Chapter 9 Country Inn Mystery
"Oh, come in," said Dr. Sam Hawthorne, pulling the door open. "You've come just in time. Could - er - have a drink and a story. I thought I promised you this time about an old country inn where there was a masked robber, and it turned out Probably a ghost. It was the early summer of 1926, not long after the Loach case, when the feud between Whitehead and Corey was still unfinished, you must remember they were in Jeff Whitehead There was a duel on Hay's farm, and Eustace Corey, owner of one of the two grocery stores in North Hills, got shot in the leg..."
After Eustace was released from the hospital in Flick (continued Dr. Sam), I checked him in about once a week.The gunshot wound to his thigh is healing well, though there is still a possibility of a secondary infection. I had just come back from Eustace's when I got a message from my nurse, Aibo, at the door of the clinic. "Sergeant Lens called. He wants you to get to the ferry house. Says someone's been shot there." "Thanks, Aibo," I said, turning around and heading for the waiting Arrow convertible.Looks like today is a busy day. The Ferry House is the most like a real country inn in North Hills. It is located on Post Road, just at the head of the ferry that used to cross Snake Creek.Of course, the ferry does not operate at night. The business travelers who want to cross the river used to go to the small hotel to settle the problem of board and lodging, and continue their journey in the morning.The Ferry House was built in 1802 and survived into the twentieth century, although Snake Creek is much narrower now and a bridge has long since been built to replace the ferry. The owner of the inn is William Stoker, a retired lawyer who moved to North Hills with his wife five years ago.During my first winter in town Mrs. Stoker died of influenza, and there was a panic about a 1919-like pandemic.Fortunately, except for a few isolated cases, there is no serious problem.Stoker, a vigorous man in his sixties, buried his wife in the back of the lodge and continued to operate. On this day, a sunny Monday in June, Liam Stoker had lost all energy.I got to the lodge, parked my convertible behind the sheriff's car, and the first thing I saw when I walked in was Stoker's body sprawled out on the carpet near the front counter.Not much blood was shed. "When did it happen?" I asked Sergeant Lens. "I've been looking for you for about two hours." "You don't need me, this man is dead." "That's true!" said the sheriff, covering the body again with a sheet. "A shot at close range pierced the chest." I glanced into the dining room to the right and recognized the clerk at the counter at the lodge station—a little Benny Fields, hunched over a glass of smuggled whiskey.There were other people in the room, but I couldn't recognize who they were. "What happened?" I asked. Sergeant Lens pulled his trousers up over his growing belly. "Benny was finishing up his weekend bills and was about to go to the bank when a robber came in through the front door, and Benny said he was wearing a tasseled leather jacket and had an old Western revolver like A bandit or a highwayman wears a black mask." I snorted when I heard this. "Benny must have had too much to drink." "Anyway, Stoker, who was originally upstairs, came down at this juncture. The robber took a look and shot him through the chest. Then the robber heard voices on the road ahead. He hurriedly escaped from the corridor to the back door. gone." The corridor was under the stairs leading to the second floor. There used to be doors in the corridor that led to the kitchen and a bedroom at the back, but these doors had long since been sealed and papered over.That corridor now leads nowhere but to the back door, and outside the back door is a gravel parking lot, big enough for three or four cars. I looked back at the counter, there was a large stack of bills still there. "He ran away without taking the money?" "I didn't take the money, but I didn't run away." "Did you catch him?" Sergeant Lan Si nodded a little proudly. "Benny said the murderer ran down the long corridor, and you can see for yourself that it leads to the back door, and the problem is, that door is bolted from the inside. No one can run out and bolt like that. " "What's the meaning?" "I mean Benny is lying, and I'm going to get him for the murder of William Stoker."
I went into the room to the table where Benny was sitting and pulled the chair across from him. "What do you think, Benny?" He looked up at me like a trapped animal. "No, Dr. Sam, I don't get called a murderer every day." "Tell me what happened, okay? Everything from when you got to work this morning." "Like I told the sheriff, the masked man—" "Everything, start from the beginning." Benny sighed and started over. "Well, you know our business isn't as good as it used to be around here, especially after Prohibition or something. But we usually have a room or two upstairs with guests, and on the weekends the restaurant is pretty good. Stoker lived upstairs—after his wife died, he lived alone—and Mrs. Adams, the maid, lived upstairs, and I lived by myself just across the bridge from Snake Creek. Anyway, every Monday At eight o'clock in the morning, the first thing I do when I come to work is to open the safe, add up the income from selling food on the weekend, sometimes it is a lot of income in the summer like this, and people drive all the way from Boston-" "How good?" I asked. "Over five hundred this weekend." "How many guests are living upstairs now?" "Only one—one Mr. Smith." "So at the time of the robbery—or attempted robbery—it was just you and Mr. Stocker in this lodge. Plus Mrs. Adams upstairs and this Mr. Smith?" "Yes, the kitchen helpers don't come in until late in the afternoon on Mondays." His eyes shifted to the nearby table. "Before then, if we wanted something to eat, Mrs Adams would make it for us." I followed his gaze and saw a tall woman who looked a bit like a man. She was drinking tea and talking to one of the sheriff's men. "Go on with your story," I said. "Well, I was counting the money when the front door slammed open and in came the masked man dressed like a typical robber—leather jacket with tassels, black mask, western hat, and a revolver. " "What does he look like?" "Medium height, maybe a little taller than me, a big beard showing under the mask, that's all I can tell you, oh - a little beard on the chin too. Might be fake." "Fat? Or thin?" He shrugged. "medium." "Go on." "He pointed the gun at me and pointed at the money," Benny trembled and drank another sip of whiskey, "I immediately understood what he meant." "He didn't speak?" "No." "Strange. Inspector Lens said that Stoker came downstairs at this moment. What alarmed him?" "I guess he heard me and asked what the guy was up to. Anyway, as soon as the robber saw Stoker, he turned around and shot him in the chest, and I hid behind the counter, and the killer heard him outside right away. There were voices, two delivery men brought in the meat for this week." "Did they see the murderer?" Benny shook his head. "If they'd seen it, I wouldn't be in such a mess. He turned and walked down the hallway to the back door." "Did you actually see or hear him go out?" "Well, no—but he must have gone out. I yelled at the two meatmen that someone had shot someone, and I ran down the corridor, too. But he was gone, so We all ran out. There was no sign of him, and we reckoned he's gone to hide in the woods around the stream." "Did you see any footprints?" I asked. "No, but the outside is full of gravel, and it hasn't rained recently. We don't think there will be any footprints left." "So you called the sheriff?" "Yes. He's been here in less than ten minutes, and he's had a good look around. I haven't looked that closely at the back door, so I was as surprised as anyone else when he said it was bolted from the inside." "Are the back doors usually bolted?" "It's only bolted at night. Stoker usually opens the back door first thing in the morning, so I assumed it was open. He must have hadn't opened it before he was shot." "So the sheriff thinks you did it." "Yes! He said where the masked bandit could go, and he was right—nowhere!" "Let's go see that corridor." The body had been removed, and Sergeant Lence was outside supervising their transport to the town in an old World War ambulance converted from an army ambulance.I glanced out at the sheriff, and then I headed down the back corridor, which was about three feet wide and twenty feet long, with only a wooden door at the bottom. Like Fields said, it was impossible to see the door behind the counter at this end, the hallway had faded floral wallpaper, a few water spots near the ceiling, and a long A solid strip of brown linoleum clearly ruled out a floor trap door. I checked the floor anyway, and tapped the wall with my knuckles, and near the bottom I heard a hollow sound in both walls. "what is this?" "There used to be a door to the kitchen on the right, and a bedroom on the left, which has been turned into a storage room. In this century, they sealed those two doors and put up wallpaper. We both used The doors on the other side go into and out of those two rooms. This corridor is only for guests who park in the back." I could see the latch was latched and it wasn't easy to pull back and forth.The bolt was screwed to the door, and the socket of the bolt was screwed to the frame, all tightly in place.I knocked on the door panel, but there was no secret door there either.The doorposts themselves were weather-sealed with rubber strips, so the doors opened and closed silently.Outside is just a gravel-paved parking lot. I turned to look at the ceiling. "What's on top?" I asked. Fields thought for a moment. "Upstairs in the passage leading to Mrs. Adams' room." "I'm going to see." I went back to the dining room and introduced myself to Mrs. Adams, whose powerful face looked pretty up close, especially because of the lipstick she was wearing—one of the few in town. woman with lipstick and rouge. "You saw the doctor for my sister-in-law who lives on the mountain over there," she said. I remember that person—a middle-aged woman with a gynecological problem, and unfortunately I wasn't able to help her much. "I'm doing an investigation for Sheriff Lens," I said. "I wonder if you could take me upstairs." "Okay," she said coldly. As I climbed the creaking front stairs, I asked her about their only paying guest. "Is he down in the dining room?" She shook her head. "Still out of the room. There's a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, and he's still sleeping all the time." "It seems a little strange." She just shrugged her shoulders, and when she got to the top of the stairs, she asked, "What do you want to see?" "Just take a look around, which one is your room?" "This room." She didn't intend to open the door. "Can I have a look inside?" I asked. She gave me a disgusted look, then unlocked the door.The room was immaculately kept and had a fake colonial feel to it like the rest of the ferry house. "Satisfied?" she asked. "Is this right above the corridor downstairs?" "I think so, I never thought about it." "Did you know that the murderer disappeared down there without a trace?" For the first time, her cold face had an expression similar to a smile. "You think he came here through the ceiling?" "I've seen almost as strange a thing as this." I walked out the door and saw the "Do Not Disturb" sign still hanging on the opposite door. "I think it's time to wake Mr. Smith up." I knocked lightly on the door. no respond. I hit harder. "You'll wake the poor man," protested Mrs. Adams. "Have you ever thought, Mrs. Adams, that this sleepy Mr. Smith might be the masked murderer who mysteriously disappeared?" "What?" What I said seemed to confuse her. "But how is that possible? He's upstairs!" I knocked again, and this time a vague voice answered, "Go away, I'm going to bed." "Mr. Smith, I must talk to you. There was a murder downstairs." "Go away!" But I kept knocking on the door, feeling more and more suspicious.If Mr. Smith did not want to be seen, all the more reason to see him. Finally, I heard the lock unlocked inside, and the door opened about an inch or so, and that was all I had to do, and I bumped my shoulder against the door, forcing it open all the way. The man in the room, the mysterious Mr. Smith, was none other than our former dueling farmer, Jeff Whitehead.
"Hey, Jeff, I didn't expect to see you here," I said, pretending not to be that surprised. "I—I'm so glad it was you, doctor, since I heard Cory was out of the hospital. I was afraid he'd come and kill me." "You mean because of your stupid duel?" Whitehead nodded. "We've been arguing for ages. Even after I hit him, he was yelling that the duel wasn't fair and he didn't have a chance to shoot. He swore he was going to shoot that shot and said wait for his legs Better. He's coming for me." "So you're hiding here? It's not too far away." "I don't want to leave my family behind. I figured if I could stay here for a few days, and when Corey stopped looking for me, I'd be safe." "Does anyone know you're here?" He shook his head. "I told my son I was going away for a few days, that's all." I sat down on the bed, being careful not to disturb the flat covers. "You know, Jeff, you and Corey are middle-aged people with children, and it's time to behave like adults and stop being children. It's stupid enough to have a duel, Hiding here will only make you stupider, go back to your house, or you will get in a lot of trouble." He looked puzzled. "What do you mean? What happened downstairs?" "Didn't you hear the gunfire?" "Gunshots? No—I must have fallen asleep, but I think there's a lot of people coming and going. Saw an ambulance." "The boss here, William Stoker, was shot and killed by a masked robber trying to steal the money." "Oh my God!" "How well do you know Stoker?" "Barely know each other, that's why I chose this place to hide, and the staff at the counter didn't recognize me either." "Then you don't know anything about this murder?" "I don't know, I haven't been out of this room since last night." "Okay," I said, "Listen, stay here for now. Sergeant Lens is downstairs, and I know he's going to ask you, but I won't tell anyone about you but him. it's here." I left him in the room and went downstairs.Mrs. Adams was standing in the upstairs passage watching me pass, but she said nothing. Downstairs, I told the sheriff about Jeff Whitehead. "Do you think he has anything to do with this?" Lan Si asked. "I don't think so. I don't see how it could be involved." Another thing came to my mind. "The two people who brought the meat, the two who came in after the murder happened? Are they still there?" Chief Lan Si shook his head. "I asked them and let them go. They had other deliveries and their ice was melting fast today. I know these guys anyway—Tommy Bay and George Kraft. They all work at the North Hills Cannery, you know, and they drive a red wagon with a picture of a big bull on it." "I want to talk to them." "Do you agree that Benny Fields should have killed Stoker? Or do you think it's just another impossible crime of your kind?" "I don't know yet. But can you wait until tomorrow to arrest Fields? He's not going anywhere anyway, and maybe then I'll have a better idea of what the case is all about." Sergeant Lens wasn't very happy about this, but finally agreed. "Well, Doctor, I've believed you before, and I'll believe you again, and if it's not true, I admit it's hard for Fields to make up such a weird story, but I can't explain the door What's the matter with the bolted door inside?" "I can't explain it either." I was driving back into town, taking the most likely route the meat delivery caravan would have taken, and finally I saw the car parked in front of me, not on the road, but in front of the pavilion at Northside Park, and I put the caravan Stop in front of the two horses pulling the cart, trying not to disturb them.Then I went over to the place where Bay and Kraft were chatting with the caretaker of the kiosk, and from what I heard they were talking about the shooting of William Stoker. "How could anyone want to kill him?" the administrator asked. Tommy Bay spat out the tobacco juice. "Damn it, he's going to grab money. He doesn't need any motives. I think old Stoker just happened to be unlucky." As they were walking back to the meat wagon, I stopped them and asked, "Did you see that masked bandit?" Both shook their heads. "No sign of it," said George Craft. "We went round to the back." "Why don't you run down the corridor?" Tommy Bay spat again. "Damn, we don't want to make trouble, that man has a gun! We wanted to see where he ran, but we didn't see him at all." "Thanks, both of you," I said to them.I got back in the car and drove away while Tommy Bay was busy holding the two nervous horses.
I went to see Eustace Corey again that evening.He was bouncing around in the back room of his grocery store far more than I had promised him, and he greeted me a little wincingly. "Hello, doctor, are you here to check me again?" "You shouldn't put that much strain on that leg, not yet." "I know, I know, but there's work to be done." "How's Whitehead?" I asked. "how is he?" "I don't want to see you take a gun and seek revenge." "I wouldn't do that kind of thing." "He thinks you will, he's hiding now," I decided to put the matter out of the way. "Hey, are you willing to meet him with me, shake hands, and wipe out the grudge?" Eustace Corey considered it. "All right," he said at last, "why not." "Very well, I will take you to see him tomorrow morning." Then I went to the sheriff's office and told him what I suggested, and he scoffed at my idea. "Doctor, it's impossible to be a peace envoy in this world." "Would you rather I let them shoot each other?" "No, no, of course not. But now I'm more interested in who shot William Stoker." "Do you still think it was an attempted robbery? Is it possible that the so-called robbery was just a cover-up to cover up the murder?" "Well, doctor, that's the difference between you and me. I didn't believe in robbery stories in the first place. I think Fields killed his boss and made up the masked robber story." "Did you question anyone else in the ferryhouse? The woman, for instance—Mrs. Adams?" Chief Lan Si nodded. "Said she was changing in her room when she heard the gunshot." "Is there Mr. Adams?" "She was a widow, and he died in the war." "Where's Jeff Whitehead?" "I talked to him." "You believe he is hiding from Eustace?" "It seems very likely." "But do you believe it?" "Maybe," said the sheriff, leaning back in his chair. "When are you going to take Corey to meet him?" "Early tomorrow morning." "good luck."
I called up to the ferry house and told Jeff Whitehead I was taking Corey to see him early in the morning.He was very reluctant, but finally agreed. Early the next morning, I called Aibo's house and told her that I had to go to the ferry house first, and I would be busy until almost noon. "If you have an emergency, you can find me there," I said. "When Corey and Whitehead meet, you are the most likely person to see the emergency room." "I hope things go well." I picked up Cory in the convertible shortly after eight and noted with satisfaction that he was not limping as badly today. "It won't be long before you can dance," I assured him. "Ok." He was wearing a hunting jacket, which seemed too thick for a June day, and I also noticed that his right pocket was heavy, and I touched it with my hand, felt the hard revolver, and grabbed it come out. "Damn it. Eustace, you can't go to him with a gun in your pocket! What kind of peace is that?" "I just use it for self-defense, in case something happens to him." "Hey, he won't do anything! So keep this gun with me first." I locked the gun in the side luggage compartment and started the engine.Eustace was still muttering about going to the ferryhouse unarmed, but he was in a much better mood by the time we reached our destination. "Whitehead has a room upstairs," I said. "Let's go straight up. He's waiting for us." I walked over first and opened the front door of the lodge.At first glance, there was no one behind the counter, and I wondered where Benny Fields had gone.Then, just as Corey was limping behind me, I suddenly saw a face appear behind the counter.It was a masked man with a beard and beard, a cowboy hat and a tasseled leather jacket.He was trying to figure out how to open the safe when we walked in the door. When I saw the gun in his hand, I yelled at Cory, "Get down!" There was a deafening gunshot, and the masked man shot directly at us. I feel the bullets tugging at my sleeve as they fly by.Then I heard Corey let out a gasp and fell heavily, and I turned to see him on the ground, blood pouring from a wound on his side near his waist. The masked man raised his gun for a second shot, but then changed his mind and turned and ran down the long corridor toward the back door, just as he had done the morning before. I wanted to go after him, but I had a man on my hand who was bleeding and maybe dying.I knelt beside Eustace, and pressed my handkerchief against the wound to stop the bleeding.His eyes were open, but he seemed about to go into shock. Then, on my knees, I turned my head to look down the corridor. The corridors are empty. And even at this distance, I knew the latch on the back door was still locked.
I had to call for help, but it was a while before Jeff Whitehead emerged from his upstairs room. "What happened?" he asked, seeing Corey lying on the ground. "What happened?" "Didn't you hear the gunshot?" "No, I must have dozed off." "Call an ambulance, hurry up! He's going to the hospital." "Is it bad?" I've just had time to check the wound, and it's not as deep as I feared. "It could have been more serious, probably the heavy jacket saved his life." Whitehead rushed to call an ambulance, and Fields and Mrs. Adams came out of the restaurant. "Where were you two just now?" I asked.Fields' mouth was a little red, probably from lipstick marks. "I was drinking coffee in the kitchen," Fields said. "Mrs. Adams just came to me and asked me if I heard the gunfire." "It's your friend the robber again, who disappeared in the corridor just like yesterday." "My God!" Mrs. Adams looked like she was going to faint. "Is it a ghost?" "Let's go and see that door," I said to Fields. We went to the end of the corridor to check. The heavy bolt was still in place, barring the door from the inside, and it was impossible for anyone to enter or exit the door while it was bolted. With his left hand Benny Fields pressed against the bracket of the casing, and with his right he pulled the latch open. "It's as tight as ever," he said.Then he pushed the door open and we looked outside. Everything was the same as the day before, the gravel parking lot was empty and unmarked, and the woods in the distance were still. I turned around and walked through the corridor the same way. The wallpaper was still faded and water-stained, but it was all stuck firmly.Even the two doors, which had been sealed and wallpapered, were not torn, cracked, or hinged.This time I found a broom from the kitchen and used it to push the ceiling, but I couldn't find an opening. I went back to attend to my patient, with Mrs. Adams and Whitehead at my side, and soon I heard the bell of the ambulance approaching. It was indeed a mystery—and an impossible crime I had never encountered. Am I dealing with a bloodthirsty robber who has the audacity to return to the crime scene?Or am I part of a conspiracy that has been carefully planned to take Eustace Corey's life all along?
I was told at the hospital that Eustace Corey was not in danger, which was the best news I've heard all day.They found the bullet, took it out, and Cory was out of danger. When I got back to the clinic, Sergeant Lens was waiting to talk to me. "Did you really see the masked bandit, doctor?" I nodded. "When we came in, he was hiding behind the counter, apparently trying to break into the safe. He fired one shot, passed me, and hit Corey. Then he ran down the hallway and disappeared." "Does he look like Fields said?" "Exactly the same." I described it. "Why is he so stupid to come back a second time? Because he didn't take the money away the first time?" "Probably. Or he's just waiting by the safe just to shoot Corey." "You said the bullet almost hit you first." "Not bad. If he's aiming at Corey, he's a terrible shot." "Then what's the matter, Doctor?" I thought about it. "He still hasn't got the money today. Maybe he'll come back tomorrow." "Do you believe?" "No," I admitted. "I was going to get Fields up until this morning, and now I don't know what to do. Do you think it's a ghost, doctor?" "Same as the 'ghost' on the bandstand last summer." "You mean it's just playing tricks again? But how the hell did it work? How did it disappear in the hallway? I just can't think of any way to do it." "I can think of two ways," I said to him. "That's where my problem lies, both of which can only be done once, not twice." "Two ways!" "Hey, Sergeant, I want to do an experiment. I want you to get the two meat delivery boys and let them go to the ferry house tonight. Can you do it?" "You mean Tommy Bay and George Craft? No problem, I can get them." "Okay. I'll meet you there at eight o'clock, and maybe we can catch the ghost."
In some respects, it is much more difficult to solve a mystery that can be solved in two ways than to solve a mystery that has no answer.I spent the whole afternoon considering those two possible explanations, and when I finally got in the car and drove to the inn, I finally knew what was going on and how to prove it. I arrived at the Ferry House a few minutes before eight.Benny Fields was sweeping the front porch, looking very unhappy.I asked him what was bothering him, and he replied, "The lawyer came and said that the Stoker heirs might sell the inn and I'd lose my job." "If Sheriff Lens had you in custody, you'd be out of a job," I pointed out. "But how can he catch me now?" "You just hope he doesn't catch it. Is Jeff Whitehead still upstairs?" "I think so, it's still there." I go upstairs.Knocking on his door at the top of the stairs, I thought I saw Mrs. Adams peeking at me from her room opposite.Whitehead immediately answered the door and invited me in. "Is the case solved, doctor?" he asked. "Can I go home?" "I think there will be a breakthrough tonight. You've been free to come and go from the start." "I'm afraid Eustace is going around—" "Nonsense," I said snortingly, "you've never been afraid of Eustace Corey in your life. I know the real reason you're here, so you don't have to lie to me anymore. I know full well— " I was interrupted by the slamming of the front door downstairs, followed by the voice of Sheriff Lens calling my name. "Let's go downstairs," I said to Whitehead, "we want to get this all over with." "I don't want to go," he murmured. "Shall I call them all up?" "don't want……" "Then come on." I walked across the corridor to find Mrs. Adams to come out, and then I led the way down the stairs to the sheriff and the two delivery men who were waiting there. "What did you bring us here for?" Tommy Bay was complaining. "We don't know anything about shooting." I looked at Benny Fields behind the counter, and at Mrs. Adams at the foot of the stairs with a stern face.I even looked down the long corridor to make sure I could see the barred door at the bottom, and this time the masked bandit couldn't get away. "Let me tell you a story," I began. "The story is how William Stoker was shot yesterday morning by a masked robber who escaped through a barred door." "You go tell your story," said George Craft, "I must get back to work." "Well, Stoker was upstairs at the time and was about to come downstairs when he saw a meat van driving up and parked at the door, but he didn't see Bay and Kraft, only a masked man in a dark suit. Tassel's leather jacket, with a western revolver." "What?" said Tommy Bay, tongue-tied. "What the hell is this?" "One of them—it doesn't matter who—comes in with a gun and holds Benny. The other one moves the meat and walks up to the front door, talking to himself so that Benny thinks he's hearing two people talking to each other. .Then Stoker shows up and is shot. The killer escapes down the corridor, unbolts the door, and exits the back door. The meat-bearer comes in, helps Benny tend the dying man, and slips into the corridor, where he The door was re-bolted inside. At the same time, the murderer took off his disguise and reappeared as the deliveryman, and in the chaos Benny never knew that the two deliverymen were not there at the same time." "Well," said Benny Fields, "now that I think about it, that might have been the case." "That's nonsense!" exclaimed George Craft. "And if it were true, why should we bother to bolt the door again?" "To put the murder on Benny Fields," I said, "to make the story he told seem impossible." "Is there any evidence for this statement?" Inspector Len Si asked calmly, with his right hand on the handle of the gun. I took a deep breath. "No. Sheriff, I have no proof--because none of this is true. I'm just saying it could be so." "Not really?" He looked annoyed. "The shooting that happened this morning, Kraft and Bedo were not there at all. And I checked the bolted back door before anyone could get there and tamper with it. The tactics I just described are not today. It might work, so it didn't work yesterday. We can't believe that two different robbers used exactly the same method of crime. No, it was the same man yesterday and today—and because Bay and Kraft couldn't do it today. This kind of thing also proves that they are innocent in yesterday's murder case." "I'm so glad to hear that!" said Tommy Bay. Sergeant Lan Si was not satisfied. "Then why the hell am I bringing them here?" "In this way, I can eliminate the wrong answers first, and then come up with the correct answers." "Damn it! There's no other way, doctor." "No, there is." "If it's true that the door is bolted from the inside, and there's no other way out of the corridor—" "There is indeed no other way. I have personally checked the walls, floors and ceilings on both sides." "The murderer came into the corridor. He didn't go through the barred door, and there was no other way out. What happened to him?" I looked around at the others and started talking, "The second shooting this morning got me off track. For a moment I even thought I was afraid Eustace Curry had been a murder target, And I was bullied into bringing him here for that purpose." I glared hard at Jeff Whitehead. “杰夫很可能是那个蒙面又装了假胡子的强盗。他会在这里的原因听来总有点假假的。昨天早上乱成一团，他却一直躲在房间里，最后还是我硬闯进去。为什么呢？绝不是因为他怕尤士塔斯·柯瑞，这理由太假了。” “你认为怀德海杀了史托克，是为把柯瑞骗到这里来吗？”蓝思警长问道。 “我倒是这样想过——后来我回想起那张床。就是那张床让我知道怀德海做的是什么坏事，也告诉我他是清白的。” 杰夫·怀德海走上前来，开始表示抗议，可是我举起手来制止他。“不用说，不用说，我知道你没有杀任何人。杰夫，你不是那个蒙面强盗。” “那他妈的到底是谁？”蓝思警长追问道，“你把在场的人全都排除了！” 我斜眼看了看亚当斯太太。“凶手始终没说话，也可能是个女人。” “亚当斯太太？” “不是。我正好知道她是清白的。” “那是谁？是怎么做的？” “我实在不愿意承认这件事，警长，可是你一直是对的，根本就没有什么蒙面强盗。是班尼·费尔兹谋杀了他老板之后编出来的故事。” 班尼喉咙里发出一声困兽般的叫声，他转身就跑，再一次冲进那条长走廊里。 可是这回蓝思警长把枪拨了出来。“站住，否则我就开枪了，班尼！”他大叫道。 费尔兹继续往前跑，差不多快到那扇闩着的门前时，警长开了枪。 这回班尼·费尔兹没有消失无踪。
“你说不定会打死他呢，警长。” “我只瞄准他的腿。” 亚当斯太太歇斯底里地把脸贴靠在怀德海的肩膀上，克拉夫特和贝呆站在那里，我请他们之中的一个去叫救护车。 “我应该昨天早上就把他抓起来的，”警长说，“他就是一副有罪的样子。” “我想也是，”我不得不同意，“我猜史托克逮到他在偷钱，否则就是发生了激烈的争执。反正，班尼抽出支左轮手枪来射杀了他的老板。我想这些事先都没有预谋，听到才隔一下子贝和克拉夫特就到了大门口，想必把他吓坏了。 “他想办法把手枪藏在柜台下面，想到什么就编出个故事来——什么蒙面的强盗想来抢钱杀了史托克。他的故事本来也有可能，可是你注意到走廊尽头的那扇门还是从里面闩住的。这下班尼·费尔兹的麻烦大了。” “好吧，第一天的这些情形我明白了，”蓝思警长着急地说，“可是今天早上拿枪伤人是怎么回事？你还看到了那个蒙面的强盗！你看到他就消失在这条走廊里！” “哎，要是你是班尼的话，你会怎么办呢？他目前是没事，可是很可能再过一两天就会给抓起来。他唯一的机会就是再让那个蒙面强盗出现一次——让大家相信他说的是真的。柯瑞和我只是不幸来得不是时候，受害者很可能是再来送货的贝和克拉夫特。他并没有意思要杀尤士塔斯——事实上，不杀死要好得多，因为这样就让他有两个证人来证实真有那个强盗。” “可他的确消失在走廊里呀！你跟我这样说的，医生。” “的确是这样。可是就连这个也是他计划的一部分，当初他想到蒙面强盗的时候，形容那个人穿的都是他自己的衣服——我相信你一定能找到他藏在什么地方，还有那支枪也在一起——其他的描述和他也很合。班尼真是矮的了，可是他说那强盗只比他高一点点。牛仔靴能让他身高增加一两吋，他就是这样等在那里，装扮好躲在柜台后面。” “万一其他的职员——比方说亚当斯太太吧——先看到了他的话，会怎么样呢？” “我相信他不管看到什么人都会开枪——他不在乎他的证人从哪里来，只要有人证实他的故事。”我带着警长回到走廊那头那扇闩着的门前。“他用了一个简单的办法在门闩上玩花样。你记得我昨天检查过门闩，所有的螺丝钉都很紧。可是你看——现在你可以看到把门闩孔钉在门框上的两个螺丝钉周围都有牙签头插着。 “昨天晚上他把这两个螺丝钉拆下来，把洞挖大了一点，其结果是那扇门看起来是闩着的，可是一转门把再一拉，这两个螺丝钉就会由门框里脱出，而门就开了。 “等贾尔兹到了门外，他只要把门关上就行了。松了的螺丝又插回洞里，而门看起来好像仍然是闩着的，过后，他再用牙签的头插进洞里来压紧螺丝钉。” 蓝思警长搔了搔头。 "How did you know?" “两件事。今天早上枪击事件之后，我看到费尔兹，他的嘴巴四周有点红红的。那是他卸下化装时把假胡须扯得太快的结果。然后，他和我到走廊里去检查那扇门的时候，他用左手压着门闩套孔的架子，防备在他抽动门闩的时候螺丝钉会掉下来。” “妈的！你说不定会看到强盗从后门出去！或是跟着跑过去马上试试那扇门。或者那两个螺丝钉可能没插回洞里，却掉在地板上！” “没错，这些事都可能发生，警长——可是没有一样对他的计划有致命的影响。他只要说那两个螺丝钉想必一直是松的，说那强盗昨天就是这样逃出去的。我们明知道他在说谎，可是没办法证明。结果他的花招果然有效，他当然就还是继续搞他看来像不可能的那套啦。” “本来是很简单的杀人事件。他可真弄得好复杂！” “他捏造出一个谎话来掩饰罪行，结果没想到变成了不可能的情况，只好再想个办法来证明一下，让大家相信他。” “杰夫·怀德海和那张床的事呢？到底是怎么回事呀？” 杰夫和亚当斯太太仍然站在一起，我放低了声音。“昨天早上我发现他躲在房间里时，他的床是铺好的，还罩上了床罩，他既然一直没出过房门，门上又挂着'请勿打扰'的牌子，而住小旅舍的人不会自己铺床——尤其是旅舍里还有女仆在当班，我想床是亚当斯太太铺的，因为她跟他一起睡了那张床。这才是他之所以会在这里的真正原因，铺好的床让我知道他们犯了罪——不过不是杀人罪。” 蓝思警长只能搔了搔头说：“真他妈的！”
“哎，”山姆·霍桑医生总结道，“他们发现班尼扮强盗的服装道具和那把枪都藏在厨房那只大炉子后面。查过账之后也发现他多年来一直在偷些小旅舍的钱。所以这个案子就整个解决了。 “再来——呃——一点喝的吗？下回我要跟你讲十一月大选的事——那次选举时，有个人独自在投票间里时被杀了。哎，那才真是件不可能的犯罪哩。”
After Eustace was released from the hospital in Flick (continued Dr. Sam), I checked him in about once a week.The gunshot wound to his thigh is healing well, though there is still a possibility of a secondary infection. I had just come back from Eustace's when I got a message from my nurse, Aibo, at the door of the clinic. "Sergeant Lens called. He wants you to get to the ferry house. Says someone's been shot there." "Thanks, Aibo," I said, turning around and heading for the waiting Arrow convertible.Looks like today is a busy day. The Ferry House is the most like a real country inn in North Hills. It is located on Post Road, just at the head of the ferry that used to cross Snake Creek.Of course, the ferry does not operate at night. The business travelers who want to cross the river used to go to the small hotel to settle the problem of board and lodging, and continue their journey in the morning.The Ferry House was built in 1802 and survived into the twentieth century, although Snake Creek is much narrower now and a bridge has long since been built to replace the ferry. The owner of the inn is William Stoker, a retired lawyer who moved to North Hills with his wife five years ago.During my first winter in town Mrs. Stoker died of influenza, and there was a panic about a 1919-like pandemic.Fortunately, except for a few isolated cases, there is no serious problem.Stoker, a vigorous man in his sixties, buried his wife in the back of the lodge and continued to operate. On this day, a sunny Monday in June, Liam Stoker had lost all energy.I got to the lodge, parked my convertible behind the sheriff's car, and the first thing I saw when I walked in was Stoker's body sprawled out on the carpet near the front counter.Not much blood was shed. "When did it happen?" I asked Sergeant Lens. "I've been looking for you for about two hours." "You don't need me, this man is dead." "That's true!" said the sheriff, covering the body again with a sheet. "A shot at close range pierced the chest." I glanced into the dining room to the right and recognized the clerk at the counter at the lodge station—a little Benny Fields, hunched over a glass of smuggled whiskey.There were other people in the room, but I couldn't recognize who they were. "What happened?" I asked. Sergeant Lens pulled his trousers up over his growing belly. "Benny was finishing up his weekend bills and was about to go to the bank when a robber came in through the front door, and Benny said he was wearing a tasseled leather jacket and had an old Western revolver like A bandit or a highwayman wears a black mask." I snorted when I heard this. "Benny must have had too much to drink." "Anyway, Stoker, who was originally upstairs, came down at this juncture. The robber took a look and shot him through the chest. Then the robber heard voices on the road ahead. He hurriedly escaped from the corridor to the back door. gone." The corridor was under the stairs leading to the second floor. There used to be doors in the corridor that led to the kitchen and a bedroom at the back, but these doors had long since been sealed and papered over.That corridor now leads nowhere but to the back door, and outside the back door is a gravel parking lot, big enough for three or four cars. I looked back at the counter, there was a large stack of bills still there. "He ran away without taking the money?" "I didn't take the money, but I didn't run away." "Did you catch him?" Sergeant Lan Si nodded a little proudly. "Benny said the murderer ran down the long corridor, and you can see for yourself that it leads to the back door, and the problem is, that door is bolted from the inside. No one can run out and bolt like that. " "What's the meaning?" "I mean Benny is lying, and I'm going to get him for the murder of William Stoker."
I went into the room to the table where Benny was sitting and pulled the chair across from him. "What do you think, Benny?" He looked up at me like a trapped animal. "No, Dr. Sam, I don't get called a murderer every day." "Tell me what happened, okay? Everything from when you got to work this morning." "Like I told the sheriff, the masked man—" "Everything, start from the beginning." Benny sighed and started over. "Well, you know our business isn't as good as it used to be around here, especially after Prohibition or something. But we usually have a room or two upstairs with guests, and on the weekends the restaurant is pretty good. Stoker lived upstairs—after his wife died, he lived alone—and Mrs. Adams, the maid, lived upstairs, and I lived by myself just across the bridge from Snake Creek. Anyway, every Monday At eight o'clock in the morning, the first thing I do when I come to work is to open the safe, add up the income from selling food on the weekend, sometimes it is a lot of income in the summer like this, and people drive all the way from Boston-" "How good?" I asked. "Over five hundred this weekend." "How many guests are living upstairs now?" "Only one—one Mr. Smith." "So at the time of the robbery—or attempted robbery—it was just you and Mr. Stocker in this lodge. Plus Mrs. Adams upstairs and this Mr. Smith?" "Yes, the kitchen helpers don't come in until late in the afternoon on Mondays." His eyes shifted to the nearby table. "Before then, if we wanted something to eat, Mrs Adams would make it for us." I followed his gaze and saw a tall woman who looked a bit like a man. She was drinking tea and talking to one of the sheriff's men. "Go on with your story," I said. "Well, I was counting the money when the front door slammed open and in came the masked man dressed like a typical robber—leather jacket with tassels, black mask, western hat, and a revolver. " "What does he look like?" "Medium height, maybe a little taller than me, a big beard showing under the mask, that's all I can tell you, oh - a little beard on the chin too. Might be fake." "Fat? Or thin?" He shrugged. "medium." "Go on." "He pointed the gun at me and pointed at the money," Benny trembled and drank another sip of whiskey, "I immediately understood what he meant." "He didn't speak?" "No." "Strange. Inspector Lens said that Stoker came downstairs at this moment. What alarmed him?" "I guess he heard me and asked what the guy was up to. Anyway, as soon as the robber saw Stoker, he turned around and shot him in the chest, and I hid behind the counter, and the killer heard him outside right away. There were voices, two delivery men brought in the meat for this week." "Did they see the murderer?" Benny shook his head. "If they'd seen it, I wouldn't be in such a mess. He turned and walked down the hallway to the back door." "Did you actually see or hear him go out?" "Well, no—but he must have gone out. I yelled at the two meatmen that someone had shot someone, and I ran down the corridor, too. But he was gone, so We all ran out. There was no sign of him, and we reckoned he's gone to hide in the woods around the stream." "Did you see any footprints?" I asked. "No, but the outside is full of gravel, and it hasn't rained recently. We don't think there will be any footprints left." "So you called the sheriff?" "Yes. He's been here in less than ten minutes, and he's had a good look around. I haven't looked that closely at the back door, so I was as surprised as anyone else when he said it was bolted from the inside." "Are the back doors usually bolted?" "It's only bolted at night. Stoker usually opens the back door first thing in the morning, so I assumed it was open. He must have hadn't opened it before he was shot." "So the sheriff thinks you did it." "Yes! He said where the masked bandit could go, and he was right—nowhere!" "Let's go see that corridor." The body had been removed, and Sergeant Lence was outside supervising their transport to the town in an old World War ambulance converted from an army ambulance.I glanced out at the sheriff, and then I headed down the back corridor, which was about three feet wide and twenty feet long, with only a wooden door at the bottom. Like Fields said, it was impossible to see the door behind the counter at this end, the hallway had faded floral wallpaper, a few water spots near the ceiling, and a long A solid strip of brown linoleum clearly ruled out a floor trap door. I checked the floor anyway, and tapped the wall with my knuckles, and near the bottom I heard a hollow sound in both walls. "what is this?" "There used to be a door to the kitchen on the right, and a bedroom on the left, which has been turned into a storage room. In this century, they sealed those two doors and put up wallpaper. We both used The doors on the other side go into and out of those two rooms. This corridor is only for guests who park in the back." I could see the latch was latched and it wasn't easy to pull back and forth.The bolt was screwed to the door, and the socket of the bolt was screwed to the frame, all tightly in place.I knocked on the door panel, but there was no secret door there either.The doorposts themselves were weather-sealed with rubber strips, so the doors opened and closed silently.Outside is just a gravel-paved parking lot. I turned to look at the ceiling. "What's on top?" I asked. Fields thought for a moment. "Upstairs in the passage leading to Mrs. Adams' room." "I'm going to see." I went back to the dining room and introduced myself to Mrs. Adams, whose powerful face looked pretty up close, especially because of the lipstick she was wearing—one of the few in town. woman with lipstick and rouge. "You saw the doctor for my sister-in-law who lives on the mountain over there," she said. I remember that person—a middle-aged woman with a gynecological problem, and unfortunately I wasn't able to help her much. "I'm doing an investigation for Sheriff Lens," I said. "I wonder if you could take me upstairs." "Okay," she said coldly. As I climbed the creaking front stairs, I asked her about their only paying guest. "Is he down in the dining room?" She shook her head. "Still out of the room. There's a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, and he's still sleeping all the time." "It seems a little strange." She just shrugged her shoulders, and when she got to the top of the stairs, she asked, "What do you want to see?" "Just take a look around, which one is your room?" "This room." She didn't intend to open the door. "Can I have a look inside?" I asked. She gave me a disgusted look, then unlocked the door.The room was immaculately kept and had a fake colonial feel to it like the rest of the ferry house. "Satisfied?" she asked. "Is this right above the corridor downstairs?" "I think so, I never thought about it." "Did you know that the murderer disappeared down there without a trace?" For the first time, her cold face had an expression similar to a smile. "You think he came here through the ceiling?" "I've seen almost as strange a thing as this." I walked out the door and saw the "Do Not Disturb" sign still hanging on the opposite door. "I think it's time to wake Mr. Smith up." I knocked lightly on the door. no respond. I hit harder. "You'll wake the poor man," protested Mrs. Adams. "Have you ever thought, Mrs. Adams, that this sleepy Mr. Smith might be the masked murderer who mysteriously disappeared?" "What?" What I said seemed to confuse her. "But how is that possible? He's upstairs!" I knocked again, and this time a vague voice answered, "Go away, I'm going to bed." "Mr. Smith, I must talk to you. There was a murder downstairs." "Go away!" But I kept knocking on the door, feeling more and more suspicious.If Mr. Smith did not want to be seen, all the more reason to see him. Finally, I heard the lock unlocked inside, and the door opened about an inch or so, and that was all I had to do, and I bumped my shoulder against the door, forcing it open all the way. The man in the room, the mysterious Mr. Smith, was none other than our former dueling farmer, Jeff Whitehead.
"Hey, Jeff, I didn't expect to see you here," I said, pretending not to be that surprised. "I—I'm so glad it was you, doctor, since I heard Cory was out of the hospital. I was afraid he'd come and kill me." "You mean because of your stupid duel?" Whitehead nodded. "We've been arguing for ages. Even after I hit him, he was yelling that the duel wasn't fair and he didn't have a chance to shoot. He swore he was going to shoot that shot and said wait for his legs Better. He's coming for me." "So you're hiding here? It's not too far away." "I don't want to leave my family behind. I figured if I could stay here for a few days, and when Corey stopped looking for me, I'd be safe." "Does anyone know you're here?" He shook his head. "I told my son I was going away for a few days, that's all." I sat down on the bed, being careful not to disturb the flat covers. "You know, Jeff, you and Corey are middle-aged people with children, and it's time to behave like adults and stop being children. It's stupid enough to have a duel, Hiding here will only make you stupider, go back to your house, or you will get in a lot of trouble." He looked puzzled. "What do you mean? What happened downstairs?" "Didn't you hear the gunfire?" "Gunshots? No—I must have fallen asleep, but I think there's a lot of people coming and going. Saw an ambulance." "The boss here, William Stoker, was shot and killed by a masked robber trying to steal the money." "Oh my God!" "How well do you know Stoker?" "Barely know each other, that's why I chose this place to hide, and the staff at the counter didn't recognize me either." "Then you don't know anything about this murder?" "I don't know, I haven't been out of this room since last night." "Okay," I said, "Listen, stay here for now. Sergeant Lens is downstairs, and I know he's going to ask you, but I won't tell anyone about you but him. it's here." I left him in the room and went downstairs.Mrs. Adams was standing in the upstairs passage watching me pass, but she said nothing. Downstairs, I told the sheriff about Jeff Whitehead. "Do you think he has anything to do with this?" Lan Si asked. "I don't think so. I don't see how it could be involved." Another thing came to my mind. "The two people who brought the meat, the two who came in after the murder happened? Are they still there?" Chief Lan Si shook his head. "I asked them and let them go. They had other deliveries and their ice was melting fast today. I know these guys anyway—Tommy Bay and George Kraft. They all work at the North Hills Cannery, you know, and they drive a red wagon with a picture of a big bull on it." "I want to talk to them." "Do you agree that Benny Fields should have killed Stoker? Or do you think it's just another impossible crime of your kind?" "I don't know yet. But can you wait until tomorrow to arrest Fields? He's not going anywhere anyway, and maybe then I'll have a better idea of what the case is all about." Sergeant Lens wasn't very happy about this, but finally agreed. "Well, Doctor, I've believed you before, and I'll believe you again, and if it's not true, I admit it's hard for Fields to make up such a weird story, but I can't explain the door What's the matter with the bolted door inside?" "I can't explain it either." I was driving back into town, taking the most likely route the meat delivery caravan would have taken, and finally I saw the car parked in front of me, not on the road, but in front of the pavilion at Northside Park, and I put the caravan Stop in front of the two horses pulling the cart, trying not to disturb them.Then I went over to the place where Bay and Kraft were chatting with the caretaker of the kiosk, and from what I heard they were talking about the shooting of William Stoker. "How could anyone want to kill him?" the administrator asked. Tommy Bay spat out the tobacco juice. "Damn it, he's going to grab money. He doesn't need any motives. I think old Stoker just happened to be unlucky." As they were walking back to the meat wagon, I stopped them and asked, "Did you see that masked bandit?" Both shook their heads. "No sign of it," said George Craft. "We went round to the back." "Why don't you run down the corridor?" Tommy Bay spat again. "Damn, we don't want to make trouble, that man has a gun! We wanted to see where he ran, but we didn't see him at all." "Thanks, both of you," I said to them.I got back in the car and drove away while Tommy Bay was busy holding the two nervous horses.
I went to see Eustace Corey again that evening.He was bouncing around in the back room of his grocery store far more than I had promised him, and he greeted me a little wincingly. "Hello, doctor, are you here to check me again?" "You shouldn't put that much strain on that leg, not yet." "I know, I know, but there's work to be done." "How's Whitehead?" I asked. "how is he?" "I don't want to see you take a gun and seek revenge." "I wouldn't do that kind of thing." "He thinks you will, he's hiding now," I decided to put the matter out of the way. "Hey, are you willing to meet him with me, shake hands, and wipe out the grudge?" Eustace Corey considered it. "All right," he said at last, "why not." "Very well, I will take you to see him tomorrow morning." Then I went to the sheriff's office and told him what I suggested, and he scoffed at my idea. "Doctor, it's impossible to be a peace envoy in this world." "Would you rather I let them shoot each other?" "No, no, of course not. But now I'm more interested in who shot William Stoker." "Do you still think it was an attempted robbery? Is it possible that the so-called robbery was just a cover-up to cover up the murder?" "Well, doctor, that's the difference between you and me. I didn't believe in robbery stories in the first place. I think Fields killed his boss and made up the masked robber story." "Did you question anyone else in the ferryhouse? The woman, for instance—Mrs. Adams?" Chief Lan Si nodded. "Said she was changing in her room when she heard the gunshot." "Is there Mr. Adams?" "She was a widow, and he died in the war." "Where's Jeff Whitehead?" "I talked to him." "You believe he is hiding from Eustace?" "It seems very likely." "But do you believe it?" "Maybe," said the sheriff, leaning back in his chair. "When are you going to take Corey to meet him?" "Early tomorrow morning." "good luck."
I called up to the ferry house and told Jeff Whitehead I was taking Corey to see him early in the morning.He was very reluctant, but finally agreed. Early the next morning, I called Aibo's house and told her that I had to go to the ferry house first, and I would be busy until almost noon. "If you have an emergency, you can find me there," I said. "When Corey and Whitehead meet, you are the most likely person to see the emergency room." "I hope things go well." I picked up Cory in the convertible shortly after eight and noted with satisfaction that he was not limping as badly today. "It won't be long before you can dance," I assured him. "Ok." He was wearing a hunting jacket, which seemed too thick for a June day, and I also noticed that his right pocket was heavy, and I touched it with my hand, felt the hard revolver, and grabbed it come out. "Damn it. Eustace, you can't go to him with a gun in your pocket! What kind of peace is that?" "I just use it for self-defense, in case something happens to him." "Hey, he won't do anything! So keep this gun with me first." I locked the gun in the side luggage compartment and started the engine.Eustace was still muttering about going to the ferryhouse unarmed, but he was in a much better mood by the time we reached our destination. "Whitehead has a room upstairs," I said. "Let's go straight up. He's waiting for us." I walked over first and opened the front door of the lodge.At first glance, there was no one behind the counter, and I wondered where Benny Fields had gone.Then, just as Corey was limping behind me, I suddenly saw a face appear behind the counter.It was a masked man with a beard and beard, a cowboy hat and a tasseled leather jacket.He was trying to figure out how to open the safe when we walked in the door. When I saw the gun in his hand, I yelled at Cory, "Get down!" There was a deafening gunshot, and the masked man shot directly at us. I feel the bullets tugging at my sleeve as they fly by.Then I heard Corey let out a gasp and fell heavily, and I turned to see him on the ground, blood pouring from a wound on his side near his waist. The masked man raised his gun for a second shot, but then changed his mind and turned and ran down the long corridor toward the back door, just as he had done the morning before. I wanted to go after him, but I had a man on my hand who was bleeding and maybe dying.I knelt beside Eustace, and pressed my handkerchief against the wound to stop the bleeding.His eyes were open, but he seemed about to go into shock. Then, on my knees, I turned my head to look down the corridor. The corridors are empty. And even at this distance, I knew the latch on the back door was still locked.
I had to call for help, but it was a while before Jeff Whitehead emerged from his upstairs room. "What happened?" he asked, seeing Corey lying on the ground. "What happened?" "Didn't you hear the gunshot?" "No, I must have dozed off." "Call an ambulance, hurry up! He's going to the hospital." "Is it bad?" I've just had time to check the wound, and it's not as deep as I feared. "It could have been more serious, probably the heavy jacket saved his life." Whitehead rushed to call an ambulance, and Fields and Mrs. Adams came out of the restaurant. "Where were you two just now?" I asked.Fields' mouth was a little red, probably from lipstick marks. "I was drinking coffee in the kitchen," Fields said. "Mrs. Adams just came to me and asked me if I heard the gunfire." "It's your friend the robber again, who disappeared in the corridor just like yesterday." "My God!" Mrs. Adams looked like she was going to faint. "Is it a ghost?" "Let's go and see that door," I said to Fields. We went to the end of the corridor to check. The heavy bolt was still in place, barring the door from the inside, and it was impossible for anyone to enter or exit the door while it was bolted. With his left hand Benny Fields pressed against the bracket of the casing, and with his right he pulled the latch open. "It's as tight as ever," he said.Then he pushed the door open and we looked outside. Everything was the same as the day before, the gravel parking lot was empty and unmarked, and the woods in the distance were still. I turned around and walked through the corridor the same way. The wallpaper was still faded and water-stained, but it was all stuck firmly.Even the two doors, which had been sealed and wallpapered, were not torn, cracked, or hinged.This time I found a broom from the kitchen and used it to push the ceiling, but I couldn't find an opening. I went back to attend to my patient, with Mrs. Adams and Whitehead at my side, and soon I heard the bell of the ambulance approaching. It was indeed a mystery—and an impossible crime I had never encountered. Am I dealing with a bloodthirsty robber who has the audacity to return to the crime scene?Or am I part of a conspiracy that has been carefully planned to take Eustace Corey's life all along?
I was told at the hospital that Eustace Corey was not in danger, which was the best news I've heard all day.They found the bullet, took it out, and Cory was out of danger. When I got back to the clinic, Sergeant Lens was waiting to talk to me. "Did you really see the masked bandit, doctor?" I nodded. "When we came in, he was hiding behind the counter, apparently trying to break into the safe. He fired one shot, passed me, and hit Corey. Then he ran down the hallway and disappeared." "Does he look like Fields said?" "Exactly the same." I described it. "Why is he so stupid to come back a second time? Because he didn't take the money away the first time?" "Probably. Or he's just waiting by the safe just to shoot Corey." "You said the bullet almost hit you first." "Not bad. If he's aiming at Corey, he's a terrible shot." "Then what's the matter, Doctor?" I thought about it. "He still hasn't got the money today. Maybe he'll come back tomorrow." "Do you believe?" "No," I admitted. "I was going to get Fields up until this morning, and now I don't know what to do. Do you think it's a ghost, doctor?" "Same as the 'ghost' on the bandstand last summer." "You mean it's just playing tricks again? But how the hell did it work? How did it disappear in the hallway? I just can't think of any way to do it." "I can think of two ways," I said to him. "That's where my problem lies, both of which can only be done once, not twice." "Two ways!" "Hey, Sergeant, I want to do an experiment. I want you to get the two meat delivery boys and let them go to the ferry house tonight. Can you do it?" "You mean Tommy Bay and George Craft? No problem, I can get them." "Okay. I'll meet you there at eight o'clock, and maybe we can catch the ghost."
In some respects, it is much more difficult to solve a mystery that can be solved in two ways than to solve a mystery that has no answer.I spent the whole afternoon considering those two possible explanations, and when I finally got in the car and drove to the inn, I finally knew what was going on and how to prove it. I arrived at the Ferry House a few minutes before eight.Benny Fields was sweeping the front porch, looking very unhappy.I asked him what was bothering him, and he replied, "The lawyer came and said that the Stoker heirs might sell the inn and I'd lose my job." "If Sheriff Lens had you in custody, you'd be out of a job," I pointed out. "But how can he catch me now?" "You just hope he doesn't catch it. Is Jeff Whitehead still upstairs?" "I think so, it's still there." I go upstairs.Knocking on his door at the top of the stairs, I thought I saw Mrs. Adams peeking at me from her room opposite.Whitehead immediately answered the door and invited me in. "Is the case solved, doctor?" he asked. "Can I go home?" "I think there will be a breakthrough tonight. You've been free to come and go from the start." "I'm afraid Eustace is going around—" "Nonsense," I said snortingly, "you've never been afraid of Eustace Corey in your life. I know the real reason you're here, so you don't have to lie to me anymore. I know full well— " I was interrupted by the slamming of the front door downstairs, followed by the voice of Sheriff Lens calling my name. "Let's go downstairs," I said to Whitehead, "we want to get this all over with." "I don't want to go," he murmured. "Shall I call them all up?" "don't want……" "Then come on." I walked across the corridor to find Mrs. Adams to come out, and then I led the way down the stairs to the sheriff and the two delivery men who were waiting there. "What did you bring us here for?" Tommy Bay was complaining. "We don't know anything about shooting." I looked at Benny Fields behind the counter, and at Mrs. Adams at the foot of the stairs with a stern face.I even looked down the long corridor to make sure I could see the barred door at the bottom, and this time the masked bandit couldn't get away. "Let me tell you a story," I began. "The story is how William Stoker was shot yesterday morning by a masked robber who escaped through a barred door." "You go tell your story," said George Craft, "I must get back to work." "Well, Stoker was upstairs at the time and was about to come downstairs when he saw a meat van driving up and parked at the door, but he didn't see Bay and Kraft, only a masked man in a dark suit. Tassel's leather jacket, with a western revolver." "What?" said Tommy Bay, tongue-tied. "What the hell is this?" "One of them—it doesn't matter who—comes in with a gun and holds Benny. The other one moves the meat and walks up to the front door, talking to himself so that Benny thinks he's hearing two people talking to each other. .Then Stoker shows up and is shot. The killer escapes down the corridor, unbolts the door, and exits the back door. The meat-bearer comes in, helps Benny tend the dying man, and slips into the corridor, where he The door was re-bolted inside. At the same time, the murderer took off his disguise and reappeared as the deliveryman, and in the chaos Benny never knew that the two deliverymen were not there at the same time." "Well," said Benny Fields, "now that I think about it, that might have been the case." "That's nonsense!" exclaimed George Craft. "And if it were true, why should we bother to bolt the door again?" "To put the murder on Benny Fields," I said, "to make the story he told seem impossible." "Is there any evidence for this statement?" Inspector Len Si asked calmly, with his right hand on the handle of the gun. I took a deep breath. "No. Sheriff, I have no proof--because none of this is true. I'm just saying it could be so." "Not really?" He looked annoyed. "The shooting that happened this morning, Kraft and Bedo were not there at all. And I checked the bolted back door before anyone could get there and tamper with it. The tactics I just described are not today. It might work, so it didn't work yesterday. We can't believe that two different robbers used exactly the same method of crime. No, it was the same man yesterday and today—and because Bay and Kraft couldn't do it today. This kind of thing also proves that they are innocent in yesterday's murder case." "I'm so glad to hear that!" said Tommy Bay. Sergeant Lan Si was not satisfied. "Then why the hell am I bringing them here?" "In this way, I can eliminate the wrong answers first, and then come up with the correct answers." "Damn it! There's no other way, doctor." "No, there is." "If it's true that the door is bolted from the inside, and there's no other way out of the corridor—" "There is indeed no other way. I have personally checked the walls, floors and ceilings on both sides." "The murderer came into the corridor. He didn't go through the barred door, and there was no other way out. What happened to him?" I looked around at the others and started talking, "The second shooting this morning got me off track. For a moment I even thought I was afraid Eustace Curry had been a murder target, And I was bullied into bringing him here for that purpose." I glared hard at Jeff Whitehead. “杰夫很可能是那个蒙面又装了假胡子的强盗。他会在这里的原因听来总有点假假的。昨天早上乱成一团，他却一直躲在房间里，最后还是我硬闯进去。为什么呢？绝不是因为他怕尤士塔斯·柯瑞，这理由太假了。” “你认为怀德海杀了史托克，是为把柯瑞骗到这里来吗？”蓝思警长问道。 “我倒是这样想过——后来我回想起那张床。就是那张床让我知道怀德海做的是什么坏事，也告诉我他是清白的。” 杰夫·怀德海走上前来，开始表示抗议，可是我举起手来制止他。“不用说，不用说，我知道你没有杀任何人。杰夫，你不是那个蒙面强盗。” “那他妈的到底是谁？”蓝思警长追问道，“你把在场的人全都排除了！” 我斜眼看了看亚当斯太太。“凶手始终没说话，也可能是个女人。” “亚当斯太太？” “不是。我正好知道她是清白的。” “那是谁？是怎么做的？” “我实在不愿意承认这件事，警长，可是你一直是对的，根本就没有什么蒙面强盗。是班尼·费尔兹谋杀了他老板之后编出来的故事。” 班尼喉咙里发出一声困兽般的叫声，他转身就跑，再一次冲进那条长走廊里。 可是这回蓝思警长把枪拨了出来。“站住，否则我就开枪了，班尼！”他大叫道。 费尔兹继续往前跑，差不多快到那扇闩着的门前时，警长开了枪。 这回班尼·费尔兹没有消失无踪。
“你说不定会打死他呢，警长。” “我只瞄准他的腿。” 亚当斯太太歇斯底里地把脸贴靠在怀德海的肩膀上，克拉夫特和贝呆站在那里，我请他们之中的一个去叫救护车。 “我应该昨天早上就把他抓起来的，”警长说，“他就是一副有罪的样子。” “我想也是，”我不得不同意，“我猜史托克逮到他在偷钱，否则就是发生了激烈的争执。反正，班尼抽出支左轮手枪来射杀了他的老板。我想这些事先都没有预谋，听到才隔一下子贝和克拉夫特就到了大门口，想必把他吓坏了。 “他想办法把手枪藏在柜台下面，想到什么就编出个故事来——什么蒙面的强盗想来抢钱杀了史托克。他的故事本来也有可能，可是你注意到走廊尽头的那扇门还是从里面闩住的。这下班尼·费尔兹的麻烦大了。” “好吧，第一天的这些情形我明白了，”蓝思警长着急地说，“可是今天早上拿枪伤人是怎么回事？你还看到了那个蒙面的强盗！你看到他就消失在这条走廊里！” “哎，要是你是班尼的话，你会怎么办呢？他目前是没事，可是很可能再过一两天就会给抓起来。他唯一的机会就是再让那个蒙面强盗出现一次——让大家相信他说的是真的。柯瑞和我只是不幸来得不是时候，受害者很可能是再来送货的贝和克拉夫特。他并没有意思要杀尤士塔斯——事实上，不杀死要好得多，因为这样就让他有两个证人来证实真有那个强盗。” “可他的确消失在走廊里呀！你跟我这样说的，医生。” “的确是这样。可是就连这个也是他计划的一部分，当初他想到蒙面强盗的时候，形容那个人穿的都是他自己的衣服——我相信你一定能找到他藏在什么地方，还有那支枪也在一起——其他的描述和他也很合。班尼真是矮的了，可是他说那强盗只比他高一点点。牛仔靴能让他身高增加一两吋，他就是这样等在那里，装扮好躲在柜台后面。” “万一其他的职员——比方说亚当斯太太吧——先看到了他的话，会怎么样呢？” “我相信他不管看到什么人都会开枪——他不在乎他的证人从哪里来，只要有人证实他的故事。”我带着警长回到走廊那头那扇闩着的门前。“他用了一个简单的办法在门闩上玩花样。你记得我昨天检查过门闩，所有的螺丝钉都很紧。可是你看——现在你可以看到把门闩孔钉在门框上的两个螺丝钉周围都有牙签头插着。 “昨天晚上他把这两个螺丝钉拆下来，把洞挖大了一点，其结果是那扇门看起来是闩着的，可是一转门把再一拉，这两个螺丝钉就会由门框里脱出，而门就开了。 “等贾尔兹到了门外，他只要把门关上就行了。松了的螺丝又插回洞里，而门看起来好像仍然是闩着的，过后，他再用牙签的头插进洞里来压紧螺丝钉。” 蓝思警长搔了搔头。 "How did you know?" “两件事。今天早上枪击事件之后，我看到费尔兹，他的嘴巴四周有点红红的。那是他卸下化装时把假胡须扯得太快的结果。然后，他和我到走廊里去检查那扇门的时候，他用左手压着门闩套孔的架子，防备在他抽动门闩的时候螺丝钉会掉下来。” “妈的！你说不定会看到强盗从后门出去！或是跟着跑过去马上试试那扇门。或者那两个螺丝钉可能没插回洞里，却掉在地板上！” “没错，这些事都可能发生，警长——可是没有一样对他的计划有致命的影响。他只要说那两个螺丝钉想必一直是松的，说那强盗昨天就是这样逃出去的。我们明知道他在说谎，可是没办法证明。结果他的花招果然有效，他当然就还是继续搞他看来像不可能的那套啦。” “本来是很简单的杀人事件。他可真弄得好复杂！” “他捏造出一个谎话来掩饰罪行，结果没想到变成了不可能的情况，只好再想个办法来证明一下，让大家相信他。” “杰夫·怀德海和那张床的事呢？到底是怎么回事呀？” 杰夫和亚当斯太太仍然站在一起，我放低了声音。“昨天早上我发现他躲在房间里时，他的床是铺好的，还罩上了床罩，他既然一直没出过房门，门上又挂着'请勿打扰'的牌子，而住小旅舍的人不会自己铺床——尤其是旅舍里还有女仆在当班，我想床是亚当斯太太铺的，因为她跟他一起睡了那张床。这才是他之所以会在这里的真正原因，铺好的床让我知道他们犯了罪——不过不是杀人罪。” 蓝思警长只能搔了搔头说：“真他妈的！”
“哎，”山姆·霍桑医生总结道，“他们发现班尼扮强盗的服装道具和那把枪都藏在厨房那只大炉子后面。查过账之后也发现他多年来一直在偷些小旅舍的钱。所以这个案子就整个解决了。 “再来——呃——一点喝的吗？下回我要跟你讲十一月大选的事——那次选举时，有个人独自在投票间里时被杀了。哎，那才真是件不可能的犯罪哩。”