Chapter 3 Santa's Lighthouse Mystery
"You mean, you want to hear a Christmas story this time?" Old Dr. Sam Hawthorne poured wine into a delicate crystal goblet. The adventure story in February is just right. The story does not take place in Beishan Town, but in God's Cape by the sea..."
The story happened during my vacation.I drove alone, stopping and stopping along the coastline.This is a rare luxury for me.You know, it's not easy for a country doctor to take a vacation.It's true, however, that with the opening of Saints Memorial Hospital, some of the stress has eased.In case of emergency, patients can go to the hospital even if they cannot find me.
So I set off in the Stutz.Before leaving, I promised nurse Aibo that I would call back in a few days to make sure everything was fine.It was the first week of December.But on the coast of New England, the footsteps of winter are not yet approaching.Not a single snow had fallen, and the temperature remained at forty-two degrees.Like the rest of the country, the region suffered from the Great Depression.But as I drove through old industrial towns and continued north along the coast, things got better and better for me.
As we approached Plymouth, a sign nailed to a tree caught my attention.The sign read: "Welcome to Santa's Lighthouse!" These days, signs that appeal to children can be seen everywhere.But in 1931, it was not so common.I wonder, how can there be such a lighthouse, the main function is to give children a visit before the festival?After a closer look, I found that the words "Santa Claus" had been changed.This makes people even more curious.I turned around and headed for the lighthouse by the sea.
After a while, the lighthouse appeared in front of me.White buildings rise from the rocky shore, dimly lit in towers.At its feet stand several foot-high wooden characters——Santa's Lighthouse.I parked next to the two cars that had arrived earlier and walked down the trail to the ticket office.The ticket seller has a lively expression and is wearing a bright red dress suitable for the Christmas atmosphere.In terms of age, she should still be in college.Tickets are not expensive, twenty-five cents each.
"How many?" She asked, looking at the path behind me, as if thinking that my wife and children should follow.
"One." I pulled out the twenty-five cents.
"If you are visiting as a family, the discounted ticket price is half a dollar."
"No, it's just me." I pointed to the sign. "What do you call it after Christmas?"
"Ah, you noticed, we changed the sign." The girl smiled. "It was originally called Satan's Lighthouse, which has nothing to do with Christmas. We changed the sign to Santa Claus."
I was amused: "After the reform, is the business better?"
"It's a little bit better. But the Depression hit hard. Gasoline costs twenty-five cents a gallon these days, and not many people want to drive up from Boston or Providence with their families."
A fat Santa in full costume appeared at the lighthouse door, muttering, "Lisa, you gotta take care of those kids. They're always pulling my beard and kicking me."
The girl sighed, and said to Santa, "Harry, you've got to be patient—you can't just count on me to help you when you're in trouble."
I said, "Looks like he's not very good at playing Santa Claus."
"He's much better at pretending to be a pirate ghost," the girl agreed.
"A pirate ghost in Satan's lighthouse?"
She nodded quickly and held out her hand. "My name is Lisa Quayle. That's my brother, Harry. There's an interesting legend about the lighthouse—that's why my father bought it."
"Buried treasure?"
"How do you know? It is said that in the past, pirates built fake lighthouses on the reefs in the sea to trick ships over. After the ships hit the rocks, they ransacked them. I heard that there were also pirates in Cornwall, England. That's what it does. People called the fake lighthouse Satan's Lighthouse. Later, when the real lighthouse was built, the natives took that name. Now, of course, there are no pirates—except for the one my brother pretended to be."
I introduced myself to her, and she told me about the local customs.This girl is extroverted, unaffected, and very independent at first sight.And according to my observation, she is also very good at taking care of her brother. "Is your father home?" I asked.
She shook her head: "Dad is in prison."
"Oh?"
"Last year, he was charged with fraud and went to prison. I don't understand it. Anyway, I don't believe he is guilty. But the father refused to defend himself. In another year, he will be able to be released on parole."
"So, you and your brother are taking care of this place now?"
"That's right. Dr. Hawthorne, that's the whole story of my life."
"Call me Sam. I'm not much older than you."
At this time, four naughty children ran out of the lighthouse, followed by an exhausted Santa Claus.I watched them climb into waiting cars and be taken away by their parents. "Now, is there anyone in the lighthouse?" Lisa asked.
"No, it's empty."
"No matter how long I stand here chatting with you, you won't make any money." I put down the quarter in my hand, "Give me a ticket."
"Come on," said Harry Quayle, "I'll show you around."
The lighthouse is a long and narrow square building with a large base and a small top, with a pointed top and a layer of white paint on the outside.There is a circle of railings and walking paths around the lighthouse.Inside the lighthouse, there is a circular iron staircase winding up.I climbed up after Quill.Even in his clunky Santa costume, Quill was much faster than me.He left me far behind and climbed to the second floor.I was already a little out of breath and glad he showed me the rooms on this floor to catch my breath.The room on this floor has been decorated as Santa's workshop.
"We bring the kids here and give them some cheap little toys," he said. "We take a break before we head to the top of the tower."
"What is the use of this room outside of festivals?"
"Usually, it's the bedroom of the lighthouse workers—the keeper couple or something. Lisa and I don't live here, of course. Outside of Christmas, we decorate it like a pirate's cave."
I looked at the spiral staircase and thought to myself, it would be over sooner than later, so I said, "Let's continue."
Twelve feet further up, we came to another level.The room, complete with rolltop desks and wooden filing cabinets, serves as Santa's study.On the wall hangs a nautical map of the bay at Cape God, emblazoned with stickers resembling the northern lights, prominently marking the spot where Santa's reindeer sleigh has landed.There are also high-powered binoculars in the room, which can be used to observe passing ships.There is also a two-way radio that can be used to receive weather forecasts and distress calls.
"I have to be in the lighthouse all the time and keep an eye out for the little ones," Harry Quayle said. "There's some expensive equipment here."
"The lighthouse is useless, why are these devices still there?"
"My father kept them for some reason. I guess it was his hobby. And that's why he bought the lighthouse."
I pointed to the top of the tower and asked, "Can the spotlight on the top of the tower still be on?"
"Probably not. I haven't tried."
We climbed the rest of the stairs to the top.In the center of a circle of platforms, searchlights are placed.There are metal handrails on the platform.However, if you are not careful, people can still fall easily. "You're not going to bring the kids up here are you?"
"Take one at a time. I'm careful and hold their hands firmly."
I must admit that the view from the top of the tower is quite pleasing to the eye.Looking out to sea, the coast is steep.Blown by the menacing sea breeze, the cold sea beats against the rocks, forming waves of white waves.Looking from afar, the wonderful coastline of Cape God can be seen clearly.I could even see the coastline twenty miles across the bay.
However, in the north in winter, it gets dark very early.The sun has gone down. "I've got to go to Boston, and I better get going," I said.
"What's for Boston? There's plenty of accommodation around Plymouth."
We go downstairs and meet Lisa on the second floor. "How's the view? Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful," I said, "you should double the price of the ticket."
"Then no one will come," Lisa said sadly.
"If the spotlight is still on, why not turn it on! It can also attract more tourists."
"Oh, the coast guard is not allowed." She cleaned around, picked up a few candy wrappers thrown away by the children, found a coil of fishing line from a corner, and a few stones for fishing, "closed every day You can find the strangest things before."
"Your brother said I could find a place to live in Plymouth."
"Of course. The Plymouth Rock Hotel is good. It's an old place, and the rooms are clean." She turned to Harry and said, "Get ready to close."
"I'd better go upstairs and double-check that the door isn't shut," said Harry.
"me and you togather."
I walked downstairs along the spiral staircase.After waiting for a few minutes, I thought they would come down soon, but I didn't see anyone for a long time.I'm getting impatient.The lighthouse is nice, but I'm in a hurry to keep going.
"Wait a minute!" Lisa Quayle called from the second-story window as I was about to walk to the car.I stopped and waited for her.
"I wanted to wait for you and say goodbye," I said, "but it's getting dark and I'm in a hurry."
"Hold on, Harry. He's changing, he'll be down in a minute."
I walked back to the lighthouse with her.She put away the collapsible ticket booth and walked into the lighthouse. "If the temperature stays this high, you're bound to have a good traffic before Christmas."
"Hopefully," she said, "the four children you saw were the only tourists this afternoon."
"If you sell group tickets, the fare is better—"
"What's that?" she asked suddenly, and ran out quickly, "Harry?" She raised her head and shouted, "Is that you?"
There was a noise above our heads.Suddenly, Lisa Quayle screamed.I raised my head and saw a figure falling from the top platform of the tower. I quickly dodged to the side and dragged Lisa away.Harry Quayle fell right where we were standing.
Lisa looked away, screaming, covering her face with her hands.I hurried over to Harry, trying to figure out how to call an ambulance if he was still alive.
As soon as I got closer, I saw a sharp knife stuck in his chest, and I immediately understood that the ambulance was useless.
"I don't believe in ghosts," she said rationally as we waited for the police to arrive.I radioed the Coast Guard from the lighthouse and they agreed to contact the state troopers on my behalf.I checked two rooms in the lighthouse, and even the small storage room.The tower was empty.There was no sign of anyone else being there on the platform.There was also no trace of the mysterious visitor on the spiral staircase.
"We don't have to believe in ghosts," I said. "There must be a common sense explanation, there must be. Have you ever seen that dagger before?"
"Yes. He always carries it when he pretends to be a pirate, and usually keeps it in the storage room—"
"I checked the storage room. Pirate suits are hanging on the wall. Nobody's hiding in there."
"Well, I don't believe in ghosts and gods," she repeated.
"The police are coming soon."
She grabbed my arm: "You won't leave now, will you? Before the police come, you won't leave, will you?"
"Of course not." I led her away from the body so she wouldn't have to face her loved one's body until the police arrived.It could be seen that she was almost hysterical, and she might faint at any time.
"If you don't stay and testify on my behalf, they will definitely say I am the murderer," she said, "even if there is no motive."
"I'm sure the police wouldn't say that," I reassured her.
"However, there is no one else here! Naturally, the police will insist on me, can't you see?"
"You and I were outside the lighthouse when he was shot. I will testify for you."
"Maybe, I set up some kind of mechanism. As soon as he steps on the top platform of the tower, I will trigger the mechanism and launch a throwing knife to stab him."
I shook my head: "I went to the platform with him not long ago. And not long after he died, I went up again. There is no mechanism on it. There is nothing on the platform, nothing."
"Then how did he die? Who is the murderer?"
Before I could answer, I saw two police cars and an ambulance roaring towards me, their headlights piercing the dark night sky.Facing the police, I described what I saw and heard in detail, and Lisa did the same.State troopers looked around with flashlights, examining the body, asking a few questions now and then.Then, they prepare to remove the body.It can be seen that the police did not consider the possibility that the murderer was a pirate ghost, nor did they think that this case was an impossible crime.I sincerely miss my old friend Sergeant Lansi from Beishan Town.At least, his thinking is not narrow-minded, and all possibilities are not easily let go.
"Does your brother have any enemies?" a police officer asked.
"No, not at all. I can't imagine anyone hurting him."
"Can you tell me why he's wearing a fake beard?"
"He was dressing up as Santa and coaxing the kids. He was changing clothes before the tragedy happened."
The police officer who was questioning was named Springer, and he was quite strong.After asking Lisa, he said to me, "Are you Dr. Hawthorne?"
"That's right."
"You said you were passing by, driving around for sightseeing?"
"Yes, I'm on vacation." I said, "I opened in North Hills, just across the Connecticut state border. Passing by, I happened to see the sign for Santa's Lighthouse, so I decided to stop by."
"Have you known the deceased or the deceased's sister before?"
"do not know."
He sighed, looked at his pocket watch, maybe he hadn't had dinner yet: "Well, if you're all telling the truth, it looks like it was just an accident. Maybe he slipped and fell on the knife and jumped from the platform He fell down. Or, he committed suicide."
"No—" Lisa just opened her mouth, and I pushed her to shut up.The police didn't seem to notice.
After the body was taken away, she said: "I have to inform my father."
"How are you going? What prison is he in?"
"Near Boston. I'll make a phone call tonight and catch up tomorrow."
I made up my mind and said, "I'll go with you."
"why?"
"I have some experience in solving such cases and I can help you."
"However, there are no suspects at all! Where are you going to start?"
"Start with your father," I said.
I took a room at the Plymouth Rock Hotel and slept surprisingly well.Woke up the next morning feeling refreshed.After a quick breakfast, I drove to pick up Lisa at the small house she shared with her brother. "The police called in the morning," she said. "They asked us to go to the police station and make a formal statement."
"We'll go in the afternoon," I said, "to see your father in the morning."
"What do you want to know from him?"
"I wanted to ask why he was in jail, and of course there were other things. You don't seem to want to bring up the subject."
"I didn't at all!" she said angrily. "To be honest, until now, I don't think it has anything to do with you. After my mother passed away, it was my father who brought us up. He was unlucky and did nothing wrong. He was wrongfully thrown into jail."
"You said he was charged with fraud."
"Let him tell you."
Because of the bereavement of Ronald Quayle, we were able to meet him together.He was very thin and seemed to have aged overnight.Although according to Lisa, he has only been in prison for a year, but judging from his pale face, it seems that he has been locked up for a long time.As soon as she saw him enter the house, Lisa burst into tears.The guard stood aside awkwardly as the two embraced.
"This is Dr. Sam Hawthorne," she said to her father. "He was with us at the lighthouse when it happened."
The old man wanted to know all the details, and I told him as much as I could.He sat across the table, shaking his head slightly, imperceptibly.
"I've been an amateur detective a few times in North Hills," I said. "I thought I might be able to help."
"How to help?"
"Ask the right question." I paused, trying to figure out his psychology as if diagnosing a disease, and then said, "You went to prison for a crime, and now, someone committed murder against your son. I'm thinking , could there be any connection between the two crimes—”
"I don't—" He shook his head.
"I know, it's hard to believe that someone would kill Harry. But if someone did, there must be a motive behind it."
"He has no enemies in this world," Lisa insisted.
"Maybe the murderer didn't kill him because he hated him, but because of what he did?" I speculated.
"You mean, play Santa Claus?"
"You said that he can also pretend to be a pirate. Moreover, the murder weapon is a pirate dagger."
"Who the hell—"
I interrupted her to ask her father another question: "Did you do anything illegal in the lighthouse?"
"Of course not," he said without hesitation. "From the outset, I have denied all allegations and maintained my innocence."
"So, the charges against you are indeed related to the lighthouse?"
"If you have to say that, there is a very indirect connection." Lisa said, "We wanted to form a company and issue shares. A Bostonian went to the police station and sued my father. He said that my father claimed that he had a million dollars to use Build a playground."
"Did you really say that?" I asked.
"Of course not! Harry once suggested building a fad miniature golf course. That's all. I'm against it. No one ever mentioned a million dollars."
"They definitely had evidence of fraud."
He stared at his hands. "The prospectus we printed was just a sample. We didn't intend to publish it at all. Lisa can tell you that we don't have much land around the lighthouse—even if we wanted to build a playground, there is no place to build it."
Lisa sighed: "Dad, the reason why the prosecutor is biting you is based on this argument."
I understand very well that when he mentioned the fraud, he just wanted to change the subject and avoid the core of my question. "Forget fraud for a moment, Mr. Quayle. Did you do anything else at the Lighthouse?"
"I don't understand what you mean." With that said, he avoided my eyes.
"I saw the two-way radio station, and the high-power telescope. These two things are used to find ships at sea and communicate with ships, right?"
"Why should I contact—" he said halfway, then changed his mind, "Okay. You seem to know everything."
"What did they unload at the lighthouse? Bootlegs from Canada?"
Lisa opened her eyes wide: "Father!"
"Lisa, I've got to get some money somewhere. Pirates and Santa tricks at the lighthouse, it's a loser from the start."
"You told Dr. Hawthorne that the lighthouse had nothing to do with illegal activity."
"Prohibition is irrational. Violating Prohibition is not an offense at all in my opinion."
"What happened when you were in prison?" I asked. "Harry inherited your smuggling business?"
"He didn't know anything about it," Quayle insisted.
"That's weird. A year later, the radio and the telescope are still there."
"He didn't want to move the furnishings in the house because he missed his father," Lisa said. "He hoped that when his father came back, he would see everything as before."
"For smuggling, you must be in contact with someone, Mr. Quayle. After you go to prison, will this person contact Harry and continue to do business?"
Ronald Quayle was silent for a while, considering this possibility. "It's possible," he admitted at last. "He's probably going to do it. Harry's probably going to agree to it and keep it from everybody."
"You have to tell me the name of this contact, Mr. Quayle."
"I--"
"You have to tell me the name of the contact person. It may be that he contacted the son and continued to smuggle. It may also be him who killed the son."
"Paul Ryan." He finally let go, "His name is Paul Ryan." These words were extremely difficult to say.
"Who is he? Where can we find him?"
"He has a seafood restaurant by the sea. This is his address in Boston."
A few hours later, I parked the Stutz sports car at the Boston docks.Lisa said, "Sam, why aren't you married?"
"I guess, probably because I didn't meet the right woman at the right time."
"I want to ask you something - please do me a favor."
"What's up?"
"Will you accompany me through Harry's funeral? I can't do it alone."
"when--"
"The day after tomorrow. If you are in a hurry, you can leave at noon the day after tomorrow. The prison agrees that my father will attend the funeral, and they will send a guard to follow. Other than that, there are a few uncles and aunts. We don't have many relatives."
"Let me see. Maybe."
Paul Lane's seafood restaurant is called Lane Lobster Restaurant. In addition to the cafeteria, it also sells raw lobsters for customers to cook by themselves.A gray-haired man stood behind the lobster tank and told us that Paul's office was upstairs.We climbed the rickety stairs to the second floor.Paul was sitting behind his messy desk, biting a fat cigar.At first glance, it looks like a little politician.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, taking out his cigar.
"We want to get some lobster."
"Please go downstairs for retail. Upstairs is only for wholesale." He pointed to a freezer full of dead lobsters and said.
"We just want to wholesale."
He looked at Lisa: "Do I know you?"
"You may know my brother, Harry Quayle."
Paul Lane is not good at hiding emotions.Surprised, he tried to deny it.I refused to let him go: "Lian, I know you are in the smuggling business, and the girl's father and brother have been dragged into the water by you."
"Go to hell! Get out of here!"
"We just want to talk. Last night, someone killed her brother."
"I read the papers. They said it was an accident."
"I was there. If you ask me, it was murder."
Paul Ryan pursed his lips tightly: "Really? If you two were the only ones present, you must have killed them."
I leaned against the desk in front of him: "We're not here to mess with you, Paul Lane. I think you started getting close to Harry's father after he went to prison for fraud. To continue unloading at the Lighthouse Bootleg, you've got to ask Harry for help. Right?"
He stood up and deliberately closed the lid of the freezer: "I don't know what you are talking about, sir."
Maybe he's a good lobsterman and bootlegger, but it was too obvious just now.After he sat down, I opened the freezer lid and took out a frozen lobster.
"What the hell do you want?" he growled, leaping from his chair.
I flipped the lobster over and sure enough, the lobster had been hollowed out, hiding a small bottle of whiskey inside.
"Great job," I said, "I bet this is your best-selling takeaway."
It was too late to say it, but it was too soon, I received a hard punch on the head from him, staggered back a few steps, and hit the freezer.Lisa screamed from the sidelines.Two fierce sailors rushed to hear the sound. "Catch them!" Lane ordered. "Don't let them both go."
Still clutching the dead lobster, I threw it in the face of the closest man. "Run!" I yelled at Lisa.Lane rushed out from behind his desk, trying to get in her way.I pushed him away.After a while, he still ran out with us.All three followed us, chasing after us.Suddenly, someone grabs me by the shoulders - I'm halfway up the stairs and I'm grabbed.I tripped and fell down the stairs on my chest.
I looked up and saw one of them was pulling out a pocket knife.The next thing I saw was someone running out of the restaurant and grabbing the guy by the wrist.
It's Springer, who questioned our state troopers. "Dr. Hawthorne, are you in trouble?" he asked.
I broke a rib when I fell down the stairs.While the doctor was bandaging me, Springer said that he had also gone to the prison to find Ronald Quayle.We were just getting ready to leave when he arrived. "Seeing how you are in a hurry, I plan to follow you. I followed you here."
Boston police and Prohibition officials took up Lane's case.They seized hundreds of cases of fine Canadian whiskey.The last time I saw Ryan, he was being led away by a police officer in handcuffs. "Did he kill my brother?" Lisa asked.
"He didn't do it himself, maybe he ordered someone to do it. I don't know who the specific person is. However, I can describe his appearance and tell you his method."
"I hope you don't say that someone throws a knife at the top of the lighthouse from a rock by the sea?" Springer said.
"Of course not," I said. "The lighthouse is too high for that to work. Also, a pirate's dagger is not suitable for shooting with a bow or similar device. When Harry died, the murderer was with him."
"But that's impossible!" Lisa said.
"You're wrong. It's quite possible. There's a place in the lighthouse we haven't searched where the murderer could hide—I'm talking about the rolltop desk in the study."
"Nonsense!" said Lisa. "The desk can be so big that a child can't hide it!"
"That's right - the killer was a child. Or someone dressed as a child. Remember that group of kids who arrived before me? Don't you think it's weird that the parents stay in the car and the kids are left alone?" Going up the tower? And, with your family deal. Four little kids came out, and I bet five went in."
Lisa's eyes widened: "My God, I think you're right!"
"One of the children stayed in the tower, hiding in the desk. When Harry went back to clean up and close the door, he killed him. The murderer was a professional killer hired by Paul Ryan. Most likely he and Paul Ryan had conflicts over smuggling. I Think, in Lane's record, we can find ample evidence."
Springer frowned and said, "You mean, kids are professional killers?"
"Or someone dressed as a child," I said. "Short—maybe a midget."
"dwarf!"
"Who better to kill Santa than a gnome dressed as a child? Five kids entered the lighthouse and only four came out. No one thought a child was missing. The so-called parents drove away , leave the killer in the tower, hiding, waiting for the chance to kill."
"Well," said Springer, nodding, "if Lane really hired a dwarf, it would be easy to find out." He was about to leave when he stopped at the door and turned around and said, "I asked about your It's over. Sergeant Lan Si of Beishan Town said you are a very good detective."
After he left, Lisa Quayle said, "Thank you. It won't save him, but at least I know the truth."
Two days later, Lisa's brother was buried in Plymouth Cemetery, under the bleak winter trees.I stand by Lisa Quayle.We were about to walk to the car after the funeral when Springer stopped us: "I guess you'd like to hear, we found out, last year Paul Lane did hire a dwarf in his New Bedford De's lobster restaurant. We're looking everywhere for him."
"Good luck," I said, "I'm going home today."
I parked outside the funeral home, where I said goodbye to Lisa. "Thank you again," she said, "for everything, Sam."
After driving for half an hour, I saw a boy fishing on the bridge of the creek.My first thought was that December is not a good time to go fishing.
My second thought was that I made a big mistake.
I parked the car on the side of the road for a long time, staring blankly ahead.Finally, I restarted the car, turned around, and drove in the direction I came from.
It was almost evening when I saw the Santa Claus lighthouse again.The time is about the same as when I first came.Lisa's car was parked alone.The lighthouse is closed and visitors are not allowed to visit.I parked next to Lisa and walked towards the lighthouse door.She must have heard the car and saw me from the window.As soon as I approached, she smiled and opened the door.
"You're back, Sam."
"Come back for a little while," I said, "Can we talk?"
"About what?" she said teasingly.
"About Harry's murder."
Her face changed: "The police found the dwarf?"
I shook my head. "They don't want to find it. Because there are no dwarf killers. I was mistaken."
"what are you saying?"
"We keep saying there are no suspects. In fact, there has always been a suspect. Not an unexpected one, but a very suspicious one. Lisa, you killed your brother."
"You're crazy!" she said angrily, trying to close the door in front of me.I easily put my foot against the door.After a while, she softened and let me in. "The more I think about it, the more unlikely the dwarf killer is. The kids have been making a scene, pulling Santa's beard, and drawing attention. The killer doesn't do that. He wants to succeed, the quieter, the less attractive. Be careful." Lisa put her hands on her chest, pretending to be funny.
"Of course, there is also the issue of the murder weapon. The killer will definitely bring his own murder weapon, and will not temporarily go to the storage room to get a pirate dagger."
"In the end, how could the killer lead Harry to the platform? Especially when he was still changing clothes and hadn't had time to remove his beard."
"Maybe he stabbed Harry in Santa's study?" she whispered.
I shook my head: "The dwarf can't carry the corpse upstairs. The deceased walked up by himself, together with the murderer. Why hasn't he removed his beard yet? Because he is very familiar with the person next to him and trusts him very much."
"You probably forgot that I was with you when Harry was killed."
"Correction - you were with me when the body fell off the platform, to be exact. An hour ago, I was driving across a bridge where a boy was fishing. It occurred to me that you were at Lighthouse 2 Lou picked up a spool of fishing line. It wasn't left by the visiting children at all, but you prepared it for a trick. You go back upstairs, make up a reason, trick your brother onto the platform, and stab him to death. Then , you put the body on the side of the railing where it's easy to slide down, and tie one end of the line to the body and throw the other end downstairs. It was almost dark at the time, so I couldn't see the line. You stop me , for my alibi. I reckon you've been waiting for days for a suitable witness. You pulled the line and Harry's body fell off the top platform and nearly hit us."
"If so, where did the line go?"
"When I went to examine the body, I couldn't find it because it was too dark. Later, when I went upstairs to telegraph for help, you untied the fishing line and hid."
"Why would I kill my brother?"
"Because you found out he was involved in your father's imprisonment. It was Harry who printed those blatant prospectuses, and he drew up the blueprints for the amusement park, defrauding investors. Your father took the blame for him. You found out the truth, and it's time to When it was discovered that Harry was partnering with Paul Lane in bootlegging, it was finally unbearable."
Lisa finally gave up her resistance: "At first, I couldn't believe it, he asked his father to take the blame for himself! Later, I found out what he had done with Ryan! I—"
"What the hell did you do?" I asked quietly.
She was a little sad: "I waited for a whole week for the right person, a person like you traveling alone. I called him to the platform and gave him one last chance, threatening him to either turn himself in or Killed by me. Not only did he not listen, he laughed at me and tried to grab the knife. During the fight, I stabbed him. You were absolutely right about the fishing line. The fishing line is strong, but thin, and the light is weak It's not easy to be seen." She looked aside, "When I saw you, I thought I was lucky. It seems that there is no such thing as good luck in this family."
"You must turn yourself in to Springer," I said, "and he's still looking for that dwarf! If you put innocent people in jail, you're as wrong as your brother."
"A plan that thinks it's perfect," she said, "is of no use in the end!"
"That's the end of the story," said Dr. Sam Hawthorne at last. "I don't want to say more about my mistakes. No one in North Hills knows the story. When Nurse Aibo saw the wound on my chest and asked , I just said that I fell down. Fortunately, it finally snowed that Christmas, and everyone had a happy holiday. At the beginning of the second year, a strange thing happened in the cemetery in this town, and the story did not involve ghosts and gods. I'll tell you the details next time."
Notes:
Notes: