Chapter 6 Section five

After a lunch meeting at Lowe's Greek Restaurant, David Freeman and Gina Locke told Dismas Hardy straight up, without any pretense, that they were going straight from the restaurant to Freeman's in Mason to look up some documents at his residence, and Freeman will return to the office later.If Hardy doesn't mind, please tell Felice. "Happy to oblige, David. I can find any excuse but to hear Phyllis's beautiful voice." When he came back alone and walked into the lobby of the office building, Hardy was still thankful that he had kept his mouth shut just now and didn't talk too much about David and Gina's excuse for the weak research file.Only when Phyllis's pleasant voice sounded in his ears did he recover from the incident.Phyllis stopped him and said, "Mr. Elliott of the San Francisco Chronicle wants you to call him back as soon as possible."

"Thank you, did he say something important?" "He didn't say whether it was important or not, but I think it might." Hardy walked over to the guest reception desk and leaned on the edge as usual.Phyllis has always disliked his casual appearance.But now, I'm even more bored with what he's going to do next.Hardy stared at her with a grin and said, "Why do you say that?" "What why?" Phyllis averted his gaze, staring at Hardy's arms folded on the table.In her opinion, he must have some crooked idea again. "Why do you think that's an important thing?"

Due to work reasons, Phyllis has been taught by Freeman for a long time.For her, doing everything must follow the rules, which is a matter of course.Hardy is the kind of uneducable person who is careless in everything he does and has no rules at all.Therefore, she tried to maintain that purely professional face in the face of his frequent unreasonable troubles.After Phyllis understood that Hardy was pestering her deliberately, she could no longer restrain her emotions.Sighing annoyedly, trying to smile politely but failing to do so, she replied impatiently, "I thought calling you in your office was important, Mr. Hardy. Mr Elliot called you during his working hours and asked you to call him back as soon as possible, it must be something important."

"He probably just wanted to talk to me. That's the way it is, you know?" Of course Phyllis knew that nothing serious would happen. "Why don't I call him again?" "Is this necessary, Phyllis?" Hardy took a step back, removed his arms from the table, looked at her approvingly, and said, "You're kidding me. You're supposed to be paying attention at work." Work. Well, I won't tell David about you." When Hardy turned and walked up the stairs leading to his office, Phyllis was still standing there, talking about Hardy's arrogance just now. I was so stunned that I didn't know how to respond. "Oh, by the way, speaking of David, he asked me to tell you that he'll be late at the office. He's 'doing some paperwork' with Miss Locke. I haven't said that before, but I You have to say that," Hardy said, turning back to Phyllis as he walked.

"What?" Phyllis asked puzzled. Suddenly, Hardy realized that he'd fucked her up enough, or basically enough, that he might have gone too far.He pointed upstairs and said, "Nothing. Look, I've had a great time chatting between us. But now I've got to run back to the office and call Mr. Elliott. He might have something important." find me." Hardy's office is like a monk's room, with very simple furnishings.In an era of highly industrialized development, his office environment and conditions are surprising and surprising.Dusty tin filing cabinets stood against one wall, and the floor was covered with a North African Berber-style rug.The two windows facing Suter Street had outdated shutters.Usually he just rolls them up high at will, or down all the way, and leaves them there for a long time anyway, so there's no telling what they're really doing here.Except for a poster with the new home of the gorilla - Pacific Bell Park - and a calendar of the Syrah Club, the decorations on the wall are all his two children - Ray Becca and Vincent - photo.On a standard-sized light-colored wooden desk, there are a telephone, a photo of Franny, a stack of large blotting papers, a pot of green radishes hanging to the ground, and a standing desk lamp. Other than that, nothing else.Next to the sink on the other wall, there is a simple four-story bookshelf on the wall, which is full of legal reference books and some loose-leaf folders.On the floor under the bookshelf was a small cabinet covered with a thin layer of hard plastic, on which stood a glass bottle with a large stopper containing a dried stuffed puffer fish and a model ship.This handicraft was brought from home by him, which somehow made this small corner look a little bit alive.Next to the bottle stood several glasses upside down.There is a paper dispenser on the wall next to the sink.The sofas and chairs in the office are all practical "Sears" brand artificial leather furniture, and even the coffee table was bought together with the sofa and chairs six years ago.On the wall opposite the desk, near the door, hung his round dart board, and on the floor was a silver dart belt, indicating that the throwing distance was eight feet.The blue darts made of tungsten gold are nailed to the dart board, two are on the bullseye and one is on the 20th position. This is the last time he threw it.

As soon as Hardy opened the door, the phone rang. He walked quickly to the desk and pressed the speakerphone button. "Hey." Phyllis' voice rang again, but this time Hardy was not given time to respond. "Captain Griski's call." Then Abu's voice came out. "Guess what I just heard? I think you'll like it." "The Giants beat the Plaza!" "I'm talking about real life, Deeds." "That's the reality, and that's what I'd like to hear." "So, what about Tim Markham?" "How is he? Is he a catcher? I've never heard of it." Hardy walked around the desk, sat down in a chair and grabbed the phone receiver to talk to Grisky.

"He's the CEO of Parnassus Health Group," Grisky said. Upon hearing this, Hardy's nerves were excited by the stimulation, and the sleepiness after lunch was driven away without a trace.Griski usually doesn't call Hardy with daily news and news, unless it's a homicide in the film and television industry.So, thinking of this, Hardy connected the two situations and said, "And he's dead." "Yes, he's dead, isn't it funny?" Hardy admits it was really funny, especially when it comes to those conversations at Lowe's bar.Not even just fun. "Did someone kill him?"

"Yes, but probably unintentionally. Do you remember our discussion about the hit-and-run case this morning?" "Are you kidding me?" "no no." "Remember we don't talk about nuclear holocaust on our next walk. Did someone really run him over with a car?" "It looked more like they hit him. They took him to Portola Hospital and he died half an hour later." "He died in his own hospital? I daresay that would be an extraordinary moment." "I think that's another thing you want to know. But it's clear there's nothing they can do about it. He was taken to the hospital in critical condition and didn't make it through."

"So it was an accident?" "I've already said that." "It's the second time now," Hardy said. "Can you believe it?" "So far I think so." Hardy heard Griski's uncertain hemming on the other end of the phone when he said this.He said: "Just this week he's trying to blackmail the city? His company is threatening to declare bankruptcy? They're not paying their doctors, they're lying to their patients, and all of a sudden the architect who planned it all is screwed? " "yes." "Is this a coincidence? Is that how you professionals see it?"

"Perhaps. That's usually the case, in fact, as I mentioned this morning." "Except that it's not a coincidence. A lot of things that never happened before are happening now." "It doesn't happen as often as you think," Grisky replied, pausing for a moment before continuing, "but you've answered my question. I'm just listening An ordinary passerby's opinion on the matter." "Then you'll have to call someone who's more deaf than me," Hardy said, "but I'll send you your bill for this interview anyway."

Jeff Elliott's call said the same thing, but he wasn't interested in Hardy's coincidence claim, unlike Grisky, who was more or less sympathetic to Hardy's claim.On the contrary, he did not support Hardy's views at all. "When guns aren't worth much and knives are free, you're not stupid enough to kill with a car, Deeds." "I would venture to say it was expected, although Griski also thinks it wasn't." "Look. Even if it were, it would be like snow in the Sahara Desert, almost impossible to exist." "Is it true? I don't think so. But if it's true, I'm right." Elliott sighed. "Deeds, can we steer clear of this subject?" All his friends, Hardy thought, had lost their sense of humor.In fact, he didn't really think it was a murder, it was just for fun, and there was no other intention. "Okay Jeff, okay. So how can I help you?" "Seriously, there's not much you can do to help. It's just a reassuring call to see if you can shake off the bad mood you had over lunch this afternoon." "Is it that obvious?" "I'm a reporter, Deeds, and nothing escapes me." Hardy looked down at the pile of paperwork on the floor beside his desk, which was nothing more than an outline for himself and other lawyers: memos; administrative paperwork that he had deliberately ignored; police reports from clients; bills; Recently updated evidence code.At this moment, he has a lot of work on his hands.He was sure he should be glad Elliott was calling at this moment, even though that was why he sometimes couldn't remember that he had things to do. Elliott continued on the phone: "I think Parnassus is a mess and smells bad. This may be a good time to get useful information to start an investigation. If someone tells me, Maybe I'll get a column or two on it. What do you think? Do you want to sit on the sidelines?" "Not really," said Hardy, "but not today I'm afraid." "Is this your final answer?" He dragged a pile of documents on the table to him, flipping them aimlessly.A well-trained reporter like Elliott, if he was in this room at this time, would have recognized some signs of fatigue and even fatigue.Of course, he also lacks a sense of humor.Hardy let out a long breath and said, "Write a great column, Jeff, and make me feel like I'm there." Grisky has not yet been able to talk about it with his professional colleagues in the circle, but can only share his thoughts with his wife. Jackman would give Treya a fifteen-minute break if she asked.Now, she and Abu are standing on the staircase next to the Seventh Avenue building, sipping tea from paper cups in their respective hands.The wind had picked up in the afternoon, and they had to lean their backs against the wall of the building to avoid the wind.From here, the highway and Twin Peaks are out of sight. "I want you to take me to this romantic place so we can spend this part of the day." "Of course we could do that if you wanted to," Griski told her. "I'd be quite happy that way." She kissed him. "I've seen it. Are you thinking of something else?" He told her about Markham, and how uncomfortable he was with that kind of coincidence theory, and the idea of ​​putting Markham's death in that category. "But I wasn't lying when I told Deeds it was probably not a homicide. It was the voice of my guardian angel — thirty years of professional experience — ringing in my ear." "but?" "But my other guardian angel, this bad guy, kept repeating these words in my ear: 'Maybe, if so, how about...'" "You mean someone knocked him over on purpose?" Griski nodded in agreement. "I've been trying to imagine the drama of the case early in the morning, when the sun is just dawning and the sun is waiting to come up, but I can't convince myself. It's impossible for something like this to happen in real life. Yes, maybe it has, but I Think it didn't happen." "Why is it impossible?" She was perhaps the only person he ever smiled at.Like now, he smiled at her and said, "It's very kind of you to ask, and I'll tell you why. The first, and most obvious, reason is that the driver didn't do his job. Markham in Lived for nearly four hours after the accident, and if he hadn't been thrown in the trash, he might have been out of danger. The driver could not have known that he had put Markham to death. If he had a clear purpose to kill, Either he would back up and run over Markham, or he would stop the car and come out and pat Markham on the head a few times to make sure he was done." "Sounds good," Treya said. "But that's what it is." He went on to give her a second reason, the same one he'd given Hardy.Using a car as a murder weapon is a foolish and embarrassing choice.If one were to rack one's brains to plan a murder in advance and wait for the moment to commit it, Abu reckoned that even an idiot would automatically buy a gun, if not the most convenient, at least the most convenient.The more critical issue is that, compared with any vehicle, a gun as a murder weapon is easier to dispose of afterwards. "Well, I believe you're right that he may not have been murdered." "I know, that's what I just said, but..." "But you want to keep your options open." "That's right. That's what got me into real trouble. I don't know if you got the impression that at lunch today, my friend and your boss, Clarence Jackman, intends to make a statement to everyone with Par Nasses-related stuff. News of the conglomerate's CEO's death won't be hidden on the San Francisco Chronicle's side pages, and until the case is resolved, reports of the case will be removed from the paper. Disappeared for days." "No, I don't think so," Treya agreed. "It's certainly a homicide, and one can be convinced that it is - but it may not be - a murder, but who has taken the case?" Treya has long worked with issues within the homicide sphere and has great inspiration for difficult situations.As a rule, Abramovich has nothing to do with this case.It was just a hit-and-run vehicular case.Homicide Squad will send someone to find the vehicle, or maybe they won't do it at all, and that's how it might end up.Now, because he had Fisk and Bracco on his staff, he had to turn the case over to them, and in fact he had already done so.If he handed the case over to one of his experienced detectives, his men would find it an insult and would laugh at him; secondly, the mayor and the superintendent would want his head, and possibly Really want it. Then, if, by the miracle of miracles, it turned out to be a real, politically motivated murder, he handed it over to two of his newbies—perhaps they'd mess it up. It's a mess -- not only would it irritate Jackman, but it could also damage the relationship between judges and the police department, which is a healthy part of ensuring that the current administration's work is carried out effectively. "What I'm trying to say is that you put the two new boys on the case." "So I came here myself, but it would be a loss to the case." "It's okay," she said, patting his face lightly. "From experience, you handle those things very well." But by afternoon, Griski called Fisk and Bracco back to his office and did what he could to change his attitude toward them.He said: "Here is an opportunity for you to show your talents. If you do well, people here may think that you have really become a good policeman." At this point, he stopped and said what he wanted to say. "Not just a political clown" and swallowed. Darrell Bracco stood almost upright behind the chair his partner was sitting in, just as he had been in Griski's office this morning.He said: "We never asked to get out of here, Captain, nor did any of us ever think about it. But there's an opportunity we can't wish for, and who wouldn't?" "Okay." Griski accepted, "This is your chance to perform well." A few minutes later, he was muttering something written on a notepad. "Girlfriends? If that's the case, did they break up? Then his children, how did he get along with them?" This thought flickered in his mind for a whole afternoon, and he jotted it down in his notebook superior. "Excuse me," Fisk asked, raising his hand like a third-year student. Grisky looked up at Fisk from his notepad, and said impatiently, "What's the matter, Harlan?" "I thought all the problems were with Markham's business, and now you're talking about his family, aren't you?" Grisky straightened up and leaned back against his desk, spreading his notepad on the table.There was little expression in his blue eyes. "I want you two to understand something. It's possible that Markham died of homicide, so it's a murder investigation in that sense, but it's not a big case. Harlan, you, me and Investigator Braco today Having discussed the merits here at length this morning, I think you should be more concerned about the motive." "You mean it has nothing to do with the vehicle involved?" Fighting back his impatience, the Captain said, "No, I didn't say that. It was a car that hit him. If the driver was someone he knew, it would look more like a murder. But , as I said, and you should, too, that it might not be a murder." "It would exclude us from the homicide squad," Braco said. "Is that what you mean?" Griski nodded in agreement. "Maybe so, but it's a good thing, and I think you'll accept that." When Fisk and Bracco returned to the office after their morning errands, they found that someone had placed a mischievous-looking beanie in the center of their desks, the kind worn by first-year college boys or children.It seems that the colleagues in the homicide team did not seem to change their attitude towards them and recognized them, and even tolerated them to these two new colleagues.It was a difficult thing to deal with, Grisky thought, but he wasn't going to punish the insult, it wasn't his job.If he did, he would lose all prestige he had here before he knew what was going to happen. So keeping Fisk and Bracco out of the homicide office is a good thing.Grisky picked up the notepad on his desk again and read it. "Do any of his children's friends have a green car? What is his wife's social life, if any? Other than that, everyone you ask needs to provide an alibi proof, bearing in mind that the incident occurred around six o'clock in the morning, so anyone mentioning that they were not asleep at that time should be taken into account." "What's his job?" Fisk asked, "Parnassus Medical Group?" "We'll talk about that, there's a process issue." Grisky sidestepped the subject, after all, the case was handed over to his two new agents mostly out of caring.He didn't want them to step into the muddy waters and become a stumbling block in the case, in case Jackman took action on Parnassus Medical Group's illegal business operations by calling a grand jury, and Markham might be involved in this matter , perhaps irrelevant to the matter. "Let's see where we get it from," Grisky said, but when he said this, a detail clearly came to his mind. "You better read the autopsy report carefully." As soon as those two guys heard this, you looked at me, and I looked at you, with their eyes facing each other.Bracco cleared his throat and said, "He died in the hospital, sir. We know how he died." "We know?" Griski replied. "And what was the cause of death?" "He was hit by a car and was thrown about 30 yards away and his disintegrated body flew into a trash can." "Is that your point of view? Well, let's imagine. Suppose we found out that someone planned to run over Mr. Markham, and he did a good job of doing it, so we apprehended whoever we thought was a suspect, But somehow we've never seen the autopsy report. You know what's going on? It turns out he died of a heart attack unrelated to the injuries he sustained in the accident. Maybe someone took a step with us The suspect has a completely different modus operandi, sticking an ice pick in the victim's ear, or poisoning the victim's iced tea, maybe he was a spy for the Russians and turned on by the CIA. The point is, someone died Alright, we're going to look at the autopsy report first. We do this every time, understand?" He looked up at them, his intimidating smile on his face. "Welcome to Homicide, boys, good times are coming around here."