Chapter 9 Section VIII
Griski had lived in the upscale two-story house for twenty years.Thanks to government rent controls and the latest boom in San Francisco's real estate market, he knows he's going to live here until he dies, and there's no way his new landlord will let him move unless he wants to move in himself.Doing that would mean losing a lot of money for the landlord himself.Grisky's rent is only a small percentage of his income.Now that a duplex apartment with a room on the top floor that can be used as a bedroom in any part of the city is now on the market for half a million dollars, he knows that buying real estate is absolutely unaffordable.As it stands now, he pays less than a thousand dollars a month in rent for his place at the end of a secluded cul-de-sac—on a tree-lined lot north of the lake.His backyard faces a green belt, and there's a trail for fitness runs at the border of the Presidio.So he didn't lie to himself that he woke up to birdsong instead of the hustle and bustle of the city, and sightings of deer and raccoons were not uncommon—he knew he was a very lucky person.
Of course, this doesn't mean that he looks like he lives in a mansion of a prince or aristocrat.It was hard for a prince to settle for thirteen hundred square feet, especially when it was divided into three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room, and even so, he and Flo had three sons there.But the smallness and lack of space was never a problem for them back then.A maid named Rita Schultz had lived with him and Aurel a few years earlier, when she slept behind a curtain in the living room.Now that Rita isn't here, it makes the living room look empty.Treya's sixteen-year-old daughter, Lani, already occupies the room down the hall behind the kitchen that was once used as a TV room.Looking at it now, their living space is sufficient.
It's 7:30 in the morning, and both children have already gone to school.Griskie and Treya are sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.Since the restaurant is not big enough for two people to read all the newspapers in their hands at the same time, they seem to be playing a silent game. Whenever one of them flips the newspaper in his hand, it will cover the other side's newspaper. part.When Treya did this for the fourth time, the page she flipped covered a long report that Griski was reading with the latest news on the condition and possible significance of an ancient water flow on Mars.He put down the cup in his hand, stretched out his hand and gently tore off the half of the newspaper covered by Treya from the seam, and threw it on the floor.
"You're such a ridiculous person," she said, "that you don't care what people say."
"Does anyone think I'm not funny?"
"Some, I think."
Grisky shook his head and said, "It's unbelievable. Just last year Hardy told me the same thing." He made a funny smile, the scar on his face showing the funny taste To the point, "If another page is put on top of mine before I finish this article, I'm going to rip your heart out. Get it?"
"We need a bigger table."
He was about to bury his head and continue reading his article, and when he heard this, he stopped and looked up at Treya, who was opposite, and said, "Yes, we do need it, but we need a bigger kitchen to display it, then we Where should I go?"
"Maybe we can knock down a wall here... no, I'm serious, so—" The doorbell rang, interrupting her.She looked at the watch on her wrist and said, "Who could it be?"
"Anyone of the kids forgot to bring something." Abu got up and walked towards the door, "No, it might be business." He opened the door, "Good morning, Darrell, you got up really early .Where is Harlan? How do you know where I live?"
Darrell explained that Harlan Fisk had inquired about it elsewhere, and pointed him to the exact location.These things cannot be hidden from politicians.So this morning, on his way from the Marina to the city center, he passed by the Griskies' house, and he decided to stop and visit him impromptu, thinking maybe it would save him a second trip.
Now, as the car sped along, his Captain Sergeant sat next to him, apparently testing his patience. "Let's get straight to the point, then. Last night you were out on the street in front of Mr. Markham's house until almost ten o'clock, and then you decided it was too late to start asking questions at his house again, and you gave up. But you Why are you going to do that again? To ask questions?"
"You said it started with his family."
"That's right."
"So I'm going to talk to them if possible, but a lot of people have come to his house to pay their respects, so I think his family must have been tired all day, so I don't think I should bother them so they Take a break, it’s not too late to go until today.”
"What time did you go there today? Half past six?"
"It was almost seven o'clock. I figured the kids were going to school, and if I could, I'd like to stop them at home before they left. I didn't think they were all going to get a good night's sleep."
"No one answered the door?"
Bracco glanced at his boss in the seat next to him. "I didn't hear anything the first time I called the door, so I thought they were still asleep. Then I waited outside, and then I knocked on the door 20 times and rang the doorbell four or five times." Here he hesitated. "They were all in the house when I left last night, Captain. Dr. Kenson had just come out of the house after a visit to them. I'm ninety-nine per cent sure they were in the house last night." There. I don't know why they didn't answer the door. I think at least I woke them up."
Griski folded his arms and said nothing, just nodded silently.He didn't know what was going on at Tim Markham's house, and he did think it was entirely possible that his family had overslept and missed Bracco's knock and doorbell.He has also seen family members of murder victims show exhaustion, day and night lethargy or other conditions, or their decision not to open the door early in the morning to strange men who visit.
But Griski, on the other hand, is delighted that his agents are showing such initiative, even if it turns out that the effort may have been wasted.They will know the answer soon.
It was another sunny and cold morning, and they parked the car directly in front of the Markham family's two-story villa, and walked to the stone slab in front of the door, which was wider than the living room of the Gliski family.Bracco knocked on the door and rang the bell.Standing outside the door, one could clearly hear the doorbell beeping three times in a row from inside the building. "I don't think they overslept, don't you?" Grisky leaned over and rang the doorbell again, waiting for someone to answer the door.Then they tried again and waited for a while, but still no answer.Abu told Darrell to stay where he was while he went to check on the house.The farm shutters on the front windows were closed, but through the garage window he could see two cars neatly parked inside.Opening the gate on the fence into the back yard, he felt the eerie silence and quickened his pace to the window at the back of the house.From here a large dog could be seen in the distance on the floor of the untidy room, apparently still sleeping.Grisky knocked hard on the door a few times.The dog didn't move.
At this moment, Griski was almost trotting all the way back to the front of the house, and saw a woman standing with Bracco on the front porch of the building.He looked at his watch, it was exactly eight o'clock.He walked back slowly to the stone slab outside the gate, pulled out his police badge to the woman, and introduced himself.Just as he expected, this maid named Anita Dong came to work at Markham's house.
"Do you think Mrs. Markham will be home this morning?"
Dong nodded in agreement. "Mr. Markham just died yesterday. Where will she be?"
"I don't know," Griski said, "I'm asking you." Dong didn't answer.
"Do you have the keys to the house? Please let me see it?"
She became tense, bit her lower lip, and nodded.After some rummaging in her handbag, she pulled out a bunch of keys, but she lost her grip because of nervousness, and the keys slipped from his hand and onto the stone slab beneath her feet. "Sorry," she said, picking up the key, "here, here it is."
Griski turned to his agent and said, "Darrell, I want you to stay here. Ms. Dong, you wait here with Agent Bracco. Do you understand? Don't go in."
Then Griski opened the door and walked in.He found himself in a magnificent hall.To the left was a large spacious room, and he took a few steps into it and looked around.Everything in the room seemed to be in order, with no signs of chaos.Across the hall is an independent dining room, where the stylish dining tables and chandeliers have not been touched, and it seems that breakfast is being served in the corner there.
Still silent.There was a dead silence everywhere.
He turned back through the dining room toward the kitchen, but stopped momentarily at the kitchen door when he saw a woman lying on her side with a pistol thrown by her head.After that, he took a few strides to her, avoiding the pool of fast-drying blood on the floor, and knelt down beside her for a while to examine.He found blood coming from a hole under her scalp behind her right ear.
Although there seemed to be no doubt that she was dead, he put his hand on her cold neck to make sure she was dead.Then he drew his pistol and began to inspect the other houses.Two minutes later, he went to the master bedroom and dialed the police number he was all too familiar with from the telephone on the wall.
The crime scene investigation team had been working in the house for an hour straight.Sergeant Jack Langtry of the unit was walking across the lawn in front of the building to where Griski and several medical examiners and police were standing.The sun is out, but its heat is not yet felt.People standing around put their hands in their pockets.
Langtry immigrated to the United States from Australia. He is close to forty years old. He has a bold personality and a strong body like a rugby player. But today his face looks a little dark, and his walk is a little crooked. Like being drunk.Grisky quietly withdrew from the crowd and stopped him head-on in the middle of the lawn.
Langtry exhaled a few breaths and pressed his temple with one hand, then kicked the floor with his feet, and looked up at the distant horizon. "You know what I loved the most about this country when I first came here? It was that there were no restrictions on people with guns. But now I think I'm in a place where I'm going to change that. You guys let guns To be in the same room with the deranged... I've seen too much blood like this. Fuck it!"
Grisky understood what Langtry said, but now was not the time to ponder it.He wanted to know what the on-site inspection team thought of this matter. "What do you think about this, Jack?" Langtry rubbed his chin against his shirt collar, looked up at the clear and blue sky above him again.When his eyes returned to Grisky, a professional expression had returned to his face. "The gun belonged to Markham, in his office off the kitchen. We found the gun registration in the same drawer where he probably kept the pistol. That was the gun she was holding."
"Okay. She's holding his gun, so what does that mean?"
"On this alone, I'm not sure. The test results will tell us something that is not clear yet."
"Other than that?"
"Other than that, it's all appearances."
Grisky couldn't hold back the anxiety in his heart, and couldn't help clapping his hands hard in desperation. "We're playing a guessing game, Jack, aren't we?"
"You ask them, Abu. You want to know my opinion, we can go straight to the scene. She killed them all, and then killed herself."
"Carla?"
"Is that her name?"
"Yes. She even killed her own children?"
Langtry looked dissatisfied with this remark. "Are you saying you haven't seen such a thing?"
"I've seen it clearly, Jack, and maybe it's just not like that."
"What's the difference?"
Griski realized that he didn't need to tell him about it. "I don't know, Jack. Maybe I'm just rambling. What does Farrow have to say?" Farrow was Leonard Farrow, the crime scene investigating technician.
Langtry nodded. "He's still there, you can talk to him. You want to know what I think, maybe as it seems. Unless you know something I don't."
That was a question, but Gritters shook his head without answering it. "Why? Why is it the whole family?"
This is not difficult for Langtry to understand. "Her husband died yesterday, didn't she? I heard."
"Yes, vehicle hit and run."
"Maybe they got into some kind of trouble before it happened?"
"I don't know. Have you heard anything else?"
"No, it's just a rough idea. It's about the same as what you know."
"Maybe it's different," replied Grisky, though he thought Langtry was telling the truth. "Tell me."
Langtry tilted his head and squinted his eyes to look at the sky again, sorting out the thoughts in his head. "It's a horrible world to live in. There's so much pain in life that it doesn't make sense. So maybe she's doing them a favor by letting them get out of it."
Griski knows this is a common interpretation.During his career, he has also come across cases of insane women killing their own family members.He had read and heard of several other similar incidents as well.It is always unimaginable and unacceptable that such things happen, but from his experience, those tragic events, although terrible in themselves, have a special impact on people.Compared with the unfortunate event of her husband's death alone, this kind of massacre brought people a more direct and painful spiritual shock.
He thought of a family of five who had been smuggled out of Vietnam years ago and whose oldest teenage boy had died on board a boat.A few months later they arrived in the United States, where the family lived in a one-bedroom cottage.One day, a gang of Chinatown thugs broke into the house and robbed some things.After the robbery, perhaps because the family had nothing more to take, the gangsters became enraged and killed the husband of the family.The next day, the mother smothered her two children to death, then cut her wrists and committed suicide.
He also met the young mother in another so-called "bed-burning case."Her boyfriend beat her all the time, and eventually, she shot him while he was asleep, and then shot her young son and killed herself.About two years ago, an emotionally disturbed woman named Gerry Patzik—for some reason, he remembered her name—overdosed after her husband ran away from home and filed for divorce. sleeping pills and killed her three children by mixing them in milk.
Griski, therefore, had seen that in a murder or suicide it was only the unknown, or even the extraordinary, that revealed the hideous nature.But there seemed to be no resolvable paradox in all the other cases he had seen or heard, and he had never seen or heard of a teenage victim before— They've always been younger kids.This is a very warm family that lost its father.Yes, that's unfortunate, but was it really what it seemed, with Kara Markham receiving a group of sane mourners here last night in a near-collapse state?It's hard to imagine.
"Damn it, Abu," Langtry said suddenly, and he turned to the house in Markham, as if looking for some answers on it. "It's so stupid, so stupid, so damn stupid."
Grisky hated the foul language, but he could understand Langtry's anger.Four people died in the home, the woman and her three teenage children who were shot dead in the bed in the upstairs room.Counting the death of Tim Markham yesterday, the whole family died within twenty-four hours. "I heard, Jack," he said, "that you know something else I need to know?"
"No, it's as quiet as a bloody grave. A bloody grave, God."
That's when a woman from the CSI team showed up at the door with the carcass of Markham's big, beautiful golden retriever—like a rag doll toy.Griskie saw her stooping and struggling across the stone pavement at the door because the dog was too heavy.Langtry walked over to her and said, "Carol." The woman gave him an angry look, and he stopped involuntarily.She sobbed silently, not wanting any help.Walking to the curb, she put the lifeless body into the back of a parked ambulance, then walked to a patrol car, got in, closed the door and sat down.
Griskie gave Langtry a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed, then walked across the lawn and past the front door.
Entering the house, Griski saw crime scene investigation expert Leonard Farrow standing at the kitchen sink—dark, wiry, with a short beard and a small golden cross.Farrow stood there with his legs crossed and his arms folded across his chest, inadvertently revealing the restlessness and restlessness in his heart.The cameraman was taking pictures, and he seemed to have to wait until he was done before starting work.
Griskie paused a moment by the kitchen door, took one more look at Mrs. Markham's body, and then walked over to Farrow by the sink. "Jack Langtry told me she shot it," he said.
Farrow turned his head away. "Perhaps. That's where it stands. Close enough to her."
The gun was still on the floor, just a foot away from Kara's right hand. "Is she right-handed?" Griski asked.
Farrow smiled bluntly, "You have to ask her yourself."
Griski thought Farrow's answer deserved a backlash. "Why don't you tell me what you know so I don't ask stupider questions?"
After Farrow was robbed, his attitude improved. "If you don't mind, can we talk somewhere else? This scene will feel flat in an hour or two." He traversed the kitchen and entered the hall from the luxurious dining room, where the fresh air came from the still open Blowing in from the front door. "Okay, the gun was a six-shot .
"why do you say that?"
"That was the only time she didn't want to make a noise. The gun was fired after covering it with a pillow."
"Okay. So what?"
Farrow pointed towards the entrance of the building.The restaurant is luxurious and open, with a ceiling more than twenty feet above the ground and a large skylight on the roof.The balustrade at the halfway point of the wall indicated that it was a passage leading to the rooms on the second floor. "The next room at the top," Farrow said, "was the bedroom of the twin girls, and it looked like she went there next. This time she didn't have to avoid the noise like the first shot did, and she probably just wanted to get it done as quickly as possible, so she went straight to the Just fired."
"Then went downstairs and shot the dog."
Suddenly, he was enlightened by the bewildering details of his earlier conversation with Langtry.Even if Kara Markham thought the world was too cruel for her and her children, why would she kill her dog?Not to save it from the pain that was coming, of course, but more traditionally, she would write a note leaving the pet in the care of a relative or close friend.
"Officer?" Farrow asked. "What are you talking about?"
"Just talking to myself, Len. How's the wound on her body?"
"The bullet entered behind the right ear, again consistent with the situation at the scene. But there is no bullet wound, so I can't deduce the trajectory of the ballistic. Strout should figure that out."
"I'm sure he will," Grisky said, "but let me ask you about this, Len, you and Jack are going to call it a murder or a suicide, aren't you?"
But the analyst shook his head and said, "We're working on that, officer. I haven't seen anything to characterize it, so let's just assume that it looks like she fired the shot. Inside the house." No signs of a fight anywhere." He shrugged and added, "But I don't know what's going on. Looks like you have a better idea, and I'll check anywhere you want."
"I don't know if it's a good idea," Griski said, "but I'll have Strout double-check the trajectory and find out if she's right-handed." With his right hand, he made a gesture of pointing a gun against a certain place behind his right ear, "This seems a bit awkward, don't you think?"
Harlan, Fisk was ordered from downtown to meet his partner at the Markham home.Griski had assigned them both the task of interviewing Anita Dong.Now the captain joined the three at the table.
It could be seen that the maid was still shaking out of fear.When Griski found the bodies and went out to tell her, she immediately collapsed to the ground with the unbelievable news.At first, for a while, she talked incoherently, circling the same questions incoherently, and couldn't understand at all.
What is he talking about, dead?Griski must have been mistaken.He didn't mean they were all dead, did he?They couldn't all be dead, that couldn't be.It wasn't Ian, he was a seventeen-year-old boy.He was big enough and strong enough and strong enough to be almost a man.Surely he must have heard someone come into his room and woke up, didn't he?Was Grisky sure he saw the two girls, Chloe and Sig?Maybe he didn't.He could go back and check again, someone might still be alive.
Anita Tung is a petite, talkative woman.She had been a part of the Markham family for seven and a half years.They are also her only employers.She lives a few miles away in the southern end of the Sunset District, and works five days a week, eight to six, with Mondays and Tuesdays off.
At this point, Griski pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat on it.He listened carefully to what Ms. Dong was telling.She told the detectives that she had offered to stay the night—he figured she meant last night—thank God she hadn't.But Kara, aka Mrs. Markham, said she and the children could handle it, and Anita should go home.They don't want more people in the house.
"How many people were in her family when you left?" Braco asked.
Ms. Dong thought for a while and said, "Most of them are friends from her tea group, plus she has a total of seven women. They meet every Friday morning. I think when they heard about Mr. Markham... Anyway, they brought some stew or something, so I thought she might have asked me to stay and warm it up for them to eat. But she didn't."
Fisk nodded thoughtfully, as if all of this had some inexplicable connection with the case.Bracco was busy taking notes in a yellow notebook.Griski, at least, was surprised and relieved to notice that his rookies had placed a tape recorder on the table.However, he could see that if Ms. Dong's answers continued on the current path, their questions would get farther and farther away from the topic.He decided to speak up himself in order to get the conversation back on track, perhaps with a small hint. "So, Miss Dong," he said softly, "when did you leave?"
"It's Mrs. Dong," she corrected the title he used. "It's almost seven o'clock."
"And was it only Mrs. Markham and her six friends in the house when you left? Was there no one else?"
She turned her face to him. "By the way, there were the kids and their two friends. Ian's friends, actually, not the girls'."
"Is it two?"
"I think so, teenagers, they're sitting here."
"Two of Ian's friends, then," Grisky said, "do you know their names?"
"One's called Joel Burrill, and he's always here. The other is called Mark, I think, but..." She shook her head not sure.
"What were the names of the women in the Tea Friends?" Griski asked.
This question became clearer, and Mrs. Dong also felt a little relieved. "Okay. There's Ruth Fitzpatrick, I know. And Jamie Rush. Oh, and her daughter, Lexie, is here too. She's in the same grade as Sig and Chloe. Jamie Just stay in that corner and I can show you."
Griski made a writing gesture, indicating that Bracco should quickly jot down the names.He continued to ask Madam Dong. "If you don't mind, it will help the case if we clear this up. Now, with regard to the other guests you said were here, were there others when you left? Or was it just the tea group and Ian's friend? And Seager's and Chloe's classmates."
"Yes, of course Mr. Markham's assistant, Brendan, is here all the time, and he cries, sometimes more than Mrs. Markham does. And there's Frank Hosk next door. He's very nice. People, I heard about Mr. Markham on the radio, so I came here to see if I can help you." Mrs. Dong closed her eyes and thought for a moment, then nodded to herself, "This is what I still want to do. Everything I knew while I was here. I don't know what happened after I left."
"So you haven't seen Dr. Kenson?" Griski asked.
Upon hearing this, Mrs. Dong's expression seemed to indicate something.Griski thinks from her reaction she was both familiar and shocked by the name. "Does it surprise you that Dr. Kenson is here?"
It took her a while to get a syllable out of her mouth. "Okay..." She stopped talking.The detective waited eagerly for her next words.Finally, she shrugged. "Yes, I think so," she said.
"why?"
Mrs. Dong kept silent, her head drooping slightly on her shoulders.
Griski was hot on her heels. "Do you know Dr. Kenson, Mrs. Tung? Is he a friend of the family?"
"Not exactly a friend, no. I don't know him, but the name... the name is familiar."
Griski didn't move his chair, but seemed to move closer to her inadvertently. "Then it didn't occur to you that he would visit? Why?"
Before Mrs. Dong could figure out how to answer, one of the detectives spoke.Eager to show what he knew, Bracco jumped in: "Markham was on duty in the intensive care unit when he died, and maybe he felt he should come to pay his respects."
Grisky glared at Braco angrily with cold eyes.Still, he suppressed his emotions and gently turned the conversation to his target. "Mrs. Dong, I'm sorry, what are you going to say? Why didn't you expect Dr. Kenson to come?"
"I just..." She picked up the topic again, but the tension between Griski and his agents did little to ease the pressure on her as an outsider. "I don't know," she finally said.
Griski knew that the interrogation and their chatter would in some sense enlighten Fisk and Bracco someday, but not today: a willing witness was right under his nose, but he himself There was a discord in the middle of the man, so that he could not grasp a good rhythm, and the witness suddenly became hesitant to speak.
He gave up trying to continue on this line.She had opened a crack for another door, and maybe he could let her open that door. "Okay," he said, "you said Dr. Kenson couldn't be a friend, and I believe you. Did you say that?"
"I thought so too, and yes, I said so."
"Can you tell me what you mean when you say that?" He threw a seemingly benign look at his recruits as he said this, but the unambiguous message it conveyed was: Shut up and let the She will answer.
"He works for Mr. Markham."
"Then you mean he's not a friend because he's just an employee at best?" When she seemed to be thinking about it, Griski further elaborated on his words, "not only Not really a friend, but rather an enemy."
They waited silently for her to speak.This time Mrs. Dong looked around the table and met the same expectant eyes, beckoning her to give a more honest answer. "Sometimes his name," she began, "Carla mentions it to her friends. You know, I can't help but hear it when I serve them, and in fact, his name isn't mentioned as much as his wife's." Too many times." Suddenly, another thought popped into her head, "Should I talk about this? Do I need a lawyer with me?"
Griski immediately disarmed her of this psychological defense. "I don't think so, ma'am, you have done nothing wrong, and you are not in any trouble." As he said this, he got up and walked behind her, and then he threw out a new question and stopped "lawyer "This topic, "Why is Dr. Kenson's wife mentioned in the tea group?"
"She said she was going to divorce him."
The matter in front of him is still a mess that cannot be solved, and now this kind of matter has appeared again. "Dr. Kenson's wife?" Grisky asked. "Divorcing him?"
"No." Mrs. Dong shook her head impatiently, "Kara. Mrs. Kenson is...I think everyone knows about it...Mr. Markham has an affair with her."
Fisk stretched his neck involuntarily, and poked his head forward, his baby face became radiant with excitement and hope. "With Dr. Kenson's wife?" he blurted out.
Don't do it, and Griski wanted to say the most ironic thing he could think of to berate Fisk for his recklessness, as he had said to the golden retriever, but he held back.Although, it happened again, and this time he did intend to tell them to go away.However, his voice did not reveal his inner thoughts at all, and he continued to say calmly: "You are talking about Dr. Kenson's wife—"
"install."
"Okay, Ann. She's having an affair with Mr. Markham? You mean it's not over yet?"
"It's said to be like that. When it's all over—"
"So what?"
"Five or six months ago, right before Thanksgiving, Kara found out about their affair. After that, she kept him out of the house for weeks. I didn't think he would come back, but he did. She let He came back. If it were me, I don't think I'd forgive... Of course, it's just me."
"But Mr. Markham is really back?"
Madam Dong nodded. "Yes, he swore it was over."
"But no?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally at this point, "Kara can't believe it, I don't think so. But she wants to... She told her friends in the tea group that she had a private eye. When he sees her again, she will leave him." After a long silence, Mrs. Dong turned her face to Grisky, and continued what she had just said, "So when I heard that Dr. Kenson was here last night, you You're right, it surprised me."
Grisky, with an air of deliberate indifference, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.The emergence of this situation about Ann Kenson and Tim Markham made him reconsider the following two very different possibilities: First, Mrs. Markham may have been chronically depressed before last night, which will It makes it more controversial whether the case is characterized as murder or suicide; second, it is obvious that this also has a murderous motive.
闲下来之后他会仔细考虑每一种可能，但眼下还有一个问题要问这个女佣。“董夫人，就你所知，肯森医生知道马卡姆先生和他妻子的关系吗？”
“我想是的，是的，当卡拉听到他们要离婚——”
“肯森和安吗？他们现在已经离婚了？因为私情这件事吗？”
“我还不知道最后是什么结果，不过我听说他们已经分居了。起码当卡拉听到他们开始进入离婚程序时，她就尽力去弄清马卡姆先生的名字会不会出现在与此相关的任何文件上。那么肯森医生，他肯定是知道的了，你不这样认为吗？”
Notes:
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