Chapter 11 Murder in the Snow Lodge
Dr. Sam Hawthorne sat comfortably in his special seat, sipped a sip of brandy, and said: "Today, I want to tell you about a man who met me while on vacation in Maine in January 1935. Weird. You might think, how could a normal person choose to go to Maine in the winter? Especially in the days before turnpikes or highways. Let me tell you, it's all about the cars..."
The biggest weakness in my life is that I can't stand the temptation of sports cars.Right after my internship, my parents gave me a 1921 Ring Wrigley yellow convertible that was my greatest pride until it was destroyed in an explosion.The few other cars I briefly owned throughout the early 1930s, after the Rattle Arrow convertible was written off, weren't great.In early 1935, I finally found the car of my dreams—a Mercedes-Benz Type 500K Convertible in dazzling red.Of course, you get what you pay for, the car is good, and the price is not cheap.Fortunately, I have been practicing medicine for more than twelve years.Being celibate, I can save a lot of money from my village clinic income.
The car was bought in Boston.When I drove it back to the outpatient building of Saints Memorial Hospital, Nurse Aibo couldn't believe her eyes.
"Is that your new car, Sam? Is it your car?"
"That's right. Temporary fever."
She stroked the bright red paint and admired the long, graceful lines of the engine bay.We tried the folding seat together after the test drive and checked the two spare tires under the folding seat.Then, I let her test drive a couple of laps in the hospital parking lot. "I'm not dreaming, Sam," she said. "I've never seen such a beautiful car."
Aibo has been my nurse since I started my business in Beishan Township.Ten years ago, we took a short vacation together to Cape God.However, there has always been a pure friendship between us.I regard Aibo as a good friend, and she is also the best candidate for a nurse.We never had a spark of love.She was a few years older than me, almost forty at the time.Still, she's not unattractive to the right man.Although we never talk about personal matters, I have a feeling that in the narrow circle of Beishan Town, she can't find a suitable man for her.
That's why, when she got out of the car, I said impulsively, "Let's drive to Maine."
"Maine? Maine in January?"
"Why not? It's been a warm winter and the roads aren't frozen. We can even go skiing."
"No, thank you. I don't want to end up with a plasterboard on my leg." Aibo said, but she could hear that she was a little tempted. "We still have patients to see, what should we do with them?"
"Dr. Handman said that if I want to take a week off, he is willing to take over my patients temporarily. He plans to go to Florida in March, and I will help him then."
"Okay then, let's go." Aibo smiled mischievously and said, "But don't forget, we don't ski."
We set off on Monday of the second week, driving north through Massachusetts and into New Hampshire.The journey along the way is like a dream.Although it was too cold to lower the top, the strangeness of the car's right-hand drive and long bonnet, as well as the blazing speed, were still fascinating.I called ahead and booked a holiday cottage north of Bangor town.Therefore, after entering the territory of Maine, the remaining distance is still very long.
"It's starting to snow," Ib said as the first flakes hit the windshield.
"It took us so long to snow, we were lucky enough."
For the rest of the trip, the snow was not heavy, but it kept falling.By the time we arrived at Evergreen Lodge, several inches of snow had accumulated on the ground.I parked the car under a giant pine tree and retrieved my luggage from under the folding seat.The Evergreen Tree Lodge is a large building made of pure logs, reminiscent of the lush forest resources of Maine.The lobby of the hostel has a pleasant atmosphere, and the fireplace is burning vigorously, as comfortable as the living room of ordinary people.A tall, dark-skinned man stepped forward.He is in his forties and speaks with a slight accent.
"Good afternoon, welcome to Evergreen. I'm André Muhorn, the owner of the hostel."
"I'm Dr. Sam Hawthorne." I said, holding out my hand, "this is—"
"Ah, Mrs. Hawthorne!"
"No—" I said quickly, "I've booked two rooms."
Andre Muhorn smiled and said, "There are two rooms, but they are connected in the middle. Please sign the registration form, and then I will take you to the room."
"We're going to stay six nights."
"That's fine."
Both rooms booked were fine.An hour later we went downstairs for dinner.Muhorn beckoned us to sit at a table with him. "I don't like eating alone," he said, "please come with me."
The whole dinner was a pleasure.It can be seen that Aibo is gradually warming up to Andre.He told us he was of French and Irish descent.He also mentioned that his wife died in a car accident last winter. "What's her name?" Aibo asked sympathetically.
"Louis. I have a picture of her in my wallet. After losing her, I have no direction in my life. We have no children, only this hostel."
He showed us the photograph, which showed a pleasant-looking woman about his own age. "Her smile is so beautiful," said Aibo.
During dinner, Muhorn talked about everything.I was amazed that there should be such a well-informed man in the woods of Maine.He just mentioned Thoreau who visited the local area a century ago, and then mentioned Adolf Hitler who threatened the entire continent.No one in Beishan town talked to me about this kind of topic.
"Is there anything to do around here?" I asked. "We're not going to go skiing."
André Mulhorn shrugged: "Skiing is more popular around the Alps. I always wonder if it will be as popular in America as it is in Switzerland and Norway. But, I know, In Minnesota, skiing is becoming more and more popular among the Nordic descendants. Who knows what will happen next? There is a new invention called the ski lift, which may revolutionize people's pastime. The road slid all the way down."
"Aren't people allowed to ski in Evergreen?" Aibo asked.
"No. But we can go for walks in snowshoes and climb mountains. I'll find you the right snowshoes tomorrow morning and show you around."
I know that Muhorn's hospitality to us is mostly because of Aibo.However, I have no reason to complain.He was charming and an excellent conversation partner.When I go to bed, I look forward to the next day's activities.
Early the next morning, when we were waiting for Andre in front of the hostel, it was already broad daylight.The weather was quite cold, and a gust of north wind made people wrap their collars tightly.Aibo's eyes never left the door of the hotel.I turned my eyes to the big pine tree that was parked yesterday.I was taken aback by a young man in a plaid coat hanging by my Mercedes.He still had a shotgun in his hand.
I walked up and said, "Are you admiring the car?"
"It's a beautiful car. Is it yours?"
"That's right."
"You live in a hostel?"
I nodded and said, "My name is Sam Hawthorne."
"I'm Gus Laxart, working odd jobs around here."
"With a shotgun?"
"I just hunted wild animals nearby. When the snow is covered in winter, it is not so easy for them to hunt, and they will come to search for food in human garbage dumps. Just this morning, I killed a wild bobcat."
"I didn't know it was so close to the wilderness."
Laxat was more interested in my Mercedes. "I've never seen a car like this before," he said, touching the fender. "I bet this thing cost you a lot of money, right?"
"It's really not cheap." I didn't want to continue this topic, so I turned and left.He followed suit from the car, much to my relief.
At this time, Muhorn had already come down, carrying three pairs of snow shoes in his hand.Seeing Laksat, he frowned, as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind at the end.Our beast hunter turned clockwise around the hut and disappeared behind the house.
"Oh, what a perfect morning!" said Aibo beaming.
"It snowed on the mountain last night." Andre said, "later you will find that the snow is very deep in some places." He knelt down to help Aibo adjust the snow shoes, but I struggled to put them on myself pitifully .
"How many people did you hire to help run the lodge?" I asked.
"It depends on the business. If there's a particularly busy weekend, I'll call in a few short laborers from town."
"Laxate is the short-term labor you hired?"
"He comes to help now and then. But he's unreliable."
"He just told me that this morning, he killed a bobcat."
"Oh, really? Every winter, the beasts will come down the mountain to look for food."
We set off and headed north.Cross the frozen lake and climb the gentle slopes.Aibo and I are not used to wearing snowshoes yet, walking is much more difficult than imagined.After walking a mile, my thigh muscles ached.
"Over this hill, we can rest in Ted Short's hut for a while." Muhorn suggested, "It's not easy to walk against this cold wind, especially if you are not used to it."
"Who is Ted Short?"
"A retired stockbroker who moved here a few years ago. He lives alone but is friendly to the occasional visitor."
After we climbed to the top of the hill, the hut appeared in front of us.A Ford RV was parked not far from the house.From the door of the hut to the side of the road, there was thick snow, which buried the road.Smoke was rising from the chimney of the cottage.
"He's definitely at home," said Muhorn. "The fireplace is burning, and he hasn't left the house."
We followed him down the hill.Pointing to the left, Aibo asked, "Is that the footprint of a bobcat?"
Muhorn took a closer look and said, "Looks like it is. The footprints are about nine inches apart. It could be the one Gus Laxart killed this morning." The beast's footprints extended to the corner of the cabin, and then changed. direction to go far away.The closer to the hut, the deeper the snow accumulated.If it weren't for snowshoes, I doubt we would have made it through.After finally reaching the door, Muhorn knocked on the door without taking off his gloves.
No one answered the door.He tried the doorknob. "The door is not locked." He said, carefully pushing the door open, and the snow outside the door fell on the floor of the house.He fumbled for the switch, and a light above his head came on.Looking over his shoulder I saw a pleasant room with a large easy chair by the fire.The sunlight coming in from the skylight on the roof warms the room.I could see the unmade bed in the attic, which was used as a bedroom.There were some dirty dishes on the dining table.
The top of a man's head protrudes from the back of the easy chair.Aibo and I stayed at the door, while Muhorn hurried to the chair. "Ted, it's me, Andre, just passing by with my snowshoes on, by the way—" He bent down and gently rocked the man in the chair.Then, I noticed that his face changed.
"What's wrong?" I asked, walking towards the house.
"My God—he's been stabbed."
I took a quick look and he was right.The man in the easy chair was dead.
Muhorn picked up the crank phone hanging on the wall and notified the police.
Sergeant Pate arrived on the scene half an hour later.He's not the same as Sergeant Lansi, my best buddy in Beishan Town.The guy didn't look like someone from the middle of nowhere—he was wearing a custom-made uniform and an expensive fur coat, tall and thin, with a slight frown.He asked how we had come to the cottage so early in the morning.At first he paid no attention to me, but when he found out that I was a doctor, he became obviously interested.
"We just don't have a full-time coroner," he said. "Dr. Hawthorne, can you give us an estimate of the time of death?"
"I could try," I said, "but the body is so close to the fireplace that it's hard to tell. There are no spots or stiffness. He could have been dead for a few minutes, or he could have been dead for hours. Still, It couldn't have been more than a few hours, because the fireplace was still burning when we came in. If the time of death was more than a few hours, the fireplace is probably out."
"In other words, he was killed after dawn."
"I think so. It was about ten o'clock when we found the body. There was no light in the house, and there were dirty dishes from breakfast on the table."
"The snow stops after dawn." Sergeant Pate turned to Muhorne and said, "Was no one else in the house when you came in?"
"Only poor Short."
"Also, there are no signs of entering or exiting the hut outside?"
Andre shook his head.
"No trace," I echoed. "We searched the cabin, inside and out, and we didn't miss it. The door we entered was the only one. It was still covered with snow when we opened it. No one Been near the hut, except for a bobcat."
"The murderer must have spent the night in the cabin," asserted the Inspector; "but how could he have left the cabin without leaving a trace?"
"Suicide," said Muhorn, "suicide is the only explanation."
Sergeant Pate frowned even deeper: "If it was suicide, where is the murder weapon?"
This question hits the nail on the head, and none of us know where the murder weapon is.
The police took away the body.They put the body on a sled and dragged it over the snow-covered slope to the side of the road that was accessible to traffic below.Then, the three of us went back to the hostel.
"Tell me about Short," I said to Andre. "Who do you think had a motive to kill him?"
The innkeeper shrugged: "I guess it's someone he knew before. Since he moved to the local area, he rarely met with people around him, and no one was hostile to him. As I told you before, he Although friendly, he likes to be alone."
"Has he been to the hotel?"
"Not much." He snapped his fingers as if suddenly thinking of something, "but he did come here a few days ago. He came to visit a lady who lives here. I remember eating a meal when I saw him." I was shocked, but I forgot about it when I turned my head.”
"Does she still live here?"
"Yes, I think she's still there, Madame de Flore."
I went to ask Mrs. Devereux's room number, leaving Aibo to continue the pleasant chat with André.The front desk attendant heard my question and pointed to a slim woman in her thirties who was flipping through fashion magazines opposite the lobby.After thanking him, I walked over to the woman. "Excuse me, is this Madame de Flor?"
She turned around and smiled, "Yes. Do we know each other?"
"I haven't had the honor yet. My name is Sam Hawthorne."
"I'm Faith Deflo, as you probably already know. How can I help you?" she said, putting down the magazine.
"I wanted to ask about Ted Short. I hear you used to know him."
"Acquaintance in the past?"
"Sorry, I thought you heard. Mr. Short was found dead in his cabin this morning."
She turned sharply and slid out of the chair.I hugged her just in time.
When Faith Deflo woke up, she took a sip of my brandy and said, "Excuse my gaffe. I haven't passed out in a long time."
"I'm sorry that my news has shocked you so much."
She was lying on the sofa in the lobby.The fainting incident just now did not cause a commotion, only the front desk attendant saw her fainting, and I hugged her in time. "Seriously, I shouldn't have lost my temper. He's someone I've known a long time ago. What's going on—was it a heart attack?"
"He was stabbed in the chest."
"You mean someone killed him?" Her pale face became even more bloodless.
"Possibly a suicide, but doubtful. Can you tell me anything about him, for example, why he's solitary here?"
"The answer is simple. Ted was a stockbroker. He lost all his money. He lost all his savings, you know, and hundreds of other small investors. Some of them blamed him for it. Finally one day, he couldn't face it all. So, three years ago, he moved from Boston and lived alone."
"Are you also one of the retail investors who entrusted him to invest?" I asked.
She smiled sadly: "No. I'm his ex-wife."
This time it was my turn to be surprised: "Are you divorced?"
Faith Deflo nodded. "Our divorce had nothing to do with the failure of the investment. In early 1929, I met Glenn Deflo and we fell in love. A few months later, I told Ted that I was going to Divorced. I was saddened to hear about his misfortune afterward, too. But I wasn’t personally involved.”
"Did you come with Mr. this time?"
"Yeah. He's a construction engineer and he's busy building the new Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Sometimes he's away for months. I feel lonely, so I come here for a week."
"Did you know in advance that your ex-husband lived here?"
"I know he lives nearby."
"Did you call him as soon as you got here?"
At this time, her patience was clearly running out: "What are you, Mr. Hawthorne, a so-called detective? Why are you asking so many questions?"
"I'm a doctor. I've dabbled a little in these kinds of cases, though, so I wanted to help the local police."
"What do you mean by such cases?"
"It's a case with strange circumstances, and it's even impossible to commit a crime. Mr. Short was killed when he was alone in the hut, and the hut was covered with heavy snow, and there were no traces of entry and exit. That is to say, after the snow stopped, it was impossible for the murderer to enter and exit the murder scene. However, if it was suicide, no murder weapon could be found."
"The police suspect that I killed him?" she asked.
"I think, until now, I'm afraid they don't even know your existence."
"Dr. Hawthorne, it would be great if you could keep it a secret for me. I can assure you that nothing is known about the death of my ex-husband. We had dinner the other day, that's all."
It seems that there is nothing to ask.I thanked her for her patience, and went back to my room, and sat by the window, remembering all about the cabin of the dead.The whole cabin is opened up, the attic is used as a bedroom, there is a small kitchen area, and there is a bathroom in the back of the room.There are a few books in the room, mostly on business or the stock market.And there was still an unfinished breakfast, which indicated that Short was probably killed after dawn.I doubt if a man would bother to eat breakfast if he was contemplating suicide - but weirder things than that have happened, so no one can tell.
I didn't see Abby again until after dinner.She looked radiant and happier than I've ever seen her.
"You've been with Andre all day?" I asked casually, as a joke.
To my surprise, she nodded. "I really like him, Sam. We had dinner in his office, just the two of us."
"It sounds like you're serious about him."
She quickly changed the subject: "Have you found out anything about the murder case?"
"Nothing. I met a lady at the hostel who happened to be the deceased's ex-wife. It would be interesting if she happened to be there when the murder happened. But she swears she doesn't know anything about it."
"Why would anyone want to kill a guy who lives alone in the forest?"
"I don't know either. He lost a lot of money in the Depression, including money entrusted to him by many people to invest. Maybe some client followed this up and killed him out of revenge."
"After five years?"
"Similar incidents have happened in the past. Sometimes, people's hatred of so-called wrongdoing will grow deeper and deeper over time, until they are so angry that they want to kill for revenge. Short may have lived in seclusion here to avoid such a person .”
We walked around in circles outside the hostel, chatting with local residents from Beishan Town.When Aibo mentioned Beishan Town, there was a touch of nostalgia in his tone, as if he was recalling the hometown he had left for a long time.This conversation bothered me.After returning to the room, I sat in front of the window for a long time, looking at the white snow outside the window and the little lights shining on the snow.
I found a person walking past under a light.That was Gus Laxart, gun raised, probably on the trail of another bobcat.
When I knocked on the door of Aibo's room early the next morning, she was no longer in the room.I went downstairs for breakfast, deliberately avoiding Faith Deflo, who was sitting at the other end of the room.
Aibo didn't appear until after I finished my coffee. "Sorry I'm late." She said awkwardly.
"It's all right. We're on vacation, we don't need to be together all the time. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"yes."
"How about going for a walk?"
"Sounds good. Where?"
"I want to go and see Short's cabin again."
"Then you have to wear snowshoes?"
"I reckon Sergeant Pate's men are coming and going and they've got their way. Let's see."
We followed the route of the previous day, and encountered only one thick snow along the way.Aibo sank in, snow up to her waist.I quickly pulled her out.We were laughing all the way to the top of the hill where we could see Short's cabin.
"There seems to be someone in the cabin," I said, "and the door is open."
It turned out to be a bearded man in a fur snowsuit.The phone company sent him to unplug the phone from the wall. "I guess he's not going to use the phone anymore," he told us. "We don't want to leave company equipment in an empty room with no one in it."
"Do you know Ted Short?" I asked him.
"I don't know him very well." He continued with his work as he said, "I met him once when I came to pick up the new line last time."
"Was he alone?"
"No—there's a hotel guy with him."
"André Muchorn?"
"No, it's a short-term worker working there, whose name seems to be Laxate."
"Gus Laxart." I thought for a moment. "Have you ever seen a bobcat around here?"
"Of course, from time to time. Most of the time, though, they don't cause trouble."
After he left, Aibo and I inspected the cabin carefully.The situation inside the house is similar to what I saw yesterday, except that the fire in the fireplace has gone out, and there is no heating in the house.I stood by the chair where the body was found, looking around for any missing clues. "What do you think?" I asked Aibo.
She giggled.I've never seen her so relaxed and cheerful. "You sound like Sherlock Holmes. Well, listen. He killed himself, with a knife attached to a rubber band cut from a car inner tube. When he let go of the knife Afterwards, the long rubber band ricocheted the knife out of sight."
"Where is it that you can't see?"
Aibo raised his head and pointed to the ceiling: "It flew out through the skylight on the roof."
The idea is crazy, but not impossible.I brought over a sturdy table, put a chair on it, and stood on it so my hands could reach the skylight.The sunroof opened easily, but the snow on the roof looked untouched.I groped around the skylight, but found no hidden knife.
I climbed down and said, "There's nothing up there."
After putting the furniture back in place, I looked up the chimney and remembered reading a story about a suicide where the murder weapon was thrown down the chimney.Still, nothing was found in the chimney.I tried to reconstruct what happened early yesterday morning, both to Ib and to myself: "Maybe he got up shortly after dawn and made breakfast. He probably lit the fireplace before or after breakfast."
"Maybe the fire was lit by the murderer." Aibo speculated, "I want to keep the body warm and confuse the time of death."
I ignored this possibility. "However, we still don't know how the murderer got in and out," I said.
"The night before yesterday, before the snow stopped."
I shook my head: "You forgot breakfast."
"That could also be a scene faked by the murderer."
"But the fire was still burning. If the murderer started the fire, and if he killed Short and left the cabin before the snow stopped, it must have been out by the time we came in."
"I guess you're right," she admitted.Then she suddenly noticed something on the floor in the doorway, almost hidden by a crumpled rug. "what is that?"
It was a thin gold pencil with the letters "G" and "D" engraved on the body. "This might be a clue." Having said that, I was not without doubts in my heart.It was unlikely that Sergeant Pate's men would miss such a big guy.Perhaps one of the agents had used it to map the cabin and left it inside.I put the pencil in my pocket and looked around. "Aibo, I think we're almost done with the inspection."
On the way back to the hostel, Aibo said to me seriously: "Sam, if one day I leave you and find another job, what will you do?"
"I will probably close the clinic and become a monk."
"No, I mean it."
"Aibo, you have worked for me for thirteen years. You have been with me since the opening. Are you unhappy? Still need a raise?"
"It has nothing to do with money."
"I thought you were happy. You must have been in a good mood these past few days, though."
"yes."
"So, what is—"
"Andre wants me to stay."
I was dumbfounded: "He offered you a job?"
"He wants to marry me."
"Aibo! Are you going to marry a man you've only known for two days?"
"No."
I breathed a sigh of relief: "However, you really surprised me."
"But maybe I'd like to stay a little longer and get to know him better."
"His wife died in a car accident last year. He's just lonely."
"me too."
"What did you say?"
"I'm thirty-nine, Sam."
"I never knew you wanted to—"
"I understand, you don't." She said sharply, "Sometimes, I don't think you see me as a woman at all."
I don't want to continue this topic. "We'll be here for a few days anyway," I said. "We'll see then."
After dinner, I went to Faith Deflo's table and joined her for some sherry. "I'm leaving tomorrow," she said, "back to Boston."
"You're not going to Short's funeral?"
She shook her head: "for many years, he is nothing to me. It was a mistake for me to come this time. "
At this moment, I found Aibo standing in the doorway, looking into the house.After seeing me, she waved her hand and walked over. "What's wrong?" I stood up and greeted her.
"Could you come with me? Andre thinks he's solved the puzzle himself. I want you to hear it."
"Very happy."
Faith Deflo stood up too. "Can I come with you?"
I introduced her to Aibo, and we headed to Andre's office together.He was sitting behind a desk, and was slightly surprised to see Madame de Flor, but immediately moved a chair for her. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Devereux, I didn't know you were Ted's ex-wife. I have come up with a factual explanation for his death. Ib thinks Dr. Hawthorne would like to hear it."
"Go ahead," she said.
"The murderer murdered Short in the hut, and then left without leaving a trace, except for the footprints of the lynx in the open space outside the house. If you have a reasonable explanation for this," I said, "Of course I'd be interested to hear it."
Andre nodded: "The answer is very simple, and it can be summed up in one sentence. Ted Short committed suicide with an ice blade. Shortly after his death, the blade made of ice was melted by the heat of the fireplace."
Faith Deflo and I were silent, and Aibo immediately agreed: "Sam, that's like the explanation you'd come up with! I'm sure it is, yes."
"Aibo—" I opened my mouth and said, then turned my head and said directly to Muhorn, "Have you ever tried to pierce the skin with a sharp ice blade? Even outdoors, it is not as easy as it sounds. In Indoors, by the fireplace, it is simply impossible. In fact, no matter how sharp the ice blade is, it will start to melt as soon as it is close to the heat, and the edge will no longer be sharp." I turned to Feith and said, "Your ex-husband concealed the truth about suicide. , can I get any benefits?"
She shook her head: "No. After we divorced, he cashed in the insurance policy. He told me after he moved to the local area that no one needed his insurance money anymore."
"I insist that you have a point, Andre," said Aibo.
"No, Dr. Hawthorne is right." Muhorn said kindly, "I didn't think thoroughly. I don't think I want to accept the fact that there are murderers at large nearby."
Later that day, while I was playing pool in the hostel's game room, Aibo approached me and said, "Sam, I want to talk to you."
"Okay. Go to the bar?"
"I'd rather go upstairs and talk in my room."
I took her to my room and sat relaxed in a chair while she sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. "Okay, tell me what you're worried about?" I said, guessing what she was going to say.
"You hate Andre, don't you? Ever since I told you about us."
"You're wrong, Aibo."
"That is how the matter?"
I felt powerless for a while.What I'm going to say next is the hardest thing I've been saying in years. "We have to face reality. Short didn't kill himself, and he certainly wasn't killed by a bobcat. After the snow stopped, no one left the cabin before we entered it. The windows were locked and there were signs on the door and on the roof. The snow was not destroyed."
"but--"
"Ted Short was alive when we entered the room, probably dozing by the fire. Andre was the first to get to him and stabbed him to death as he bent over and shook him. That's the only possibility Explain. I'm sorry, Aibo.—Maybe he also lost a lot of money at Short's hands many years ago."
"No!" She threw herself on the bed, pounding the surface of the bed with her fist, sobbing.I do not know what to say.Enough has been said just now.
I tossed and turned that night, fell asleep almost at dawn, and suddenly woke up again.It seems that in my sleep, my mind is not idle.Suddenly, some possibilities that I hadn't thought of before occurred to me.I lay in bed for a while, looking at the ceiling, and finally got up and called Sheriff Pate.I told him what I was going to do, but not why.
"Sheriff, it may be too late, but I want you to come with me to Short's cabin. Just this morning."
"What are you going to do?"
"Until I'm more sure, I want to keep it a secret."
"Don't tell me you think the murderer will return to the crime scene, do you believe that?"
"Almost." I admitted.
I met him at the beginning of eight o'clock.He listened to me and parked the car on the side of the main road.The snow had stopped early, so we followed the trampled path to the hut, leaving no new footprints.Once inside, I suggested we hide in the attic bedroom.
"Who do you think will come?" Pate asked.
"I want to wait and see if I'm right. I'll have time to explain it to you later."
But hours went by without a sound, and I could see that the Sheriff's patience was running out. "It's past ten, Dr. Hawthorne. I'm busy, you know."
"Give me another hour. If nothing happens by eleven o'clock, we'll—"
Just then, the door of the downstairs cabin opened.I touched Pete's arm to calm him down.A man I've never seen before entered the cabin, looking for something on the floor. "Who's that—" Inspector Pate whispered, but I squeezed his arm, then straightened up and jumped out of the attic bedroom.
I landed within six feet of the man who was looking for something and startled him. "Are you looking for this?" I asked, holding up the pencil I found yesterday with Aibo.
He looked at me strangely, then held out his hand and said, "Yes, that's it."
"Sheriff," I yelled, "you better come down!"
There was a hint of panic on the man's face. I thought he wanted to run away, but he stabilized his emotions: "What's going on?"
Pete by my side made me feel a lot more confident. "You dropped your pencil here yesterday morning when you came to the shed wearing a fake beard and pretending to be a man from the telephone company. You'll have to remove the wire before we can figure out how you got in and out of the shed without leaving a trace. Police Sir, you should arrest this murderer. He is the current husband of Mr. Short's ex-wife, named Glenn Deflo."
I had to explain it all to the sheriff before he took Deflo in.When I got back to the Evergreen Lodge, I told Aibo and Andre all about it.Faith Devereux was astonished at her husband's arrest, and went at once to the county jail to accompany him.
"Last night, I'm sorry," I said to Aibo at the beginning, "I was out of my mind."
"We understand," Andre said.Apparently Aibo told him everything.
"Glenn Devereaux is a construction engineer who was supposed to be in San Francisco working on the Golden Gate Bridge. Apparently he mistrusts his wife and sneaks back to Boston to check on her from time to time. This time, he followed her locally, wearing a disguise bearded and found her having dinner with her ex-husband. Maybe they had more than just dinner. Deflos posed as a telephone company operator and went to Short's cabin to connect some thin steel cables -- for bridge repairs From a distance, they look like telephone wires or electric wires. Because they blend in so well, we didn't pay attention when we first approached the hut. Also, our attention was caught by the lynx footprints attracted."
“你是说，”安德烈问道，“凶手踩在电话线上，进入小屋？”
“踩在钢缆上，”我纠正道，“另外还有一条钢缆权充扶手。对修桥的人而言，不算什么难事。等他爬上屋顶以后，再打开天窗，用另一根钢缆吊着进入小屋。肖特看到他也不会在意，因为之前德弗洛就装成电话接线工来过。德弗洛刺死肖特，再沿原路离开。他在屋顶上留下的脚印可以在离开时擦掉，而且当天风很大，让一切更加完美。”
爱玻问道：“如果德弗洛之前就去过肖特的小屋，干吗不当时就杀了他？为什么要大费周折再去一次？”
“因为那次肖特不是一个人。格斯·拉克萨特和他在一起。德弗洛这么费周折，是希望人们以为肖特死于自杀。不过，他离开时太紧张，弄丢了铅笔。”
“不过，你是怎么想明白的，山姆？”爱玻继续问道，“就在昨晚，你还肯定杀人的是安德烈。”
“我记起，在我们进入小屋发现尸体时，阳光从天窗照了下来。天窗上的积雪不可能那么快融化，即便是有屋内的热气也不可能。记得吗，那个早上有多冷，天窗上为什么没有积雪？因为有人打开过。而且天窗不像窗户，没有从内锁死。实际上，很容易就能打开。我问自己，如果凶手是从天窗进来的，那他是怎么到屋顶上的？”
“线缆，那些被忽视但又必不可少的线缆。不过，电话线或电线能承受一个男人的重量吗？不，除非是特别的线缆，两头特别拉紧。然后，电话接线工在死者死亡后不到二十四小时就出现了，要移走话机，我怎么能不怀疑？”
“之后，还有铅笔的事。铅笔上刻着大写的'G'和'D'，很可能就是格伦·德弗洛的首字母。铅笔不可能是行凶的时候落下的，不然警方会发现。如果不是佩特警长或他哪个手下的东西，那肯定就是电话工的。如果电话工是格伦·德弗洛伪装的，那一切都说得过去了，连动机都不缺乏。我猜他今天早上会回到现场，寻找丢失的铅笔。”
说完后，安德烈站起来，握着我的手说：“爱玻和我，我们很感谢你。”
爱玻吻了吻我的面颊：“请原谅我昨晚不当的举止。”
“如果两位不介意的话，”我看看表说，“我打算今天就回去。你们有什么打算？”
“山姆，我打算待满这个礼拜，然后我会回去一趟，帮你把继任护士培训好。我们一起工作了这么多年，至少我应该给你一个月的时间，找到接替我的护士。”
“爱玻和安德烈于那一年春天结了婚。当然，我很不愿意爱玻离去。他们很幸福，婚姻美满，我则当了他们孩子的教父。不过，为爱玻找接替者的事情，可没那么顺利。这些事情就留待下回再分解吧。”
Notes: .
Notes: .