Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Elihu speaks reason
It was almost half past two when I got back to the hotel.The front desk clerk handed me a note along with the key, asking me to call back at 605 Yangshu Road.I know the number, it's Elihu Wilson's.
"What time did you call?" I asked the front desk clerk.
"Just after one o'clock."
It seemed urgent.I went back to the phone booth and called.It was the old man's secretary who picked me up and asked me to go over there immediately.I promised him to arrive as soon as possible, then asked the front desk clerk to help me call a taxi, and went upstairs to the room for a long shot of Scotch.
I wish I could clear my head, but unfortunately I can't.I don't want to do any other work that night might be handed to me with such a body drained of alcohol.That sip of whiskey sobered me up quite a bit.I poured more wine into the portable bottle, stuffed it in my pocket, and went downstairs to catch a cab.
Elihu Wilson's house was brightly lit.The secretary opened the front door before my fingers touched the bell.His thin body was shivering in light blue pajamas and dark blue bathrobe, and his thin face was very excited. "Hurry up!" he said. "Mr. Wilson is waiting! And please persuade him to let us remove the body!" I promised to do my best, and followed him upstairs to the old man's room. Old Elihu was lying on the bed as before, only this time there was a black automatic on the sheet, pressed against his pink hand. As soon as I appeared, he immediately lifted his head from the pillow, sat up straight, and shouted at me: "Are you as courageous as your temper?" His face was an unhealthy crimson, and his dull eyes were cold and fanatical. Instead of answering his question, I looked at the body lying between the door and the bed. A short, stocky man in brown was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes hidden under the brim of a gray hat.A part of the raised jaw was knocked out, exposing the hole in the neck left by the bullet through the tie and collar; Leather short stick.There was blood everywhere. I looked up, and my eyes moved from the chaos on the ground to the old man's face.He grinned cruelly and stupidly. "You're full of big talk," he said, "I know that. You bloody fist-thumping and tongue-in-cheek guy. What else do you have? Do you have the guts to match a bad temper? Or do you just Talk empty words?" It's no use trying to please the old guy.I reminded him angrily: "Didn't I tell you not to bother me unless you want to change the subject and have a good talk?" "That's right, young man." There was a stupid smugness in his voice, "I'll talk to you like you want; Smoke out rats, big and small. It's a man's job, are you a man?" "What's the use of reading these incomprehensible jingles?" I growled, "If the small matter you want to deal with is really within the scope of my business, and the price is reasonable, maybe I will follow it. But smoked mice, I don't understand stupid things like clearing the pigsty." "Okay! I want to clean up the criminals and embezzlers in Bosheng City. Is that clear enough?" "You didn't want to do it this morning," I said. "Why do you want to do it now?" His explanations were dirty and long, and his voice was shrill.To put it simply, Bosheng City was built by him brick by brick. If he couldn't own it, he would eradicate it.No one could threaten him in his own city, no matter what.He could leave them alone, but as soon as they started dictating what he—Elihu Wilson—could and couldn't do, he'd show them what he really was.Finally, pointing to the dead body on the ground, he boasted: "This will make them look good, I, an old man, still have a few tricks!" Wish I hadn't been drinking and was sane.His clownish nonsense puzzled me, and I could not fathom the vague mystery behind it. "Your game partner sent him?" I asked, nodding at the dead man. "I just said hello to him with this." He patted the automatic on the bed, "but I know it's them." "How did things go?" "Simple. I heard the door being pushed open and I turned on the light and there he was. I shot him and that was it." "What time is it?" "Around one o'clock." "Then you just let him lie here?" "That's right." The old man laughed roughly, and then began to rant again. "Does the sight of the dead make you sick? Or are you afraid of his ghost?" I smiled at him.Now I see, the old guy was terrified; behind the clownish mischief was fear.That's why he yelled and prevented others from removing the body.He was going to look at it to prove that he was strong enough to defend himself so that he wouldn't panic.I know where I stand now. "Are you really going to clean up the city?" I asked. "I said I would, and I will." "I'm going to have full control—no one else's hands—to do it exactly my way. And, I want a ten thousand dollar fee." "Ten thousand! Why would I pay a guy that came out of nowhere? A guy who does nothing but talks big?" "Be serious! I represent the Mainland Detective Agency, you know them." "Yes, and they know me. If so, they should know that I can—" "That's not what you mean. The person you want to clean up was your friend yesterday, and maybe next week you'll be back together again. It's none of my business. I'm not here to play politics for you. You hired me to do it." The more important thing is to clean up, not to circle them back. If you want this to be done, you must pay the money first, and I will refund it to you if you don’t spend it. Either you don’t do this kind of thing, or you have to do it thoroughly. It's routine. To do or not to do?" "I'm fucking quitting," he yelled. I was called back by him halfway down the stairs. "I'm an old man," he grumbled, "if I were ten years younger—" He glared at me, trying to squeeze out the words, "Okay, I'll give you the damn check!" "And do things the way I say?" "right!" "We'll start now. Where's your secretary?" Wilson pressed the button on the bedside table, and the silent secretary appeared out of nowhere.I told him, "Mr. Wilson is going to write a check for ten thousand dollars to the Continental Detective Agency and write a letter to the San Francisco bureau authorizing the agency to use the ten thousand dollars to investigate crime and political corruption in Bosun City. .The letter should clearly state that the detective agency has the right to act at its own discretion if necessary." The secretary looked at the old man suspiciously.The old man frowned and nodded his round white head. When the secretary moved to the door, I stopped him. "You'd better call the police first, tell them there's a dead robber here, and then call Mr. Wilson's doctor." The old man declared that he didn't want any damn doctor. "You need a shot in the arm and a good night's sleep." I stepped over the body and picked up the black pistol on the bed, assuring him, "I'll stay here tonight and have plenty of time to figure it out tomorrow. Things about the drug town." The old man is tired.He was cursing, rambling and accusing me of deciding what was best for him, barely audibly. I took off the dead man's hat, trying to get a better look at his face, but it was a strange face, so I put the hat back on him. When I stood up straight, the old man asked gently, "Have you made any progress in tracking down Donna's murderer?" "Forget it. The case should be closed in another day." "Who is it?" he asked. Then the secretary came in with the letter and the check, which I handed to the old man instead of the answer to the question.He signed each with trembling hands, and I folded them up and put them in my pocket before the police arrived.
The first policeman to enter the house was the Chief, Fat Noonan.He nodded kindly to Wilson, shook hands with me, and looked at the dead man with glowing green eyes. "Gee, gee," he said, "well done, whoever did it. Shorty Yakima. Look at what he's got." He kicked the stick out of the dead man's hand, "big enough to sink A warship. What did you do?" he asked me. "Mr. Wilson." "Oh, great job." He congratulated the old man, "You saved a lot of trouble for a lot of people, including me. Brothers, get him out." He said to the four who followed. Two uniformed officers grabbed Yakima the short by the legs and lifted him by the arms while another picked up a leather stick and a flashlight from under the body. "It would be great if everyone dealt with burglars like this," continued the chief.He took three cigars from his pocket, dropped one on the bed, stuffed one to me, and stuck the other in his mouth. "I was trying to find you somewhere," he said to me as we lit our cigars. "I have a little business to do, and I thought you might be interested in going with me. As the saying goes, it's better to come sooner than later." He said Putting his mouth next to my ear, he whispered, "Go catch the Whisperer, do you want to go?" "it is good!" "I knew you wanted to go. Hello, Doctor." He shook hands with the man who had just entered.He was a fat little man with a tired oval face and sleepy gray eyes. The doctor went to the bed, where another of Noonan's men was questioning Wilson about the shooting.I followed the secretary to the corridor and asked him, "Is there anyone else in this house besides the old man and you?" "There is a private driver and a Chinese cook." "Tell the driver to stay in the old man's room tonight. I'm going out with Noonan and will be back as soon as possible. I don't think anything exciting will happen here tonight. But whatever, don't let Leave the old man alone, and don't leave him alone with Noonan or Noonan's men." The secretary's mouth and eyes were wide open. "What time did you leave Donna Wilson last night?" I asked. "You mean the day before yesterday, the night he was killed?" "right." "Exactly half past nine." "Since five o'clock, you have been together?" "From a quarter past five. We were in his office, checking accounts and discussing things of that sort, until almost eight o'clock. Then we went to Bayard's and discussed business over dinner. He left at half past nine, Say you have a date." "Did he say anything else about that appointment?" "Nothing." "There is no hint of where you are going, who you are going to meet?" "He just said he had a date." "And you don't know anything?" "I don't know. What's the matter? Do you think I should know something?" "I think he might have said something." I turned the topic back to what happened tonight, "Who does Mr. Wilson have today? The one he killed doesn't count." "Excuse me." The secretary said with an apologetic smile, "I can't disclose it without Mr. Wilson's permission. I'm sorry." "Aren't there local snakes here? Like Lu Yard, or—" The secretary shook her head and repeated, "I'm sorry." "Let's not argue about this." I gave up, turned around and walked towards the bedroom. At this time the doctor came out and was buttoning up the windbreaker. "He's asleep now," he said hastily, "someone should be with him. I'll be back in the morning." And he ran down the stairs. I went into the bedroom, and the chief and the officer who asked Wilson were standing by the bed.The chief grinned at me, as if pleased to see me; the officer scowled.Wilson lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "It's almost here," Noonan said, "I think we're on our way!" I agreed and said good night to the old man.He said good night, but didn't look at me.In came the secretary and the driver, a tall young man with sunburns on his face. The chief, another detective--Inspector McGraw--and I all three went downstairs and got into the chief's car.McGraw sat next to the driver, and the chief and I sat in the back seat. "We start arresting people around dawn." Noonan explained on the road. "The Whisperer has a junction on King Street, and he usually leaves there before dawn. We could just take that place, but that would be There's going to be a shot at it. It's better to sit still and wait until he's gone." I don't understand if his "hands on" refers to arresting Whisperer or giving him a shot.I asked, "Is there enough reason to give him such a blow?" "Enough?" he laughed happily. "If what Mrs. Wilson told us wasn't enough to beat him up, then I'm a pickpocket." I thought of a wisecrack or two in response to him, but didn't say it.
Notes:
Elihu Wilson's house was brightly lit.The secretary opened the front door before my fingers touched the bell.His thin body was shivering in light blue pajamas and dark blue bathrobe, and his thin face was very excited. "Hurry up!" he said. "Mr. Wilson is waiting! And please persuade him to let us remove the body!" I promised to do my best, and followed him upstairs to the old man's room. Old Elihu was lying on the bed as before, only this time there was a black automatic on the sheet, pressed against his pink hand. As soon as I appeared, he immediately lifted his head from the pillow, sat up straight, and shouted at me: "Are you as courageous as your temper?" His face was an unhealthy crimson, and his dull eyes were cold and fanatical. Instead of answering his question, I looked at the body lying between the door and the bed. A short, stocky man in brown was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes hidden under the brim of a gray hat.A part of the raised jaw was knocked out, exposing the hole in the neck left by the bullet through the tie and collar; Leather short stick.There was blood everywhere. I looked up, and my eyes moved from the chaos on the ground to the old man's face.He grinned cruelly and stupidly. "You're full of big talk," he said, "I know that. You bloody fist-thumping and tongue-in-cheek guy. What else do you have? Do you have the guts to match a bad temper? Or do you just Talk empty words?" It's no use trying to please the old guy.I reminded him angrily: "Didn't I tell you not to bother me unless you want to change the subject and have a good talk?" "That's right, young man." There was a stupid smugness in his voice, "I'll talk to you like you want; Smoke out rats, big and small. It's a man's job, are you a man?" "What's the use of reading these incomprehensible jingles?" I growled, "If the small matter you want to deal with is really within the scope of my business, and the price is reasonable, maybe I will follow it. But smoked mice, I don't understand stupid things like clearing the pigsty." "Okay! I want to clean up the criminals and embezzlers in Bosheng City. Is that clear enough?" "You didn't want to do it this morning," I said. "Why do you want to do it now?" His explanations were dirty and long, and his voice was shrill.To put it simply, Bosheng City was built by him brick by brick. If he couldn't own it, he would eradicate it.No one could threaten him in his own city, no matter what.He could leave them alone, but as soon as they started dictating what he—Elihu Wilson—could and couldn't do, he'd show them what he really was.Finally, pointing to the dead body on the ground, he boasted: "This will make them look good, I, an old man, still have a few tricks!" Wish I hadn't been drinking and was sane.His clownish nonsense puzzled me, and I could not fathom the vague mystery behind it. "Your game partner sent him?" I asked, nodding at the dead man. "I just said hello to him with this." He patted the automatic on the bed, "but I know it's them." "How did things go?" "Simple. I heard the door being pushed open and I turned on the light and there he was. I shot him and that was it." "What time is it?" "Around one o'clock." "Then you just let him lie here?" "That's right." The old man laughed roughly, and then began to rant again. "Does the sight of the dead make you sick? Or are you afraid of his ghost?" I smiled at him.Now I see, the old guy was terrified; behind the clownish mischief was fear.That's why he yelled and prevented others from removing the body.He was going to look at it to prove that he was strong enough to defend himself so that he wouldn't panic.I know where I stand now. "Are you really going to clean up the city?" I asked. "I said I would, and I will." "I'm going to have full control—no one else's hands—to do it exactly my way. And, I want a ten thousand dollar fee." "Ten thousand! Why would I pay a guy that came out of nowhere? A guy who does nothing but talks big?" "Be serious! I represent the Mainland Detective Agency, you know them." "Yes, and they know me. If so, they should know that I can—" "That's not what you mean. The person you want to clean up was your friend yesterday, and maybe next week you'll be back together again. It's none of my business. I'm not here to play politics for you. You hired me to do it." The more important thing is to clean up, not to circle them back. If you want this to be done, you must pay the money first, and I will refund it to you if you don’t spend it. Either you don’t do this kind of thing, or you have to do it thoroughly. It's routine. To do or not to do?" "I'm fucking quitting," he yelled. I was called back by him halfway down the stairs. "I'm an old man," he grumbled, "if I were ten years younger—" He glared at me, trying to squeeze out the words, "Okay, I'll give you the damn check!" "And do things the way I say?" "right!" "We'll start now. Where's your secretary?" Wilson pressed the button on the bedside table, and the silent secretary appeared out of nowhere.I told him, "Mr. Wilson is going to write a check for ten thousand dollars to the Continental Detective Agency and write a letter to the San Francisco bureau authorizing the agency to use the ten thousand dollars to investigate crime and political corruption in Bosun City. .The letter should clearly state that the detective agency has the right to act at its own discretion if necessary." The secretary looked at the old man suspiciously.The old man frowned and nodded his round white head. When the secretary moved to the door, I stopped him. "You'd better call the police first, tell them there's a dead robber here, and then call Mr. Wilson's doctor." The old man declared that he didn't want any damn doctor. "You need a shot in the arm and a good night's sleep." I stepped over the body and picked up the black pistol on the bed, assuring him, "I'll stay here tonight and have plenty of time to figure it out tomorrow. Things about the drug town." The old man is tired.He was cursing, rambling and accusing me of deciding what was best for him, barely audibly. I took off the dead man's hat, trying to get a better look at his face, but it was a strange face, so I put the hat back on him. When I stood up straight, the old man asked gently, "Have you made any progress in tracking down Donna's murderer?" "Forget it. The case should be closed in another day." "Who is it?" he asked. Then the secretary came in with the letter and the check, which I handed to the old man instead of the answer to the question.He signed each with trembling hands, and I folded them up and put them in my pocket before the police arrived.
The first policeman to enter the house was the Chief, Fat Noonan.He nodded kindly to Wilson, shook hands with me, and looked at the dead man with glowing green eyes. "Gee, gee," he said, "well done, whoever did it. Shorty Yakima. Look at what he's got." He kicked the stick out of the dead man's hand, "big enough to sink A warship. What did you do?" he asked me. "Mr. Wilson." "Oh, great job." He congratulated the old man, "You saved a lot of trouble for a lot of people, including me. Brothers, get him out." He said to the four who followed. Two uniformed officers grabbed Yakima the short by the legs and lifted him by the arms while another picked up a leather stick and a flashlight from under the body. "It would be great if everyone dealt with burglars like this," continued the chief.He took three cigars from his pocket, dropped one on the bed, stuffed one to me, and stuck the other in his mouth. "I was trying to find you somewhere," he said to me as we lit our cigars. "I have a little business to do, and I thought you might be interested in going with me. As the saying goes, it's better to come sooner than later." He said Putting his mouth next to my ear, he whispered, "Go catch the Whisperer, do you want to go?" "it is good!" "I knew you wanted to go. Hello, Doctor." He shook hands with the man who had just entered.He was a fat little man with a tired oval face and sleepy gray eyes. The doctor went to the bed, where another of Noonan's men was questioning Wilson about the shooting.I followed the secretary to the corridor and asked him, "Is there anyone else in this house besides the old man and you?" "There is a private driver and a Chinese cook." "Tell the driver to stay in the old man's room tonight. I'm going out with Noonan and will be back as soon as possible. I don't think anything exciting will happen here tonight. But whatever, don't let Leave the old man alone, and don't leave him alone with Noonan or Noonan's men." The secretary's mouth and eyes were wide open. "What time did you leave Donna Wilson last night?" I asked. "You mean the day before yesterday, the night he was killed?" "right." "Exactly half past nine." "Since five o'clock, you have been together?" "From a quarter past five. We were in his office, checking accounts and discussing things of that sort, until almost eight o'clock. Then we went to Bayard's and discussed business over dinner. He left at half past nine, Say you have a date." "Did he say anything else about that appointment?" "Nothing." "There is no hint of where you are going, who you are going to meet?" "He just said he had a date." "And you don't know anything?" "I don't know. What's the matter? Do you think I should know something?" "I think he might have said something." I turned the topic back to what happened tonight, "Who does Mr. Wilson have today? The one he killed doesn't count." "Excuse me." The secretary said with an apologetic smile, "I can't disclose it without Mr. Wilson's permission. I'm sorry." "Aren't there local snakes here? Like Lu Yard, or—" The secretary shook her head and repeated, "I'm sorry." "Let's not argue about this." I gave up, turned around and walked towards the bedroom. At this time the doctor came out and was buttoning up the windbreaker. "He's asleep now," he said hastily, "someone should be with him. I'll be back in the morning." And he ran down the stairs. I went into the bedroom, and the chief and the officer who asked Wilson were standing by the bed.The chief grinned at me, as if pleased to see me; the officer scowled.Wilson lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "It's almost here," Noonan said, "I think we're on our way!" I agreed and said good night to the old man.He said good night, but didn't look at me.In came the secretary and the driver, a tall young man with sunburns on his face. The chief, another detective--Inspector McGraw--and I all three went downstairs and got into the chief's car.McGraw sat next to the driver, and the chief and I sat in the back seat. "We start arresting people around dawn." Noonan explained on the road. "The Whisperer has a junction on King Street, and he usually leaves there before dawn. We could just take that place, but that would be There's going to be a shot at it. It's better to sit still and wait until he's gone." I don't understand if his "hands on" refers to arresting Whisperer or giving him a shot.I asked, "Is there enough reason to give him such a blow?" "Enough?" he laughed happily. "If what Mrs. Wilson told us wasn't enough to beat him up, then I'm a pickpocket." I thought of a wisecrack or two in response to him, but didn't say it.
Notes: