Chapter 3 Bailey's Vulture

Annabelle and I were married on December 6th as planned (Dr. Sam Hawthorne refilled his guest's wine and said slowly), and after the church wedding we moved to Marx's Steakhouse for a long and Joyful wedding reception.Many people joked that this wedding would be spoiled by a secret room murder case, just like when Sergeant Lansi and Vera got married back then, but fortunately the tragedy did not repeat itself.The sheriff was my best man and my maid of honor was Annabelle's friend Bernice Rosen. We stayed at home that night before catching the Sunday afternoon train to Washington for our honeymoon.Most of the reports of the fighting that morning came from the Soviet front, which was preparing for a massive counterattack in Moscow.While we were packing, I was paying attention to the broadcast on the radio. It was almost one o'clock in the afternoon. A news that changed the lives of many Americans appeared. Japanese planes attacked Pearl Harbor.The United States entered the fray.

For the next half hour, Annabelle and I were sitting by the radio, watching what was going on, when the phone rang. The call was from Sergeant Lansi. "Have you heard the news, Doctor?" "Pearl Harbor? Yes, we're listening to the radio." "What a disappointment. You are all about to leave for your honeymoon. Washington is probably in a mess. Do you still want to go?" "I don't know," I told him, and suddenly I realized that Annabelle and I had put down our packing work since we heard the news, so I quickly said, "I'll call you later."

We talked for another half hour while listening to the worsening news on the radio.The Japanese complete their landing operations in Malaya.This was clearly not the whim of some fanatical admiral, but a well-planned attack.This somewhat caught us off guard. "But it's our honeymoon" "Sam, we can change another time. The so-called honeymoon is just two people being together sweetly. It doesn't matter where you are." Of course she was right, so I called the hotel in Washington, canceled my previous reservation, and told Sheriff Lens and my nurse, Aibo, about my decision. "You'd better take this week off," she begged, "even if you're not going anywhere." "Besides, I might be back in a few days. Just wanted to call and let you know if there was an emergency, can find me."

Then Annabelle also called her bridesmaid friend Bernice Rosen. They chatted about the sudden war.After hanging up the phone, Annabelle told me: "Birnes also deeply regrets that our honeymoon plans have been stranded, and she suggested that we go out to eat together on Tuesday and then go horseback riding." Bernice and her brother ran a thriving horse farm just past Spring Glen Cemetery, where Annabelle, the town's only veterinarian, had visited several times before.She and Bernice became close friends and rode with her several times.I've been invited to play too, but I always make excuses.Because I have never been good at riding horses, when I was young, boys my age were all dreaming of cowboys, but I just had a soft spot for the yellow Piers Arlo sedan, this is when I graduated from medical school , a gift from my parents.

But how could I turn down an invitation to make up for a delayed honeymoon? "No problem," my wife and I said, "we'll go together." Bernice Rosen's horse farm covers two hundred acres from Copper Hill to the cemetery, and I have been a member of the trustees of Spring Glen Cemetery for the past few years, and as far as I know, Bernice and her Guests sometimes rode over the hill to the edge of the cemetery.I can see no objection to this, for I once had a picnic in the same place when I was young.Tuesday came as planned and after we had a nice lunch with Bernice and her brother Jack, she suggested we just ride this route. "You are one of the trustees of the cemetery, Sam, and you should have a comprehensive understanding of the area."

"I can ride a horse on flat ground..." "Come on, Sam," my wife said urgently, "I'm sure you won't disappoint me." I had to turn to Jack Rosen for help: "Will you come with us too?" Jack was a dapper groom with blond hair brushed back and a light beard. He declined with a smile, "I can't do it today, sorry. I want to stay by the radio and listen to the news of the war. My number will be drawn soon, and I want to know where I will be dispatched." President Roosevelt had delivered an impassioned speech to Congress the day before in response to the Japanese attack on Hong Kong and the air raid on the Philippine island of Luzon.The United States and Britain declared war on Japan at the same time. Reports on Tuesday also said that the enemy army occupied a small area in the north of Luzon Island. It seems that it is only a matter of time before the rest is invaded.Also attacked were Wake Island and Shanghai.I really wanted to be by the radio with Jack, but I could tell the women were desperate to get out and get some air, if only for an hour or two.

Bernice was a small woman, and even with her high heels on, at the wedding she was only up to Annabelle's chin.But in breeches and riding boots, and a pretty scarf wrapped around her neck, she looked radiant at once.Her horse was named Jasper, and once she was in the saddle, she galloped like a rodeo queen. "The news of the war is terrible," she said as she rode. "Jack has been glued to that radio for the past two days. I can't take it anymore. What will our lives be like?" Annabelle?" "I don't know," said my wife, "at least so far we haven't been at war with Germany and Italy."

"It's only a matter of time," I predicted. It was a cool day, but the sky was clear and the forecast called for snow tonight.Copo Mountain is almost a big slope, and the women rushed up the mountain first, leaving me alone in the rear.Geologists say that there is a large amount of exposed granite on the surface of Copper Mountain. Although it cannot be compared with New Hampshire, which is known as the "Granite State", it is impressive. I walked up the mountain road, secretly glad that Bernice had chosen a gentle mare for me.I was still a little nervous, but I tried to appear fearless in front of Annabelle.

"Do you often ride on this road?" I saw that the mountain road widened, so I accelerated to run parallel with them. "As long as I have time, I come almost every day." Bernice replied.Because of the cold, her breath quickly turned into a white mist in the air, like a horse's snort. "Sometimes it takes the cemetery, but it's usually the way." Suddenly, a shadow crossed the road in front of us. I looked up to the sky and saw a big bird swooping towards us with its wings flapping. "What kind of bird is that?" I asked, marveling at the size of the bird. "Is it a vulture? It has a wingspan of six feet!"

"It looks like a vulture." Annabelle squinted her eyes, avoiding the glare of the sun, and followed the flight path of the bird, "but vultures generally live in places further south." "We see it occasionally around here," Bernice told us, "but it's usually not that big. This one is almost a Bailey's vulture." "What is Bailey's vulture? Who is Bailey?" Bernice said with a smile: "Large birds like vultures have the habit of preying on live animals. Once the vultures are hungry and find that the prey is small enough, they will attack. According to our supervisor Matt Greentree, he used to When I was working on a farm in the west, I saw this bird occasionally, and one day a super big vulture swooped down and grabbed a puppy named Bailey. The cattleman shot the vulture, He dropped his prey and ran for his life. Bailey was unharmed, but afterward he kept barking every time he saw a vulture circling overhead. So people called the big vultures Bailey's vultures. "

"Is the vulture really that aggressive?" I asked. The climbing road diverged into two forks at the end, and the women held the horses.Annabelle answered my question: "Some people say that during the Crimean War, after the vain cavalry charge, there was a thick layer of vulture corpses on the battlefield because the infantry had to guard around the wounded, to prevent vultures from attacking." Instead of taking the road to the cemetery, Bernice took us up a short climb along a stone wall.We came to a spot overlooking the entire racecourse. "It's a beautiful scenery," I said sincerely, "Thank you for leading the way." "Hope you come here often," Bernice said to us, and we started heading down the mountain. Back at the racecourse, she introduced us to Matt Greentree, the supervisor of the racecourse.After shaking our hands, he asked, "Did you see that big bird hovering?" "I know," said Bernice, "Bailey's Vulture." "That guy is enough to grab a chicken or a child." He smiled brightly as he spoke.He was about my age, though thinner, with a weathered face that said he spent most of his time outdoors. "Come on, Matt! Here, take our horses back." We returned to the room to find Bernice's brother Jack still listening to the radio while studying a map of the South Pacific: "The Japanese have taken Bangkok. They've swept the entire Western Pacific!" "Are you going to be called?" "It seems so." I kind of sympathize with him.At forty-five, I was beyond the age limit for conscription, and many doctors were not included in the draft.But Jack Rosen is only in his early thirties this year. "If that's the case, only Matt and I will take care of this place," Bernice said after thinking for a while, "Could they drag you into the war too, Matt?" Green Cui laughed: "Unless the situation becomes particularly bad, you see I am forty-three years old." Jack turned off the radio: "I can't take it anymore. They're starting to worry about the Japanese attacking our west coast!" He suddenly remembered something, and said quickly, "By the way, Reverend Dalsemore called when you were out. Come here, Bourne. He's coming over in a minute to talk to us about the cemetery." Dal Seymour is a local pastor and, like me, a trustee of the cemetery.At the same time, he was the historian of the Spring Glen cemetery, and I vividly remember that at a meeting of the administrators, he actually read a newspaper article about the cemetery being first opened to the public in 1876. Some of us found the description at the opening boring, while others were delighted.It was raining the day he read the proclamation, and umbrellas were erected over the mayor's head. I couldn't figure out the purpose of his visit to the Rosen's house, but we soon found out.About twenty minutes later, just as Annabelle and I were about to leave, he showed up in the ostentatious red Steibak.Henry Dalsemore, a tall, muscular man with a voice like that of a bell, stood on the pulpit without exasperation.When you get closer, you can see his gray hair and thicker glasses. Despite this, he still walks like a young man. "Sam," he shook hands with me. "I didn't expect to meet you here. I thought you were on your honeymoon." He nodded at Annabelle. "Because of the war we've put off our honeymoon. Maybe we'll find a holiday and make a fuss about it. Anything at the cemetery?" Bernice brought a chair over, he sat down calmly, and joined the conversation circle in front of the fireplace effortlessly: "If I knew you were still in town, I would have called you a long time ago, Sam. It's about the tomb of General Moore." They started discussing the plan to dispose of the remains again, saying that they would move the remains to the state capital, symbolizing a more permanent commemoration." "Didn't we pass this bill a year ago?" Moore, a Confederate general who had died at Gettysburg, had been buried long ago in a North Hills cemetery.After the opening of Spring Glen Cemetery in 1876, his remains were moved there.He was at least a state hero, so no one was very surprised when the governor asked for relocation.The management board approved the proposal and, as expected, heard nothing further for almost a year. "You're right, Sam," Reverend Dalsemore nodded, "but we got a call yesterday out of the blue that they wanted to start digging early tomorrow morning, and we'd prefer to take the bodies out through the back door of the cemetery, which would have to go through Your racecourse, Bernice, Jack, I hope you don't object." "Why do you have to go through the back door?" Bernice asked curiously. "The news of the war is already flying all over the place, and we don't want the local newspapers to get involved. When the bill was passed a year ago, the newspapers reported the news, and only one person objected, that troublemaker Frank Kerstein. I think we should What I did was cut the mess quickly and quickly remove the general's body." "Are you worried that Kerstein might be looking for trouble?" "Who knows him, he can do anything." He was right.Kirstein is a hot-headed young man who has become the thorn in the side of every elected official in North Hills.Bernice only hesitated for a moment, and then asked her brother: "This will not cause us any trouble, will it?" "Of course," laughed Jack, "as long as those people don't frighten our horses." It seemed that simple at the time.I volunteered and said, "I'll go with you that morning, pastor, more than one." Annabelle decided to go to the "Ark" to accompany those sick animals. Compared with taking a vacation to watch the removal of a corpse, it is more practical to give her care to the living things. At nine o'clock in the morning, Reverend Dal Seymour and I met at the Rosen family's horse farm, and the state hearse arrived at the cemetery shortly after.I saw Bernice and her horse leave the stable, so I waved to her.We lead the way in front of the hearse, and over the mountain is the back road leading to the cemetery.Fortunately, Frank Kerstein didn't show up. The state also sent us two undertakers, and at first I didn't understand why. There they were when we stopped at the general's tombstone, the battered coffin lowered to the ground.Then Dalsemore saw something in the back of the hearse, a shiny mahogany coffin. "What's this for?" he asked. Their leader, a man named Wadsworth, explained that the state had paid for the new coffin because the Civil War coffin was already in disrepair.The undertaker had come to transfer the general's body into a new coffin.Dal Seymour and I exchanged glances: "What do you think, Sam?" "I feel like we should have known about this sooner. It seems like we have nothing to do now, except to stay and make sure the body is moved around respectfully." "You'll understand me when you see this old coffin," Wadsworth said. "If this is the same coffin, it's eighty years old." I have to admit that he was right, the coffin looked more like a pine box, completely unworthy of a war hero.We watched as the lid was pried up and gently lowered.Everyone present gasped in shock at what caught their eyes. Instead of human remains inside the padded coffin, what appeared to be the carcass of a giant bird. When we brought the news back to Rosen Racecourse, Matt Greentree's first reaction was - "Bailey's Vulture!" "He's big enough to hold a puppy," I said, "but what's he doing in General Moore's coffin?" Here's the problem, and it looks like no one can explain it.There's neither a university nor a zoo near North Hills, but I'd have to find someone with knowledge of animal anatomy to examine the body.Annabelle seemed the most capable candidate, so I made a phone call from the racecourse to Ark.She arrived within half an hour and returned to the cemetery, accompanied by Reverend Dal Seymour and me. After examining the remains, she expressed her opinion: "It must be some kind of large raptor, you can tell by the sharp claws. The condition of the body has become very bad after so long, but I guess it should be vulture or eagle." "I don't care what birds are in there," said Wadsworth, the undertaker. "We want General Moore's body, and he's gone." "We have to investigate the cemetery records," I told him, "and it may take a few days." "We can't wait here. Call us when you find the right coffin," he said sarcastically as he started the hearse to leave. "The bird bones are for you." Watching the hearse gradually go away, Annabelle asked me what I planned to do next.I shrugged and said, "The answer may be hidden in the records of the cemetery, but it is not so easy to find the records in 1876." "Why would anyone bury a bird in a coffin? And why the coffin of General Moore?" "We have a lot of questions that we don't have answers to right now. Let's see what we can find in the archives." Annabelle went back to the clinic, and Reverend Dalsemore and I directed the gravediggers to temporarily place the coffin and bird remains in the tool storage.We then drove to the office at Spring Glen Cemetery.On the way, he pointed to the sky and shouted: "Look, what a big fellow!" I watched the hovering bird with its wingspan at least six feet. "Bailey's Vulture," I told him, "maybe it's not a legend." We spent the rest of the day in the cemetery office, trying to find something useful from the pile of old papers, many of which were in crooked handwriting, and it was almost unbearable to read. "Here's something about the undertaker at the time," Dalsemore didn't discover until three hours later. "He was a very patriotic citizen who led the National Day parade. His name was V Redrick Foster. However, he died a few months before the coffin was moved from the old site to the Spring Glen cemetery. The procedure for moving the coffin is described in some detail here, and the name of the deceased is written in chalk on the lid of each coffin so that there would be no confusion during the entire movement." "But it still turned out to be a problem," I pointed out, "unless the bird was put in a coffin at Gettysburg . . . " "Improbable. Wouldn't it be easy for people to find out that the weight of the coffin is too light?" We didn't make any progress, and the afternoon was almost over, and there was still no clue of the general's collapse. The war news that night was still bad news.The Japanese have taken Guam and landed on Luzon.Annabelle told me that Bernice invited her to ride again on Thursday.She felt that it was enough for the "Ark" to have an assistant.I was also invited, but I wasn't ready to ride twice in three days. We woke up Thursday morning to find an inch of snow on the ground.It was no surprise in New England on December 11th, but what I didn't expect was that Annabelle called Bernice to confirm whether the horseback riding tour was going on as scheduled.I went to my office, and Aibo told me that Reverend Dal Seymour had called. He was still going through the archives of those early cemeteries, but he couldn't find any valuable clues.We can't believe that a patriot like Frederick Forster would exchange a dead bird for General Moore's body, but there is no other explanation.It is impossible for me to consider the heresy of reincarnation into a bird after death. I came to see my patients in the hospital ward, and they verbally expressed their regret that our honeymoon had been postponed because of the war.But many patients thought I had already left. At noon, Aibo told me: "I'm fine this afternoon, why don't you go somewhere with Annabelle?" "She and Bernice went out to ride horses, maybe I will drive to the racecourse to find them." The temperature hovered around freezing, and the morning snow did not melt at all.I drove to Rawson's and found Bernice's brother Jack cleaning out the stables. "They haven't come back yet," he told me. "I thought they'd come sooner." Matt Greentree emerged from the house, came up to us and said, "I was listening to the war radio, but there was no news." "Matt, give me a hand and clean up the place," said Jack, "or my sister will be mad at the dirty stable." I turned my gaze to Copper Mountain, searching for signs of the knight, only to see a car driving down the mountain road.It wasn't Annabelle or Bernice, it was Frank Kerstein.I hope he's not snooping around the cemetery, but the Rawson Racecourse driveway is clearly not where he should be.Kirsten was about ten years younger than me, but he always put on a "I'm a better trustee than Reverend Dal Seymour and Dr. Sam Hawthorne" kind of thing. "Don't make trouble for me, Frank." But he cut me off before I could finish my sentence. "Get in the car, doctor. Your wife needs you." I suddenly felt a burst of fear: "What happened?" "Annabelle is fine. It was Bernice who had the accident. She is missing." Greentree had followed me to the wagon by this time, leaving Jack alone in the stable. "Birnes might be in trouble," I told him. "This is Frank Kerstein, and this is Matt Greentree." The stable master took off his work gloves and stretched out a red, swollen and rough hand to the other party: "Nice to meet you." "You two better come," he suggested, "we need search and rescue." We decided not to tell Bernice's brother about it for the time being, so as not to worry him.After the three of them got into the car, I asked, "What happened?" "I don't know the specifics. I heard rumors that you moved General Moore's body yesterday, so I drove over to see if his tombstone was damaged. On the top of this back road leading to the horse farm, I came across Your wife, she was on horseback, followed by a horse without a harness. She told me that Bernice disappeared. I guess she must have fallen off the horse, but I looked around and couldn't find it She, at this time your wife suggested that I drive to the racecourse for help." Even though I don't like the guy, his story sounds believable.When we came to the fork in the road behind the racecourse, we ran into Annabelle driving the horse down the hill.I hurriedly got out of the car and ran towards her. "What happened to Bernice?" Her face had already lost its color.I've never seen her so panicked. "Sam, she's gone! I can't—" I gave her a warm hug and said, "Tell me exactly what happened." "Nothing to talk about! Nothing happened. We rode up to the top of Copo Hill, and I ran ahead, and she was two or three body lengths behind me. Those big vultures were flying over our heads." "Is it close to you?" "Actually, it's not very close. We haven't felt scared yet. I heard a sound behind me, a sound of breathing, but I didn't turn around right away. It might have been half a minute. She didn't speak, and I yelled She didn't answer her name, so I—I looked back. Bernice's saddle is empty! She's gone!" "Did she fall off the horse?" "Of course I thought so at first, but there were only our horseshoe prints in the snow. I could see over a hundred feet," she began to sob in terror, as she cried, "She's gone, Sam. It's almost like being snatched by one of those vultures." "I don't think that's the way it is." I turned to Greentree and Kerstein: "Annabelle and I will search this way, and you two will search the other way." We lead the horses back up, keeping an eye out for hoofprints in the snow.When Annabelle came back, she deliberately let the horses circle the outer edge of the trail, so that the marks they had left before were still in good condition.The hoofprints left by Annabelle's horse are easy to distinguish because one of the horseshoes has a broken hole.On one side of the path was a whole wall of granite stone, rising upwards to a height of twenty feet, without handles or vegetation.On the other side of the trail, there is a downhill slope covered with short trees and shrubs.There was no sign that Bernice had fallen from her horse into the snow, nor could she have leaped from her horse onto the granite wall.Wet snow clings to the trees on the other side of the trail, and this part of the snow is also untouched. "Sam, where did she go?" Annabelle asked sadly. "I don't know. Well, you'd better ride back to the stables and tell her brother what's going on here. Then call Sergeant Lens and ask him to come over." "You think something is wrong?" "No, I just hope he's there." Actually, what I wanted was to distract Annabelle in case something really happened. I watched her ride away down the mountain road, and then followed in the footsteps of Kirsten and Greentree on another path.Judging from the footprints, they were heading towards the top of the granite stone wall, but when I came to the end of this wall, I found nothing.A gentle breeze blows the snow away, so the ground here is mostly bare.I walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down with a bird's-eye view. Maybe for a moment, I imagined myself as the giant eagle hovering above my head, staring at the two women. This idea popped into my mind, but I immediately denied it.Bernice Rosen was a small woman, but she weighed at least a hundred pounds.As far as I know, no bird, not even Bailey's vulture, can fly away under such a load.Besides, even if such a divine bird really existed, wouldn't she cry out to Annabelle for help? These thoughts of mine were interrupted by a call from the other side of the stone wall.I went around and finally found the footprints of the other two, and I followed them down through the dense bushes.Not far below me, I saw the red jacket of Frank Kirstein, who was standing next to Greentree. "Come down here, Doctor," he cried, seeing me coming down, "watch your step!" There were snow clumps strewn about, which looked like they had been knocked down by someone who had fallen or slid down a slope.My body began to slide down, but luckily they stopped me below. "Find anything?" I asked, hoping they hadn't found anything. "She's here." Green Cui said calmly, pointing to a downhill a little further away.So I saw that her body should have rolled or fallen, and was finally blocked by a tree.I knelt in the snow, checked her pulse, but felt nothing.Her face and arms were covered with scratches, some of them were deep, but there was no bleeding.I took off the scarf around her neck. "Is she dead?" Kerstein asked. "I'm afraid so. Looks like a broken neck, though I can't be sure." We were reluctant to move Bernice's body until Sergeant Lens had inspected the body.So we got back in the car and drove back to the racecourse just as the sheriff arrived. "What's the matter, doctor?" he asked impatiently as soon as he saw my sullen expression. "Bernes Rosen was killed. We don't know the exact course of the matter yet. I can take you to the scene, but I want to meet Annabelle first." She saw my face and immediately understood: "God, Sam, she was my bridesmaid five days ago!" "I know, it's a horrible thing." Then I told her how they found the body in the bushes on the other side of the hill. "No footprints at all, nothing!" She kept shaking her head. "I'm going back to the scene with Sergeant Lan Si now." "I want to go too!" "No," I refused vehemently. "You and Jack stay here. He needs someone to comfort him now." The sheriff took my car and we drove back up the hill the same way. "What's going on today, there are dead people and wars." "What happened to the front? I didn't listen to the radio." "Early this morning, Germany and Italy declared war on our country, and then at half past twelve, President Roosevelt asked Congress to immediately issue a declaration of war." "This battle has been fought, doctor, and suddenly there are two more difficult opponents." "It looks like a lot of young men want the strong men gone forever." I parked as close to the body as possible, and the sheriff and I switched to walking.I relayed Annabelle's account of events and told him we hadn't found anything.He examined the body from several different angles. "Do you think it was an accident, doctor?" "possible." "how to explain?" "Something must have lifted her out of the saddle and dropped her here. I read a story once when I was a kid, I think it was in the Shore Magazine, and it was about a man riding in the snow, Caught up in the air. He happened to be picked up by the grapples of a hot-air balloon that happened to pass that way. Then his clothes were torn, and he fell from the balloon and died." "I think a hot air balloon is bigger than a bird after all, doctor?" "I know. So this time and that story are two different things." "Are there any hunter traps or nooses or something on that road?" "Don't forget, it was Annabelle who walked first, and if there was a trap, she was the first to suffer. The scrapes on Bernice's face and clothes clearly showed that a bird or some other creature did it, although I can't help it." Convince yourself of this explanation." We returned to the racecourse, and the sheriff arranged for his men to take the body away: "I have ordered the subordinates to take some photos first, and there may be some clues in the photos. Now maybe I should give Annabelle a statement." When we got home in the late afternoon, my wife and I were exhausted.Although I don't know the process, I know that Bernice's death was a bolt from the blue for Annabelle, but I didn't expect the effect of the bolt to be too powerful. She poured herself a glass of wine and said to me, "Sam, don't you think you're responsible for Bernice's death?" "What? What nonsense are you talking about?" "Are you still pretending? Isn't this the impossible crime you are good at? Isn't someone challenging you in this way? Maybe that person killed her just to prove that you can't solve all cases?" "What nonsense! Believe me, if she was murdered, there must have been a legitimate motive." "But where does she have an enemy! She has no ex-husband, not even a boyfriend, we all know that." "The reasons for the possible murders are beyond the reach of the general public. Whatever the motive is, it certainly has nothing to do with me." She shook her head, looking like she was about to cry: "If our future lives are to be filled with such tragedies—" "Impossible! If I find out that Bernice's death has something to do with the crimes I've been solving all these years, I promise to quit. I'll close the clinic too, and we'll move to Boston." She wiped away the tears from her eyes, forced a smile and said, "What about the 'Ark'? I don't intend to shut it down." I held her in my arms and said, "Annabelle, what's wrong with you today?" "I've never had this happen to a good friend, almost right under my nose." "I guarantee that if this is murder, I will find the murderer and his motive." The news from the front line is getting worse and worse. The Japanese army trying to land on Wake Island was temporarily repelled, but the US military on the island was weak and could not last long.In Washington, conscription was heating up, and the service of all conscripts was being extended to six months after the end of the war.I realized that it wouldn't be long before North Hills was going to be a town for old people.Some waivers were given to farmers, and essential food crops needed to be tended to, but many who hadn't been drawn before quickly enlisted. On Friday morning, I met with Sergeant Lens in his office: "Anything going on with the Bernice case?" "The autopsy report is out. Her neck is broken and there are marks of strangulation." "Stroke marks? I don't see any marks on her neck." “你说你曾把一条围在死者脖子上的围巾取下来。也许正是这条围巾使得她的皮肤没有被擦伤。” 我迷惘了，问道：“不管个大个小，兀鹰不会掐人脖子啊。” “你从来就没考虑过鸟的可能性吧，医生？” “嗯。只不过这几天鸟的出镜率实在太高了——贝利的兀鹰，摩尔将军棺材里的鸟，还有我们头上飞来飞去的大鸟。” “也许找到了将军的遗体，伯尔尼斯·罗森的案子也就迎刃而解了。” “不会的，”我缓缓地说，“这两件事根本没关系。”我起身穿上外套，走出门去，雪花又开始飘落了。我想我还是要回一下墓地。 达尔西摩牧师已经在墓地办公室了，他还在研究那些几十年前的手抄本：“他们今天早上从波士顿打电话来了，山姆。他们想知道我们是否查明了摩尔将军的遗体下落。” “我想到一个办法，”我告诉他，“你有没有从旧墓地移走的遗体清单？” “这就是。年轻人，这些记录你应该看得比我快啊。” 我记得看到过一个条目是弗雷德里克·福尔斯特的小外甥。 对于每一具单独的棺木，记录上并没有任何描述，但我相信摩尔将军的问题出在这里。“他在这里，”我指着一个墓碑号笃定地说，“我们开挖吧。” 我们找来一对掘墓铲，开始挖起来。一个多小时后，那口有问题的棺材被起到地面。当棺盖被掀开时，我便知道一切正如我所料。遗体身上褴褛的破布正是联邦宫员的制服。 “你到底是怎么知道的？”达尔西摩问我。 “所有的问题，都必然和福尔斯特本人脱不了干系。我猜测，那只大鸟也不是兀鹰，而是我们的国鸟——白头雕。在我看来，杀死一只白头雕并不违法，但若是像弗雷德里克·福尔斯特这样的爱国人士，不小心误杀了一只的话，恐怕会惴惴不安吧。他是如此不安，事实上，他甚至不安到把死鸟装进了一口棺材，然后在墓碑上杜撰了一个小孩的名字。” “可是那些棺材怎么会搞混的？” “当时福尔斯特已经死了，不是吗？搬运棺材的时候，死者的名字用粉笔写在每一个棺盖上，但是然后呢？” “然后当然是装上车，运到咱们这儿，斯普林·格伦墓地。” “完全正确！然后我们知道在新墓地开张的那天，下了雨，有人替镇长打着伞听你的报告……很明显了不是吗？那场雨把棺盖上的粉笔字冲掉了！结果福尔斯特的死老鹰顶替了内战的将军，因为有人搞错了正确的对应顺序。将军已经死了十五年，没有人会再次考虑棺材的轻重问题。” “那这件事和伯尔尼斯的死就没有关系了？” “完全没关系。不过我想我现在知道杀她的凶手是谁了，还有他的动机和手法。” “难道也是天气预报带来的线索？” “错，”我答道，“是战争的报道。” 达尔西摩牧师决定随我一同前往罗森家的马场，这让我很欣喜。虽然心里有一些发现真相的快感，但是我并不喜欢这个真相。当不同的命运向我们袭来，每个人都有可能成为一名杀人犯。在这个案子里，凶手杀害伯尔尼斯的残忍无情不应当逃脱制裁。 我们到达的时候，杰克·罗森正坐在餐桌旁。看到我们，他惨淡地笑了一下：“我刚刚安排好伯尔尼斯的后事。明天和后天是凭吊活动，星期一下葬。我会将她葬在斯普林·格伦墓地，她会喜欢的，那里是她生活的一部分，留下了多少她骑马的倩影啊。” “马特在吗？” “他在马厩。” 我在外头找到了格林翠，他正和马儿们在一起，手上拿着干草叉把新鲜的草料往食槽里送。“今天过得如何，马特？” “好极了，医生。”他手上的活儿没停。 "I want to talk to you." "About what?" “为什么你要杀人？只是为了把马场占为己有吗？” 只见他微笑转身，干草叉默默一伸，刺进了我的胸口。 那天晚些时候，我成了朝圣者纪念医院的一名病人，我从来没想过会以这样的身份出现在医院。安娜贝尔和我的护士爱玻守候在我床头，像一对保护神。 “你胸口被刺了四个窟窿，”安娜贝尔告诉我，“好在都只有几公分深。” “好一个蜜月啊！”我呻吟道。 “你已经脱离危险了。”安娜贝尔故作轻松地笑道。 这时蓝思警长走了进来。 “医生，你对那个家伙说了什么，他简直是一个炸药筒。” “我只不过指出他是杀害伯尔尼斯的凶手，你抓到他了吧？” 他点点头：“袭击你之后，他拉过一匹马便逃命去了。我的手下抓到他的时候，他正在前往西恩角的半路上。他还挺顽固，腿上中了一枪才投降。你最好把你知道的都告诉我，医生，我现在还不明白呢。” “是战争新闻提醒了我。昨天我开车去马场的时候，他正从房间里走出来，说他一直在听收音机，可是没有任何新的消息。可事实上，昨天早上明明发生了爆炸性的新闻——日本人偷袭珍珠港。还有德国和意大利对美国宣战，总统十二点半立即予以正面回应。我是直到中午才离开办公室的，如果格林翠真的一直在听收音机，就不可能不知道这些。当我意识到这一点，我便问自己，在我到马场之前的这段时间，他在干什么？他为什么要撒谎？解释只有一个，他去了山上，杀人去了。” “他是怎么办到的？” “他知道伯尔尼斯常走的路线，所以赶在她们前面爬上花岗岩墙的高处，那里一直刮着小风，因此几乎没有积雪。伯尔尼斯骑在你身后，安娜贝尔，这也是他料到的。当她从他下面经过的时候，他用套索勒住了伯尔尼斯的脖子，并把她拽离马鞍。她甚至来不及发出叫喊。套索的巨大拉力扭断了她的脖子，使她窒息而死，但她的围脖使得绳子的痕迹目不可见。” “我们需要一些证据，医生。” “证据有很多。首先，格林翠以前在西部的牧场干过，所以他的掷套索的本领一流。其次，弗兰克·克斯坦开车下山报告伯尔尼斯失踪的消息时，我给他们作了相互介绍。当时格林翠摘下他的工作手套和对方握手，我立刻注意到他的手又红又肿，毫无疑问这是因为他用绳子拉拽一个百余磅的尸体造成的。” “伯尔尼斯死后，他在她脸上和衣服上制造了一些抓痕，让人联想到兀鹰的传说，然后把尸体拖到山坡上的灌木丛中。他从另外一条路返回马场，以防被安娜贝尔看到，而后者搜索的区域位于石墙的另一面，所以只是徒劳。当我们返回现场进行搜救时，他刻意带着克斯坦来到石墙尽头的顶端，这样他之前可能留下的一些脚印或者蹄印就被弄乱了。格林翠本人显然是相信兀鹰传说的，即使我们对此不屑一顾，他还是会把这个传说扯进来，以便转移我们的注意力。” “他为什么这么残忍？”我妻子问道。 “我认为一切都是因为马场。他知道杰克的抽签号码很小，所以很快就要被征召入伍。如果伯尔尼斯一死，那么这里势必将由他来打理，即便他并非此地主人。杰克说不定就死在战场上，再也回不来了。那时他便可以为所欲为，用这些马好好赚一票。” 稍后当我和安娜贝尔在医院病房独处的时候，她问我：“你还要当侦探吗，山姆？今天你没有得到什么教训吗？” “教训有两个。永远不要相信大鸟，永远不要在凶手拿着干草叉的时候指证他。”

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Notes: