Chapter 10 The Little Ballot Room Mystery
"Well, it's election day again," said Dr. Sam Hawthorne, pouring his drink. "Election always reminds me of that murder in the little polling booth in North Hills, in November, 1926." Well, Sheriff Lens is running for re-election. I think it's the most unlikely-looking murder case I've ever come across. Before I get started, would you like some—er—drinks? …”
I remember that it rained on polling day in that election.Sergeant Lens is worried that bad weather will keep his supporters at home.He campaigned with great effort against his challenger Henry G. Otis, a man who had just moved to North Hills.He had experience as a sheriff in the South before moving to the North after the death of his wife.Only a few large cities had voting machines in 1926, although they had been approved for various elections as early as 1892.You know, the voting machine was invented by Thomas Edison in 1869--his first patented invention--but it was very different from the machines they use now. Anyway, the town of Beishan still uses ballots, you give your name, you sign the electoral roll, and they give you a ballot.You go into a small curtained voting booth to circle your ballots, and then put your ballots into a box with only a small opening outside the voting booth.It's a simple system, and it works.It's just that after the voting time is closed, it sometimes takes half of the night to correctly count the votes and finally choose the elected person. This day, like I said, it rained all the time.Not a drizzle, but one of those New England rains that you get in the fall, knocking out whatever leaves are left on the trees, and generally being very uncomfortable.Because of the rain, I drove my nurse, Aibo, to the polling place in the back room of Whitney's Barbershop.But to tell you the truth, even if it hadn't rained, she would have asked me to come with her. "Think about it, Dr. Sam! They gave us women the right to vote, and they made us vote in a barbershop." I smile slightly.I want her not to be so excited. "Hey, Aibo, it's not that bad, people on the north side of town vote in that elementary school. We'd have to vote there if it weren't for the town hall renovations. Will Whitney is on the council Commissioner, he kindly let the town use his barbershop as a polling place." "Not only that, Dr. Sam. I read in the papers that women in New York and Chicago usually get places like barbershops to vote." "At least they don't have to go to a hotel to vote. Prohibition takes care of that." We parked the car in front of Will Whitney's store, and Ib put up an umbrella to keep out the pouring rain, and I pulled the car in the back and parked in a clearing that had already formed a lot of puddles.Then I rushed to the back door of the barber shop, hoping I wouldn't get too wet. "Need an umbrella this morning," a voice said to me as I burst through the door.It was Sergeant Lansi himself who spoke, looking fat and happy, trying not to show nervousness or uneasiness. "What are you doing here, Sheriff?" I asked, "doing some illegal campaigning?" "That's not true. The kid from the newspaper wants to take a picture of Otis and I shaking hands outside the small polling booth. What a stupid idea, but I must cooperate." The kid from the newspaper was a young photographer named Manny Sears, who had just come to town recently.This guy, whom I just met a while ago, takes pictures of everything from prize bulls to Mrs. Kelly's twins.I shook his hand and watched as he filled the container with fresh spotlight.This reminds me of the murder at the music station, where the flash powder played a very important role. "Aren't you tired of taking pictures, Manny?" He gave me a very childish smile. "Of course not, Dr. Sam. Photojournalism is so important that the New York Times sometimes puts photographs on its front page instead of pictures." "Are you going to take a photo of the winner shaking hands with the loser?" "Not bad. Friendly enemy, you might call it." Aibo has already taken off her raincoat and shakes the water off the umbrella.The volunteers from both parties behind the table are friends of hers, so she sits down and chats.One of them, Mrs. McGallery, who sees me occasionally, is a Republican, I know, like Sheriff Lenz, and the other lady is Ida Frey, a dry goods seller, who must be a Democrat. It looked like we were the only ones voting, and Will Whitney was busy cutting a customer's hair in front of the store.The guest was a man I didn't know. I don't know why a stranger came to Beishan Town on the polling day when it was raining heavily. "Hey, I gotta vote first," said Aibo.She took a long ballot handed to her by the two ladies behind the desk, and besides the sheriff and the council members, there were several local ordinances to go to the referendum.At the top of that ballot, in front of all the items, are state government officials.It wasn't a presidential election year, but we were electing a governor and a senator, and our local representative. It took a lot of time to see the whole ballot and circle it. Aibo stayed inside for a full two minutes before she came out and put the ballot into the ballot box on her left. "Did you choose the right person?" I asked her with a smile. "I didn't choose anyone in office now—of course. Except Sheriff Lansi." The sheriff smiled and was about to thank her when he was interrupted by the arrival of his opponent.Henry G. Otis came rushing in like rain blown behind him, stamping his wet shoes on the barbershop floor.He took off his glasses and wiped them, squinting his short-sighted eyes to look at our group. "I'm here to take your picture, Mr. Otis," the young photographer announced, camera and highlighter held aloft. "I want you two to stand together in front of the little polling booth." Henry Ortis ignored him, but turned to Will Whitney, who was standing by the barber's chair, and said, "Don't miss the razor, Will. I can't miss a vote today. ’ But when he put his glasses back on and saw the man in the chair better, he seemed taken aback. "You are not from Beishan Town." "Just passing by," the man mumbled, sounding like he had a southern accent to me. Otis turned away quickly, and I wondered if he recognized this person.Will Whitney waved the razor in the air once, then stooped to resume his work.Ada Frey paused her gossip with Aibo and waved a ballot in the candidate's direction. "Henry, come over and vote right away! There's plenty of time to take pictures later." He responded with a slight bow. "Always happy to obey the will of the Party, Ida. How are you, Sheriff? Enjoying your last week as Sheriff?" Sergeant Lan Si muttered a few words.Their rivalry is fierce, with Otis calling Lens a "do-nothing hick," and the sheriff retorting that Otis is an opportunistic politician.I could see their anger was not abating at the polls either.The whole scene made me feel very embarrassed, because I consider myself a good friend of the Sheriff, and I don’t want to see the campaign bring him harm. Maybe all people in politics must go out to win votes, but this has a greater impact on Sheriff Lansi , he is a man who is afraid of losing his job, the matter is as simple as that. Otis took off his raincoat to take a photo, but he still held the ballot that Eileen Frey had given him.The cameraman was busy preparing everything in the small polling booth, but Otis pushed past him. "As I said, vote first, then take pictures." He drew back the heavy black curtain, and I could picture him bending over the ballot papers, pencil in hand. "Would you like some coffee, doctor?" asked Mrs. McGallery, who had already poured a cup. "Alright, it can drive away the cold air." Manny Sears stood about ten feet away from the front of the small polling booth, took his camera and flashing powder and waited for Otis to come out.Will Whitney in the front left his barber chair and went to the back to watch, temporarily leaving his guest behind.Sergeant Lan Si tried his best to ignore these things, and only chatted with Aibo and the two ladies.Outside the house, a gust of wind blew the rain against the barbershop windows. When I saw the Henry Ortis circle ballot, his legs were exposed under the black curtain, and a few minutes passed, and it seemed to take him too long. "Are you all right in there, Henry?" cried Ada Frey at last, for nearly five minutes had passed. "Do you need help?" "I'm almost done," he replied. "The ballot is fucking long!" After another wait, he pushed the curtain aside and came out.He held a folded ballot in his left hand and a pencil in his right, with an extremely surprised expression on his face. He took two shambling steps forward, and I saw blood on the front of his shirt. "Otis, what's wrong?" I asked, jumping forward to catch him as he started to fall.Behind me, a young Manny Sears lights up the spotlight to capture the picture. I gently put Otis on the ground and start tearing open his shirt. "Murderer..." He barely panted, "Assassination..." Then he relaxed, his head tilted to one side.I know he is dead. "Stand back, everyone," I said, "this man has been killed."
Despite his dying words, my first thought was that he had been shot, perhaps with a gun fitted with a silencer.But as soon as I examined the wound, I saw that he had been stabbed to death without a doubt.The hole in the front of his shirt and the skin underneath was almost an inch long and very narrow.This is a typical stab wound, located below the heart.If the knife stabs upwards, the blade can easily stab the heart. "He's alone in the little polling booth," exclaimed Sergeant Lens, "no one can kill him in there!" "I know," the others crowded around.I waved them back. "We've got to find that knife," I said. "I'd better do it, Sheriff, and you stay in front of the shop with the rest." "Why can't I—" "Because people will think you killed him," I explained. This made him shut up.I pulled the curtains all the way back to check the little polling booth, and there was nothing else in there except a wooden shelf.Several pencils were placed on it—the exact same one still clutched in Ortis' right hand.I looked under the shelves and on the floor, and felt all over the black curtain to make sure no knives were hidden in it, then went around the back of the booth to find a hole to poke the knife in. There is nothing there. The small polling booth was solid wood on three sides, and a black curtain hung on the fourth, facing everyone.Inside there are only wooden racks used to circle ballots. "Okay," I said finally, walking around the body lying on the ground.Aibo covered the corpse with an extra black curtain, but even this could not prevent Mrs. Mojiale from crying hysterically. "You'd better take her outside in my car," I said to Aibo, "and wait for her to calm down. It's raining less now." Aibo helped the lady stand up, and Sergeant Len Si also went to help. "Aibo," I called her aside, "try to find a way to search her clothes to make sure she doesn't hide a knife." "You think--?" "No, no! But we have everything to take care of." When they were gone, I said to the others, "We've got to search every inch of this place for the knife that killed him, and there's no Find that knife and we won't know who killed it and how." "It's a barbershop," Will Whitney reminds us, "and it's full of razors and scissors and stuff. I can't work without them." I agree. "But I don't think any of these have a blade as wide as that wound. Let's find out." We searched there for twenty minutes, opening every drawer, measuring every pointed object we could find, searching each other, the body, and even the Whitney The bucket in which the guest left the used towel after shaving did not contain any murder weapon. At this moment.Because the rain stopped, the voters came one after another.We had to keep them out, at least until the bodies could be removed, but word of the candidate's death spread quickly throughout town.The mayor called, and so did the county board of elections.For a while, the phone rang like a hymn that was out of tune and kept ringing in the back. "He must have committed suicide," Inspector Lence declared in the meantime, "and there was no one around him." "If he committed suicide, he'd have to stab himself with a pencil," I said, "that's the sharpest thing in him. Besides, it doesn't seem likely that he would kill himself on the day he might be elected sheriff. He didn't look depressed when he walked into the voting booth." "Okay," the sheriff agreed, "but how could anyone get close enough to stab him? We're all here—Will Whitney tending to his guests, Mrs. McGallery and Ida sitting there Behind the desk, you and I and Aibo in front of the little polling booth, and the photographer waiting to take his picture, none of us near the polling booth." "Knives can be thrown," I pointed out, "but what I don't understand is how the thrown knives can't be seen by all of us." "Maybe he got that stab before he went into the voting booth," Will Whitney said spontaneously, wiping the dried soap scum off a razor. When the city was arguing with someone, someone stabbed him, but he didn't feel it at first." But I can't agree with this statement. "Otis stood in the polling room to circle the ballot papers for about five minutes. He couldn't last that long with a wound on his heart—and the bleeding would be much more than now. No, he died when he was stabbed. Before or after he left the booth. He lived less than a minute." "But we're all staring at the little polling booth!" Sheriff Lance retorted. "Sills even took a picture." I suddenly remembered one thing. "You did take a picture, right? Right when he started to fall!" The young photographer nodded. "Yeah, I did. I didn't know he was stabbed at the time." "How long does it take for the photos to be developed?" I asked. "Oh, an hour or so will do." "Then why don't you hurry up and print it, there may be precious clues in the photo." "Really?" He felt excited for the first time after the murder, "I'll report back to the agency right away to develop the photos." Ib was gesturing to me from the other end of the barber shop, examining the row of wet umbrellas leaning against the wall. "It just occurred to me that the deadly knife might have been lost in the folded umbrella. Dr. Sam." "I've thought of that, but there's no knife in it." "you have seen?" "Of course. What did you just gesture to me?" "You just let Manny Sears go. Without checking his camera." "Camera? You mean—" "Couldn't he have a spring or something to shoot the knife out when the shutter opens? Something like that?" "Where's the knife?" "Probably made of ice and then it melted." "In two seconds? Impossible. And there's no ice sharp enough to pierce through his clothes and skin like that. My God, Ib, what have you been reading lately?" "There is nothing more violent than "Painted Boats and Xuan Gong,"" she insisted. "I sound like Fu Manchu." "No, really, Dr. Sam—didn't you notice Manny's strange behavior?" "He didn't do anything that struck me as strange." "Exactly!" she exclaimed, "and this is the strange place!" "Now I know what you've been reading - Sherlock Holmes!" "Seriously, shouldn't he have gone to the agency to develop that photo? Why are you still here?" I have to admit that she has a point.I went over to check his camera, but it was a real camera—no opening for darts or knives.And when I asked him why he stayed on set for so long, he also had his answer. "I thought Sergeant Lens might want to take pictures of the murder scene and ask them to remove the body." The sheriff heard him and nodded in agreement. "Well, yes, come and take two pictures of me, boy, it might be useful." I talked to everyone in the room except Will Whitney's eerily silent guest, and walked over to the barber chair he was still sitting in. "What did you say your name was, sir?" "I didn't say," he said, about thirty-five to forty years old, with the taste of living out of doors for many years, "but my name is Crook, and my name is Hay Crook." "You live near here?" "no." "Just passing by?" "It can be said like this." "You don't recognize the dead man, Henry Otis?" "How did I know him? I just arrived in this town this morning." "Most people will go home and vote on polling day." "I've never paid much attention to politics." "Where is your house, Mr. Crook?" "south." "Are you in business?" He nodded. "Dogs, I raise dogs and train dogs." "For hunting?" "Yes, there is also a watchdog to prevent others from entering your field." He took out a thin cigar that seemed to be made in a foreign country and lit it, although Whitney had already taken care of him, He acted like he didn't want to leave the barber chair. "There are also police dogs. Maybe Chief Lan Si needs a police dog." "I'll ask him, Mr. Crook." But at this time I have more important matters to ask the sheriff.They came at last to remove the body, carefully passing the stretcher through the narrow front door as the waiting crowd pressed closer. "Better clear the outsiders, Sheriff," I warned. "It's not a trick." But when Lan Si told a farmer from the mountains to back away, the other party immediately shouted: "This is also a way to win the election—isn't it, Sheriff?" Lan Si is not a person who doesn't talk back when he hears such hints. "Don't be afraid! I will find out who killed Otis." "What if you lose the election, Sheriff?" Another troublemaker added. "If I lose the election, I'll resign and let them pick someone else to take the job. If the town doesn't want me, I don't want the job." This made them quiet at the time.The ambulance drove away with the body of Henry G. Otis.In this way, the place also returned to normal.Impatient voters packed the store, keeping Ida Frey and Mrs. McGallery busy checking the electoral roll. Aibo walked up to me with a pencil. "Do you want this, Dr. Sam? I took it from the dead man before they took him away. There's no sense in burying him with a pencil in his hand." "It doesn't make sense." I twirled the pencil between my fingers, but it was just an ordinary wooden pencil, exactly like the one I used to vote.Impossible to use to kill. "Who do you think killed him?" Aibo asked, "How?" "An invisible man killed with an invisible knife." "Sheriff Lansi?" "No, Lens doesn't kill. He may not be the smartest sheriff in the state, but he stands for law and order. Besides, I think he really wants to be re-elected today." "Then who else?" "The mysterious dog trainer, Mr Hay Crook." "Why him?" I shrugged my shoulders. "He's a stranger in the town. There must be a motive for killing Otis, and the most likely time for that motive is in the past. Otis hasn't been in Beishan Town long enough to have feuds with anyone—at least, There will be no enemy who would kill him in such a horrible way." Aibo enthusiastically believes that Crook is involved. "Do you want me to follow him and see where he is going?" "Aren't we sick today?" "Only old Mrs. Foster, and she saw the rain this morning, and she called for a week's delay, saying her carriage was all stuck in the mud." "Okay," I agreed, "keep an eye on Crook and see where he's going, and I'm going to walk to the newspaper office to see if Manny Sears has got those pictures developed."
Although the rain had stopped, the sky was still a long way from being clear that Tuesday afternoon.Thick gray clouds lay in the distance, pushing the thunder anvil toward us from the west.I knew it was going to rain again, and it was coming soon. The office of the Beishan Bee is much busier than I have seen before.Several people were on the phone, reporting the details of the murder to the dailies in Boston and New York, where publisher Ed Andrews was reading the headlines of the nightly editions. The North Hill Bee usually only came out three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but the stabbing death of a sheriff candidate in the small town polling booth was worth a second issue. "Hello, Doctor," Andrew said, "you're here again, aren't you? Can you find out this time?" "Let's take a look." "Manny said he got a picture." "I hope so, ready to print?" "They're developing now." I thought of Hay Crook, and my theory that it had something to do with the past. "Tell me about Otis, Ed, what is his background?" The issuer shrugged. "He came up from North Carolina a year ago, where he was the police chief. In a town a little bigger than here. His wife died, and he wanted to start over, and put his old memories behind him. .” I snorted, Otis doesn't look too old. "How did she die?" "Who?" "Otis's wife, purely out of professional curiosity, if she is also his age, then she is not too old." "You're right," he agreed, and looked at a printed obituary. "She was thirty-eight years old and died of a robbery two years ago. They caught the murderer—a bum who was passing there." —hanged him. He broke into the house for food and stabbed her to death." "Did the bum make a confession?" "How do I know if he made a confession? I'm just reading to you what's printed on it, Doctor." I saw Manny Sears come across the room with two undried photographs, pinching the edges triumphantly. "The picture is here." I glanced casually at the one he had taken at the request of Sergeant Lens.The photo was of Otis's body lying down, and I turned my attention to the photo of Otis as he walked out of the small polling booth.The black bloodstain on his chest was just beginning to take shape, and his face froze into that expression of surprise that I remember so well.Both knees seemed to have softened a little, and the five fingers of his left hand were stretched out, as if trying to grasp something for support. It was the moment before death, and it was also the moment after the knife stabbed in—but in the photo, there was no knife anywhere. Our eyes are not deceiving us.Henry G. Otis was assassinated alone in the small polling booth.At least eight people were watching outside, and the murderous knife seemed to disappear out of nowhere.
I went back to Will Whitney's barber shop and waited until there was no one to vote for a while.Then I asked Ada Frey and Mrs. McGallery if they could let me check the little polling booth again. "Don't know what you're expecting to find in here," said Ada Frey, pulling back the curtain for me. "We even wiped off the blood so no one would feel uncomfortable." I started to examine the wooden shelf that had the ballots circled, the shelf was about waist high, and I could imagine a knife popping out of it, and after assassinating Henry Otis, the knife was drawn back to the secret by some mechanism in the seam. Good idea, sadly wrong, the shelf is solid wood. I was leaving through the back door of the barber shop.Suddenly the growling of several dogs and the screaming of a woman were heard.I'm not sure, but it sounds a lot like Aibo. I ran across the rutted parking lot, jumped through puddles of muddy water, and onto the back street.Aibo lay halfway to the next intersection, trying to drive away two ferocious German shepherds. As I ran, I took off my raincoat, wrapped it around my left arm, and rushed forward, blocking the dog's pounce with my wrapped arm.Aibo had given up all resistance and just crawled away to protect herself from being bitten by the dog.I dragged her away, resisting the dogs' attack, until a sharp whistle blew them away. Aibo lifted her tear-stained face, and I saw the scars from the savage attack of the two dogs. "I have to take you to the hospital." "That's Crook's car, Dr. Sam! I wanted to see what was in it, and two dogs rushed out." "I'll take care of Crook's business later," I told her.I saw him standing across the street with his dog on a leash. I helped her stand up, cleaned the bitten area, applied disinfectant, and sent her to the hospital.I'll take care of Albert first, and then I'll come back and look at Hay Crook's car.
When I come back from the hospital.It was raining again—the annoying drizzle that seemed to drench you to the bone.Aibo was lying comfortably in the hospital where they decided to keep her overnight in case she had any adverse reaction to the medication.I trust the dogs to be rabies-free, and I would be very reluctant to subject her to a long and laborious series of Pap sera unless necessary.But I want to see the dogs again, preferably when they are still. Crook had no intention of leaving town after his dog attacked April, and I found him drinking coffee at Dixie's.Dixon's coffee is often topped with good Canadian whiskey, but I'm not sure what's in his cup. "Hello, Dr. Hawthorne," he greeted me. "I'm so sorry about your nurse. Is she okay?" "It's still alive, it's all caused by your dogs." "They were trained to protect my assets. As soon as I saw what was going on, I called them back." "I'd like to see them. They may have rabies." "My dog?" he sneered at me. "The healthiest animal around here. But that's all right, you can look at it any way you want." He finished his coffee, went outside, and led me around the corner to a vacant lot where his truck was parked.The dogs are now back in the car, growling and barking as I approach. "Is there anything of value in the car?" I asked. "Nothing," but he didn't mean to open the car door. I have gradually lost patience with him. "Let me tell you Crook, I can have Sheriff Lansi arrest you for assault right now, because your two dogs, my nurse is currently in the hospital, and she is likely to be killed. " "No, no, my dog will not be trained to kill." "But their masters might, perhaps you followed Henry Otis here from the South and killed him." "He wasn't killed by a dog, he was stabbed to death," he smiled slyly at me. "Don't forget I was sitting in that barber chair the whole time." "I remember," I remembered something else too—Henry Otis's murdered wife.She was stabbed to death like him. I don't know if today's murder has anything to do with that incident two years ago. "Open the door," I said to Crook, "I still want to see your dog." "They don't have rabies." "That's for me to judge. Open the car door or I'll have the sheriff pick you up and shoot both of your dogs." He reluctantly opened the car door and led the two German Shepherds out.They whined lowly at me a few times, but I could see he knew how to keep them under control, and I suddenly understood the reason for Hay Crook's mystery.The front of the carriage was piled high with smuggled whiskey.Just write "Maple Syrup" on the box to disguise it. "This is the wrong season to sell maple syrup," I tell him with a knowing smile. "What are you going to do?" "It doesn't matter." The dogs look healthy, and I'm not one to defend the Eighteenth Amendment.As for the unintentional attack on Aibo, I don't want to get involved in his affairs either.Besides, the sight of the whiskey had overturned my notion that Crook might have been involved, and a man in a strange town wouldn't risk filling his car with bootleg alcohol. I must look elsewhere for the murderer of Otis.
A nasty drizzle continued until dusk, discouraging many voters who were belatedly arriving at Will Whitney's barber shop.I don't know how many people avoided this place because of the murder, but when the voting ended at nine o'clock, when Eileen Frey opened the ticket counter in front of Mrs. Murgalo and the inspector of the county election board, there were only a hundred voters in total. Ninety-seven votes. "It's much less than last year." Mrs. Mo Jiale said while checking the number of electors in her hand. "The weather is bad," said Inspector Lens. "And murder," Ada Frey added.Her face suddenly turned pale, as if recalling what happened at that time finally made her lose all blood. "Count the votes," urged the sheriff, "I'll see if I'm not beaten by a dead man." "We still need to wait for the votes from the elementary school." Mrs. Mo Jiale reminded them. "Usually the turnout in the north of the town is much higher." Although the barber shop itself closed at six o'clock, Will Whitney, returning after dinner, locked the door after the two ladies had finished counting votes, stood near the front of the shop, by the murder The barber chair Shihai Crook had been sitting in. Of course it couldn't have been Will, it was too far away. I tried to concentrate on the mystery.Regardless of the murderous knife and everything else, he only wanted to know who was closest to Utis at the moment of his death.Didn't Will Whitney take a few steps towards the little polling booth? Manny Sears held up the camera and lit the chalk. Ada Frey and Mrs. McGaller sat behind the table. Sergeant Lens was with Aibo and me. Will Whitney shaving Hay Crook. "The results are out," Ada Frey announced. "Sergeant Lens has 133 votes, Henry Otis has 61 votes, and two invalid votes." I remembered that picture of Sears when Ortis came out of the little polling booth and started to collapse. "That's one hundred and ninety-six votes, Ada," said Mrs. McGaller. I remembered that there was something missing in the photo that I should have noticed right away. "That's right, one hundred and ninety-six." At that moment, I knew how Otis was killed. "But there were one hundred and ninety-seven people who voted. We counted them all." "I don't care," said Sergeant Lens, "I'll be happy if I win, and I'll be scared to death if Otis is ahead of me!" The Election Commissioner reached for the phone to check the count with another polling station, while Ida Frey and Mrs. McGaller argued over the missing ballot. "Ladies, I thought I could help you find that ballot," I said. "You can?" Mrs. Mo Jiale seemed surprised to say. I turned to Ada Frey and said, "Ada—" "Now is the official result," a member of the election committee shouted. "The final total votes are: 345 votes for Sergeant Lansi, and 228 votes for Otis!" "Ada," I called her name again, "you must give us that knife, you can no longer protect him, and there is no reason to continue to protect him now." "I—" When I was speaking, her face turned pale again, and I could see that she was on the verge of collapse. Sergeant Lan Si came to me, and everyone's eyes were on me. "You said Ada killed him?" "Of course not. I mean Henry Otis committed suicide. He hid the murder weapon in a place we never found." "We've searched all the places!" Inspector Len Si insisted. "In fact, we've searched all the places twice." "We've seen all the places except one - a place we can't see by law." "What the hell kind of place is that?" "Ticket counter." During this time, Manny Sears was back for pictures. All were talking at the same time, trying to figure out what was going on, and when Ada Frey reached under the table and produced a short hunting knife with a tapered flat handle and a wide blade, There was a moment of silence. "Ada!" Mrs. Mo Jiale asked sharply, "Where did you get it?" I answered the question for her. “从票柜里拿出来的。我看到爱达在把选票拿出来的时候脸色发白。可是我没想到是她摸到了夹在一张选票中间的刀子而想到事情是怎么回事。” "What the hell is going on then?" “亨利·G·欧提世走进小投票间用刀自裁，也许我们永远也不知道真正的原因。说不定是他觉得他会输了这次选举而无法面对。反正，他用刀刺了自己，再把刀夹在对折的选票里，你看到粗粗的刀柄拔掉了，上面一段用胶布包了起来。那张长选票即使在对折之后还是够大得遮住了这把相当短的刀子。” “而我们始终没看到？” “我们始终没注意到。”我更正道。“每个人走出投票间之后就把对折好的票投进票柜里。我们起先看到欧提世手里拿着选票，但紧接着我们的注意力被他胸前的血迹所吸引，我们始终没看到那张选票怎么了，可是因为曼尼·席尔斯的照片里清楚地拍到在那一瞬间之后，他的左手五指张开，所以他只可能是把选票连同刀子一起投入了票柜里。 “事实上，我们应该马上觉得欧提世很可疑的，他从小投票间里出来的时候，一手握着铅笔，另一只手拿着折好的选票，既然他得先把铅笔放下，才能把选票折好，为什么他又把铅笔拿了起来呢？唯一的解释就是要表示他两只手里都有东西——让我们不会想到他用刀剌了他自己。” 曼尼·席尔斯又点着他的镁粉，拍了张那把刀子的照片。 “他想必知道等到计票的时候我们就会发现那把刀的吧。”蓝思警长说。 “我想他是想靠爱达来做她刚才所做的事。为了党的名声，她把刀子藏了起来，什么也不说。因为是由爱达和莫嘉乐太太负责把选票取出来，所以他有百分之五十的机会由爱达先发现那把刀。可是他忘了一件事——他的选票上会沾着那把刀上的血迹，而爱达只有连选票带刀子一起藏起来。这一来数目就不对了——少了一张。” “所以并没有凶手，”警长说，“只是一桩怪异的自杀案件。可那个海·柯鲁克是怎么回事呢？” “是个路过此地的私酒贩子，他和这件事没有关系。” 这之后，大家都静了下来，爱达·弗雷低声啜泣，其他的人在安慰她。蓝思警长静静地在庆祝他的胜利。我离开了他们，和曼尼·席尔斯一起走到外面的街上。 “你今天可拍到好些精彩照片了。”我说。 "is not that right." “我得问你一件事，曼尼。” 他抬头望着天。The rain has stopped.我猜他是在找星星。 “什么事？医生？” “你把刀子留在那里让他看到的时候，知不知道他会自杀？” "what?" “一个人在把票投给他自己来竞选公职的时候，是不会毫无理由就自杀的。他自杀是因为他突然明白他的秘密被人发现了。用胶带包着把手的刀子很特别，是不是？我不必再查报社的档案，就可以打赌说那就是两年前在北卡罗莱纳州杀死欧提世太太的那把刀——或者是一把刻意弄成一样的刀子。” 曼尼·席尔斯沉默了一阵。最后他说道：“是欧提世干的，医生，他杀了他的太太，嫁祸给闯进他家找食物的一个路过的流浪汉。他们把那个流浪汉吊死了，他是我哥哥。” 这下轮到我无话可说了。等我再开口的时候，我说：“所以你也跟着欧提世北上。在大选投票日找上了他——就是在他希望有个新的事业和新的生活的这一天。” “你怎么会知道的？医生？” “欧提世在小投票间里待了好长一段时间，在他看到那把刀之后，拿不定主意该怎么办。用胶带包起来的刀柄看来很不寻常，我想那对他必定有特殊意义。如果我猜对了，那把刀确实是放在投票间的架子上让他看到的话，只有你才能把刀放在那里。我记得就在欧提世走进小投票间之前，你正在那里忙着。而这也说明了你为什么那样急于要一张欧提世从小投票间里出来时的照片，是一张他认罪的照片。” “我没想到他会自杀，医生，我原先希望他崩溃而认罪。” “他差点就这样做了。临终之前他说了'杀人凶手'和'刺杀'，他说的是他杀了他太太。”我觉得奇怪地摇了摇头。“可是他的自尊仍然让他藏起了刀子，他无法面对那个指控，所以即使是要死了，他还想掩饰他最后绝望的行为。” “你打算怎么办呢。医生？” 星星出来了。我能看到天上的星星。“我？什么也不做。去医院看爱玻吧。不需要把这整个故事告诉任何人。”
“结果一直到现在为止，我从来没说过那件事，”山姆·霍桑医生说，“那是我们在北山镇上的小秘密。我看你的杯子空了，时间也晚了。再来一点——呃——喝的吧？不用了？不过下礼拜再过来吧，我会告诉你另外一件罪案——这回可是不折不扣的谋杀案了，那一直到小投票间的案子之后第二年夏天才发生。我都开始以为北山镇终于没有犯罪了。可是接着就来了那次县集市，在一个时光胶囊里有一具尸体……”
Notes:
I remember that it rained on polling day in that election.Sergeant Lens is worried that bad weather will keep his supporters at home.He campaigned with great effort against his challenger Henry G. Otis, a man who had just moved to North Hills.He had experience as a sheriff in the South before moving to the North after the death of his wife.Only a few large cities had voting machines in 1926, although they had been approved for various elections as early as 1892.You know, the voting machine was invented by Thomas Edison in 1869--his first patented invention--but it was very different from the machines they use now. Anyway, the town of Beishan still uses ballots, you give your name, you sign the electoral roll, and they give you a ballot.You go into a small curtained voting booth to circle your ballots, and then put your ballots into a box with only a small opening outside the voting booth.It's a simple system, and it works.It's just that after the voting time is closed, it sometimes takes half of the night to correctly count the votes and finally choose the elected person. This day, like I said, it rained all the time.Not a drizzle, but one of those New England rains that you get in the fall, knocking out whatever leaves are left on the trees, and generally being very uncomfortable.Because of the rain, I drove my nurse, Aibo, to the polling place in the back room of Whitney's Barbershop.But to tell you the truth, even if it hadn't rained, she would have asked me to come with her. "Think about it, Dr. Sam! They gave us women the right to vote, and they made us vote in a barbershop." I smile slightly.I want her not to be so excited. "Hey, Aibo, it's not that bad, people on the north side of town vote in that elementary school. We'd have to vote there if it weren't for the town hall renovations. Will Whitney is on the council Commissioner, he kindly let the town use his barbershop as a polling place." "Not only that, Dr. Sam. I read in the papers that women in New York and Chicago usually get places like barbershops to vote." "At least they don't have to go to a hotel to vote. Prohibition takes care of that." We parked the car in front of Will Whitney's store, and Ib put up an umbrella to keep out the pouring rain, and I pulled the car in the back and parked in a clearing that had already formed a lot of puddles.Then I rushed to the back door of the barber shop, hoping I wouldn't get too wet. "Need an umbrella this morning," a voice said to me as I burst through the door.It was Sergeant Lansi himself who spoke, looking fat and happy, trying not to show nervousness or uneasiness. "What are you doing here, Sheriff?" I asked, "doing some illegal campaigning?" "That's not true. The kid from the newspaper wants to take a picture of Otis and I shaking hands outside the small polling booth. What a stupid idea, but I must cooperate." The kid from the newspaper was a young photographer named Manny Sears, who had just come to town recently.This guy, whom I just met a while ago, takes pictures of everything from prize bulls to Mrs. Kelly's twins.I shook his hand and watched as he filled the container with fresh spotlight.This reminds me of the murder at the music station, where the flash powder played a very important role. "Aren't you tired of taking pictures, Manny?" He gave me a very childish smile. "Of course not, Dr. Sam. Photojournalism is so important that the New York Times sometimes puts photographs on its front page instead of pictures." "Are you going to take a photo of the winner shaking hands with the loser?" "Not bad. Friendly enemy, you might call it." Aibo has already taken off her raincoat and shakes the water off the umbrella.The volunteers from both parties behind the table are friends of hers, so she sits down and chats.One of them, Mrs. McGallery, who sees me occasionally, is a Republican, I know, like Sheriff Lenz, and the other lady is Ida Frey, a dry goods seller, who must be a Democrat. It looked like we were the only ones voting, and Will Whitney was busy cutting a customer's hair in front of the store.The guest was a man I didn't know. I don't know why a stranger came to Beishan Town on the polling day when it was raining heavily. "Hey, I gotta vote first," said Aibo.She took a long ballot handed to her by the two ladies behind the desk, and besides the sheriff and the council members, there were several local ordinances to go to the referendum.At the top of that ballot, in front of all the items, are state government officials.It wasn't a presidential election year, but we were electing a governor and a senator, and our local representative. It took a lot of time to see the whole ballot and circle it. Aibo stayed inside for a full two minutes before she came out and put the ballot into the ballot box on her left. "Did you choose the right person?" I asked her with a smile. "I didn't choose anyone in office now—of course. Except Sheriff Lansi." The sheriff smiled and was about to thank her when he was interrupted by the arrival of his opponent.Henry G. Otis came rushing in like rain blown behind him, stamping his wet shoes on the barbershop floor.He took off his glasses and wiped them, squinting his short-sighted eyes to look at our group. "I'm here to take your picture, Mr. Otis," the young photographer announced, camera and highlighter held aloft. "I want you two to stand together in front of the little polling booth." Henry Ortis ignored him, but turned to Will Whitney, who was standing by the barber's chair, and said, "Don't miss the razor, Will. I can't miss a vote today. ’ But when he put his glasses back on and saw the man in the chair better, he seemed taken aback. "You are not from Beishan Town." "Just passing by," the man mumbled, sounding like he had a southern accent to me. Otis turned away quickly, and I wondered if he recognized this person.Will Whitney waved the razor in the air once, then stooped to resume his work.Ada Frey paused her gossip with Aibo and waved a ballot in the candidate's direction. "Henry, come over and vote right away! There's plenty of time to take pictures later." He responded with a slight bow. "Always happy to obey the will of the Party, Ida. How are you, Sheriff? Enjoying your last week as Sheriff?" Sergeant Lan Si muttered a few words.Their rivalry is fierce, with Otis calling Lens a "do-nothing hick," and the sheriff retorting that Otis is an opportunistic politician.I could see their anger was not abating at the polls either.The whole scene made me feel very embarrassed, because I consider myself a good friend of the Sheriff, and I don’t want to see the campaign bring him harm. Maybe all people in politics must go out to win votes, but this has a greater impact on Sheriff Lansi , he is a man who is afraid of losing his job, the matter is as simple as that. Otis took off his raincoat to take a photo, but he still held the ballot that Eileen Frey had given him.The cameraman was busy preparing everything in the small polling booth, but Otis pushed past him. "As I said, vote first, then take pictures." He drew back the heavy black curtain, and I could picture him bending over the ballot papers, pencil in hand. "Would you like some coffee, doctor?" asked Mrs. McGallery, who had already poured a cup. "Alright, it can drive away the cold air." Manny Sears stood about ten feet away from the front of the small polling booth, took his camera and flashing powder and waited for Otis to come out.Will Whitney in the front left his barber chair and went to the back to watch, temporarily leaving his guest behind.Sergeant Lan Si tried his best to ignore these things, and only chatted with Aibo and the two ladies.Outside the house, a gust of wind blew the rain against the barbershop windows. When I saw the Henry Ortis circle ballot, his legs were exposed under the black curtain, and a few minutes passed, and it seemed to take him too long. "Are you all right in there, Henry?" cried Ada Frey at last, for nearly five minutes had passed. "Do you need help?" "I'm almost done," he replied. "The ballot is fucking long!" After another wait, he pushed the curtain aside and came out.He held a folded ballot in his left hand and a pencil in his right, with an extremely surprised expression on his face. He took two shambling steps forward, and I saw blood on the front of his shirt. "Otis, what's wrong?" I asked, jumping forward to catch him as he started to fall.Behind me, a young Manny Sears lights up the spotlight to capture the picture. I gently put Otis on the ground and start tearing open his shirt. "Murderer..." He barely panted, "Assassination..." Then he relaxed, his head tilted to one side.I know he is dead. "Stand back, everyone," I said, "this man has been killed."
Despite his dying words, my first thought was that he had been shot, perhaps with a gun fitted with a silencer.But as soon as I examined the wound, I saw that he had been stabbed to death without a doubt.The hole in the front of his shirt and the skin underneath was almost an inch long and very narrow.This is a typical stab wound, located below the heart.If the knife stabs upwards, the blade can easily stab the heart. "He's alone in the little polling booth," exclaimed Sergeant Lens, "no one can kill him in there!" "I know," the others crowded around.I waved them back. "We've got to find that knife," I said. "I'd better do it, Sheriff, and you stay in front of the shop with the rest." "Why can't I—" "Because people will think you killed him," I explained. This made him shut up.I pulled the curtains all the way back to check the little polling booth, and there was nothing else in there except a wooden shelf.Several pencils were placed on it—the exact same one still clutched in Ortis' right hand.I looked under the shelves and on the floor, and felt all over the black curtain to make sure no knives were hidden in it, then went around the back of the booth to find a hole to poke the knife in. There is nothing there. The small polling booth was solid wood on three sides, and a black curtain hung on the fourth, facing everyone.Inside there are only wooden racks used to circle ballots. "Okay," I said finally, walking around the body lying on the ground.Aibo covered the corpse with an extra black curtain, but even this could not prevent Mrs. Mojiale from crying hysterically. "You'd better take her outside in my car," I said to Aibo, "and wait for her to calm down. It's raining less now." Aibo helped the lady stand up, and Sergeant Len Si also went to help. "Aibo," I called her aside, "try to find a way to search her clothes to make sure she doesn't hide a knife." "You think--?" "No, no! But we have everything to take care of." When they were gone, I said to the others, "We've got to search every inch of this place for the knife that killed him, and there's no Find that knife and we won't know who killed it and how." "It's a barbershop," Will Whitney reminds us, "and it's full of razors and scissors and stuff. I can't work without them." I agree. "But I don't think any of these have a blade as wide as that wound. Let's find out." We searched there for twenty minutes, opening every drawer, measuring every pointed object we could find, searching each other, the body, and even the Whitney The bucket in which the guest left the used towel after shaving did not contain any murder weapon. At this moment.Because the rain stopped, the voters came one after another.We had to keep them out, at least until the bodies could be removed, but word of the candidate's death spread quickly throughout town.The mayor called, and so did the county board of elections.For a while, the phone rang like a hymn that was out of tune and kept ringing in the back. "He must have committed suicide," Inspector Lence declared in the meantime, "and there was no one around him." "If he committed suicide, he'd have to stab himself with a pencil," I said, "that's the sharpest thing in him. Besides, it doesn't seem likely that he would kill himself on the day he might be elected sheriff. He didn't look depressed when he walked into the voting booth." "Okay," the sheriff agreed, "but how could anyone get close enough to stab him? We're all here—Will Whitney tending to his guests, Mrs. McGallery and Ida sitting there Behind the desk, you and I and Aibo in front of the little polling booth, and the photographer waiting to take his picture, none of us near the polling booth." "Knives can be thrown," I pointed out, "but what I don't understand is how the thrown knives can't be seen by all of us." "Maybe he got that stab before he went into the voting booth," Will Whitney said spontaneously, wiping the dried soap scum off a razor. When the city was arguing with someone, someone stabbed him, but he didn't feel it at first." But I can't agree with this statement. "Otis stood in the polling room to circle the ballot papers for about five minutes. He couldn't last that long with a wound on his heart—and the bleeding would be much more than now. No, he died when he was stabbed. Before or after he left the booth. He lived less than a minute." "But we're all staring at the little polling booth!" Sheriff Lance retorted. "Sills even took a picture." I suddenly remembered one thing. "You did take a picture, right? Right when he started to fall!" The young photographer nodded. "Yeah, I did. I didn't know he was stabbed at the time." "How long does it take for the photos to be developed?" I asked. "Oh, an hour or so will do." "Then why don't you hurry up and print it, there may be precious clues in the photo." "Really?" He felt excited for the first time after the murder, "I'll report back to the agency right away to develop the photos." Ib was gesturing to me from the other end of the barber shop, examining the row of wet umbrellas leaning against the wall. "It just occurred to me that the deadly knife might have been lost in the folded umbrella. Dr. Sam." "I've thought of that, but there's no knife in it." "you have seen?" "Of course. What did you just gesture to me?" "You just let Manny Sears go. Without checking his camera." "Camera? You mean—" "Couldn't he have a spring or something to shoot the knife out when the shutter opens? Something like that?" "Where's the knife?" "Probably made of ice and then it melted." "In two seconds? Impossible. And there's no ice sharp enough to pierce through his clothes and skin like that. My God, Ib, what have you been reading lately?" "There is nothing more violent than "Painted Boats and Xuan Gong,"" she insisted. "I sound like Fu Manchu." "No, really, Dr. Sam—didn't you notice Manny's strange behavior?" "He didn't do anything that struck me as strange." "Exactly!" she exclaimed, "and this is the strange place!" "Now I know what you've been reading - Sherlock Holmes!" "Seriously, shouldn't he have gone to the agency to develop that photo? Why are you still here?" I have to admit that she has a point.I went over to check his camera, but it was a real camera—no opening for darts or knives.And when I asked him why he stayed on set for so long, he also had his answer. "I thought Sergeant Lens might want to take pictures of the murder scene and ask them to remove the body." The sheriff heard him and nodded in agreement. "Well, yes, come and take two pictures of me, boy, it might be useful." I talked to everyone in the room except Will Whitney's eerily silent guest, and walked over to the barber chair he was still sitting in. "What did you say your name was, sir?" "I didn't say," he said, about thirty-five to forty years old, with the taste of living out of doors for many years, "but my name is Crook, and my name is Hay Crook." "You live near here?" "no." "Just passing by?" "It can be said like this." "You don't recognize the dead man, Henry Otis?" "How did I know him? I just arrived in this town this morning." "Most people will go home and vote on polling day." "I've never paid much attention to politics." "Where is your house, Mr. Crook?" "south." "Are you in business?" He nodded. "Dogs, I raise dogs and train dogs." "For hunting?" "Yes, there is also a watchdog to prevent others from entering your field." He took out a thin cigar that seemed to be made in a foreign country and lit it, although Whitney had already taken care of him, He acted like he didn't want to leave the barber chair. "There are also police dogs. Maybe Chief Lan Si needs a police dog." "I'll ask him, Mr. Crook." But at this time I have more important matters to ask the sheriff.They came at last to remove the body, carefully passing the stretcher through the narrow front door as the waiting crowd pressed closer. "Better clear the outsiders, Sheriff," I warned. "It's not a trick." But when Lan Si told a farmer from the mountains to back away, the other party immediately shouted: "This is also a way to win the election—isn't it, Sheriff?" Lan Si is not a person who doesn't talk back when he hears such hints. "Don't be afraid! I will find out who killed Otis." "What if you lose the election, Sheriff?" Another troublemaker added. "If I lose the election, I'll resign and let them pick someone else to take the job. If the town doesn't want me, I don't want the job." This made them quiet at the time.The ambulance drove away with the body of Henry G. Otis.In this way, the place also returned to normal.Impatient voters packed the store, keeping Ida Frey and Mrs. McGallery busy checking the electoral roll. Aibo walked up to me with a pencil. "Do you want this, Dr. Sam? I took it from the dead man before they took him away. There's no sense in burying him with a pencil in his hand." "It doesn't make sense." I twirled the pencil between my fingers, but it was just an ordinary wooden pencil, exactly like the one I used to vote.Impossible to use to kill. "Who do you think killed him?" Aibo asked, "How?" "An invisible man killed with an invisible knife." "Sheriff Lansi?" "No, Lens doesn't kill. He may not be the smartest sheriff in the state, but he stands for law and order. Besides, I think he really wants to be re-elected today." "Then who else?" "The mysterious dog trainer, Mr Hay Crook." "Why him?" I shrugged my shoulders. "He's a stranger in the town. There must be a motive for killing Otis, and the most likely time for that motive is in the past. Otis hasn't been in Beishan Town long enough to have feuds with anyone—at least, There will be no enemy who would kill him in such a horrible way." Aibo enthusiastically believes that Crook is involved. "Do you want me to follow him and see where he is going?" "Aren't we sick today?" "Only old Mrs. Foster, and she saw the rain this morning, and she called for a week's delay, saying her carriage was all stuck in the mud." "Okay," I agreed, "keep an eye on Crook and see where he's going, and I'm going to walk to the newspaper office to see if Manny Sears has got those pictures developed."
Although the rain had stopped, the sky was still a long way from being clear that Tuesday afternoon.Thick gray clouds lay in the distance, pushing the thunder anvil toward us from the west.I knew it was going to rain again, and it was coming soon. The office of the Beishan Bee is much busier than I have seen before.Several people were on the phone, reporting the details of the murder to the dailies in Boston and New York, where publisher Ed Andrews was reading the headlines of the nightly editions. The North Hill Bee usually only came out three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but the stabbing death of a sheriff candidate in the small town polling booth was worth a second issue. "Hello, Doctor," Andrew said, "you're here again, aren't you? Can you find out this time?" "Let's take a look." "Manny said he got a picture." "I hope so, ready to print?" "They're developing now." I thought of Hay Crook, and my theory that it had something to do with the past. "Tell me about Otis, Ed, what is his background?" The issuer shrugged. "He came up from North Carolina a year ago, where he was the police chief. In a town a little bigger than here. His wife died, and he wanted to start over, and put his old memories behind him. .” I snorted, Otis doesn't look too old. "How did she die?" "Who?" "Otis's wife, purely out of professional curiosity, if she is also his age, then she is not too old." "You're right," he agreed, and looked at a printed obituary. "She was thirty-eight years old and died of a robbery two years ago. They caught the murderer—a bum who was passing there." —hanged him. He broke into the house for food and stabbed her to death." "Did the bum make a confession?" "How do I know if he made a confession? I'm just reading to you what's printed on it, Doctor." I saw Manny Sears come across the room with two undried photographs, pinching the edges triumphantly. "The picture is here." I glanced casually at the one he had taken at the request of Sergeant Lens.The photo was of Otis's body lying down, and I turned my attention to the photo of Otis as he walked out of the small polling booth.The black bloodstain on his chest was just beginning to take shape, and his face froze into that expression of surprise that I remember so well.Both knees seemed to have softened a little, and the five fingers of his left hand were stretched out, as if trying to grasp something for support. It was the moment before death, and it was also the moment after the knife stabbed in—but in the photo, there was no knife anywhere. Our eyes are not deceiving us.Henry G. Otis was assassinated alone in the small polling booth.At least eight people were watching outside, and the murderous knife seemed to disappear out of nowhere.
I went back to Will Whitney's barber shop and waited until there was no one to vote for a while.Then I asked Ada Frey and Mrs. McGallery if they could let me check the little polling booth again. "Don't know what you're expecting to find in here," said Ada Frey, pulling back the curtain for me. "We even wiped off the blood so no one would feel uncomfortable." I started to examine the wooden shelf that had the ballots circled, the shelf was about waist high, and I could imagine a knife popping out of it, and after assassinating Henry Otis, the knife was drawn back to the secret by some mechanism in the seam. Good idea, sadly wrong, the shelf is solid wood. I was leaving through the back door of the barber shop.Suddenly the growling of several dogs and the screaming of a woman were heard.I'm not sure, but it sounds a lot like Aibo. I ran across the rutted parking lot, jumped through puddles of muddy water, and onto the back street.Aibo lay halfway to the next intersection, trying to drive away two ferocious German shepherds. As I ran, I took off my raincoat, wrapped it around my left arm, and rushed forward, blocking the dog's pounce with my wrapped arm.Aibo had given up all resistance and just crawled away to protect herself from being bitten by the dog.I dragged her away, resisting the dogs' attack, until a sharp whistle blew them away. Aibo lifted her tear-stained face, and I saw the scars from the savage attack of the two dogs. "I have to take you to the hospital." "That's Crook's car, Dr. Sam! I wanted to see what was in it, and two dogs rushed out." "I'll take care of Crook's business later," I told her.I saw him standing across the street with his dog on a leash. I helped her stand up, cleaned the bitten area, applied disinfectant, and sent her to the hospital.I'll take care of Albert first, and then I'll come back and look at Hay Crook's car.
When I come back from the hospital.It was raining again—the annoying drizzle that seemed to drench you to the bone.Aibo was lying comfortably in the hospital where they decided to keep her overnight in case she had any adverse reaction to the medication.I trust the dogs to be rabies-free, and I would be very reluctant to subject her to a long and laborious series of Pap sera unless necessary.But I want to see the dogs again, preferably when they are still. Crook had no intention of leaving town after his dog attacked April, and I found him drinking coffee at Dixie's.Dixon's coffee is often topped with good Canadian whiskey, but I'm not sure what's in his cup. "Hello, Dr. Hawthorne," he greeted me. "I'm so sorry about your nurse. Is she okay?" "It's still alive, it's all caused by your dogs." "They were trained to protect my assets. As soon as I saw what was going on, I called them back." "I'd like to see them. They may have rabies." "My dog?" he sneered at me. "The healthiest animal around here. But that's all right, you can look at it any way you want." He finished his coffee, went outside, and led me around the corner to a vacant lot where his truck was parked.The dogs are now back in the car, growling and barking as I approach. "Is there anything of value in the car?" I asked. "Nothing," but he didn't mean to open the car door. I have gradually lost patience with him. "Let me tell you Crook, I can have Sheriff Lansi arrest you for assault right now, because your two dogs, my nurse is currently in the hospital, and she is likely to be killed. " "No, no, my dog will not be trained to kill." "But their masters might, perhaps you followed Henry Otis here from the South and killed him." "He wasn't killed by a dog, he was stabbed to death," he smiled slyly at me. "Don't forget I was sitting in that barber chair the whole time." "I remember," I remembered something else too—Henry Otis's murdered wife.She was stabbed to death like him. I don't know if today's murder has anything to do with that incident two years ago. "Open the door," I said to Crook, "I still want to see your dog." "They don't have rabies." "That's for me to judge. Open the car door or I'll have the sheriff pick you up and shoot both of your dogs." He reluctantly opened the car door and led the two German Shepherds out.They whined lowly at me a few times, but I could see he knew how to keep them under control, and I suddenly understood the reason for Hay Crook's mystery.The front of the carriage was piled high with smuggled whiskey.Just write "Maple Syrup" on the box to disguise it. "This is the wrong season to sell maple syrup," I tell him with a knowing smile. "What are you going to do?" "It doesn't matter." The dogs look healthy, and I'm not one to defend the Eighteenth Amendment.As for the unintentional attack on Aibo, I don't want to get involved in his affairs either.Besides, the sight of the whiskey had overturned my notion that Crook might have been involved, and a man in a strange town wouldn't risk filling his car with bootleg alcohol. I must look elsewhere for the murderer of Otis.
A nasty drizzle continued until dusk, discouraging many voters who were belatedly arriving at Will Whitney's barber shop.I don't know how many people avoided this place because of the murder, but when the voting ended at nine o'clock, when Eileen Frey opened the ticket counter in front of Mrs. Murgalo and the inspector of the county election board, there were only a hundred voters in total. Ninety-seven votes. "It's much less than last year." Mrs. Mo Jiale said while checking the number of electors in her hand. "The weather is bad," said Inspector Lens. "And murder," Ada Frey added.Her face suddenly turned pale, as if recalling what happened at that time finally made her lose all blood. "Count the votes," urged the sheriff, "I'll see if I'm not beaten by a dead man." "We still need to wait for the votes from the elementary school." Mrs. Mo Jiale reminded them. "Usually the turnout in the north of the town is much higher." Although the barber shop itself closed at six o'clock, Will Whitney, returning after dinner, locked the door after the two ladies had finished counting votes, stood near the front of the shop, by the murder The barber chair Shihai Crook had been sitting in. Of course it couldn't have been Will, it was too far away. I tried to concentrate on the mystery.Regardless of the murderous knife and everything else, he only wanted to know who was closest to Utis at the moment of his death.Didn't Will Whitney take a few steps towards the little polling booth? Manny Sears held up the camera and lit the chalk. Ada Frey and Mrs. McGaller sat behind the table. Sergeant Lens was with Aibo and me. Will Whitney shaving Hay Crook. "The results are out," Ada Frey announced. "Sergeant Lens has 133 votes, Henry Otis has 61 votes, and two invalid votes." I remembered that picture of Sears when Ortis came out of the little polling booth and started to collapse. "That's one hundred and ninety-six votes, Ada," said Mrs. McGaller. I remembered that there was something missing in the photo that I should have noticed right away. "That's right, one hundred and ninety-six." At that moment, I knew how Otis was killed. "But there were one hundred and ninety-seven people who voted. We counted them all." "I don't care," said Sergeant Lens, "I'll be happy if I win, and I'll be scared to death if Otis is ahead of me!" The Election Commissioner reached for the phone to check the count with another polling station, while Ida Frey and Mrs. McGaller argued over the missing ballot. "Ladies, I thought I could help you find that ballot," I said. "You can?" Mrs. Mo Jiale seemed surprised to say. I turned to Ada Frey and said, "Ada—" "Now is the official result," a member of the election committee shouted. "The final total votes are: 345 votes for Sergeant Lansi, and 228 votes for Otis!" "Ada," I called her name again, "you must give us that knife, you can no longer protect him, and there is no reason to continue to protect him now." "I—" When I was speaking, her face turned pale again, and I could see that she was on the verge of collapse. Sergeant Lan Si came to me, and everyone's eyes were on me. "You said Ada killed him?" "Of course not. I mean Henry Otis committed suicide. He hid the murder weapon in a place we never found." "We've searched all the places!" Inspector Len Si insisted. "In fact, we've searched all the places twice." "We've seen all the places except one - a place we can't see by law." "What the hell kind of place is that?" "Ticket counter." During this time, Manny Sears was back for pictures. All were talking at the same time, trying to figure out what was going on, and when Ada Frey reached under the table and produced a short hunting knife with a tapered flat handle and a wide blade, There was a moment of silence. "Ada!" Mrs. Mo Jiale asked sharply, "Where did you get it?" I answered the question for her. “从票柜里拿出来的。我看到爱达在把选票拿出来的时候脸色发白。可是我没想到是她摸到了夹在一张选票中间的刀子而想到事情是怎么回事。” "What the hell is going on then?" “亨利·G·欧提世走进小投票间用刀自裁，也许我们永远也不知道真正的原因。说不定是他觉得他会输了这次选举而无法面对。反正，他用刀刺了自己，再把刀夹在对折的选票里，你看到粗粗的刀柄拔掉了，上面一段用胶布包了起来。那张长选票即使在对折之后还是够大得遮住了这把相当短的刀子。” “而我们始终没看到？” “我们始终没注意到。”我更正道。“每个人走出投票间之后就把对折好的票投进票柜里。我们起先看到欧提世手里拿着选票，但紧接着我们的注意力被他胸前的血迹所吸引，我们始终没看到那张选票怎么了，可是因为曼尼·席尔斯的照片里清楚地拍到在那一瞬间之后，他的左手五指张开，所以他只可能是把选票连同刀子一起投入了票柜里。 “事实上，我们应该马上觉得欧提世很可疑的，他从小投票间里出来的时候，一手握着铅笔，另一只手拿着折好的选票，既然他得先把铅笔放下，才能把选票折好，为什么他又把铅笔拿了起来呢？唯一的解释就是要表示他两只手里都有东西——让我们不会想到他用刀剌了他自己。” 曼尼·席尔斯又点着他的镁粉，拍了张那把刀子的照片。 “他想必知道等到计票的时候我们就会发现那把刀的吧。”蓝思警长说。 “我想他是想靠爱达来做她刚才所做的事。为了党的名声，她把刀子藏了起来，什么也不说。因为是由爱达和莫嘉乐太太负责把选票取出来，所以他有百分之五十的机会由爱达先发现那把刀。可是他忘了一件事——他的选票上会沾着那把刀上的血迹，而爱达只有连选票带刀子一起藏起来。这一来数目就不对了——少了一张。” “所以并没有凶手，”警长说，“只是一桩怪异的自杀案件。可那个海·柯鲁克是怎么回事呢？” “是个路过此地的私酒贩子，他和这件事没有关系。” 这之后，大家都静了下来，爱达·弗雷低声啜泣，其他的人在安慰她。蓝思警长静静地在庆祝他的胜利。我离开了他们，和曼尼·席尔斯一起走到外面的街上。 “你今天可拍到好些精彩照片了。”我说。 "is not that right." “我得问你一件事，曼尼。” 他抬头望着天。The rain has stopped.我猜他是在找星星。 “什么事？医生？” “你把刀子留在那里让他看到的时候，知不知道他会自杀？” "what?" “一个人在把票投给他自己来竞选公职的时候，是不会毫无理由就自杀的。他自杀是因为他突然明白他的秘密被人发现了。用胶带包着把手的刀子很特别，是不是？我不必再查报社的档案，就可以打赌说那就是两年前在北卡罗莱纳州杀死欧提世太太的那把刀——或者是一把刻意弄成一样的刀子。” 曼尼·席尔斯沉默了一阵。最后他说道：“是欧提世干的，医生，他杀了他的太太，嫁祸给闯进他家找食物的一个路过的流浪汉。他们把那个流浪汉吊死了，他是我哥哥。” 这下轮到我无话可说了。等我再开口的时候，我说：“所以你也跟着欧提世北上。在大选投票日找上了他——就是在他希望有个新的事业和新的生活的这一天。” “你怎么会知道的？医生？” “欧提世在小投票间里待了好长一段时间，在他看到那把刀之后，拿不定主意该怎么办。用胶带包起来的刀柄看来很不寻常，我想那对他必定有特殊意义。如果我猜对了，那把刀确实是放在投票间的架子上让他看到的话，只有你才能把刀放在那里。我记得就在欧提世走进小投票间之前，你正在那里忙着。而这也说明了你为什么那样急于要一张欧提世从小投票间里出来时的照片，是一张他认罪的照片。” “我没想到他会自杀，医生，我原先希望他崩溃而认罪。” “他差点就这样做了。临终之前他说了'杀人凶手'和'刺杀'，他说的是他杀了他太太。”我觉得奇怪地摇了摇头。“可是他的自尊仍然让他藏起了刀子，他无法面对那个指控，所以即使是要死了，他还想掩饰他最后绝望的行为。” “你打算怎么办呢。医生？” 星星出来了。我能看到天上的星星。“我？什么也不做。去医院看爱玻吧。不需要把这整个故事告诉任何人。”
“结果一直到现在为止，我从来没说过那件事，”山姆·霍桑医生说，“那是我们在北山镇上的小秘密。我看你的杯子空了，时间也晚了。再来一点——呃——喝的吧？不用了？不过下礼拜再过来吧，我会告诉你另外一件罪案——这回可是不折不扣的谋杀案了，那一直到小投票间的案子之后第二年夏天才发生。我都开始以为北山镇终于没有犯罪了。可是接着就来了那次县集市，在一个时光胶囊里有一具尸体……”
Notes: