Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

The letter Macaulay had received from Clyde Weinant was, so to speak, a document.It was badly typewritten on a blank sheet of paper, dated December 26, 1932, in Philadelphia.The full text is as follows: I put the letter on Macaulay's desk and said, "That makes sense. Do you remember why he had a falling out with Rosewater?" "It's research on changing the crystal structure. I can look it up." Macaulay picked up the first page of the letter and frowned, "Weinant said that he got a thousand dollars from her that night , but I actually handed over to him the five thousand dollars that Miss Wolfe had told me was what Weinant wanted."

"Then she withheld four thousand, which can be said to have been obtained from Uncle John's estate?" I mentioned. "Quite like that. Strange. It never occurred to me that she would defraud him. I'm going to check out the other money I've entrusted her with." "Did you know she was convicted of a beauty trick in Cleveland?" "I don't know. Did she really commit any crimes?" "According to the police—her name was Rhoda Stewart. Where did Weinant find her?" He shook his head: "It's unclear." "Do you know where she came from, any relatives?" He shook his head again.I then asked, "Who is she engaged to?"

"I didn't know she was engaged either." "She's been wearing a diamond ring on that finger." "This is something new," he said.He closed his eyes and thought, "No. I don't remember ever noticing that she was wearing an engagement ring." He put his arms on the desk, grinned at me, and said, "Well, did you Maybe do what he said?" "It's very unlikely." "I expected that," he reached for the letter. "You think about him as I do. What can I do to change your mind?" "I do not want--" "Would it do any good if I could get him to meet with you? Maybe I'd tell him that's the only way you'd get the case—"

"I'd like to meet and talk with him," I said, "but he'll have to be more explicit than what's in this letter." Macaulay asked slowly; "Do you think he might have killed Miss Wolfe?" "I don't know anything about the case at present," I answered. "I don't know as much as the police. It seems that the police haven't got enough evidence to arrest him even if they can find him." McCauley sighed: "It's no fun being a weirdo's lawyer. I'll try to make him listen to the truth, but I know he won't."

"I want to ask, how is his current financial situation? Is he still living as well as he used to?" "Probably. The depression affected him a little bit, as it did all of us. With the current soft metal prices, his patent income from the smelting process is very small, but he still gets an annual income from his inventions of cellophane and soundproofing." Five or six thousand yuan for the patent, plus odds and ends—" He paused, and asked, "Don't worry, he can't afford the fee you asked for, right?" "No, I'm just a little puzzled." I thought of another thing.Then he asked, "Apart from his ex-wife and children, does he have any other relatives?"

"There is a sister, Alice Weinant, but they haven't seen each other for four or five years." I guess it was Aunt Alice that the Jorgensons didn't visit on Christmas afternoon. "What did they fall out about?" I asked. "Because he once gave an interview to a newspaper and said that he didn't think the Soviet Union's five-year plan would inevitably fail. He didn't actually mention it that strongly." I laughed: "They really are a couple—" "She's even worse than him. She can't remember anything. When her brother was in the hospital for an appendix cut, she and Mimi went to visit him for the first time in a taxi one afternoon when a hearse drove out of the hospital. out. Alice paled suddenly, and took Mimi's arm and said: 'Oh, my God! If this is... what's his name?'"

"Where does she live?" "Madison Avenue. It's in the phone book," he hesitated. "I don't think you need—" "I won't disturb her." Before I could say anything, the phone rang. He picked up the microphone and said, "Hello?...Yes, I am...who?...Oh, yes..." The muscles around his mouth tightened, his eyes widened, "Where?" He listened again "Of course. Can I make it?" He glanced at the watch on his left arm. "Well, I'll see you on the train." He put the phone down. "It's Officer Gilder," he told me." Weinant attempted suicide in Allentown, Pennsylvania."