Chapter 2 The Old Mill Mystery
"In our small town of Beishan, murders don't happen every day. After the roof bridge incident, it took more than a year before I faced another mystery that seemed impossible. In 1923 In July of 2008, I had been practicing as a doctor in that area for eighteen months. The community accepted me as a part of it. I knew most of them by name, and I knew their wives and children. They were no longer Just kidding about my yellow Snap Arrow convertible—a present from my parents when I graduated from medical school—sometimes the kids even ask for a ride.” Dr. Sam Hawthorne paused, He took a sip from the small cup in his hand.
"The year started off violent, with a prisoner named Delos killing a guard when he escaped from the state prison on New Year's Day. Now, in the hot, stifling July sun, there's still death in the air. news of the assassination of Pancho Via came from Mexico and was shot sixteen times as he drove down the hill. Within a few weeks we heard of the death of President Harding on the West Bank information.
"But the death I was involved with was much closer to home... Shall I get you some - er - drink?"
"Dear me, Dr. Sam! What are you doing out here in the woods? Somebody's sick, or are you looking for a good distillery?" "Neither," I said to Minnie Duranger, pulling over to talk to her.She was one of those buxom country women who never seemed to age, and the years passed, like the water that never ceases to move the mill-wheel.She used to joke that bootleg whiskey was made in the woods, when in fact we were only a hundred and fifty miles from the Canadian border, and we got everything we needed from there. "I'm going to Hawkins' Mill. Meet Henry Caldwell before he leaves." "Me too, can I get a lift?" "Sure, Minnie, as long as you don't mind people seeing you in my car." She climbed into the seat next to me.Put her bulging mesh bag underfoot. "People here say it's a big deal to ride in your car. Dr. Sam." "It's a joy to hear that." I turned the yellow convertible onto the road to the mill and bumped for a while without saying a word.Henry Codweller became a local celebrity in the few months after he took up residence at Hawkins' Mill, and it was his fame that made Minnie and I, quite different people, to see him off. . Kodweiler is a naturalist writer with a big beard.It is completely in line with the New England tradition of Thoreau.He had moved into the Old Mill ten months ago.Comes with the first wave of cold snap at the end of September.They said he was writing a book about the seasons around Snake Creek, but for the first few months he was hardly seen.Even his food and daily necessities are sent to the mill.But after two or three months, the situation changed, and everyone began to see him and like him.He's literally writing a book, and even lets us read some of his earliest chapters. I used to come to the mill on spring evenings, and sit with him under a flowering dogwood tree, drink a glass of illegal beer, and hear him talk about old days.Then he would pull out his notes and show me his beautifully written notes on the autumn of Snake Creek. "Who would be interested in reading a book like that?" one night.Ask him because beer makes me brave. He shrugged his shoulders and scratched at his beard. "Who reads Thoreau's work?" "Not many people saw it at first." "Not bad." I picked up a recent notebook, but there was nothing in it, only a handwritten newspaper clipping. "For example, this." I read: A reward of fifty pounds is offered—the young woman mysteriously disappeared on the afternoon of the 20th. She was twenty-two years old, less than five feet tall, pale, gray-eyed, and brown-haired. She had obvious features due to a recent illness.Wearing a black silk dress, wearing a white-brimmed straw hat, and carrying a black suitcase.Messages should be addressed to Mr. C. F. Field (former Metropolitan Police Commissioner), Private Inquiries Office, 20 Devereau Court, Temple City. "This," explained Henry Caldweller, smiling, "is the General Classified Advertisement, originally published on the front page of The Times of London, August 6th, 1873. Somebody circled it in pencil." He saw me puzzled "I found this newspaper upstairs, on the second floor of this mill. There was a pile of old clothes, magazines, and newspapers, and this was one of them. I wrote it down out of curiosity." in my notebook because an old London newspaper from fifty years ago was doing in an old mill in New England? Especially with an ad circled like that on it." "Many people in this part of the world come from England. Hawkins, who used to own this mill, was English. He probably came here about that time. Perhaps the newspaper he brought with him on his last day in his country." "Perhaps," agreed the bearded naturalist, "but I can't help but think of Mr. C. F. Field, the former Metropolitan Police Commissioner. Do you think he later Have you found the young woman?" This was an example of our conversation, and more often about the Snake Creek, and the various wildlife that Codweiler found along its banks, and the changing seasons.Although he avoided socializing with the townspeople, the naturalist writer enjoyed being involved in the community.In the winter, when the creek freezes, he can be seen helping saw the ice for storage in the commercial icehouse next to the mill.And on the first warm weekend of spring.He also goes with others to the cemetery for the annual sweep. Now, in the second half of July, his manuscripts are complete, and the total number of them fills about thirty-six composition notebooks for elementary school students.The title is "One Year in Snake Creek", although in fact he only lived here for a little over ten months.But he's leaving now, and Minnie Duranger and I just came to say goodbye. I parked the convertible next to Seth Hawkins' black Ford and we walked in.Kodweiler was busy putting his books and notes into a wood and iron safe I had seen before, talking to young Hawkins. "I don't want to leave this place," he said, "I've been treated so well by all of you here." Young Seth Hawkins was a tall, lanky country boy in his early twenties.His father died five years ago, and Seth was too young to run the mill business himself, so the mill closed.But Seth's mother didn't want to sell the place.She still hoped that Seth would one day take over and rebuild her husband's lucrative business.Letting the place to Codweller for a year was a small fortune for the family, and now that he was leaving the question of Seth's future arose. "We're glad you live here," Seth said to Caldwell. "Maybe your book will make this old mill famous." The naturalist writer looked up at the stone walls and the rough wooden ceiling. "I have fond memories of this place," he admitted, "and I love it even if the millet dust makes me sneeze." Then he saw Minnie and me. "Two good friends here again! How are you? Dr. Sam? Minnie?" "My God, Henry Caldwell, the old mill won't be the same when you're gone!" She put the net bag down.Walking up to him, hugging him like a mother, "Why don't you live for another year?" "I'd like that too, Minnie, but I'm only on a year-long sabbatical and must be back teaching in September. Even Thoreau left his cabin, you know." He liked to mention When I came to Thoreau, I sometimes wondered how good his notes were, and I wished he would let me see what he wrote later. "Let me pack it for you," I said, taking a large stack of books from Seth Hawkins and placing them on top of the stack of manuscripts in the safe.I'm not much older than Seth.But there seemed to be a world of difference between us, and his father's death hadn't matured him at all. "Anything else of yours upstairs?" Seth asked Kordweiler. The naturalist writer hesitated. "I think it's all here, but you can go upstairs and look for me, Seth." "The boy won't know what to do without you," said Minnie, when he was gone. "And while you're gone, his mother wants him to open the mill again." Codwell shrugged. "Maybe it's a good thing for him that I go, and force him to make a decision." He closed the lid of the safe. "Doctor Sam, can you take this box to the station for me?" "Where are you going?" "I'm shipping it to Boston. I'll pick it up in a few days. Then take the notes to my publisher." I was reaching for one of the usual frayed places on the lid of the safe when I heard a vague cry from upstairs. "What's the matter with the boy?" Minnie asked, running for the stairs, and I followed. We saw him in that room above the mill, near the pile of old things that Kordweiler had mentioned to me before. "Look!" he said. While he was rummaging, he found a human skull. Minnie Duranger gasped and stepped back, but I held the skull in my hand. "Which medical school or clinic took this?" I told them, "Do you see that the lower jaw is tied up with wire? The human skull is not so long." "How can there be such a thing here?" Minnie asked. "I'm afraid the kid stole it and put it here," I said, turning to Seth. "This place is your property. If you don't want it, I'll take it to my clinic." "Take it, I don't want it." "Every good clinic needs a skull." We came downstairs, and I showed what I had brought to Kodweiler, who had just put the lid on his safe and locked it with a big lock. "I'm all set," he told me. "Seth found this skull and I'm taking it to the clinic." "It will scare the patient away," he said with a grin. We carried that safe outside.Put it in the luggage compartment on the side of my car.I didn't know how to get Minnie into my two-seater car with Kordweiler, but Seth solved the problem by letting Minnie ride in his car. "Will I see you again before you go?" she asked. Kodweiler smiled and said, "Of course I will, Minnie. I have to do something in the town first, and then I'll come back here. I won't leave until morning." Seth's black Ford followed us into town, but by the time we got to the station, it swerved toward Minnie's farm.I helped Kodweiler carry the box in, and waited until it was weighed, labeled, and shipped to Boston by rail express. "Forty-five pounds," said the clerk, taking Kordweiler's money. "There are very valuable materials and notes inside the box," said the naturalist writer, "please take good care of them." "Don't worry," the clerk told him, "you can watch me put it on the train now if you want to." We stood on the platform of the train station as the safe was delivered to a waiting freight car along with other packages to be delivered. "How soon can we get to Boston?" Kordweiler asked. "Tomorrow morning, I think," replied the freight clerk. This seemed to satisfy him, and he turned to my car. "Thank you for your help, Dr. Sam." "It's nothing, do you want me to take you there? How about a cup of coffee?" "No, no. I got the bank to settle the account and pay the grocery bill." I dropped him off at the bank and drove back to the clinic, not surprisingly to find my nurse, Aibo, on the phone making excuses for my absence.She hung up and said, "Dr. Sam, where have you been? There's a patient here waiting for you. Alan Spilling just fell off his tractor." "Alan? Are you seriously injured?" "Maybe it broke somewhere." I turned and walked out the door again, grabbing my purse. "Explain to the waiting patient. Aibo, I'll be back as soon as possible." In winter it is women who have babies, in summer it is men who have accidents on the farm.It had only been eighteen months before I discovered this endless cycle.But Alan Spilling was luckier than most. He only dislocated his right shoulder, had a swollen bump on his head, and had no broken bones.I wrapped his shoulders and told him to rest for a few days. Then I went back to the clinic and saw the patients who usually come in the afternoon.At least half of them have a medical condition that requires alcohol, which is always a problem.Generally, I end up cursing the Volstead Act mentally while writing prescriptions. That evening.After dinner alone as usual, I decided to drive to the next town, where I had heard that there was a cockfight in a barn, which I disapproved of, but still made for a colorful evening.There must be some bootlegger driving up from Boston, and I think I need a drink.Constantly prescribing that kind of prescription to others can make people dry their mouths too. As I was driving down that dirt road toward Cagin Point, I saw Sheriff Lens driving ahead of me. "Good night, Sheriff," I called as I passed him. "Hey doctor, are you all right?" "Didn't lose a single patient all day. Are you out on patrol?" Chief Lan Si snorted. "There's a light in the mill. Someone called to tell me about it. Didn't the naturalist writer go back to Boston?" "I think he left in the morning. Probably still there." "I think it's time to check. The Hawkins family paid taxes and their property should be protected." I continued on to Cape Cage.There was a huge crowd watching the cockfight in the barn, and I had to park in a field down the road.They were mostly city folk, excited to be doing something illegal.There are also college students and girlfriends walking among the locals, drinking from silver portable bottles.There were also more sullen and silent people—professional gamblers who had come up from the South with the Cockfighting party.Bootleggers do their business behind the barn. On the first betting round, I bought a quart of good Scotch and locked it in the side luggage compartment of my car.That's the place where the police are most likely to search, but I know Sergeant Lens won't stop me.I went into the barn, closer to the inner edge of the crowd, and was surprised to see young Seth Hawkins there too. "Hello, Dr. Sam, why did you come to see the cockfight?" "I wanted to ask you the same question, Seth." He shrugged. "Just find something to do." The two roosters fought together, and there was a roar from the crowd. "Now that Kordweiler is leaving, are you going to reopen the mill?" I asked him. Seth seemed distressed by my question. "My father is my father and I am me, why does everyone think I should go his way?" "Not everyone thinks that way." "My mother is, and she's the most important one." He looked into the ring, but he seemed uninterested in the fighting in the ring. "My God, I wish I could have a drink!" Maybe he saw me buying wine, but anyway, I can't ignore this request. "Come on, I have some in the car." My fingers touched the luggage compartment, which was a little wet. I was afraid for a while that my bottle of Scotch whiskey would leak, but the bottle was full and the lid was not opened. Pass.I poured each of us a glass of wine out of two small iron cups in my leather bag. "It doesn't taste bad." He nodded quickly in agreement. "Really good stuff." I put away the bottle.It wouldn't do either of us any good if we got caught DUI. "Would you like to watch the cockfight again?" He took out his pocket watch. "No, I have to go back, I have to start cleaning the mill tomorrow." "Inspector Lan Si said there were still lights there, and I told him it was the last night of Kodweiler." "I really don't want him to go. The first time I saw him, when he came to rent the place, I didn't like him very much. When I saw him later, it was when he helped saw ice in the first month. He seemed quite a good person." "You go there often." He nodded. "Two or three nights a week. I learned a lot from him, and not just intellectually. He knew a lot about life." I drove back, Seth following me in his Ford.We saw a state trooper's car on the road.I was wondering if it was to catch gamecocks.Probably not, I thought. When we were still some distance away from Beishan Town, I saw a red light in the night sky."Looks like it's on fire," I yelled as the Ford pulled up next to me. Seth Hawkins nodded. "Somewhere on Mill Road, probably." We turned off the way we came, and headed for the light, and it wasn't long before I saw that the fire was on Mill Road—that's the mill that was on fire! I drove as close to there as I could and parked behind the horse-drawn fire engine, where a water hose had reached the creek and firefighters were spraying water on the flames.The first person I saw was Alan Spilling, running with the others despite his shoulders bandaged and his head bandaged. "Ellen, you should be in bed at home," I called to him, running beside him. "I'm the firefighter captain, doctor! It's rare for us to encounter such a big fire." That was true at all, and it seemed as if the whole mill would go up in flames.But I quickly figured out that the stone wall on the lower floor wouldn't be on fire. When I saw Sergeant Lan Si, I called out to him and asked, "Is there anyone inside?" "Hopefully not," he replied. "Where's Kodweiler?" "I don't know. When I came here to check the light, the fire was already burning. I couldn't get in to him." In less than an hour, Yoshiho had the fire under control—that is to say, everything that could burn was burned.While they were pouring water over the last embers, Inspector Lens and I entered the ground floor by the riverside door. By the light of the lantern.We found Henry Caldwell's body in the wreckage.While his skin, clothes, and beard were charred, the body itself wasn't that badly burned.The stone wall below protected him.There was also no doubt about the cause of death: one side of his head had been shattered by repeated blows.
Kordweiler's body was sent to the county for a forensic autopsy (continued the old doctor), and they were sure, even by the lowest standards, that there was no smoke in the lungs.It didn't really surprise any of us that Kordweiler was dead before the fire started. "Another case for you, Dr. Sam," said the Inspector, "like the one at the Bridge last year." Alan Spilling, the marshal, was there too. "Our own Sherlock Holmes! You both have the same initials - Sam Hawthorne and Sherlock Holmes." I can't stand their jokes very much.Because I like Kordweiler very much.This man was murdered by someone we all probably knew. The next afternoon, Kodweiler's brother and a fellow professor came from Boston to identify the body.He was not married and was clearly a loner.His younger brother, John Caldwell, stared at the corpse.nodded. "Henry, yes. Burnt, but I recognize him. Haven't heard from him for months, and I suppose he's not always very friendly." "I know him very well," I said to his brother. "He's a friend to all of us here." "Where are his notes, his manuscript?" This is the first time I think of these things. "He's gone to Boston by train. I helped him get the safe to the station." John Caldwell smiled wryly. "The damn safe! I used to joke about that with him, and you thought he was moving Wells Fargo gold." "The key is probably one of these," Sergeant Lan Si said, taking out the key ring we found from the deceased, "but I don't know where the shipping receipt is. I'm afraid it was burned." "I'll go pick it up with you," I volunteered. "We can check the receipt number at the station here." For some reason, Kodweiler's notes became very important to me. I recalled the skull on the second floor, and the old newspapers that the naturalist writer found.Was there in his diary some forgotten crime he had encountered?It occurred to me that he never let me see what he wrote afterwards--what I saw was only the pages written in the first few months, or those newspaper clippings that he interspersed in his notes.What exactly had he written in the last few months?Could it be something important enough to cost him his life? We obtained a copy of the shipping receipt and headed to Boston the next morning.I hadn't seen the city in two years, and driving through Dazhong Park on the way to the North Station made me suddenly want to go back here.Life in rural New England had its charms, but it also had its drawbacks, and there wasn't a single girl in all of North Hills so pretty as I had seen. Kodweiler and I waited patiently for them to find the familiar safe and take it out.When I saw the clerk walking over effortlessly, I suddenly felt a chill down my back.Henry Codweiler and I had a hard time carrying it into the station. "Seems to be empty," said the clerk.Put the safe on the counter. The younger brother stared at me. "empty?" "Impossible," I said.I found the key, unlocked it, and lifted the cover. The safe was empty. Henry Caldwell's notes disappeared without a trace.
My nurse Aibo was much more sympathetic than Sergeant Lens (continued the old doctor).She canceled all but the most urgent patient visits that afternoon, then sat with me in the office after the last patient had left.She may not be as young and pretty as the girls in Boston, but I bet she's a better nurse than any of them. "Is the safe empty?" I nodded. "Empty. Thirty journals and twenty books—all gone. Not a trace." "Someone stole it!" she immediately concluded. "Of course. But how did you steal it?" "Break the box." "No, it's made of very hard wood, with iron sheets on the sides and iron bars all over it. And the lock on it hasn't been picked--I've checked it carefully. Damn it, Abby, that's a One of those bank safes! The only thing I found was a little hole drilled in the bottom of the box. And, I almost forgot. There was some sawdust in the box." "Sawdust?" I nodded again. "Our gentleman on the beam got his hands on the box somehow in the car or in Boston, and he evaded all the guards, turned the box over, drilled a little hole in the bottom an eighth of an inch in diameter--and Thirty-six notebooks and so many books were taken from that little hole. And they haven't been seen yet." "Well, that's simply impossible, Dr. Sam." "I know," I said sullenly. Although Aibo was quite sympathetic to my confusion, Inspector Lens was not.He didn't want to hear about the missing notes. "That was a headache for the police in Boston," he told me. "I've got a murder case on my hands." "Can't you see that it's the same thing. Sheriff? Whoever stole the notes killed Kordweiler. So he couldn't rewrite it." Chief Lan Si shrugged his shoulders. "That box might be empty from start to finish." "The safe was not empty! I helped put the books in there myself, and I carried him to the station. The bill of lading stated that it weighed forty-five pounds. The empty case—when we found it later—weighed only eleven pounds. All in all Thirty-four pounds of notebooks and books are gone!" "You said a small hole was drilled under the box, maybe someone poured strong acid into it." "The acid ruins everything, but the single safe itself is intact?" The sheriff waved his hand. "I don't know, don't bother me with this, I'm ready to arrest someone." This news took me by surprise. "Arrest? Who?" "You'll know." I actually figured it out the next day.Old Minnie Duranger brought me news. "My God, Dr. Sam, the Sheriff is going to arrest Seth Hawkins for murder." "Seth?" I couldn't believe it. "That's impossible." "Sheriff Lansi said that the kid was afraid he would have to reopen the mill. So he burned it down, and Kodweiler happened to see it and was killed." I rushed out of the clinic angrily. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." I found Sergeant Lens at the prison, and he just filled out the arrest form. "I think the case is pretty close," he said. "Of course he hasn't confessed yet." "Listen, Sheriff! I was with Seth Hawkins when the mill caught fire. We were watching a cockfight at Cagin's Point, twelve miles away." "Yes, he told me." "You don't believe him? It's true." "Oh, I do believe he's all right. I believe you too, Dr. Sam. But that's the kind of alibi a murderer would think of, isn't he? A candle was set to a pile of oiled rags, and the candle was slowly burnt out, and the rags caught fire. By that time he was twelve miles away." "Have you found any such evidence?" "No, but I'll find it. I caught the murderer before you this time. Doctor." "I didn't know we were racing." Dejected, I returned to the clinic to find Minnie Duranger still waiting. "How did he say?" "Didn't say anything," I admitted. "He thinks Seth killed the man." "What do you think, Dr. Sam?" "He's probably as innocent as you are, and I want to prove it." I bought something from a medical equipment supplier in Boston, which was actually experimental, knowing that if something went wrong, I might lose my medical license.But I still felt it was worth the risk.That afternoon, I told Aibo about my plan. "I need your assistance when I go to the prison," I said. "Sounds dangerous, Dr. Sam." "Everything is dangerous." "Will Chief Lan Si agree?" "Don't know," I admitted, but I was going to find out. I found him in the sheriff's office and said straight to the point, "If there was a chemical—a drug—that could tell you whether Seth Hawkins was guilty or not." "Yes, doctor, if there is such a chemical, I'll be out of a job!" "I'll tell you—there is. It was in the July 9th issue of Time magazine a few weeks ago. It's a thing called scopolamine, which is a poisonous The alkaloid anesthetic is extracted from nightshade that can kill. It's like a hypnotic. After injection, the person can't tell lies. They tried it in San Quentin Prison, and also in Chicago and Germany used it." "A kind of honesty serum?" Chief Lan Si laughed, "Do you believe in such nonsense?" "I believe I bought a sample of scopolamine when I was in Boston, and if you say yes, and Seth promises, I'd like to try it on him." "That's crazy!" growled the sheriff, losing his sense of humor. "What have you got to lose? If he's guilty, don't you have his confession?" "Right……" The reports in the magazines were careful to state that such confessions could not be used in court proceedings, since confessions cannot be used as evidence in court, but I don't think it's necessary to tell Inspector Lens that.I'm pretty sure he heard no confession at all. "How? Would you like your arrest to be backed by scientific experiments?" He thought about it for a while, and finally said, "Let's see what the prisoner will say." Seth Hawkins trusted me.It was agreed on the spot.Aibo came to help in her nurse uniform and I opened my purse.I've never used hyoscyamine before, but I've looked at the dosage to make sure I'm taking it correctly. As soon as the medicine kicked in, I started asking him, "Seth, do you know anything about the fire at the mill?" "have no idea." "You set the fire. Or did you ask someone else to do it for you?" "no." "Did you kill Henry Caldwell?" "no." "Did you hit him, or push him down?" "No, he's my friend." Sergeant Lens pushed me aside to lead the questioning: "Hey, listen up, Seth, you don't want to reopen the mill, do you?" He hesitated for a moment, then replied: "I can't run the business like my father, I'm afraid I will fail." "So you burned the mill." "No!" "Do you know who set the fire?" "have no idea." I took over again. "Seth, do you know who stole Kodweiler's notes from the safe?" "have no idea." "Do you know how it was stolen?" "have no idea." Sergeant Lens held up a hand. "We can't ask for results, doctor, and I told you I wasn't interested in that safe. As for your honesty serum—it proves nothing to me either. Unless you're giving everyone in the county a shot. To Until you find someone who admits to killing him, the kid will be in jail." I looked at Aibo and she nodded.The sheriff was right, and I myself might think Seth was innocent.But I didn't have legal proof.As for the sheriff, there was no evidence that Seth's murder had nothing to do with it.A case like this can be prosecuted on evidence or on general opinion. "Okay," I said, "let him rest now, the effect of the medicine will wear off soon." On our way back to the clinic, Aibo said, "You really hope that an old dog like Sergeant Lens will be as obedient as a puppy because you let him see some new drugs, roll over if you want him to roll over, and sit if you want him to sit." Do you want to sit down?" "I don't think so, but it's worth a try. At least I'm sure Seth is innocent." "You already knew that." "Not bad." I agreed. "Then who is the murderer? Do you think that Kodweiler fell and died accidentally, and also caused a fire?" I shook my head. "He suffered multiple blows to the head, so it could not have been caused by a fall. Besides, if the death and the fire were both accidents, who stole his notes from the safe?" "You keep coming back to the safe!" I lean back my chair and put my feet on the table. "I believe that's the point, Ib. The safe with the sawdust in it." "You said the bill of lading was never found. Perhaps the murderer used that bill to get the real safe and then replaced it with a fake one." "No, I believe the bill of lading was burned in the fire. If the safe was taken out first and then sent back after being exchanged, the number of the bill of lading will be different. Besides, I remember that there is a scuffed place on the lid of the box .It turns out the safe was good. When I put the suitcase in my car—" I stopped short. "What's wrong?" Aibo asked. "My car." "What happened to your car?" I hold up a hand. "Let me think about it first." "My God, Dr. Sam—" My feet hit the ground and I walked out into the street. "I've got to go to the newspaper to check something. Aibo." "What kind of thing?" "An address." An hour later, I returned to the sheriff's office.He looked at me with dull, tired eyes and said, "Now what's the trick again? Doctor? And the Honest Serum trick?" "No tricks. If you'll come with me, I'll probably be able to solve this case for you and hand over the real murderer to you." "Follow you where?" "To Abina City." "Abina! Isn't that in the next state?" "I know. I've checked the map after I found the address I want. It's just a wild guess, but it's worth a try. Are you coming?" "What are you going to do?" "If we're lucky, we'll catch the murderer." "I can't go to Abina City and make arrests." "Then we'll find one or two local deputy sheriffs on the way. You must know the sheriff there." "Er. Sure, I know him, but—" "Come on, then, we can't waste any more time."
I put Sergeant Lens in my convertible and got a carload of local police officers out of town in Abena, which was bigger than North Hills, with neat rows of houses lining shady streets . "That white house over there," I pointed out from the street corner. "It didn't look like anyone was home," said Sergeant Lens. "It's really just speculation on my part, but let's figure it out." 然后，突然之间，我看到大门开了，一个胡子刮得很干净的人，穿着一套黑西装，从前面的阶梯走了下来，朝我们这边看了一眼。我很不愿意做我必须要做的那件事，可是现在已经不能回头了，我横过街去拦住了他。 “我相信我们彼此认得吧，”我说。 他的眼光只迟疑了一下，在估量他的机会。“你认错人了，”他咕哝道。 “对不起，狄洛斯，”我说，“可是我们全知道了。” 他的左手动得很快，把我一把拉倒，右手伸进了上装里面，抽出一把枪。很短的左轮手枪，我在突然袭来的恐惧中发现自己整个做错了。现在他会逃之夭夭，而我在忙乱一场之后会死在这里。他不是个朋友，是个被逼到绝路的凶手。 但紧接着在我身后有另一支枪开了火，狄洛斯身子转过去，用手压紧在腰侧。蓝思警长跑了过来。一脚踢开那支跌落在地的左轮手枪，用手铐铐上了那个受伤的人。我从来没看到警长的动作这么快过。 “快叫救护车，”他对一名当地的警察叫道，“他血流得很多，”然后对我说，“你满意了吗？” "I suppose so." “这就是狄洛斯，那个越狱的逃犯？” I nodded. “可是我们比较认得他是亨利·柯德维勒。” “柯德维勒！他已经死了！” “我知道，狄洛斯在六个月前杀了他，然后冒充是他，住在磨坊里。”
在开车回北山镇的路上，我又得重说一遍，而即使在我说清楚了之后，蓝思警长仍然还有疑问。他只知道他开枪打伤并逮捕了一名越狱逃犯。过了好一阵才想通其他的问题。 “你知道，警长，归根到底，失踪的手记才是关键所在。我看到柯德维勒把那些手记放进保险箱里——我甚至还帮了他的忙。我搬了那个箱子，看着他们称过重量，送上货车。可是等箱子运到波士顿，里面却是空的，不可能？当初看来的确如此。后来我才想起在我汽车的行李舱里摸到有湿湿的感觉，而开车去火车站时，那个保险箱就是放在那里。湿湿的加上箱子底有个小洞再加上里面的木屑——全部相加所得到的答案是什么？” “你把我考倒了，”蓝思警长承认道。 “融化的冰，警长。” "ice?" “冰。我记得在他们叫我上楼去看一个老的头骨之前，看到柯德维勒盖上保险箱的盖子，等我回到楼下来的时候，他又在盖上箱盖。他算定了塞思会找到那个头骨而叫蜜妮和我上去，要是塞思没叫的话，柯德维勒也会用别的什么理由把我们弄出那个房间。我们离开之后，他很快地把书本和手记从保险箱里拿出来，换进一块大约有三十五磅重的冰。保险箱上了锁，而我帮着把那块冰送上了我的车子。” "Damn it!" “当然那个小洞是用来让水流出去的，在我车子里时就开始了。其余的大概会在货车车厢里形成一条小溪，可是等到箱子运到波士顿的时候，水不是蒸发掉了，就是从货车车厢的门里流出去了。反正，搬行李的人根本没注意到。而我们却发现一个空保险箱在等我们。” “锯木屑是怎么回事？” “这正是让我确定这件事的线索。我们都知道柯德维勒去年冬天帮忙把溪里结的冰锯下来，贮放在磨坊隔壁的冰库里，像这样贮存的冰块向来都是裹在锯木屑里来防止融化的。柯德维勒从冰库里弄了块冰来替代手记和书本的重量，冰融化得无影无踪，但还剩下锯木屑。” “好吧，好吧，”蓝思警长同意道，“可柯德维勒为啥偷了他自己的手记呢？没道理嘛！” “我就是这样才知道坷德维勒不是柯德维勒，”我说，“那个真正的柯德维勒说什么也没理由要安排这么麻烦的失踪事件，尤其是他本来还要在几天之内亲自到波士顿去取那个保险箱就更不会了。手记失踪要有道理，只有他知道会是别人去取那个保险箱，还有他知道到那时候他已经死了。既然头上有那样的伤就不可能是自杀的话，我只有考虑这个我们认得是柯德维勒的人其实就是凶手的可能性。” “可那些手记为啥一定得不见呢？你漏了这部分没说。” “手记一定得不见是因为其中一部分根本就不存在！回想起来，我记得柯德维勒只让我看过他最初几个月里所写的手记。后来的部分我看到的只是搜集一些旧报纸里的资料什么的。事实上，没有证据显示柯德维勒在今年新年之后写过一张东西。 “我还知道些什么别的呢？之前那个留着大胡子的自然主义作家一直离群索居，然后，过了几个月，他突然变得很友善，甚至还帮忙在河上锯冰。柯德维勒最初来租磨坊住的时候，塞思·霍金斯很不喜欢他。可是等到他正月时再见到他的时候，他们就成了朋友。柯德维勒的个性似乎在新年过后就改变了，他的性格变了，写作停止了。为什么呢？因为亨利·柯德维勒成了另外一个人。” 我停了一下让他听清楚，然后很快地继续说下去。“后来我想起了那个叫狄洛斯的逃犯，在元旦那天越狱时杀死了一名警卫。这个想法很不可能，但所有的都能兜在一起。狄洛斯在逃狱的那天夜里来到磨坊，知道了那个自然主义作家打算做些什么，杀了他，假冒他的身份。狄洛斯运气很好的是他们身材差不多，他只需要留起一把大胡子。就可以冒充了。留大胡子的男人看起来都很像。 “你一定知道，逃犯最危险的时候就是最初的六个月左右，因为警方会监视他的住处和家人。我决定那个人是狄洛斯之后。就查到他的住址，把你带到那里。他也许是回去看看或是暂住一下，我原先就希望他会这样。” “他为啥不就一直住在磨坊里呢？” “因为真正的柯德维勒是在休一年的假，要是他九月不回去教课的话，他的朋友们就会来找他而发现真相了。” 我们现在已经快到北山镇了，可是蓝思警长还有问题。“好吧，可在火里的那具尸体呢？就连我们小地方的验尸官也看得出一个人是不是死了六个月以上了！这么久以来。这具尸体都在哪儿？又为啥看起来像刚被杀的一样？” “你应该知道这个问题的答案，狄洛斯把柯德维勒的尸体藏在隔壁冰库里。尸体和从蛇溪里来的冰一起冻在里面。我猜这也是狄洛斯得在七月就抽身，而不能等到九月的原因。他一直在注意冰库，想必看到他们一块块冰拿出去用，已经就快要发现那具冰冻的尸体了。” “然后那场火——” I nodded. “当然是要烧掉那些空白的手记。可是把磨坊烧掉的最主要原因却是个很特别的原因，狄洛斯必须要处理掉他六个月之前杀掉的那个人的尸体呀。”
Notes: Wait.
"Dear me, Dr. Sam! What are you doing out here in the woods? Somebody's sick, or are you looking for a good distillery?" "Neither," I said to Minnie Duranger, pulling over to talk to her.She was one of those buxom country women who never seemed to age, and the years passed, like the water that never ceases to move the mill-wheel.She used to joke that bootleg whiskey was made in the woods, when in fact we were only a hundred and fifty miles from the Canadian border, and we got everything we needed from there. "I'm going to Hawkins' Mill. Meet Henry Caldwell before he leaves." "Me too, can I get a lift?" "Sure, Minnie, as long as you don't mind people seeing you in my car." She climbed into the seat next to me.Put her bulging mesh bag underfoot. "People here say it's a big deal to ride in your car. Dr. Sam." "It's a joy to hear that." I turned the yellow convertible onto the road to the mill and bumped for a while without saying a word.Henry Codweller became a local celebrity in the few months after he took up residence at Hawkins' Mill, and it was his fame that made Minnie and I, quite different people, to see him off. . Kodweiler is a naturalist writer with a big beard.It is completely in line with the New England tradition of Thoreau.He had moved into the Old Mill ten months ago.Comes with the first wave of cold snap at the end of September.They said he was writing a book about the seasons around Snake Creek, but for the first few months he was hardly seen.Even his food and daily necessities are sent to the mill.But after two or three months, the situation changed, and everyone began to see him and like him.He's literally writing a book, and even lets us read some of his earliest chapters. I used to come to the mill on spring evenings, and sit with him under a flowering dogwood tree, drink a glass of illegal beer, and hear him talk about old days.Then he would pull out his notes and show me his beautifully written notes on the autumn of Snake Creek. "Who would be interested in reading a book like that?" one night.Ask him because beer makes me brave. He shrugged his shoulders and scratched at his beard. "Who reads Thoreau's work?" "Not many people saw it at first." "Not bad." I picked up a recent notebook, but there was nothing in it, only a handwritten newspaper clipping. "For example, this." I read: A reward of fifty pounds is offered—the young woman mysteriously disappeared on the afternoon of the 20th. She was twenty-two years old, less than five feet tall, pale, gray-eyed, and brown-haired. She had obvious features due to a recent illness.Wearing a black silk dress, wearing a white-brimmed straw hat, and carrying a black suitcase.Messages should be addressed to Mr. C. F. Field (former Metropolitan Police Commissioner), Private Inquiries Office, 20 Devereau Court, Temple City. "This," explained Henry Caldweller, smiling, "is the General Classified Advertisement, originally published on the front page of The Times of London, August 6th, 1873. Somebody circled it in pencil." He saw me puzzled "I found this newspaper upstairs, on the second floor of this mill. There was a pile of old clothes, magazines, and newspapers, and this was one of them. I wrote it down out of curiosity." in my notebook because an old London newspaper from fifty years ago was doing in an old mill in New England? Especially with an ad circled like that on it." "Many people in this part of the world come from England. Hawkins, who used to own this mill, was English. He probably came here about that time. Perhaps the newspaper he brought with him on his last day in his country." "Perhaps," agreed the bearded naturalist, "but I can't help but think of Mr. C. F. Field, the former Metropolitan Police Commissioner. Do you think he later Have you found the young woman?" This was an example of our conversation, and more often about the Snake Creek, and the various wildlife that Codweiler found along its banks, and the changing seasons.Although he avoided socializing with the townspeople, the naturalist writer enjoyed being involved in the community.In the winter, when the creek freezes, he can be seen helping saw the ice for storage in the commercial icehouse next to the mill.And on the first warm weekend of spring.He also goes with others to the cemetery for the annual sweep. Now, in the second half of July, his manuscripts are complete, and the total number of them fills about thirty-six composition notebooks for elementary school students.The title is "One Year in Snake Creek", although in fact he only lived here for a little over ten months.But he's leaving now, and Minnie Duranger and I just came to say goodbye. I parked the convertible next to Seth Hawkins' black Ford and we walked in.Kodweiler was busy putting his books and notes into a wood and iron safe I had seen before, talking to young Hawkins. "I don't want to leave this place," he said, "I've been treated so well by all of you here." Young Seth Hawkins was a tall, lanky country boy in his early twenties.His father died five years ago, and Seth was too young to run the mill business himself, so the mill closed.But Seth's mother didn't want to sell the place.She still hoped that Seth would one day take over and rebuild her husband's lucrative business.Letting the place to Codweller for a year was a small fortune for the family, and now that he was leaving the question of Seth's future arose. "We're glad you live here," Seth said to Caldwell. "Maybe your book will make this old mill famous." The naturalist writer looked up at the stone walls and the rough wooden ceiling. "I have fond memories of this place," he admitted, "and I love it even if the millet dust makes me sneeze." Then he saw Minnie and me. "Two good friends here again! How are you? Dr. Sam? Minnie?" "My God, Henry Caldwell, the old mill won't be the same when you're gone!" She put the net bag down.Walking up to him, hugging him like a mother, "Why don't you live for another year?" "I'd like that too, Minnie, but I'm only on a year-long sabbatical and must be back teaching in September. Even Thoreau left his cabin, you know." He liked to mention When I came to Thoreau, I sometimes wondered how good his notes were, and I wished he would let me see what he wrote later. "Let me pack it for you," I said, taking a large stack of books from Seth Hawkins and placing them on top of the stack of manuscripts in the safe.I'm not much older than Seth.But there seemed to be a world of difference between us, and his father's death hadn't matured him at all. "Anything else of yours upstairs?" Seth asked Kordweiler. The naturalist writer hesitated. "I think it's all here, but you can go upstairs and look for me, Seth." "The boy won't know what to do without you," said Minnie, when he was gone. "And while you're gone, his mother wants him to open the mill again." Codwell shrugged. "Maybe it's a good thing for him that I go, and force him to make a decision." He closed the lid of the safe. "Doctor Sam, can you take this box to the station for me?" "Where are you going?" "I'm shipping it to Boston. I'll pick it up in a few days. Then take the notes to my publisher." I was reaching for one of the usual frayed places on the lid of the safe when I heard a vague cry from upstairs. "What's the matter with the boy?" Minnie asked, running for the stairs, and I followed. We saw him in that room above the mill, near the pile of old things that Kordweiler had mentioned to me before. "Look!" he said. While he was rummaging, he found a human skull. Minnie Duranger gasped and stepped back, but I held the skull in my hand. "Which medical school or clinic took this?" I told them, "Do you see that the lower jaw is tied up with wire? The human skull is not so long." "How can there be such a thing here?" Minnie asked. "I'm afraid the kid stole it and put it here," I said, turning to Seth. "This place is your property. If you don't want it, I'll take it to my clinic." "Take it, I don't want it." "Every good clinic needs a skull." We came downstairs, and I showed what I had brought to Kodweiler, who had just put the lid on his safe and locked it with a big lock. "I'm all set," he told me. "Seth found this skull and I'm taking it to the clinic." "It will scare the patient away," he said with a grin. We carried that safe outside.Put it in the luggage compartment on the side of my car.I didn't know how to get Minnie into my two-seater car with Kordweiler, but Seth solved the problem by letting Minnie ride in his car. "Will I see you again before you go?" she asked. Kodweiler smiled and said, "Of course I will, Minnie. I have to do something in the town first, and then I'll come back here. I won't leave until morning." Seth's black Ford followed us into town, but by the time we got to the station, it swerved toward Minnie's farm.I helped Kodweiler carry the box in, and waited until it was weighed, labeled, and shipped to Boston by rail express. "Forty-five pounds," said the clerk, taking Kordweiler's money. "There are very valuable materials and notes inside the box," said the naturalist writer, "please take good care of them." "Don't worry," the clerk told him, "you can watch me put it on the train now if you want to." We stood on the platform of the train station as the safe was delivered to a waiting freight car along with other packages to be delivered. "How soon can we get to Boston?" Kordweiler asked. "Tomorrow morning, I think," replied the freight clerk. This seemed to satisfy him, and he turned to my car. "Thank you for your help, Dr. Sam." "It's nothing, do you want me to take you there? How about a cup of coffee?" "No, no. I got the bank to settle the account and pay the grocery bill." I dropped him off at the bank and drove back to the clinic, not surprisingly to find my nurse, Aibo, on the phone making excuses for my absence.She hung up and said, "Dr. Sam, where have you been? There's a patient here waiting for you. Alan Spilling just fell off his tractor." "Alan? Are you seriously injured?" "Maybe it broke somewhere." I turned and walked out the door again, grabbing my purse. "Explain to the waiting patient. Aibo, I'll be back as soon as possible." In winter it is women who have babies, in summer it is men who have accidents on the farm.It had only been eighteen months before I discovered this endless cycle.But Alan Spilling was luckier than most. He only dislocated his right shoulder, had a swollen bump on his head, and had no broken bones.I wrapped his shoulders and told him to rest for a few days. Then I went back to the clinic and saw the patients who usually come in the afternoon.At least half of them have a medical condition that requires alcohol, which is always a problem.Generally, I end up cursing the Volstead Act mentally while writing prescriptions. That evening.After dinner alone as usual, I decided to drive to the next town, where I had heard that there was a cockfight in a barn, which I disapproved of, but still made for a colorful evening.There must be some bootlegger driving up from Boston, and I think I need a drink.Constantly prescribing that kind of prescription to others can make people dry their mouths too. As I was driving down that dirt road toward Cagin Point, I saw Sheriff Lens driving ahead of me. "Good night, Sheriff," I called as I passed him. "Hey doctor, are you all right?" "Didn't lose a single patient all day. Are you out on patrol?" Chief Lan Si snorted. "There's a light in the mill. Someone called to tell me about it. Didn't the naturalist writer go back to Boston?" "I think he left in the morning. Probably still there." "I think it's time to check. The Hawkins family paid taxes and their property should be protected." I continued on to Cape Cage.There was a huge crowd watching the cockfight in the barn, and I had to park in a field down the road.They were mostly city folk, excited to be doing something illegal.There are also college students and girlfriends walking among the locals, drinking from silver portable bottles.There were also more sullen and silent people—professional gamblers who had come up from the South with the Cockfighting party.Bootleggers do their business behind the barn. On the first betting round, I bought a quart of good Scotch and locked it in the side luggage compartment of my car.That's the place where the police are most likely to search, but I know Sergeant Lens won't stop me.I went into the barn, closer to the inner edge of the crowd, and was surprised to see young Seth Hawkins there too. "Hello, Dr. Sam, why did you come to see the cockfight?" "I wanted to ask you the same question, Seth." He shrugged. "Just find something to do." The two roosters fought together, and there was a roar from the crowd. "Now that Kordweiler is leaving, are you going to reopen the mill?" I asked him. Seth seemed distressed by my question. "My father is my father and I am me, why does everyone think I should go his way?" "Not everyone thinks that way." "My mother is, and she's the most important one." He looked into the ring, but he seemed uninterested in the fighting in the ring. "My God, I wish I could have a drink!" Maybe he saw me buying wine, but anyway, I can't ignore this request. "Come on, I have some in the car." My fingers touched the luggage compartment, which was a little wet. I was afraid for a while that my bottle of Scotch whiskey would leak, but the bottle was full and the lid was not opened. Pass.I poured each of us a glass of wine out of two small iron cups in my leather bag. "It doesn't taste bad." He nodded quickly in agreement. "Really good stuff." I put away the bottle.It wouldn't do either of us any good if we got caught DUI. "Would you like to watch the cockfight again?" He took out his pocket watch. "No, I have to go back, I have to start cleaning the mill tomorrow." "Inspector Lan Si said there were still lights there, and I told him it was the last night of Kodweiler." "I really don't want him to go. The first time I saw him, when he came to rent the place, I didn't like him very much. When I saw him later, it was when he helped saw ice in the first month. He seemed quite a good person." "You go there often." He nodded. "Two or three nights a week. I learned a lot from him, and not just intellectually. He knew a lot about life." I drove back, Seth following me in his Ford.We saw a state trooper's car on the road.I was wondering if it was to catch gamecocks.Probably not, I thought. When we were still some distance away from Beishan Town, I saw a red light in the night sky."Looks like it's on fire," I yelled as the Ford pulled up next to me. Seth Hawkins nodded. "Somewhere on Mill Road, probably." We turned off the way we came, and headed for the light, and it wasn't long before I saw that the fire was on Mill Road—that's the mill that was on fire! I drove as close to there as I could and parked behind the horse-drawn fire engine, where a water hose had reached the creek and firefighters were spraying water on the flames.The first person I saw was Alan Spilling, running with the others despite his shoulders bandaged and his head bandaged. "Ellen, you should be in bed at home," I called to him, running beside him. "I'm the firefighter captain, doctor! It's rare for us to encounter such a big fire." That was true at all, and it seemed as if the whole mill would go up in flames.But I quickly figured out that the stone wall on the lower floor wouldn't be on fire. When I saw Sergeant Lan Si, I called out to him and asked, "Is there anyone inside?" "Hopefully not," he replied. "Where's Kodweiler?" "I don't know. When I came here to check the light, the fire was already burning. I couldn't get in to him." In less than an hour, Yoshiho had the fire under control—that is to say, everything that could burn was burned.While they were pouring water over the last embers, Inspector Lens and I entered the ground floor by the riverside door. By the light of the lantern.We found Henry Caldwell's body in the wreckage.While his skin, clothes, and beard were charred, the body itself wasn't that badly burned.The stone wall below protected him.There was also no doubt about the cause of death: one side of his head had been shattered by repeated blows.
Kordweiler's body was sent to the county for a forensic autopsy (continued the old doctor), and they were sure, even by the lowest standards, that there was no smoke in the lungs.It didn't really surprise any of us that Kordweiler was dead before the fire started. "Another case for you, Dr. Sam," said the Inspector, "like the one at the Bridge last year." Alan Spilling, the marshal, was there too. "Our own Sherlock Holmes! You both have the same initials - Sam Hawthorne and Sherlock Holmes." I can't stand their jokes very much.Because I like Kordweiler very much.This man was murdered by someone we all probably knew. The next afternoon, Kodweiler's brother and a fellow professor came from Boston to identify the body.He was not married and was clearly a loner.His younger brother, John Caldwell, stared at the corpse.nodded. "Henry, yes. Burnt, but I recognize him. Haven't heard from him for months, and I suppose he's not always very friendly." "I know him very well," I said to his brother. "He's a friend to all of us here." "Where are his notes, his manuscript?" This is the first time I think of these things. "He's gone to Boston by train. I helped him get the safe to the station." John Caldwell smiled wryly. "The damn safe! I used to joke about that with him, and you thought he was moving Wells Fargo gold." "The key is probably one of these," Sergeant Lan Si said, taking out the key ring we found from the deceased, "but I don't know where the shipping receipt is. I'm afraid it was burned." "I'll go pick it up with you," I volunteered. "We can check the receipt number at the station here." For some reason, Kodweiler's notes became very important to me. I recalled the skull on the second floor, and the old newspapers that the naturalist writer found.Was there in his diary some forgotten crime he had encountered?It occurred to me that he never let me see what he wrote afterwards--what I saw was only the pages written in the first few months, or those newspaper clippings that he interspersed in his notes.What exactly had he written in the last few months?Could it be something important enough to cost him his life? We obtained a copy of the shipping receipt and headed to Boston the next morning.I hadn't seen the city in two years, and driving through Dazhong Park on the way to the North Station made me suddenly want to go back here.Life in rural New England had its charms, but it also had its drawbacks, and there wasn't a single girl in all of North Hills so pretty as I had seen. Kodweiler and I waited patiently for them to find the familiar safe and take it out.When I saw the clerk walking over effortlessly, I suddenly felt a chill down my back.Henry Codweiler and I had a hard time carrying it into the station. "Seems to be empty," said the clerk.Put the safe on the counter. The younger brother stared at me. "empty?" "Impossible," I said.I found the key, unlocked it, and lifted the cover. The safe was empty. Henry Caldwell's notes disappeared without a trace.
My nurse Aibo was much more sympathetic than Sergeant Lens (continued the old doctor).She canceled all but the most urgent patient visits that afternoon, then sat with me in the office after the last patient had left.She may not be as young and pretty as the girls in Boston, but I bet she's a better nurse than any of them. "Is the safe empty?" I nodded. "Empty. Thirty journals and twenty books—all gone. Not a trace." "Someone stole it!" she immediately concluded. "Of course. But how did you steal it?" "Break the box." "No, it's made of very hard wood, with iron sheets on the sides and iron bars all over it. And the lock on it hasn't been picked--I've checked it carefully. Damn it, Abby, that's a One of those bank safes! The only thing I found was a little hole drilled in the bottom of the box. And, I almost forgot. There was some sawdust in the box." "Sawdust?" I nodded again. "Our gentleman on the beam got his hands on the box somehow in the car or in Boston, and he evaded all the guards, turned the box over, drilled a little hole in the bottom an eighth of an inch in diameter--and Thirty-six notebooks and so many books were taken from that little hole. And they haven't been seen yet." "Well, that's simply impossible, Dr. Sam." "I know," I said sullenly. Although Aibo was quite sympathetic to my confusion, Inspector Lens was not.He didn't want to hear about the missing notes. "That was a headache for the police in Boston," he told me. "I've got a murder case on my hands." "Can't you see that it's the same thing. Sheriff? Whoever stole the notes killed Kordweiler. So he couldn't rewrite it." Chief Lan Si shrugged his shoulders. "That box might be empty from start to finish." "The safe was not empty! I helped put the books in there myself, and I carried him to the station. The bill of lading stated that it weighed forty-five pounds. The empty case—when we found it later—weighed only eleven pounds. All in all Thirty-four pounds of notebooks and books are gone!" "You said a small hole was drilled under the box, maybe someone poured strong acid into it." "The acid ruins everything, but the single safe itself is intact?" The sheriff waved his hand. "I don't know, don't bother me with this, I'm ready to arrest someone." This news took me by surprise. "Arrest? Who?" "You'll know." I actually figured it out the next day.Old Minnie Duranger brought me news. "My God, Dr. Sam, the Sheriff is going to arrest Seth Hawkins for murder." "Seth?" I couldn't believe it. "That's impossible." "Sheriff Lansi said that the kid was afraid he would have to reopen the mill. So he burned it down, and Kodweiler happened to see it and was killed." I rushed out of the clinic angrily. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." I found Sergeant Lens at the prison, and he just filled out the arrest form. "I think the case is pretty close," he said. "Of course he hasn't confessed yet." "Listen, Sheriff! I was with Seth Hawkins when the mill caught fire. We were watching a cockfight at Cagin's Point, twelve miles away." "Yes, he told me." "You don't believe him? It's true." "Oh, I do believe he's all right. I believe you too, Dr. Sam. But that's the kind of alibi a murderer would think of, isn't he? A candle was set to a pile of oiled rags, and the candle was slowly burnt out, and the rags caught fire. By that time he was twelve miles away." "Have you found any such evidence?" "No, but I'll find it. I caught the murderer before you this time. Doctor." "I didn't know we were racing." Dejected, I returned to the clinic to find Minnie Duranger still waiting. "How did he say?" "Didn't say anything," I admitted. "He thinks Seth killed the man." "What do you think, Dr. Sam?" "He's probably as innocent as you are, and I want to prove it." I bought something from a medical equipment supplier in Boston, which was actually experimental, knowing that if something went wrong, I might lose my medical license.But I still felt it was worth the risk.That afternoon, I told Aibo about my plan. "I need your assistance when I go to the prison," I said. "Sounds dangerous, Dr. Sam." "Everything is dangerous." "Will Chief Lan Si agree?" "Don't know," I admitted, but I was going to find out. I found him in the sheriff's office and said straight to the point, "If there was a chemical—a drug—that could tell you whether Seth Hawkins was guilty or not." "Yes, doctor, if there is such a chemical, I'll be out of a job!" "I'll tell you—there is. It was in the July 9th issue of Time magazine a few weeks ago. It's a thing called scopolamine, which is a poisonous The alkaloid anesthetic is extracted from nightshade that can kill. It's like a hypnotic. After injection, the person can't tell lies. They tried it in San Quentin Prison, and also in Chicago and Germany used it." "A kind of honesty serum?" Chief Lan Si laughed, "Do you believe in such nonsense?" "I believe I bought a sample of scopolamine when I was in Boston, and if you say yes, and Seth promises, I'd like to try it on him." "That's crazy!" growled the sheriff, losing his sense of humor. "What have you got to lose? If he's guilty, don't you have his confession?" "Right……" The reports in the magazines were careful to state that such confessions could not be used in court proceedings, since confessions cannot be used as evidence in court, but I don't think it's necessary to tell Inspector Lens that.I'm pretty sure he heard no confession at all. "How? Would you like your arrest to be backed by scientific experiments?" He thought about it for a while, and finally said, "Let's see what the prisoner will say." Seth Hawkins trusted me.It was agreed on the spot.Aibo came to help in her nurse uniform and I opened my purse.I've never used hyoscyamine before, but I've looked at the dosage to make sure I'm taking it correctly. As soon as the medicine kicked in, I started asking him, "Seth, do you know anything about the fire at the mill?" "have no idea." "You set the fire. Or did you ask someone else to do it for you?" "no." "Did you kill Henry Caldwell?" "no." "Did you hit him, or push him down?" "No, he's my friend." Sergeant Lens pushed me aside to lead the questioning: "Hey, listen up, Seth, you don't want to reopen the mill, do you?" He hesitated for a moment, then replied: "I can't run the business like my father, I'm afraid I will fail." "So you burned the mill." "No!" "Do you know who set the fire?" "have no idea." I took over again. "Seth, do you know who stole Kodweiler's notes from the safe?" "have no idea." "Do you know how it was stolen?" "have no idea." Sergeant Lens held up a hand. "We can't ask for results, doctor, and I told you I wasn't interested in that safe. As for your honesty serum—it proves nothing to me either. Unless you're giving everyone in the county a shot. To Until you find someone who admits to killing him, the kid will be in jail." I looked at Aibo and she nodded.The sheriff was right, and I myself might think Seth was innocent.But I didn't have legal proof.As for the sheriff, there was no evidence that Seth's murder had nothing to do with it.A case like this can be prosecuted on evidence or on general opinion. "Okay," I said, "let him rest now, the effect of the medicine will wear off soon." On our way back to the clinic, Aibo said, "You really hope that an old dog like Sergeant Lens will be as obedient as a puppy because you let him see some new drugs, roll over if you want him to roll over, and sit if you want him to sit." Do you want to sit down?" "I don't think so, but it's worth a try. At least I'm sure Seth is innocent." "You already knew that." "Not bad." I agreed. "Then who is the murderer? Do you think that Kodweiler fell and died accidentally, and also caused a fire?" I shook my head. "He suffered multiple blows to the head, so it could not have been caused by a fall. Besides, if the death and the fire were both accidents, who stole his notes from the safe?" "You keep coming back to the safe!" I lean back my chair and put my feet on the table. "I believe that's the point, Ib. The safe with the sawdust in it." "You said the bill of lading was never found. Perhaps the murderer used that bill to get the real safe and then replaced it with a fake one." "No, I believe the bill of lading was burned in the fire. If the safe was taken out first and then sent back after being exchanged, the number of the bill of lading will be different. Besides, I remember that there is a scuffed place on the lid of the box .It turns out the safe was good. When I put the suitcase in my car—" I stopped short. "What's wrong?" Aibo asked. "My car." "What happened to your car?" I hold up a hand. "Let me think about it first." "My God, Dr. Sam—" My feet hit the ground and I walked out into the street. "I've got to go to the newspaper to check something. Aibo." "What kind of thing?" "An address." An hour later, I returned to the sheriff's office.He looked at me with dull, tired eyes and said, "Now what's the trick again? Doctor? And the Honest Serum trick?" "No tricks. If you'll come with me, I'll probably be able to solve this case for you and hand over the real murderer to you." "Follow you where?" "To Abina City." "Abina! Isn't that in the next state?" "I know. I've checked the map after I found the address I want. It's just a wild guess, but it's worth a try. Are you coming?" "What are you going to do?" "If we're lucky, we'll catch the murderer." "I can't go to Abina City and make arrests." "Then we'll find one or two local deputy sheriffs on the way. You must know the sheriff there." "Er. Sure, I know him, but—" "Come on, then, we can't waste any more time."
I put Sergeant Lens in my convertible and got a carload of local police officers out of town in Abena, which was bigger than North Hills, with neat rows of houses lining shady streets . "That white house over there," I pointed out from the street corner. "It didn't look like anyone was home," said Sergeant Lens. "It's really just speculation on my part, but let's figure it out." 然后，突然之间，我看到大门开了，一个胡子刮得很干净的人，穿着一套黑西装，从前面的阶梯走了下来，朝我们这边看了一眼。我很不愿意做我必须要做的那件事，可是现在已经不能回头了，我横过街去拦住了他。 “我相信我们彼此认得吧，”我说。 他的眼光只迟疑了一下，在估量他的机会。“你认错人了，”他咕哝道。 “对不起，狄洛斯，”我说，“可是我们全知道了。” 他的左手动得很快，把我一把拉倒，右手伸进了上装里面，抽出一把枪。很短的左轮手枪，我在突然袭来的恐惧中发现自己整个做错了。现在他会逃之夭夭，而我在忙乱一场之后会死在这里。他不是个朋友，是个被逼到绝路的凶手。 但紧接着在我身后有另一支枪开了火，狄洛斯身子转过去，用手压紧在腰侧。蓝思警长跑了过来。一脚踢开那支跌落在地的左轮手枪，用手铐铐上了那个受伤的人。我从来没看到警长的动作这么快过。 “快叫救护车，”他对一名当地的警察叫道，“他血流得很多，”然后对我说，“你满意了吗？” "I suppose so." “这就是狄洛斯，那个越狱的逃犯？” I nodded. “可是我们比较认得他是亨利·柯德维勒。” “柯德维勒！他已经死了！” “我知道，狄洛斯在六个月前杀了他，然后冒充是他，住在磨坊里。”
在开车回北山镇的路上，我又得重说一遍，而即使在我说清楚了之后，蓝思警长仍然还有疑问。他只知道他开枪打伤并逮捕了一名越狱逃犯。过了好一阵才想通其他的问题。 “你知道，警长，归根到底，失踪的手记才是关键所在。我看到柯德维勒把那些手记放进保险箱里——我甚至还帮了他的忙。我搬了那个箱子，看着他们称过重量，送上货车。可是等箱子运到波士顿，里面却是空的，不可能？当初看来的确如此。后来我才想起在我汽车的行李舱里摸到有湿湿的感觉，而开车去火车站时，那个保险箱就是放在那里。湿湿的加上箱子底有个小洞再加上里面的木屑——全部相加所得到的答案是什么？” “你把我考倒了，”蓝思警长承认道。 “融化的冰，警长。” "ice?" “冰。我记得在他们叫我上楼去看一个老的头骨之前，看到柯德维勒盖上保险箱的盖子，等我回到楼下来的时候，他又在盖上箱盖。他算定了塞思会找到那个头骨而叫蜜妮和我上去，要是塞思没叫的话，柯德维勒也会用别的什么理由把我们弄出那个房间。我们离开之后，他很快地把书本和手记从保险箱里拿出来，换进一块大约有三十五磅重的冰。保险箱上了锁，而我帮着把那块冰送上了我的车子。” "Damn it!" “当然那个小洞是用来让水流出去的，在我车子里时就开始了。其余的大概会在货车车厢里形成一条小溪，可是等到箱子运到波士顿的时候，水不是蒸发掉了，就是从货车车厢的门里流出去了。反正，搬行李的人根本没注意到。而我们却发现一个空保险箱在等我们。” “锯木屑是怎么回事？” “这正是让我确定这件事的线索。我们都知道柯德维勒去年冬天帮忙把溪里结的冰锯下来，贮放在磨坊隔壁的冰库里，像这样贮存的冰块向来都是裹在锯木屑里来防止融化的。柯德维勒从冰库里弄了块冰来替代手记和书本的重量，冰融化得无影无踪，但还剩下锯木屑。” “好吧，好吧，”蓝思警长同意道，“可柯德维勒为啥偷了他自己的手记呢？没道理嘛！” “我就是这样才知道坷德维勒不是柯德维勒，”我说，“那个真正的柯德维勒说什么也没理由要安排这么麻烦的失踪事件，尤其是他本来还要在几天之内亲自到波士顿去取那个保险箱就更不会了。手记失踪要有道理，只有他知道会是别人去取那个保险箱，还有他知道到那时候他已经死了。既然头上有那样的伤就不可能是自杀的话，我只有考虑这个我们认得是柯德维勒的人其实就是凶手的可能性。” “可那些手记为啥一定得不见呢？你漏了这部分没说。” “手记一定得不见是因为其中一部分根本就不存在！回想起来，我记得柯德维勒只让我看过他最初几个月里所写的手记。后来的部分我看到的只是搜集一些旧报纸里的资料什么的。事实上，没有证据显示柯德维勒在今年新年之后写过一张东西。 “我还知道些什么别的呢？之前那个留着大胡子的自然主义作家一直离群索居，然后，过了几个月，他突然变得很友善，甚至还帮忙在河上锯冰。柯德维勒最初来租磨坊住的时候，塞思·霍金斯很不喜欢他。可是等到他正月时再见到他的时候，他们就成了朋友。柯德维勒的个性似乎在新年过后就改变了，他的性格变了，写作停止了。为什么呢？因为亨利·柯德维勒成了另外一个人。” 我停了一下让他听清楚，然后很快地继续说下去。“后来我想起了那个叫狄洛斯的逃犯，在元旦那天越狱时杀死了一名警卫。这个想法很不可能，但所有的都能兜在一起。狄洛斯在逃狱的那天夜里来到磨坊，知道了那个自然主义作家打算做些什么，杀了他，假冒他的身份。狄洛斯运气很好的是他们身材差不多，他只需要留起一把大胡子。就可以冒充了。留大胡子的男人看起来都很像。 “你一定知道，逃犯最危险的时候就是最初的六个月左右，因为警方会监视他的住处和家人。我决定那个人是狄洛斯之后。就查到他的住址，把你带到那里。他也许是回去看看或是暂住一下，我原先就希望他会这样。” “他为啥不就一直住在磨坊里呢？” “因为真正的柯德维勒是在休一年的假，要是他九月不回去教课的话，他的朋友们就会来找他而发现真相了。” 我们现在已经快到北山镇了，可是蓝思警长还有问题。“好吧，可在火里的那具尸体呢？就连我们小地方的验尸官也看得出一个人是不是死了六个月以上了！这么久以来。这具尸体都在哪儿？又为啥看起来像刚被杀的一样？” “你应该知道这个问题的答案，狄洛斯把柯德维勒的尸体藏在隔壁冰库里。尸体和从蛇溪里来的冰一起冻在里面。我猜这也是狄洛斯得在七月就抽身，而不能等到九月的原因。他一直在注意冰库，想必看到他们一块块冰拿出去用，已经就快要发现那具冰冻的尸体了。” “然后那场火——” I nodded. “当然是要烧掉那些空白的手记。可是把磨坊烧掉的最主要原因却是个很特别的原因，狄洛斯必须要处理掉他六个月之前杀掉的那个人的尸体呀。”
Notes: Wait.