Chapter 21 Chapter 21, The Seventeenth Homicide
I dreamed that I was there, sitting on a bench somewhere, facing a rising and falling fountain in a Harlem park, with a veiled woman sitting beside me.She came with me, we were very familiar, but I suddenly forgot who she was.And because she was covered with a long black veil, I couldn't see her face clearly.
I thought if I said something to her, I might be able to recognize her voice by her answer.But I was very embarrassed, and I couldn't find anything to say after thinking about it for a long time.Finally I asked her if she knew someone named Carol T. Harris.
She answered me, but overwhelmed by the rustling of the fountain, I heard nothing.
A fire truck came up from Edmondson Avenue, and she left me to run after it, yelling, "Fire! Fire!" and I recognized her voice, and knew who she was— Someone who means a lot to me.I got up and went after her, but it was too late, she had disappeared with the fire truck.
I searched for her in the streets and alleys, covering most of the streets in the United States-Gai Street and Royal Foothills in Baltimore; Colfa Avenue in Denver; Antaine Road and St. Clair Avenue in Cleveland; McKinney Avenue in Dallas; Boston LeMartine, Cornell, and Emery Streets in Louisville; Berry Boulevard in Louisville; Lexington Avenue in New York.It wasn't until I stepped onto Victoria Street in Jacksonville that I heard her voice again, but she was still nowhere to be seen.
I walked a few more streets and listened to her voice.She was calling a name, not mine, an unfamiliar name, but no matter how fast or in which direction I walked, I couldn't get close to her voice.Whether on the street in front of the Federal Building in El Paso or in Circus Park in Detroit, her distance from me was always the same.Then the sound stopped.
Tired and disappointed, I went to rest in the lobby of a hotel facing the train station in Rocky Mount, North Carolina.While I was sitting, a train pulled into the station.She got off the train, walked into the lobby, came up to me and started kissing me.I was very uncomfortable because everyone around me was watching and laughing at us.
That dream ends here.
I dreamed again that I was looking for someone I hated in a strange city.I have a sharp knife in my pocket and intend to kill him with it as soon as I find him.It was Sunday morning, the church bells were ringing, and crowds of people were walking down the street, going to church or just coming from it.I have walked almost as far as the first dream, the difference is that this time I have been in this strange city.
Then the person I was looking for yelled at me.I see him.He was a little brown guy with a huge sombrero.He was standing on the steps of a building on the other side of the square, laughing at me.The wide square between us was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder.
With the knife in my pocket in one hand, I ran to the little brown man and put my feet on the heads and shoulders of the men in the square.People's heads and shoulders were at different and uneven heights, and I stumbled on them.
The little brown man was standing on the stairs laughing until I was about to reach him when he suddenly ran into the building.I chased him up the spiral staircase and always came within an inch of catching him.Eventually we climbed onto the roof.He rushed to the edge without hesitation, my hands touched him, but he jumped.
His shoulder slid out of my fingers, and my hand knocked off his wide-brimmed hat and laid it directly on his head.It was a smooth, hard round head, not much bigger than a large egg, and I could fully hold it in one hand.I grabbed his head hard with one hand, and with the other I frantically pulled the knife out of my pocket—only then did I realize that I had stepped over the edge of the roof with him.We spun and fell toward the millions of upturned faces in the plaza miles below.
I opened my eyes, and the faint morning light shone through the cracks in the shutters. I lay face down on the dining room floor, my head resting on my left forearm, my right arm outstretched, and in my right hand I held Dinah Bland's blue-and-white-striped round-handled ice pick.The six-inch tapered blade was buried in Dinah Brand's left breast. She lay flat, dead.His long, strong legs were stretched towards the kitchen door, and another thread came off the silk stocking on his right leg. Slowly, gently, as if afraid of waking her up, I let go of the handle of the ice pick, retracted my hand, and stood up. My eyeballs were burning and my throat and mouth were hot and dry.I went into the kitchen, found a bottle of gin, stuffed it straight into my mouth, and drank it until I had to gasp.The kitchen clock said seven forty-one. I walked back to the dining room with a stomach full of gin, turned on the lights, and looked at the dead girl. There wasn't much blood, except for a spot the size of a dollar coin where the hole in her blue silk dress had been torn by an ice pick.There is a bruise on her right cheek below the cheekbone, and another bruise on her right wrist, where she was pinched.Her hands were empty and I moved her a little to make sure there was nothing under the body either. I checked the room and nothing has changed as far as I can tell.I went back to the kitchen and found no noticeable change. The spring lock of the back door was tightly locked, and there was no sign of tampering with it.I went to the front door and found no trace.I searched the house to the bottom, but still nothing.Windows are fine.The girl's jewelry was neatly placed on her dressing table (except for the two diamond rings she wore on her fingers).The handbag was placed on the chair in the bedroom, and there were more than 400 yuan in change in it, not a penny less. I went back to the dining room, knelt beside the dead girl, and wiped all the fingerprints off the handle of the ice pick with my handkerchief, and then did the same with the glasses, the wine bottles, the door, the light switches, and anything else I touched or might have touched. Touched furniture. I then washed my hands, checked my clothes for blood, and after making sure nothing was left of me, went to the front door, opened the door, wiped the inside handle, closed the door, and wiped the outside Handle and leave.
I called Dick Fry from a pharmacy at the upper end of Broadway and told him to come to my hotel.He arrived a few minutes after me. "Dinah Bland was killed at home last night or early this morning," I told him, "by an ice pick. The police don't know. I've told you enough about her, you should know There were quite a few people who had a reason to kill her. There were three I wanted to investigate first - the Whisperer, Dan Rolfe, and the radical Bill Quint. You know what they looked like. Rolf was in the hospital with a head injury, and I Don't know which one, try the city hospital first. Contact Mickey Linehan - he's still spying on Finn Pete - tell him to put Pete down first and do it for you. Find out about the three birds last night Where the person is, and when it matters.” The little Canadian detective stared at me curiously as I spoke.Afterwards he wanted to speak, but changed his mind, muttered a "yes", and left.
I went out to find Reno Starkey.After an hour of searching, I finally found him by phone.He was in an apartment on Ronny Street. "You alone?" he asked when I said I wanted to see him. "Ok." He said ok and told me how to go.I hailed a taxi and arrived at a run-down second-floor apartment on the edge of the city. Two men were loitering in front of the food store on the corner ahead; another pair sat on the low wooden stairs in front of the house on the back corner.The appearance of the four people is not very particular. I rang the doorbell and two men came to the door, neither looking very friendly. I was taken upstairs to the foyer.Reynolds, wearing a shirt and vest, without a fake collar, reclined in a chair with his feet on the windowsill. The sallow horse face nodded and said, "Bring a chair here." The two men who led me upstairs left the house and closed the door.I sat down and said, "I need an alibi. Dinah Bland was killed last night after I left. There's no way I could have been arrested for this, but now that Noonan is dead, I don't know the police What people will think of me. I don't want to give them any chance to frame me. If I have to, I can explain where I was last night, but if you will help me, you can save a lot of trouble." Renault looked at me dully and asked, "Why did you choose me?" "You called me last night, and you're the only one who knows I was there in the first half of the night. Even if I have an alibi somewhere else, I've got to get you done, don't I?" He asked, "You didn't kill her, did you?" I casually replied: "No." He looked out of the window for a while before he spoke again: "Why do you think I will help you? You treated me like that at Wilson's house last night. Do I still owe you anything?" I said, "I didn't hurt you either. It's been semi-public anyway, and the Whisperer knows enough for him to guess it all. I just forced you to a showdown, so why do you care? You're totally You can take care of yourself." "I'm trying to do that." He lied. "Well. You were at the Tanner Hotel in Tanner Town last night, twenty or thirty miles up the hill. You went there after you left Wilson's." , stayed until this morning. A guy called Rick, who works for Murray, took you there in a rented car. You should know what you did there yourself. Give me Your signature, I'll have it put in the register." "Thank you." I said as I unscrewed the pen case. "Don't say that. I'm doing this because I need friends. When the time comes for you, me, Whisperer, and Pete to sit together, I don't want a bitter end." "No." I promised him. "Who's going to be the police chief next?" "McGraw's acting chief. He might get real." "How is he going to play?" "Start with Finn and ruin Pete's like he ruined his store. Someone's gotta get hurt. I'm not going to sit around here like a good dumb dog when a guy like the Whisperer gets away with it. Either I or he. Do you think he killed that woman?" "He has a good enough reason." I handed him the signed note, "She betrayed him, betrayed him, many such things." "Aren't you close to her?" he asked. I didn't respond and lit a cigarette.Renault waited for a while, then said, "You'd better go to Lake and let him see what you look like. If he is asked, he will know how to describe you." At this time, a long-legged young man about twenty-two years old opened the door and walked in. He had a pair of fierce eyes with freckles on his thin face.Renault introduced that the young man's name was Hank O'Mara.I stood up to shake his hand, and I asked Raynor, "Can I come here and see you?" "Do you know Pique Murray?" "Yes, I know his den." "Everything you tell him will get back to me," he said. "We're getting ready to move out of here. It's not safe here. It's done with Tanner." "Okay, thanks." I walked out of the house.
Notes:
I opened my eyes, and the faint morning light shone through the cracks in the shutters. I lay face down on the dining room floor, my head resting on my left forearm, my right arm outstretched, and in my right hand I held Dinah Bland's blue-and-white-striped round-handled ice pick.The six-inch tapered blade was buried in Dinah Brand's left breast. She lay flat, dead.His long, strong legs were stretched towards the kitchen door, and another thread came off the silk stocking on his right leg. Slowly, gently, as if afraid of waking her up, I let go of the handle of the ice pick, retracted my hand, and stood up. My eyeballs were burning and my throat and mouth were hot and dry.I went into the kitchen, found a bottle of gin, stuffed it straight into my mouth, and drank it until I had to gasp.The kitchen clock said seven forty-one. I walked back to the dining room with a stomach full of gin, turned on the lights, and looked at the dead girl. There wasn't much blood, except for a spot the size of a dollar coin where the hole in her blue silk dress had been torn by an ice pick.There is a bruise on her right cheek below the cheekbone, and another bruise on her right wrist, where she was pinched.Her hands were empty and I moved her a little to make sure there was nothing under the body either. I checked the room and nothing has changed as far as I can tell.I went back to the kitchen and found no noticeable change. The spring lock of the back door was tightly locked, and there was no sign of tampering with it.I went to the front door and found no trace.I searched the house to the bottom, but still nothing.Windows are fine.The girl's jewelry was neatly placed on her dressing table (except for the two diamond rings she wore on her fingers).The handbag was placed on the chair in the bedroom, and there were more than 400 yuan in change in it, not a penny less. I went back to the dining room, knelt beside the dead girl, and wiped all the fingerprints off the handle of the ice pick with my handkerchief, and then did the same with the glasses, the wine bottles, the door, the light switches, and anything else I touched or might have touched. Touched furniture. I then washed my hands, checked my clothes for blood, and after making sure nothing was left of me, went to the front door, opened the door, wiped the inside handle, closed the door, and wiped the outside Handle and leave.
I called Dick Fry from a pharmacy at the upper end of Broadway and told him to come to my hotel.He arrived a few minutes after me. "Dinah Bland was killed at home last night or early this morning," I told him, "by an ice pick. The police don't know. I've told you enough about her, you should know There were quite a few people who had a reason to kill her. There were three I wanted to investigate first - the Whisperer, Dan Rolfe, and the radical Bill Quint. You know what they looked like. Rolf was in the hospital with a head injury, and I Don't know which one, try the city hospital first. Contact Mickey Linehan - he's still spying on Finn Pete - tell him to put Pete down first and do it for you. Find out about the three birds last night Where the person is, and when it matters.” The little Canadian detective stared at me curiously as I spoke.Afterwards he wanted to speak, but changed his mind, muttered a "yes", and left.
I went out to find Reno Starkey.After an hour of searching, I finally found him by phone.He was in an apartment on Ronny Street. "You alone?" he asked when I said I wanted to see him. "Ok." He said ok and told me how to go.I hailed a taxi and arrived at a run-down second-floor apartment on the edge of the city. Two men were loitering in front of the food store on the corner ahead; another pair sat on the low wooden stairs in front of the house on the back corner.The appearance of the four people is not very particular. I rang the doorbell and two men came to the door, neither looking very friendly. I was taken upstairs to the foyer.Reynolds, wearing a shirt and vest, without a fake collar, reclined in a chair with his feet on the windowsill. The sallow horse face nodded and said, "Bring a chair here." The two men who led me upstairs left the house and closed the door.I sat down and said, "I need an alibi. Dinah Bland was killed last night after I left. There's no way I could have been arrested for this, but now that Noonan is dead, I don't know the police What people will think of me. I don't want to give them any chance to frame me. If I have to, I can explain where I was last night, but if you will help me, you can save a lot of trouble." Renault looked at me dully and asked, "Why did you choose me?" "You called me last night, and you're the only one who knows I was there in the first half of the night. Even if I have an alibi somewhere else, I've got to get you done, don't I?" He asked, "You didn't kill her, did you?" I casually replied: "No." He looked out of the window for a while before he spoke again: "Why do you think I will help you? You treated me like that at Wilson's house last night. Do I still owe you anything?" I said, "I didn't hurt you either. It's been semi-public anyway, and the Whisperer knows enough for him to guess it all. I just forced you to a showdown, so why do you care? You're totally You can take care of yourself." "I'm trying to do that." He lied. "Well. You were at the Tanner Hotel in Tanner Town last night, twenty or thirty miles up the hill. You went there after you left Wilson's." , stayed until this morning. A guy called Rick, who works for Murray, took you there in a rented car. You should know what you did there yourself. Give me Your signature, I'll have it put in the register." "Thank you." I said as I unscrewed the pen case. "Don't say that. I'm doing this because I need friends. When the time comes for you, me, Whisperer, and Pete to sit together, I don't want a bitter end." "No." I promised him. "Who's going to be the police chief next?" "McGraw's acting chief. He might get real." "How is he going to play?" "Start with Finn and ruin Pete's like he ruined his store. Someone's gotta get hurt. I'm not going to sit around here like a good dumb dog when a guy like the Whisperer gets away with it. Either I or he. Do you think he killed that woman?" "He has a good enough reason." I handed him the signed note, "She betrayed him, betrayed him, many such things." "Aren't you close to her?" he asked. I didn't respond and lit a cigarette.Renault waited for a while, then said, "You'd better go to Lake and let him see what you look like. If he is asked, he will know how to describe you." At this time, a long-legged young man about twenty-two years old opened the door and walked in. He had a pair of fierce eyes with freckles on his thin face.Renault introduced that the young man's name was Hank O'Mara.I stood up to shake his hand, and I asked Raynor, "Can I come here and see you?" "Do you know Pique Murray?" "Yes, I know his den." "Everything you tell him will get back to me," he said. "We're getting ready to move out of here. It's not safe here. It's done with Tanner." "Okay, thanks." I walked out of the house.
Notes: