Chapter 15 Section Fourteen

"Grisky, from the homicide squad." "Who are you?" "I just told you! I'm Abgriski, from San Francisco Homicide. Who are you?" "Jack Langtry. Abu? Is that really you?" "Yes, that's me, Jack. How's it going?" "This is really strange. I just redialed the number that came out of Kara Markham's cell phone. Did she call the homicide squad before she died?" "Where are you now?" "It's just downstairs, the evidence storage room." "Don't go away, I'm going now." Langtry was waiting for Grisky in his office in the Justice Building, along with another crime scene investigator, Sergeant Carol Amaro.He placed Kara's cell phone in the middle of the desk like it was a bomb.He's already asked for the Markham home phone and all call records on the phone.At the same time, he also called Leonard Farrow in the laboratory and asked him to come to their meeting as soon as possible.

Griski came down to meet them, pacing and talking in a way he rarely did now.Langtry realized it was his excitement picking up. "Okay, but let's consider other possibilities," Griski said. "The cell phone is in her handbag. Maybe when we were doing field work at her house, one of us was in a hurry. report, but I didn’t find the phone at hand, so I used Kara’s mobile phone to call back to the group.” "Impossible." Amaro didn't even want to think about this possibility. Langtry also shook his head in disapproval. "I agree. No way, Abramovich. You've seen who we have on set. Me, Leonard, Carroll, a few other guys, we're talking about the first group that went straight into the set. No one took a phone out of a handbag at the murder scene and used it to call the team. That would never have happened. But judging by what we saw there, she called the homicide team. over the phone. So what does she mean by that?"

"Finding out the timing of the call helps clarify the issue," Griski said. "We might get that in a few hours if we're lucky," Langtree replied, "but I think we can extrapolate that it was after she left the hospital and before people started going to her house to see her." once." "It could have been on her drive home," Amaro added. Griski pondered the claims. "That was before anyone knew about potassium. Before we knew it was a murder." "Maybe she knew in her heart that it was a murder," Amaro said calmly, suppressing the excitement in her heart. "Maybe she committed the murder and wanted to call herself and changed her mind."

"Was she in the hospital, Abu? When he died?" "Yes," Grisky replied absently. "Well, then the situation is clear," Langtry said, noticing Grisky's look, and he asked, "Why isn't that possible?" "I have no idea." "Maybe he fell out with her again." Amaro was obviously satisfied with his thoughts. "He's leaving her forever. She's jealous and furious..." Shaking his head, Griski said, "Then luckily he got hit by some car and gave Kara the chance to ride in that ambulance with him and kill him with potassium in the hospital?" house and entertain all her friends for six or seven hours before killing herself and the kids in the end? That kind of reasoning doesn't make sense to me, or to anyone else, and it doesn't make any sense."

The two crime scene investigators looked at each other knowingly. "Do you have another reasoning?" Langtry couldn't help asking. Grisky's scar across his lip tightened with seriousness. "No, I don't like reasoning. I don't know when she made that call, or why she did it, or if the group ever got that call from her. For all I know, she may have seen the accident. " Amaro walked to the office door and looked down the corridor, then turned and said, "Farrow is here." Moments later, the well-dressed forensic investigator staggered into the office as if on a jazz step, and greeted those present to find out what had happened.After hearing about the mobile phone, he nodded thoughtfully.No doubt he thought the situation was important, but he didn't want to speculate about what it meant.Like Griski, Farrow likes to use evidence to guide reasoning, not the other way around. "But I do have some news."

"Let's hear it," Grisky said. "About her, two things. Ballistically—we're talking Mrs. Markham's head wound here—is back to front." Griski repeated what Farrow had just said, and then asked, "So the gun was placed behind the ear, and the bullet went forward? How many times did Strout say he saw it?" Such contradictory feelings?" Farrow made a vague gesture. "You know him better than I do, sir. He's said it occasionally." "That's useful." "I thought so too. Another thing, she's left-handed." "How did Strout know?"

"He didn't know, it was me who figured it out. In her house we found a bunch of coffee mugs with left-handed lettering on them, stuff like that - 'best mum ever', 'lefty queen' .Also, the handwriting she wrote on some envelopes looked left-handed." "But the gun was in her right hand?" "Near her right hand," Farrow corrected, "and not on her hand. Anyway, the identification of the gunshot residue may give us a better idea of ​​whether she fired the gun or not." investigation leads, but those results are not going to come out in the short term.”

"Okay, Len, thank you," Grisky said sullenly. "Okay, thank you all. Any new discoveries and clues, I want to hear about them." Griski wasn't about to join the rowdy guessing game, but this latest piece of evidence made him even more convinced that he had been right about the case from the start.Kara Markham's death was not a suicide at all, she would not have shot the dog, or her teenage children. That means someone killed her.He didn't know exactly what had happened, but the call she made to the homicide squad the day she died made it seem like she knew or suspected her husband's killer.

Griski closed the door to his office and tapped his fingers on his desk, trying to get his mind off this half-baked speculation.He told himself that he hadn't understood the situation clearly enough to draw an inference that was in line with the actual situation, let alone a conclusion. But one thought lingered in his mind.If someone had killed Carla, he was sure it was her husband's murderer as well.He didn't know what the motive was for killing the wife, but he didn't need to know the answer to that question either.He had already thought of the suspect who had sufficient motives, means and timing to kill the husband.

It's time to find a way to find him. When Kenson arrived home from get off work, he found Agent Griskey at his front door, ducking his head from the rain.He greeted him politely, with a puzzled look on his face. "I think Mr. Hardy has canceled the meeting." Griski shrugged noncommittally. "Oftentimes, lawyers don't want their clients to talk to the police when their clients are guilty. He told me you wanted to talk to us." Spend less time, and that's how it is." After thinking for a moment, Kenson invited Griski into the apartment complex without even asking him for a justification.He lives in a converted two-bedroom apartment across the street from a strip parking lot called Alta in the Upper Fillmore.The apartment building is a prim and dated three-story building with striking traditional high ceilings, exposed black beams, and hardwood floors.A large, overhanging window divided into three panes and fitted with old-fashioned water glass overlooked the parking lot.Griski stopped, stood at the window looking out for a moment, and said something about the rain.

A few minutes later, just as he was boiling water to make tea for the captain, the doorbell rang again.After opening the door, it turned out that it was Agent Bracco, who had talked with him outside the house in Markham, and another man introduced himself as Fisk.He let them both into the house and asked if they wanted something to drink. Griski had taken a camcorder and a small tape recorder with him when he left the house, and left the tape recorder on the kitchen table.As the tape began to roll, he told Kenson again about the recording—as he said on the doorstep—that he had learned from conversations with Mr. Hardy that the doctor wanted to take Police interview. "Of course, you can decline this conversation," he continued in a friendly manner, "or postpone this meeting until Mr. Hardy comes forward. But we know how busy you are. Honestly, we all do. As As I said downstairs, we just thought it was easier to get things done in the early stages of the case." Kenson nodded in agreement. "That's what I told Mr. Hardy, too. I have nothing to hide." But the measured and courteous captain wanted to reconfirm it, adding: "Are you sure you don't need Mr. Hardy's presence?" "Yeah, that's fine. I think he's a little too careful anyway. It's okay, his presence or absence won't affect what I'm going to talk about. I don't mind." "Thank you," said Griski with all sincerity.He knew he was making Kenson talk without his lawyer present, and that it was legally appropriate to do so.The right to remain silent belongs to the suspect, not his lawyer.Kenson can choose to remain silent, but he can also decide whether to speak or not. "We appreciate that very much." He sat Kenson down in front of the camera, and opened it up to begin. "Okay then, doctor. Three two one, here we go. This is Capt. Abraham Griskey, from the San Francisco Police Department, badge number one four four..." He continued with a long series of routine statements, confirming the case Number, his witnesses, where are they from, others present.Finally, Griski took a quick glance at his two assistants.He opened a yellow notebook on the table in front of him, glanced at it briefly, and then pondered it carefully. "Dr. Kenson," he began, "did you sign Mr. Markham's death certificate?" Kenson had a dejected look on his face.He understood what he was up against. "Yes, I signed. Although under circumstances like the one at the time, my signing was temporary." "Temporarily, what does that mean?" "It means that in the autopsy room, as far as this case is concerned, the conclusions drawn by it may be overturned by the forensic doctor." He said this sentence calmly, "Usually, the cause of death is obvious, and There was no specific request for an autopsy to be performed, although Mr Hardy told me that in hit-and-run homicide cases there is always an autopsy on the victim." "He's right. But didn't you know about it before he told you?" "yes." "Then the cause of Mr. Markham's death was obvious to you, isn't it?" "Yeah. That's how it was. He'd been hit by a car and had multiple internal injuries and he was bleeding profusely. It's kind of surprising that he survived until he was in intensive care." "So you don't expect an autopsy on him?" "It never occurred to me that I needed to do that." "Okay, doctor, are you familiar with the symptoms of potassium excess?" "Yes, of course. Basically, in layman's terms, your heart stops beating effectively." "Then what is your treatment?" He shrugged. "If we knew it was potassium, we'd inject glucose and insulin, then heart fibrillation -- shock-CPR." "You didn't recognize the potassium as the cause of Mr. Markham's problems?" "Yes, I didn't see it." "Okay." Grisky looked at his records, looking as if he was racking his brains to launch another round of offensive, "Now let's talk about this, doctor, is it true that you know Mr. Markham well? ?” "I've known him for a long time. He's my boss. How well I know him is another matter." "But it's also a question I'm asking. Is it true that his affair with your wife caused your marriage to break up?" Kenson swallowed to suppress his emotions, but his mouth was as dry as sand.He began to think that perhaps he had made a grave mistake in agreeing to this interview. Forty-five minutes later, they finally finished talking about those personal issues.Griski didn't stop for a moment, continuing a rather scathing round of cross-examination about Kenson's role in the Baby Emily incident, Parnassus' response, and more. "Did Mr. Markham fire you?" "Not really. He did warn me, however, if he found out that I had leaked it to the press, he would have reacted harshly." "Is that what you did?" Kenson tried to force a smile, but all he got was a tug in his face. "If I could, I'd rather not have said it myself." Griski took that as an admission and was sure he didn't need the information. "And where did your conversation with Mr. Markham take place?" "He called me into his office and we talked there." "Then he later found out that you leaked the news?" "I don't think so. I've never heard of him finding out." Another feeble, unhelpful sloppy cover-up, "He never fired me, so I'm guessing he didn't, probably How about this?" Griski continued to ask questions relentlessly.In addition to the baby Emily, Kenson has admitted that he and Parnassus disagree on a number of other matters.Kensen claimed to often prescribe drugs to patients not according to the hospital's drug list. "In other words," Griski clarified, "a drug that the company has not approved for use." "It's not exactly what you're saying," Kenson explained. "The medicines I've prescribed are fine. In fact, they work better." Kenson pulled out a Kleenex and just wiped his forehead and the tissue was soaked Yes, "The company's policy is that doctors prescribe medicines according to the drug list, that's it." "Then are you used to prescribing medicines according to this catalogue?" "It's not a matter of habit. I'll do it when I think it's appropriate." He felt that further clarification was needed on this point. "Pharmacologically, unregistered generic drugs are always the same Drugs are not exactly the same. So they always work differently and cause other problems." "For example?" "Lots of cases. You're constantly having to double the dose, which can cause some bad side effects like indigestion, so in a few cases, as long as I've had a problem with one of the off-brand drugs on the list I will choose to prescribe brand-name drugs if I have no experience in using them.” "Does Parnassus have a problem with that?" He shrugged. "It's something that makes them pay." "Can you explain that?" "Well, the way it works in Parnassus is that most patients have the same Medicare out-of-pocket amount, ten dollars I think, regardless of the value of the drug they're given. So if a A brand-name drug costs thirty dollars, but a brand-name drug on the drug list costs $10, and the company loses $20 for every brand-name drug prescription it writes." "Then will you prescribe these brand-name drugs sparingly?" "In the right circumstances, yes. My job is to save lives, not save companies money." "And did you say anything else bad about Mr. Markham's conduct?" Kenson's hands could still be seen shaking.He removed them from the table and stuffed them into his pocket.For nearly an hour of exhausting cross-examination, he wished he had listened to the lawyer and heeded his advice not to talk to these people.But some questioning started and he didn't know how to stop it.Finally, he made an effort. "If you don't mind, I'd like to excuse you for a moment," he said. But Grisky wasn't going to let him go to the bathroom, even if he could breathe a sigh of relief. "Somewhat," he said bluntly, and then repeated his question, "Did you say anything against Mr. Markham about the medicine?" "No, I haven't. We haven't talked." "Since when?" "About two years ago." "Two years ago? But it's only been a few months since Baby Emily happened, and you said you talked to him afterward." Kenson wiped his entire face with a Kleenex. "I thought you were referring to the prescription issue. We were talking about that." When the officers finally packed up their equipment and left, Kenson sat on the sofa in the living room and shivered for a while.Finally he decided to give Hardy a call to see if there was anything he needed to fix.Outside, night was falling, and the rain was still pouring down his front window. Hardy was busy in his office, trying to catch up with other clients.Kenson told him what happened, the interview was so uncomfortable, it was a mistake. "I think they must believe I had something to do with it," he concluded. There was a long silence that followed, but when it ended, Kenson was unprepared for Hardy's furious rebuke. "Oh, do you think so, doctor? The captain in charge of homicide questioned you for two hours about a murder that hit the front pages of the newspapers every day, which involved a brutal murder, and You have the motive, the means, the timing, and you think maybe--just maybe--they'll think you're innocent, an honest suspect. You've studied anatomy, haven't you, Doctor? Except you Besides, have you ever seen someone put their head on their ass?" Kenson just sat there motionless, staring blankly at the receiver in his hand.He felt a rush of blood rushing to his head, and then he felt sick.He thought he might throw up.The knuckles with which he was holding the phone turned white from the force, and his throat was like a dry desert where no grass grew, and the constant tightening made him unable to breathe.After a while, he still couldn't speak a word with his mouth open, so he hung up the phone. When Hardy called twenty minutes later to apologize to Kenson for his previous outburst, he found that the anger in his heart was gone.As he had only half hoped for it at the time, his client instead apologized to him and used his own view—that Griski “probably really thought I killed Tim”—as Closing remarks for this conversation. Hardy thought it was time to get the news, but he just said flatly, "It would be wise to think about it that way." Besides apologizing, he had another reason to call his client. .If he was going to defend the good doctor, there were some pertinent questions for him. "Eric, I stopped by Portola Hospital today and talked to some of the nurses there. Do you think the overdose accident was accidental?" "Essentially, in this case, the probability is zero. Why ask?" Hardy reviews what Rebecca Sims said about accidental, unintentional overdoses.When he recovered, Kenson repeated what he had said earlier. "No, that's not the case." "how do you know?" "I was there. Markham wasn't even on potassium. He was stable. Relatively stable, anyway." "So," Hardy asked bluntly, "what happened to his death? Did anyone else get close to him?" "Carla, I think it's superficial. Maybe Brendan, Driscoll. Rose, a couple of other doctors and nurses." "How many nurses are there?" "You'll have to check the files, I don't know. Usually there's two, sometimes three. I think there were two there." Looks like he's just caught on to Hardy's words, " You mean one of those people killed him, don't you?" "It seems to be the case, Eric." He refrained from adding this. "It's either one of them or you." "My God," Kenson said weakly, "what do we do now?" Hardy hesitated for a moment.The embers left by the previous outburst showed signs of resurgence, but this time he restrained himself and continued: "After tonight, this problem will not be a big deal to you. But in the matter We need to talk about my fee before we go anywhere." "Can't you just take my security deposit?" Speaking of this, both of them have serious faces. After a reasonable silence, Hardy went on to say: "You may plan to give a price that makes you comfortable. It seems that this will take some time to think about it." After the inquiry in Kenson's apartment, Greg Risky wanted to hear the reports from the car police, so despite the late hour, he drove back to the city.Now, he is sitting behind his desk, waiting for Fisk and Bracco to arrive.They can talk about what they learned and how they plan to handle the investigation. Outside his office, five other agents on his staff were busy with paperwork.Someone had brought in a pizza, and the smell had mesmerized Grisky -- who hadn't been able to contain his love for pizza since he'd conceived the idea of ​​joining the dining gang.That stuff was his old favorite, with cheese and butter. What keeps those guys in this group?He thinks these people are supporting him.Finally, he heard a burst of laughter from the homicide squad, and got up to see what was going on.It's entirely possible, he thought, that someone had glued Fisk to the chair as a prank. Griski called the drama to a halt, grabbed a slice of pizza from Marcel Lanier's desk, and stuffed half of it hastily into his mouth before he could change his mind.He hastily swallowed a few mouthfuls, and impatiently asked what was so ridiculous. Lanier, the senior agent on the unit, was reclining in his chair, legs crossed on the desk, hands clasped behind his head. "The District Attorney's Office just sent in another crazy guy today, and I finally figured out a way to get him out of the way without sending him to the FBI." Griskie knew that the city was characterized by a large number of well-meaning apologist-like lunatics—basically, street-sleepers who imagined they had been controlled by aliens when they heard a sound. The stars talked.Occasionally, an individual of such individuals would go to the Public Defense Office to share their concerns, and the Public Defense Office would direct him to the police station below the Judiciary Building.There, the reception room would sympathize with him and send him to the district attorney's office.From here, he was always sent to the homicide squad again.Most of the time, the homicide squad would turn him over to the FBI, where who knew what would happen to him. "But today I had this brilliant idea," said Marcel, "and I told the poor gentleman that he had to make a bunch of clips. I gave him a whole box, and it took him nearly an hour, Until the paper clips are as long as he goes from his head to his feet. Then he has to attach one end to his hair and let the other end drag on the floor, and that will stop the weird voice in his head." "Why did you do that, Marcel?" Griski asked casually, though he didn't really want an answer. "Because he'd fall to the ground." He held up his right hand, laughing again with the other agents, "I swear to God, he walked out of here completely healed by me. " "You're such a great worker, Marcel. That's a great story. Can I have another slice of pizza?" Griski turned to go back to his office, but Bracco's presence at the door caught him off guard. He stopped.Behind him, a guy sang "Number 54, where are you" at the top of his voice, having fun with the other agents. Griski showed displeasure, pointed at the new young agent, motioned him to his office, and followed.Braco stood aside as casually as usual after he entered, and Griski waited at the door for another minute. "Did you guys come on the tourist route or what? Where's Harlan?" "He's, well, he's not here." Griski closed the door behind him. "I know that myself. Do you need to tell me, Darrell? My question is where he is, not where he isn't." "I don't know, sir. He has an appointment." "He has a date?" "Yes, sir. One of his aunt's funds--" Griski cut him off. "Do you still have the impression in your mind that you have a date with me here? Didn't the last words I said to you when we parted mean to meet you at the Justice Building? Do you think I meant something like tomorrow morning? ?" "No, sir, but he said he had to, and he's been at work for hours, sir." The anger grew on Grisky's face, and then suddenly he couldn't help giggling again. "He's been working for hours! I love hearing that. What planet is this kid from? Well, sit down, Darrell, and stay here if your schedule isn't already filled." In a minute. I'll deal with this with Harlan tomorrow. God." After Bracco sat down, he pulled out the chair from behind the desk, folded his hands on his stomach, and sat down with his feet on the edge of the table superior. "What do you think of Dr. Kenson?" Bracco sat with his back straight, as if he were standing.He sat only in the front half of the chair, with his hands folded on one of his thighs. "I presume he had a good enough motive—does anyone have any reason to kill Markham?—but a jury is not going to convict him without any solid evidence, I think so." "I agree with you." "I think it sounds like he's guilty, but that doesn't really mean anything," Bracco thought. "I think he thinks he's better than us and can steer the case the way it is tonight." Griski forced a smile on his face. "To brag myself, I may have let him down." "Then what shall we do?" "Currently, I'm interested in Kenson's hour-to-hour movements last Tuesday, by which I mean anything he's been doing since he opened his eyes in the morning." "Do you think he did it?" Griski nodded. "I wish there was more factual evidence, but even if there wasn't — he was there, he hated and probably feared Markham, he had his moment throughout. Sometimes that's all we need." Bracco seemed to be thinking about something.Finally, he came back from his thoughts. "If he did kill Markham, do you think he killed his wife too?" "I'm very skeptical about the idea that she committed suicide, but for now let's take it that way." He told Bracco that she found a cellphone in her handbag with a record of calling the homicide squad. The ballistic traces in front of the gun are not the posture of ordinary people holding the gun in their usual hands. "Did she call homicide? Was there a call log on her phone? When was that?" "Six o'clock in the afternoon." Langtry had already relayed the news to Grisky via voicemail.The situation may have come a little late, but it came anyway, and it was an important one. "So everyone was at her house then?" "Yes. And the group was empty. She didn't leave a phone message either." "Six o'clock is about the time Kenson gets there, isn't it?" Griski nodded yes. "As far as I can tell, it's pretty close to that time." There was a silence that followed, and neither of them spoke for a while. Bracco looked suspicious again, wondering if he should say something.He decided again that something had to be said. "You know what, we talked to Kenson's wife today and—" Grisky raised his eyebrows, feeling his eyes light up and interested. "When did that happen, and why did you do it?" "I remember you said you didn't want us to interview the identified witnesses. We didn't want to mess with your case, so we stayed on the perimeter and started our investigation. We went to see Harlan's aunt, then went to Anken Mori." The captain rubbed his forehead with his hands.Then, looking across the desk into Bracco's eyes, he said, "I shouldn't give you the impression that I don't want you talking to people, Darrell. You can talk to whoever you want .This is your case." "Yes, sir, thank you." "But I want you to report to me every day, before going out and after returning to the group." "Are you still insisting that the hit-and-run homicide was an accident? Harlan is still obsessed with finding the car. I mean, someone hit him, and maybe it was an act of kindness." Griski's eyes were calm, and his words were calm and reasonable. "I'd be surprised if it wasn't an accident at this point, but I wouldn't have predicted that Markham's family would be shot. Why ask? Did you find any clues about the car?" "No, sir. I'm just trying to figure out if we should let go of this entirely or something." "When the time comes, Darrell, you'll understand. Before you get it, open your mind. Now can we get back to what you were going to say about Mrs. Kenson?" Bracco took a moment to sort out his thoughts, and finally spoke in a somewhat reluctant tone. "Yeah, she said something like she thought he did it, but Harlan and I didn't think she really thought that. She was very disturbed and didn't really know what she was talking about. " Grisky stopped munching on the pizza. "Who did she say did it?" "Kenson killed Markham." "Did she say he told her?" "Yeah, but really, I think . . . it's a good thing you weren't there. She just kept crying and fretting like crazy." Grisky tugged at his ears, trying to make sure he heard right. "Are you telling me that Ankensen told you that her husband said he killed Mr. Markham? Did he tell her that himself?" "Yes, sir. That's what she said, but—" "You didn't intend to tell me about it before then?" "When we saw you you were sitting in front of the camera and about to begin your interview. If you recall, sir, we were not given any opportunity to be alone with you before you began your interview, so we intend to Wait until you..." Griski seemed to be trying to control his emotions. "Does neither of you consider this a serious matter?" Braco suddenly became uncomfortable. "My understanding is that we shouldn't put too much faith in hearsay. Hearsay is hearsay. That's true, at least we think so." Grisky put his fingers to his lips and lowered his voice, trying not to yell. “不，达雷尔。实际上，那将是让犯罪嫌疑犯招供的一个目击证人的证言，几乎就跟可采纳的证据一样具有同等的效力。当时你正好录音了吗？” 毫无疑问，从录音带上的录音判断，安肯森给人的印象就是她当时确实处于歇斯底里的状态，甚至是疯狂。这个听起来就像是一长篇攻击性演说的录音充斥着污言秽语，发疯似的欢狂和崩溃，撕心裂肺的哀号和狂笑。但这些都无碍于听清楚她说的是什么，她说的意思是什么。她告诉过布拉科和菲斯克，她前一天没有到警察局去告发他的唯一原因，是她相信了是汽车肇事杀人这一意外事故要了蒂姆·马卡姆的命。当她意识到他是被谋杀的，而且他是怎样被谋杀的…… “听我说！听我说！我告诉你们他跟我讲过他给他注射满了那该死的东西。那正是他自己说的。是的，满嘴胡言。那些混账话。那些话的意思是他杀了他。他没有吗？除了这个意思，不，可能还有别的意思。我的意思是，没有别的人知道了，是吗？在尸体解剖之前没人知道。哦，你这个浑蛋，埃里克！你这个可怜的，可怜的……” 格里斯基听完了录音，随后告诉布拉科把录音带直接送到地区检察长办公室去翻录。那儿可能还会有人在，如果他们都不在的话，打电话到他们家里叫他们来这儿处理这个东西。 布拉科离开后，格里斯基从办公桌上抽出一张申请逮捕令的表格着手填了起来，但刚填完前面几行，他的手就像是自己主动停下来那样，不受大脑控制地停住了。这是个新的而且毫无疑义的证据，真实的，也许它自身所具有的强大的说服力，就是以此来证明逮捕埃里克肯森的正当性。但是，考虑到那些具有决定性的、复合的动机和帕纳塞斯问题所能引发的政治影响，格里斯基认为自己一味猛打猛冲的英勇中的理智成分，会勒住自己想要狂行的缰绳，自己得捺着性子等到明天早上才给杰克曼打那个具有决定性意义的电话。 他脑子中唯一的问题就是，在那张逮捕令上是否应该带有卡拉的名字，还有孩子们的。