Chapter 27 Section 26

It was almost halfway through the afternoon, and Griski couldn't eat a single bite of the rice cake. It was really bad, and he had to find something else. On the side of the Judiciary Building facing Seventeenth Street, there is a semi-enclosed staircase that leads from top to bottom, and few people pass by.Griski came down the stairs to the street.He stood at the corner of the street, waiting for the green light to turn on, and planned to get some peanuts from the Luo Restaurant across the way, even if eating this made him suffer a heart attack, he would not hesitate to collapse in the restaurant.Suddenly, he noticed that his two new agents were walking towards him, also preparing to cross the sidewalk.Fisk is dressed like a fashion model, and even Bracco is quite handsome. "Where are you going to a party?" he asked. "Would you like to come and eat peanuts?"

When these words came out of their superiors' mouths, it was not a request for communication in the true sense.The traffic lights changed and three men stepped onto the sidewalk. The bar at Low's was packed and there wasn't a single seat available, so Griski just stood there and ordered three small packets of peanuts as a snack and a pint of iced tea.Because the boss didn't ask for wine, Bracco and Fisk ordered a cup of sour coffee each. After ordering, they found a newly vacated cubicle and sat down.The captain sat to one side, and the two new agents sat across from him.Griski tossed them each a packet of peanuts, then tore open his own and ate them. "So, what made you two boys dress up so grandly?"

Since the lunch meeting with Nancy Ross and Casey West was Harlan's idea, Bracco thought he should be the one to explain the matter.The captain seemed to approve of it, which surprised him.After Fisk finished telling the story, Griski nodded with satisfaction. "So we've now figured out what we've been wondering about. You can't make too much money, and no one feels like they've got enough. Anything else to say?" Bracco felt it necessary for him to speak his mind. "A couple of things," he said. "First, it would be interesting to compare Rose's tax returns for the past few years with their expenses. Mrs. Rose may not have realized this, but she did say Their living expenses are greater than their income, and they are in a situation where they cannot make ends meet."

"Me too," Griski said. "Who isn't?" He chewed the ice cubes in his mouth for a while. What? What does it have to do with Markham?" "If Ross somehow takes money from Parnassus, and Markham finds out—" "You mean embezzlement? Is that so?" "I don't know." Bracco admitted. Griski doesn't like such inferences. "If this kind of thing is obvious or certain, then he fired Rose on the spot, don't you think so?" He frowned and took a big sip of tea, "The general idea of ​​this case, my The problem is," he concluded, "that I've come to the assumption that whoever killed Markham between the time he was in the car accident and when he showed up at the hospital probably wasn't premeditated. That's why I'm so inclined to make Kenson the prime suspect. He has more than just one motive. He's got several long-standing motives, and any time he gets the chance he'll strike,' he finally got his chance '.

"On the other hand -- hear me out -- if, for whatever reason, Ross was really cornered by Markham into murdering him, he would have the potential to act pre-emptively. Metaphorically, like Wouldn't it be more reasonable to reason like this if he really wanted to hit him with a car instead of waiting for fate to punish him? What if the heavens didn't fulfill his wish? And relying on God's will to let Markham die, It's 100 percent impossible." "May I say a word, sir?" Harlan said. Grisky's face softened a little. "Go ahead." "Ross and Markham have been together for a long time, so the same motivations that Kenson has, Ross has. Isn't that possible? We figured that out this afternoon, Ross needs him that job, but something made him want to leave Parnassus."

This idea does not seem questionable to Griski. "He read the stuff that was posted on the wall. The place was going to collapse. He didn't want to put himself in it." "Well, even so." Fisk's frustration came through as Griski objected, "but he couldn't get another job. His wife told us he went out and looked for work, but couldn't." Success. Why not kill Markham? Who would ultimately benefit the most from Markham's death? Dr. Ross, the man who took over the top job and was paid $200,000 a year, is This benefit is just the beginning." Griskie turned his bag of peanuts upside down, poured the last few remaining brains into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "But we don't know if there's any serious, I mean fatal, serious issues between him and Markham. Is that so?"

The two agents cast downcast glances at each other, then back at Griski across the table. "No, sir," Bracco said, "but it should be interesting to keep an eye on this." "You can pay attention to all the situations you want to pay attention to," Griski replied, "but as far as I understand, when Markham died, the only people we had in the ICU were Kenson and Markham. Nurses with no personal relationship, and that pretty much limits the suspects. Don't you agree with that? Has that changed?" "Actually, maybe something has changed," Bracco said. "Yesterday I went upstairs to the nurse's station in the intensive care unit, and Harlan was downstairs waiting for a subject." thwarted, and apparently unnoticed, successful admission to the intensive care unit.After he finished speaking, Griski's brow furrowed again.

"When did this happen?" "About the same time as Markham died. One o'clock in the afternoon." "What was the situation at the nurse's station?" "There is a nurse here, sitting in front of the computer and working." "How long were you in there?" Braco shrugged. "It's not long, just a minute. I walked around each bed." "No one else..." "No one. I just walked past the nurse who was sitting at the computer, opened the door and slipped in. Which means someone else might have done the same thing."

Grisky's face darkened and was hard as granite.Just then, his cell phone rang.He took the phone off his belt, shouted out his name impatiently, and then listened to the call intently.The scar between his upper and lower lip was fully highlighted and looked very conspicuous. "Aren't you sure?" He ended the call in less than a minute, looking over the heads of the agents to fixate on something else. The town of Colmar, located on the border of San Francisco and San Mateo County, has more dead than alive. Hadi stands in front of one of the thousands of graves.The grave is located under a redwood tree, at the end of the row of headstones.Twenty-eight years ago, with the permission of the cemetery management, he personally planted this redwood tree here.

Today is April 16, and Hardy's son Michelle was born on this day.He died seven months after he was born, having fallen from his crib to his death.That may have been exactly the time when he stood up for the first time.Since then, neither Hardy nor his wife Jane have had the chance to see him stand up by himself.Of course, their marriage was also a victim of this tragedy.It seemed that he was only able to climb by himself in those weeks.During the period, they also took a few photos of him on film as a souvenir. Since he could only crawl, they lowered the rails of his crib, not all of them, of course, but only half.They had already modified the room to prevent accidental injuries to children, but neither of them thought that the problem would be the crib guardrail.Michelle wasn't old enough to think for herself.But in any case, what happened later proved that he was still able to stand up by himself at that time, otherwise he would not have fallen off the bed and fell to a place where he should not have fallen.

Hardy no longer thinks about those things now.At some point after that incident, he reorients his life and becomes more low-key about who he is and what he has become.At this time, he didn't think about anything, just stood here unconsciously, standing in front of the old grave of his underage son, which was now quite old.He had never been here before, and although he remembered that unfortunate day and had been to Colmar more than once, he had never had the courage to face it. But today something seems to have drawn him here, and he can neither explain it clearly, nor is he willing to dig deeper.He felt that many important things in his life were drifting away.Perhaps he hoped that this seemingly sudden fall and gradual passage would be terminated.Souls can be saved. He had called Franny and told her where he was going.He knew the call would worry her.Should she meet him there?He's all right?she asked him. He didn't know how to answer, but he told her he was fine and nothing happened.He loved her, and he'd go back to see her tonight, after Vincent's little league practice, when his normal life resumed. In the city center, the climate is pleasant.On the way out of the car, until he reached Shamrock, he kept the car windows open, breathing in the fresh air blowing in from outside.But here, except for the solitary sequoia tree he planted by himself, the eucalyptus trees and the cypress trees standing in the wind with intertwined branches and leaves, and the ever-growing green grass can give people a pleasing greenness, Everything else is gray and lifeless against the backdrop of the sky.In short, between the heaven and the earth, there are all dark and cold tones, which makes people feel bleak. He was wearing a business suit, and even if he buttoned up his coat, it was still not enough to resist the biting cold.Rather than hearing it, he felt the wind trilling in the woods.Clouds hung down to the ground overwhelmingly, and wisps of mist drifted with the wind from time to time, dissipating in the boundless gray sky. He hadn't said a prayer in thirty years, and probably wasn't saying it now.He knelt down on one knee first, then both knees touched the ground, and remained in this position for several minutes without moving.Finally, he stood up and glanced at the still prominent name engraved on the marble tombstone-Michelle Hardy. At this moment, all this is so strange, so far away. He took a breath, pulled himself together, turned and walked towards his car.Then he saw Grisky standing on the tarmac thirty feet away. Grisky was wearing his aviator leather jacket with his hands in his pockets.As Hardy stepped forward, he also took a step forward.When they faced each other, the two stopped at the same time and stood there. "I tried calling your office," Grisky said, "and your cell phone, and finally found Franny, so I didn't know you were here." He hesitated, then asked, "You Are you okay?" He motioned vaguely behind him. "He'd be twenty-eight today if he were alive. I think I owe him a visit." A chill hit their hearts, and a certain nerve deep inside couldn't help trembling."That's the thing that scares me the most," Griski said after the chill passed. "It's a good thing." "I've already had three grown boys, Deeds. I don't want to have another chance like this. Why would I even do this?" It took Hardy a moment to answer the question. "Most of the time it's not over like Michelle is gone, that's why most of the time it's them who bury us." Griskie glanced over Hardy's shoulder for something. "I don't know exactly why I'm like this..." He couldn't articulate his thoughts, "It's just, what if they don't bury us? If it's the case with Michelle, the gray-haired man What about sending the brunette?" "Then you have to face what you have to face," Hardy replied, "You think time will pass, but you are no longer a part of time, and then one day you feel that you eat and eat again." Or you feel like maybe the sun is shining on your back and you feel warm again. In short, something makes you feel the taste of life again, and you rekindle the hope of life and start a new life ’” He shrugged and added, “You’ve been through Flo’s business, so you know how it feels.” "Yes, I do. But the funny thing is, I'm more frightened now. I can't stand being frightened." "I've noticed." Hardy's mouth revealed a faintly weird smile, "Actually, I would call that a good sign, especially after Flo's death, after meeting Treya How did you go through those sleepwalking, sleepwalking days before. But now it all counts again, doesn’t it? And isn’t it a complaint?” "Yes, you are right, but..." "The word 'but' doesn't exist in this world, Abu. It's all good." He gestured to the grave behind him again. "If the little guy has something to tell me, I think this is what he will say .” Looking back at Grisky, he realizes that they've been keeping each other out of their hearts, not opening up, and that, in fact, that's the state of their relationship right now.But at this moment, there is no need to admit it, the two of them know it well, no matter what, this rivalry between them is over.Perhaps, there are still some serious disagreements at work between them, but the foundation of the relationship is solid. Together they walked to the parking lot. "There's something else," Griski said, "and that's why I was trying to find it in the first place." "What's up?" "Strout called me about Marjorie Rowling's autopsy." "Have you already done it?" This is probably too fast, but Hardy doesn't think there is any surprise. Jackman has clearly stated that this matter needs to be dealt with first. Griski nodded. "You're right, she didn't die of cancer." Hardy felt refreshed all over his body. For this result, he couldn't tell how much effort he had put in. "Then what was the cause of death?" He asked impatiently, "Potassium poisoning?" "No, it's some muscle relaxant, Pavlon and chloride or something. Those two can cause spontaneous breathing failure, and they're both probably given in the hospital." "Kenson wasn't even close to her at the time, Abu. He was on vacation, playing with his kids at Disneyland. Needless to say, I know that doesn't mean he didn't kill Markham. But it does. There's something hidden, isn't it?" Griski doesn't need to figure this out right now. "We need to talk. You said you got more patients like that?" Hardy nodded. "No fewer than ten, and that's only on Kenson's list. I know of at least one nurse who has been suspicious of these deaths. There may be some names in her that match up with these patients, though I'll agree with you. From my point of view, one homicide doesn't mean all ten of them were homicide victims." "I never said that." "Yeah, I know, I see what you're thinking. But that means one of those ten people did, and it wasn't Kenson. But it wasn't caused by potassium poisoning either, which is exactly what we'd expect. result." Griski looked at him suspiciously. "why?" "Because if both Rowling and Markham were killed in the same way, there is a possibility that the same person committed the crime. Isn't there such a possibility?" "It might be that way," Griski said accepting the idea, "but as far as I'm concerned, from my point of view and from your point of view, this result is good enough." next to the car.He stopped by the front door. "I think I still owe you an apology." "I agree with you. What apologies?" Grisky chuckled softly. "It turned out to be as good as you wanted." But unexpectedly, he took the conversation a step further, "The only thing I can say is that you, like me, don't join in with so many defense lawyers. When something is unfair, you immediately become cynical, even with your friends." It's an uncomfortable truth to sound, and Hardy admits it.He has a reason to defend himself, and he, Dismas Hadi, Abramovich's best friend, is just not the kind of defense lawyer who likes to play unprofessional tricks, indiscriminately, and blindly protect his client.But he knew that such an excuse would, in itself, be a feeble and dubious guarantee in the criminal law world.Hardy had already won several lawsuits on the technical side of things, but Griski, in his police mindset, would have probably thought it was the result of some form of deception. Wes Ferrell let the young man he was trying to save get away with it the next day before the officer who caught the suspect had sent the case to trial.Hardy knew all this. Wes picked up the policeman the night before and drank with him as hard as he could, so he was so drunk that he couldn't appear in court until the next day.That aside, Griski accused Hardy of doing things that David Freeman, a well-known lawyer in the legal industry, would not be ashamed of.Wasn't it just using her children against her to put pressure on witnesses?Isn't it just to let the forensic doctor dig up half of Colmar?Isn't it just pretending to need a tooth extraction in the emergency room on the first day of the jury election?As long as it helps your client, even if it means delaying the case and buying yourself a significant period of time, these actions are understandable.It is even, inappropriately, admirable.In terms of professional ethics, it is also necessary to do so. "So from here to investigate, where should we start?" Hardy asked. Grisky replied clearly, "Kenson has the list. If there is an Angel of Death in Portola, I would like to know what the hell is going on. Meanwhile, Marlene's jury work is going on. ...and just five minutes before Strout called me, I got another disturbing, unexpected situation." He told Hardy about Bracco finding Portola's intensive care lack of security in the room. "So it's possible for anyone to go in? Is that what you mean?" "Braco seems to think so." Grisky paused. "I don't want to have two potential murderers," he said. Comfortable." "Me too, but three would be worse," Hardy reminded him. "Three?" "Whoever was driving that car is suspected of intentional homicide." Brendan Driscoll spent most of the afternoon talking in front of the grand jury.It seemed obvious to him that someone who hated him had been here before him to testify.The public prosecutor, Ms. Ash, seemed to have an adverse influence on him and disrupt his thinking from the very beginning.He'd been planning to come here and talk about the people who had made Parnassus' internal relationship so sharp, including Ross, Kenson, and Kenson's damn wife and others. Instead, all she wanted to know was something about his personal relationship with Tim, which made him very uneasy.He has been working very hard in the past, trying to keep everything about himself low-key and unobtrusive.But of course, there were some differences between them.When you work so closely with someone for a long period of time, there is inevitably some friction.But overall, they've been a surprisingly good two-man team in the past. But Ash had already heard about the reprimand letter he had received from Tim, and he had been severely reprimanded by Tim that time.He figured it must have been Rose who said it, and seemed to have spent a lot of time talking about what he had done at the hospital last Tuesday.Finally, before he could draw her attention to the others with whom Tim had had an argument, she asked about Mr. Markham's correspondence, whether he knew about it, and especially to The city bills outpatient expenses. He thought to himself that she has no clues to follow when she asks questions, and she is confusing.He'd rather have her staring at someone else than grabbing hold of this business decision.As far as Driscoll knew, the problem had nothing to do with anything other than the company's liquidity.But if it distracted her from her personal relationship with Tim, especially the problems that had arisen during this difficult period last month, he thought he should be happy about it.Of course, he preferred to direct her attention to his most hated enemy, and he made several attempts to do so. "The determination of outpatient billing is indeed made by Mr. Markham, and he is firmly opposed to it, but Dr. Ross . . . "...But at the time you asked, Mr. Markham couldn't concentrate on his work as he wanted, because Dr. Eric Kenson's wife, Ann, kept asking..." But none of his efforts got Ash hooked, so he had to leave the subject. However, if this matter rests on Jeff Elliott, it will be another matter.Driscoll had already called this reporter yesterday and made an appointment to talk to him after the grand jury side of the matter was over.When he walked out of the hearing room, he was more distraught than he had expected.He went straight to the Chronicle building, where Elliott was waiting for him. Now at last he was comfortably seated in a chair in this small suite with a cup of coffee to drink.He knew who he wanted to speak ill of, and he typed out the correspondence between Markham and Kenson and Ross, as well as more than a hundred memos for archival purposes.These things probably explain Tim's dissatisfaction with the two of them in various points of view.Driscoll circled around, concluding that the documents provided a plausible motive for someone to kill Tim. Elliott leafed through the papers without much interest. "It's good material, Brendan, but it looks like it tells a different story than what we got out there." Driscoll straightened up in his chair, touched his tie knot, and cleared his throat. "What do you mean by that? Where's the situation?" "Over there in Portola. Looks like a female patient who died there a few months ago was also poisoned. I hear there are several more." He went on and on about his thoughts on the matter, "So it goes without saying that the idea that Mr. Markham was killed for personal reasons is problematic. He may just be one of a series of drug deaths in Portola, In that case, other people's motives for killing are irrelevant. Don't you think so?" "I think it makes sense." Driscoll collapsed on the back of the chair as if he had been hit by some kind of sudden blow.For three days he had been plotting to get back at Kenson for all the trouble he had caused, to get back at Ross for firing him.He thought that he had planned everything perfectly and it was perfect, but the result seemed to be a bit beyond his expectation.He did have in his hands a great deal of evidence against either of them.If Elliott made any of this evidence public, it would force the company's board of directors and possibly the police to act accordingly. Whether it was before the grand jury, or here now, he has not been able to pour out his allegations, and no one else has given him the opportunity to do so.He felt it was unfair to him. "So what do we do now?" he asked, "Don't you want any of these things?" "Of course I want it, this is very important material." Elliott did not hide his desire for these things at all, "I just want to tell you frankly that I may not publish them anytime soon But, hey, friend, don't worry, Parnassus is going to be the main story in the second half of this year." The reporter patted the pile of material gently, "This will be a good thing to read before going to bed .” Brendan has one final question. "So are there some other deaths like this in Portola? Do they mean the police no longer think Eric Kenson may have killed Tim?" "I think that if there's no proof that he did it, it's time to suspend the charges against him. Why do you ask?" Driscoll shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't really know that there's such a thing. I think I've just come to believe that he killed Tim. He has more reason to do it than anyone else. I guess I'll have to change my mind about that." Vincent's Little League Tigers practice just a few hundred yards from Hardy's house.They had obtained permission to erect a softball practice net on the disused portion of the Lincoln Park Golf Course near Clement Avenue.Hardy didn't serve as the team's general manager because he didn't have a guarantee of time, but he still made time as much as possible to come here and help the coach.He played softball through his high school years, and his son's love of the game has been a source of satisfaction in his life. He came back from Colmar just in time to catch up with their batting and pitching practice.Here, twenty blocks from the shore, there was not a shred of fog and the sky was clear.As the players fanned out to the infield for practice, Hardy stepped off the field and stood next to Griski, who had been watching the team practice from behind the backstop.Manager Mitch dropped the ball to third base, where Vincent caught it quickly with a backhand and threw it to the first baseman, sealing the drive.Abu nodded appreciatively. "Your son looks pretty good." Griski had called home and told them to meet at Hardy's, where they would have a barbecue dinner.So after practice they stopped by Safeway and bought three kilos of steak, a bag of potatoes, a nice sausage, Caesar's salad, soda and six bundles of beer.Vincent pulled out of the freezer half-gallon dough-baked cookies with ice cream on top.Griski carried a box of four, each containing four flavors of bottled iced tea. Hardy stood behind Griski and his son, watching as they loaded their items onto the mall's conveyor belt.This situation made him suddenly think of Louis XIV, the self-proclaimed Sun King. Even he, in his time, did not have such a rich food choice, nor could he enjoy such a refreshing weather.In fact, he was living in a golden age, and he would not be so stupid as to forget this fact.It's not a bad thing if this era also hurts his heart at times. Affectionately, he put one hand on Griski's shoulder and the other on his own son's. "Is that Rebecca, Sims? Desmus Hardy is bothering you again." He thought he heard the sound of the other party gasping for air.Nurse Sims had made it very clear that she didn't want to take any more calls from him or get involved.He continued without waiting for her to interrupt him or hang up the phone. "I know it's a little late, but I should give you a call. Did you see the news on TV?" "No," she said, "I rarely watch TV. But I do read the paper. What's the news?"