sure to find them. Then send him to a convict prison, and it won't hurt you a hair. Then use two or three people to come out to testify, wouldn't everything be fine?" McGarry felt hot all over. He took off his coat and threw it over the back of the chair. "Can I do this?" "You can open the window." Caro suggested. No!A stenographer might not be able to hear half the conversation on the phone when the voices in the street get in the way. "Thank you for your kindness. It's the cold that makes me sweat, and the wind is the most taboo. I just said..." He drank the wine in the glass again, and filled another pipe at the same time. "The smoke won't hinder you, will it?" In the house, I always heard the sound of the cleaning lady walking back and forth, and when her footsteps stopped, it must be that Marthe was eavesdropping with her ears pricked up. "All you have to do is mention a figure. How much does a transaction like this cost?" "Should be in a prison of hard labor!" Ka Ruo categorically rejected. McGregor smiled, but he began to wonder if his approach would work. "So, you are afraid, so do you have any tricks up your sleeve?" "I don't need any tricks up my sleeve! The police have arrested a man on charges of killing Pepido. It's a matter for the police and not for me. I do work for the police and the Attorney-General sometimes, but Other than that, I don't know anything. I can only feel sorry for you..." He looked as if he was going to get up to end the conversation.There must be another move without delay. "Would you like me to tell you what's going to happen right now?" McGarry said matter-of-factly. He finished the sentence syllable by syllable for a little delay. "In two days you'll have to kill your little fellow Odia." The shot seemed to hit, that's for sure.Caro dared not look him in the eye.Fearing that he would lose his favorable opportunity, McGregor hastened to say: "You know as well as I do! Odia is a young and ignorant man. Besides, I suspect that he takes drugs, which makes him very easy to startle. Since he felt that I was watching him, he has done a lot of things. Stupid thing, often panicked, he bit his wings in my room that night. The next day you appeared at the door of the judicial police station in order to prevent him from telling me what he confessed. This is a move you have considered Very thoughtful. However, you can only succeed temporarily, but not forever. Odia went to various bars last night and got drunk. He will definitely do the same tonight. Knowing that he is constantly followed by people... ..." Ka Ruo remained calm, his eyes fixed on the garnet-red wall. "Go ahead." He still said in a very natural tone. "Is it still necessary? Don't you know how you kill a man who is watched by the police day and night? If you don't kill Odia, he will tell the whole truth. I am sure of it. If you kill him , then you will be arrested, because it is very difficult to get away with murder while he is being followed." Sunlight hitting the desk through the dirty glass would dry the phone in minutes.McGarry puffed on his pipe, puff after puff. "How do you deal with a situation like this?" Caro said to the back room in an ordinary voice: "Marthe! Close the door!" Muttering, she closed the door.So Caro lowered his voice, and McGregor was worried whether such a small voice could be transmitted to the phone. "What if Odia is dead?" Caro had no expression on his face when he said this.McGregor remembered his conversation with Luca at the New Bridge restaurant.Hadn't the captain explicitly told him that Odia was watching a plainclothes man who had returned to his hotel in Rue Lebuque at nearly one o'clock?And the plainclothes were supposed to monitor the hotel all night. Caro rested his hand on the old sheepskin on the desk, only a few centimeters from the pistol.He went on to say: "You see that your suggestions are not tenable. I thought you would be wiser." McGarry was dumbfounded, and Carroll added: "If you want to know the details, you can call the eighteenth district police station." He could have just picked up the receiver of the phone and handed it to McGregor when he said it, but he didn't.The sheriff regained his breath and said hastily: "I believe what you say. However, I have not told the whole story." McGregor himself didn't know what else to say, but he had to stay on.He had to get the words out of Caro anyway, and that was what the fellow was trying to avoid like the plague. Until now, he has never denied his guilt of murder, but he has not said a word that can be used as a formal confession, which is really watertight. At this moment, McGregor thought that Luca was wearing earphones on his ears, and he was getting impatient waiting.Poor Luca, who had overheard a conversation that had been hopeful, was now completely discouraged, and he said to the stenographer: "There's no need to remember that stuff." And what if Eugene or another accomplice called? "Do you really believe that it is worthwhile to continue talking with me?" Caro said emphatically. "I have to wash and dress." "Six more minutes will suffice for me to delay you." McGarry poured himself another glass of wine, then stood up like a man who is very excited about a speech.

---

Notes: