Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Dinah Bland
At the First National Bank, I found an assistant teller named Albury.He was a handsome, fair-haired young man of about twenty-five.
"I'm certifying Wilson's check," he said after I explained what I wanted. "It's out to Dinah Bland—five thousand dollars."
"Do you know who she is?"
"Well, of course I do! I know her."
"Would you mind telling me all you know about her?"
"Not at all. I'd love to, except I'm eight minutes late for a meeting—"
"Can you have dinner with me? Tell me then."
"That's fine," he said.
"At the Great Western Hotel at seven o'clock?"
"no problem."
"I'm leaving now, so I won't delay your meeting. But I want you to tell me, does she have an account here?"
"Yes, she deposited that check this morning. Now it's in the hands of the police."
"Really? Where does she live?"
"1232 Hurricane Street."
I sighed "Oops" and said "see you tonight" and left.
My next stop was the police chief's office in City Hall.
Director Noonan was a fat man with a pair of bright greenish eyes set on his smiling round face.He seemed delighted to hear the purpose of my visit to the city.He shook my hand and gave me a cigar and a chair.
"Now," he said, when we were all seated, "tell me who did this trick?"
"I'm very strict."
"Me too," he said cheerfully from behind a puff of smoke. "Guess who?"
"I'm not good at guessing, especially when I don't know the real situation."
"It won't take long to tell you all the facts," he said. "Yesterday, just before the bank was about to close, Wilson wrote a check for five thousand dollars, made payable to Dinah Bran. De. He was killed by a .32 pistol less than a block from her house that night. Those who heard the gunshot saw a man and a woman stooping over the body. It was just dawn this morning , Dinah Bland just mentioned deposited the check just mentioned into the bank just mentioned. How is it?"
"Who is Dinah Bland?"
The director flicked the ashes of the cigar to the center of the table, and said while gesturing with the cigar in his big fat hand: "In our terms, she is a defiled white pigeon, a high-class prostitute, a woman who cheats money with her beauty. "
"Have you found her yet?"
"Not yet, we have one or two things to get through first. We're watching her, waiting for the moment. What I'm telling you is confidential."
"Got it. Now listen to this." I told him what I'd seen while waiting at Donna Wilson's the night before.
After I finished speaking, the director pursed his fat mouth, whistled lightly, and shouted: "Dude, what you just said is really interesting! So, her slippers are stained with blood? And she said her husband Won't be coming back?"
"It seems to me so." That was my answer to his first question, followed by my second, "Yes."
"Have you spoken to her since that night?" he asked.
"No. I was going to visit her house this morning, but a young man called Thaler entered the house before me, and I had to postpone my visit."
"Double surprise!" His green eyes sparkled with pleasure. "You mean the Whisperer is there?"
"That's right."
He threw the cigar on the ground, stood up, propped his fat hands on the table, and leaned close to me, every pore in his body exuded joy.
"Dude, you're great," he murmured. "Dinah Bland is the Whisperer's woman. Let's go talk to that widow!"
The chief's car stopped in front of Mrs. Wilson's house, and we got out.The director stopped for a few seconds when he stepped on the first staircase, looked at the black veil on the doorbell, and said, "Huh, what should be done must be done." After speaking, we walked up the stairs. Mrs. Wilson didn't want to see us, but if the Chief of Police insisted, anyone would see him, and it was the same this time.We were taken upstairs to the study where Donna Wilson's widow sat.She was dressed in black, and her blue eyes were as cold as ice. Noonan and I took turns murmuring a few words of comfort before he spoke first. "We're just here to ask you a question or two. Like, where were you last night?" She looked at me very unhappy, then turned to the director, frowned, and said arrogantly: "May I know why you questioned me in this way?" I don't know how many times I have heard this question, the same wording, the same tone.But the director simply ignored it, and asked kindly: "Also, one of your shoes seems to be dirty. Is it your right foot or your left foot? Anyway, it's either this one or that one." Her upper lip began to twitch. "Is that all?" the chief asked me.But before I could answer, he clicked with his tongue and turned his kindly round face back on the woman. "I almost forgot, there is one more thing, how do you know that your husband will not come home?" She stood up, her feet were a little unsteady, and a pale hand supported the back of the chair. "I trust you will forgive—" "Right away." The chief made a generous gesture with one fat hand, "We don't want to bother you, we just want to know where you've been, what happened to your shoes, and how you knew you My husband can't come home. Oh, and speaking of which, one more thing—why did Thaler come here this morning?" Mrs. Wilson sat down again, very erect and very stiff.The chief looked at her, trying to force a gentle smile that made his fat face ridiculously lined and bulged.After a while, her shoulders gradually relaxed, her chin drooped a little, and her back arched into an arc. I brought a chair in front of her and sat down. "Sooner or later you will have to confess to us, Mrs. Wilson." I tried to sound sympathetic. "Some things must be explained." "What do you think I'm hiding?" she asked defiantly.The body returned to the straight and stiff state again, and every word he uttered was clear and accurate, except for the flat tongue, which was a little vague. "I did go out. The stains on the shoes are blood. I know my husband died. Thaler came to see me because of my husband's death. Did I answer all your questions?" "We all know this," I said, "and we want you to explain it." She stood up again and said angrily: "I don't like your way, I refuse to—" Noonan said, "That's all right, Mrs. Wilson. Only then we'll have to ask you to come to the bureau with me." She turned her back on us, took a deep breath, and said to me, "While we were waiting for Donna at home, I got a call from a man who didn't want to be named. He said Donna had a five The thousand-dollar check went to the house of a woman named Dinah Bland, who gave me her address. I drove there right away, parked the car on the street, and sat in the car waiting for Donna to come out. "While I was waiting I saw Max Thaler, a man I recognized immediately. He walked up to the woman's house, but walked away without going in. Then Donner came out and walked down the street. He Didn't see me, which is what I was hoping for. I was going to drive home—before he did. I heard gunshots as soon as I started the engine, and then I saw Donal fall. I jumped out of the car and ran to him. He was dead and I was going crazy. Then Thaler came running over and he said if anyone found me here they would think I killed him. He put me back in the car and told me to go back Home." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked at my face from behind them, clearly wondering what I thought of the story.I said nothing."Is that what you want to know?" she asked. "Almost." Noonan said, he had already walked to the other side of the room, "What did Thaler say when he came here this afternoon?" "He asked me not to say anything." Her voice became low and weak, "He said that if anyone knew we were there, either or both of us would be suspected. Because Donna was giving That woman was killed after leaving her house again." "Where is the gunshot coming from?" asked the chief. "I don't know. I didn't see anything except—when I looked up . . . just saw Donal fall." "Did Thaler fire the shot?" "No." She immediately denied it, her mouth and eyes were wide open.Then she put a hand on her chest and said, "I don't know. I don't think it was him, and he said it wasn't him. I don't know where he was. I don't know why I never suspected him." "So what do you think now?" Noonan asked. "He—possibly." The chief winked at me so hard that all the muscles in his face worked.Then he asked about the previous situation: "Don't you know who made that call?" "He won't tell me his name." "You don't recognize his voice either?" "I don't know." "What kind of sound is it?" "He spoke in a low voice, as if worried about being overheard. I could barely hear what he was saying." "Keep your voice down?" the chief said with his mouth still open, his green eyes gleaming greedily between the two patches of fat on his face. "Yes, rough whispers." The director closed his mouth with a snap, opened it again, and said convincingly, "That's Thaler..." The woman was taken aback, and stared at the director and me in turn. "It's him!" she cried out, "It's him!"
When I got back to the Great Western Hotel, Robert Aubrey, assistant cashier at the First National Bank, was sitting in the lobby waiting for me.We went upstairs to my room, ordered some ice water, used the ice cubes in it to chill the whiskey, lemonade and pomegranate juice, and then went downstairs to the dining room. "Now tell me about that lady!" I said as I sipped my soup. "Have you seen her?" he asked. "not yet." "But you've heard something about her, haven't you?" "I only know that she is a master in her field." "That's right," he agreed, "I think you'll see her. You'll be a little disappointed at first, and then, before you realize when and how, you find yourself forgetting about the disappointment. Then you tell her the story of your life, your troubles, your dreams.” He laughed, boyishly shy, “and then you got stuck in it, and you couldn’t get out of it. You couldn’t get out of it at all.” "Thank you for your advice. How did you know this information?" He gave a shameful smile from the half-empty spoon and admitted, "I paid for it." "It must have cost you a lot! I hear she likes money." "Yeah, she cares about money, but for some reason, you just don't mind. She's so utterly mercenary, so blatantly greedy, but not annoying at all. When you get to know her, you'll understand me." meaning." "Maybe. Would you mind telling me how you broke up with her?" "No, don't mind. I'm out of money, that's all." "Is it so cold-blooded?" His face flushed slightly, and he nodded. "You seem to totally accept it," I said. "There's no other way." He said hesitantly, the blush deepening on his young, cheerful face. "I owe her something, as a matter of fact. She—let me tell you, I hope you can see This side of her. I had some money once, and that money ran out—don't forget I was young and excitable. My own money ran out, but there was more in the bank. I was—don't mind me Whether she did it or just had the idea, she found out anyway. I can't hide anything from her. Then we're done." "Is she the one who proposed to break up?" "Yeah, thank God! If it wasn't for her, you'd probably be after me by now—for embezzlement. That's what I owe her." He frowned earnestly, "You wouldn't tell about it— —You know what I mean. I want you to know that she has a good side too, and as for the other side, you'll hear enough anyway." "Maybe. Or maybe she just doesn't think what she's getting is worth the risk of arrest and jail time." He went over the words in his mind, then shook his head. "That may be part of the reason, but not all." "I guess she sticks to the 'pay to enter' rule." "To Dan Rolfe, too?" he asked. "Who is he?" "Called out to be her brother, half-brother or something. It's not. He's down and out--tuberculosis. She took him in, not out of love or anything; she just found him somewhere , took him home." "Anyone else?" "There's another activist, she used to run around with that guy. She didn't seem to get much money from him either." "What radical?" "Come here during the strike—called Quint." "So he's on her list?" "Heard that's why he stayed after the strike ended." "So he's still on her list now?" "Not anymore. She told me she was afraid of him. He threatened to kill her." "She seems to be able to control a person every time." I said. "Everyone she wants," he said seriously. "Donald Wilson up to date?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. "I've never heard of or seen anything about them. The Chief of Police asked us to find the check he had written her before yesterday, but we couldn't find anything. Nobody responded. Impressed." "As far as you know, who was her last customer?" "I've seen her hanging around town a lot lately with a guy named Thaler—he runs two casinos here. They call him the Whisperer, and you've probably heard of him."
I left young Aubrey at eight-thirty for the Miners' Inn in Forest Street.Half a block from the hotel, I ran into Bill Quint. "Hi!" I greeted him, "I'm on my way to find you!" He stopped in front of me, looked me up and down, and growled: "So it's you, a secret agent." "Stop talking nonsense." I complained, "I came all the way to catch you, don't pretend to be a good person here." "What do you want to know now?" he asked. "About Donal Wilson. You know him, don't you?" "I know him." "Very familiar?" "No." "What do you think of him?" He pursed his gray lips, blew out a puff that sounded like cloth being torn, and said, "A lousy Liberal." "Do you know Dinah Bland?" I asked. "I know." His neck shrank shorter and thicker than before. "Do you think she killed Wilson?" "Oh, what a surprise charge!" "You didn't do it, did you?" "Hell, of course not," he said. "We're a couple. Any other questions?" "Yes, but I'll save my energy. You'll just lie to me." I walked back to Broadway, got a cab, and asked the driver to take me to 1232 Hurricane Street.
The chief's car stopped in front of Mrs. Wilson's house, and we got out.The director stopped for a few seconds when he stepped on the first staircase, looked at the black veil on the doorbell, and said, "Huh, what should be done must be done." After speaking, we walked up the stairs. Mrs. Wilson didn't want to see us, but if the Chief of Police insisted, anyone would see him, and it was the same this time.We were taken upstairs to the study where Donna Wilson's widow sat.She was dressed in black, and her blue eyes were as cold as ice. Noonan and I took turns murmuring a few words of comfort before he spoke first. "We're just here to ask you a question or two. Like, where were you last night?" She looked at me very unhappy, then turned to the director, frowned, and said arrogantly: "May I know why you questioned me in this way?" I don't know how many times I have heard this question, the same wording, the same tone.But the director simply ignored it, and asked kindly: "Also, one of your shoes seems to be dirty. Is it your right foot or your left foot? Anyway, it's either this one or that one." Her upper lip began to twitch. "Is that all?" the chief asked me.But before I could answer, he clicked with his tongue and turned his kindly round face back on the woman. "I almost forgot, there is one more thing, how do you know that your husband will not come home?" She stood up, her feet were a little unsteady, and a pale hand supported the back of the chair. "I trust you will forgive—" "Right away." The chief made a generous gesture with one fat hand, "We don't want to bother you, we just want to know where you've been, what happened to your shoes, and how you knew you My husband can't come home. Oh, and speaking of which, one more thing—why did Thaler come here this morning?" Mrs. Wilson sat down again, very erect and very stiff.The chief looked at her, trying to force a gentle smile that made his fat face ridiculously lined and bulged.After a while, her shoulders gradually relaxed, her chin drooped a little, and her back arched into an arc. I brought a chair in front of her and sat down. "Sooner or later you will have to confess to us, Mrs. Wilson." I tried to sound sympathetic. "Some things must be explained." "What do you think I'm hiding?" she asked defiantly.The body returned to the straight and stiff state again, and every word he uttered was clear and accurate, except for the flat tongue, which was a little vague. "I did go out. The stains on the shoes are blood. I know my husband died. Thaler came to see me because of my husband's death. Did I answer all your questions?" "We all know this," I said, "and we want you to explain it." She stood up again and said angrily: "I don't like your way, I refuse to—" Noonan said, "That's all right, Mrs. Wilson. Only then we'll have to ask you to come to the bureau with me." She turned her back on us, took a deep breath, and said to me, "While we were waiting for Donna at home, I got a call from a man who didn't want to be named. He said Donna had a five The thousand-dollar check went to the house of a woman named Dinah Bland, who gave me her address. I drove there right away, parked the car on the street, and sat in the car waiting for Donna to come out. "While I was waiting I saw Max Thaler, a man I recognized immediately. He walked up to the woman's house, but walked away without going in. Then Donner came out and walked down the street. He Didn't see me, which is what I was hoping for. I was going to drive home—before he did. I heard gunshots as soon as I started the engine, and then I saw Donal fall. I jumped out of the car and ran to him. He was dead and I was going crazy. Then Thaler came running over and he said if anyone found me here they would think I killed him. He put me back in the car and told me to go back Home." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked at my face from behind them, clearly wondering what I thought of the story.I said nothing."Is that what you want to know?" she asked. "Almost." Noonan said, he had already walked to the other side of the room, "What did Thaler say when he came here this afternoon?" "He asked me not to say anything." Her voice became low and weak, "He said that if anyone knew we were there, either or both of us would be suspected. Because Donna was giving That woman was killed after leaving her house again." "Where is the gunshot coming from?" asked the chief. "I don't know. I didn't see anything except—when I looked up . . . just saw Donal fall." "Did Thaler fire the shot?" "No." She immediately denied it, her mouth and eyes were wide open.Then she put a hand on her chest and said, "I don't know. I don't think it was him, and he said it wasn't him. I don't know where he was. I don't know why I never suspected him." "So what do you think now?" Noonan asked. "He—possibly." The chief winked at me so hard that all the muscles in his face worked.Then he asked about the previous situation: "Don't you know who made that call?" "He won't tell me his name." "You don't recognize his voice either?" "I don't know." "What kind of sound is it?" "He spoke in a low voice, as if worried about being overheard. I could barely hear what he was saying." "Keep your voice down?" the chief said with his mouth still open, his green eyes gleaming greedily between the two patches of fat on his face. "Yes, rough whispers." The director closed his mouth with a snap, opened it again, and said convincingly, "That's Thaler..." The woman was taken aback, and stared at the director and me in turn. "It's him!" she cried out, "It's him!"
When I got back to the Great Western Hotel, Robert Aubrey, assistant cashier at the First National Bank, was sitting in the lobby waiting for me.We went upstairs to my room, ordered some ice water, used the ice cubes in it to chill the whiskey, lemonade and pomegranate juice, and then went downstairs to the dining room. "Now tell me about that lady!" I said as I sipped my soup. "Have you seen her?" he asked. "not yet." "But you've heard something about her, haven't you?" "I only know that she is a master in her field." "That's right," he agreed, "I think you'll see her. You'll be a little disappointed at first, and then, before you realize when and how, you find yourself forgetting about the disappointment. Then you tell her the story of your life, your troubles, your dreams.” He laughed, boyishly shy, “and then you got stuck in it, and you couldn’t get out of it. You couldn’t get out of it at all.” "Thank you for your advice. How did you know this information?" He gave a shameful smile from the half-empty spoon and admitted, "I paid for it." "It must have cost you a lot! I hear she likes money." "Yeah, she cares about money, but for some reason, you just don't mind. She's so utterly mercenary, so blatantly greedy, but not annoying at all. When you get to know her, you'll understand me." meaning." "Maybe. Would you mind telling me how you broke up with her?" "No, don't mind. I'm out of money, that's all." "Is it so cold-blooded?" His face flushed slightly, and he nodded. "You seem to totally accept it," I said. "There's no other way." He said hesitantly, the blush deepening on his young, cheerful face. "I owe her something, as a matter of fact. She—let me tell you, I hope you can see This side of her. I had some money once, and that money ran out—don't forget I was young and excitable. My own money ran out, but there was more in the bank. I was—don't mind me Whether she did it or just had the idea, she found out anyway. I can't hide anything from her. Then we're done." "Is she the one who proposed to break up?" "Yeah, thank God! If it wasn't for her, you'd probably be after me by now—for embezzlement. That's what I owe her." He frowned earnestly, "You wouldn't tell about it— —You know what I mean. I want you to know that she has a good side too, and as for the other side, you'll hear enough anyway." "Maybe. Or maybe she just doesn't think what she's getting is worth the risk of arrest and jail time." He went over the words in his mind, then shook his head. "That may be part of the reason, but not all." "I guess she sticks to the 'pay to enter' rule." "To Dan Rolfe, too?" he asked. "Who is he?" "Called out to be her brother, half-brother or something. It's not. He's down and out--tuberculosis. She took him in, not out of love or anything; she just found him somewhere , took him home." "Anyone else?" "There's another activist, she used to run around with that guy. She didn't seem to get much money from him either." "What radical?" "Come here during the strike—called Quint." "So he's on her list?" "Heard that's why he stayed after the strike ended." "So he's still on her list now?" "Not anymore. She told me she was afraid of him. He threatened to kill her." "She seems to be able to control a person every time." I said. "Everyone she wants," he said seriously. "Donald Wilson up to date?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. "I've never heard of or seen anything about them. The Chief of Police asked us to find the check he had written her before yesterday, but we couldn't find anything. Nobody responded. Impressed." "As far as you know, who was her last customer?" "I've seen her hanging around town a lot lately with a guy named Thaler—he runs two casinos here. They call him the Whisperer, and you've probably heard of him."
I left young Aubrey at eight-thirty for the Miners' Inn in Forest Street.Half a block from the hotel, I ran into Bill Quint. "Hi!" I greeted him, "I'm on my way to find you!" He stopped in front of me, looked me up and down, and growled: "So it's you, a secret agent." "Stop talking nonsense." I complained, "I came all the way to catch you, don't pretend to be a good person here." "What do you want to know now?" he asked. "About Donal Wilson. You know him, don't you?" "I know him." "Very familiar?" "No." "What do you think of him?" He pursed his gray lips, blew out a puff that sounded like cloth being torn, and said, "A lousy Liberal." "Do you know Dinah Bland?" I asked. "I know." His neck shrank shorter and thicker than before. "Do you think she killed Wilson?" "Oh, what a surprise charge!" "You didn't do it, did you?" "Hell, of course not," he said. "We're a couple. Any other questions?" "Yes, but I'll save my energy. You'll just lie to me." I walked back to Broadway, got a cab, and asked the driver to take me to 1232 Hurricane Street.