Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Trap

She needed time, time to think and plan her next move, and she couldn't bear to see the ransacked home any longer, so she checked into a small hotel in Rue Magkin, far from the French-speaking quarters where the frenzy The celebration is still going on.She didn't bring any luggage, and the clerk at the check-in desk was worried and said to her, "You have to pay the rent first, forty yuan a night." Tracy called Clarence Desmond from her room and said she was taking a few days off. Dismond hid his unhappiness, despite the trouble Tracy's absence caused him. "Don't worry," he said, "I can replace you until you come back." He hoped that Tracy would not forget to tell Charles Stannob about his tenderness.

Tracy's next call was to Charles. "Charles, dear..." "Where have you been, Tracy? Mom has been looking for you all morning, and she wants to have lunch with you today, and you two have a lot to discuss." "I'm sorry, honey. I'm in New Orleans now." "What? What are you doing in New Orleans?" "My mother -- passed away." She struggled to say the word "passed away". "Oh." His tone changed immediately. "I'm sorry, Tracy. This must have been very sudden. She's young, isn't she?" She's really young, Tracy thought sadly, and she said, "Yes, she's young."

"What happened? Are you all right?" For some reason, Tracy felt unable to tell Charles that her mother had committed suicide.She really wanted to tell all about how her mother was persecuted, but she didn't.This is a private matter of my family, she thought.Charles should not be involved.So she said, "Don't worry, I'm fine, dear." "Shall I come to your place, Tracy?" "No, thank you, I can do it. Bury my mother tomorrow, and I'll be back in Philadelphia on Monday." After hanging up the phone, she lay on the bed in the hotel room, confused and unable to make up her mind.She counted the soundproofing colored tiles on the ceiling.One...two...three...Romano...four...five...Joe Romano...six...seven...he deserves to be punished.She couldn't think of anything to do.All she knew was that Joe Romano couldn't be allowed to get away with doing something bad.She must try to avenge her mother.

Towards evening Tracy left the hotel and walked down Carnell Street to a pawnshop.A gray-faced man wearing an old-fashioned green eye patch sat in the large grating behind the counter. "buy what?" "I—I want to buy a gun." "What model?" "Uh...a revolver." "Do you want Form 32, Form 45, or..." Tracy had never touched a gun. "Type 32 will do." "I have a nice Smith & Wesson 32 for two hundred and twenty-nine. And a Charter Arm 32 for one hundred and fifty-nine..." She didn't have much cash with her. "Are there any cheaper ones?"

He shrugged. "No matter how cheap it is, I can only buy a slingshot. Miss, let me tell you. I only want you one hundred and fifty yuan for that 32-caliber pistol, and I will give you a box of ammunition." "Okay." Tracy watched as he took a revolver from the weapons case on the table behind him.He took the gun to the counter..."Do you know how to shoot a gun?" "Er - pull the trigger." He snorted. "Shall I teach you how to load a bullet?" She wanted to say, no, she wasn't going to actually use the gun, she was just going to scare someone with it.But just as she was about to say it, she suddenly realized that such an explanation sounded too absurd. "Okay," she said.

Tracy watched as he loaded the gun. "Thank you." She took out her wallet and counted the money to pay. "I have to register your name and address and file it at the police station." Tracy hadn't thought of that.It was against the law to threaten Joe Romano at gunpoint, but he was the culprit, not me. He stared at Tracy, the eyeballs showing pale yellow behind the green patch. "What is your name?" "Smith. Joan Smith." He wrote it on a card. "address?" "Dorman Street. 3020 Dorman Street." Without looking up, he said, "There is no 3020 on Daoman Street. If there is such a house number, it should be in the middle of the river. Let's write 5020." He pushed the invoice in front of her.

She signs "Joan Smith" "OK?" "Okay." He carefully handed out the pistol from the fence.Tracy stared blankly for a moment, picked up the gun, put it in her handbag, turned and hurried out of the store. "Hey, miss," he called to her, "don't forget, there's bullets in the gun!" Jackson Square is in the center of the French-speaking neighborhood, and the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral stands tall, as if protecting the square.The elegant old-style mansion is located in the square area, and the tall hedges and beautiful magnolia trees cut off the hustle and bustle of the city.Joe Romano lived in such a mansion.

Tracy waited until dark to start her move.The reveling procession reached Charterhouse Street, and Tracy could faintly hear the noise of the throng that had engulfed her. She stood in the shadows surveying the house and felt the weight of the gun in the bag clearly.Tracy's plan was simple.She wanted to reason with Joe Romano and get him to clear up her mother's reputation.If he refused, Tracy would force him to write a confession at gunpoint.She would give the confession to Sheriff Miller, who would arrest Romano, and her mother's honor would be restored.How she wished Charles was by her side, but it was better to do it alone.Charles should not be involved.She would tell Charles all about it when the business was over and Joe Romano was in prison, what he deserved.A pedestrian approached, and Tracy waited for him to pass by. The street was empty.

She walked to the mansion and rang the doorbell.No one answered the door.He may have gone to a private ball on the feast day.But I can wait, Tracy thought.I could wait for him to come back, and suddenly the porch light came on, the door opened, and a man stood in the doorway.His appearance surprised Tracy.She had thought that this man must have a hideous and sinister face.But now she saw a handsome and kind man, like a university professor.His voice was low and friendly: "Hello. What can I do for you?" "Are you Joseph ('Joseph' is the full name of 'Joe') Romano?" Her voice trembled.

"Yes. What's the matter?" He had an approachable demeanor.No wonder Mommy fell for him, Tracy thought. "I—wanted to talk to you, Mr. Romano." He studied her for a while. "Okay, please come in." Tracy walked into a living room with elegant, well-polished antique furniture.Bought with my mother's money, Tracy thought bitterly. "I was just going to make some wine. What would you like to drink?" "I don't drink." He looked at her in surprise. "What can I do for you? May I have your name, Miss?" "My name is Tracy Whitney, the daughter of Doris Whitney."

He stared at her for a while, then a look of sudden realization flashed across his face. "Oh, see. I've heard about your mother. Too bad." What a pity!He killed my mother, but he just said "too bad" lightly. "Mr. Romano, the District Attorney believes my mother committed fraud. You know, that's not true. I want you to clear my mother's name." He shrugged. "I never talk about business during the carnival. This is our canon." Romano walked to the wine cabinet and began to mix two glasses of wine. "Have a drink and you'll feel better." He forced her to have no way out.Tracy opened the bag and drew the revolver.She pointed the gun at him. "I will never feel better unless you are honest about how you framed my mother." Joe Romano turned and saw the pistol. "Put this thing away, Miss Whitney, the gun will go off." "If you don't do what I say, I'm going to let this gun go off. I want you to write down how you robbed my mother's business, bankrupted it, and drove my mother to kill herself." He began to look at her cautiously, his dark eyes alert. "I see. What if I don't do it?" "I'll kill you." She felt the gun tremble in her hand. "You don't look like a killer, Miss Whitney." He walked towards her, a glass of wine in his hand.His voice was soft and sincere. "Your mother's death has nothing to do with me, please believe me..." He poured the glass of wine on her face. Tracy felt the alcohol sting her eyes like pins and needles.In a blink of an eye, the gun in her hand fell to the ground. "Your mother's so tight-lipped," said Joe Romano, "that she didn't tell me she had such a hot, sweet chick!" He hugged her, twisting her arms with both hands like iron vices.Tracy's eyes were black with shock and fear.She tried to free herself, but Romano pushed her against the wall, pushing her against the wall. "Damn you, honey, it's just my taste. I'm hungry now." His voice cracked.Tracy felt his body close to hers, and she struggled desperately, but was held tightly by him, unable to move. "Aren't you here to have fun? Well, Old Joe, I'll let you have a lot of fun today." She wanted to yell loudly, but she just yelled out breathlessly: "Let me go!" He tore off her dress. "Ho! You're beautiful," he whispered. "Kick and bite, baby," he whispered. "Then I'll be happier." "let me go!" He hugged her hard and pinned her to the floor. "You've never tasted a real man," Romano said.He sat on her and began to fumble with his hands.Tracy struggled, her hand found the gun and groped to reach it.Suddenly there was a deafening gunshot in the room. "Lord!" Romano exclaimed.His hand suddenly loosened.Through a layer of red mist, Tracy watched in horror as Romano slumped over her to the floor, clutching his waist. "You shot me... bitch. You shot me..." Tracy was transfixed.She wanted to vomit, and her eyes were so painful that she couldn't open them.She managed to get to her feet, turned, and stumbled toward a door at the end of the living room.She pushed open the door, it was a bathroom.She groped to the washbasin, filled it with cold water, and washed her eyes.The pain subsided and vision returned.She looked in the mirror of the vanity cabinet.Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked terrible.God, I killed a man.She ran back to the living room. Joe Romano was lying on the ground, his blood seeping into the white carpet.Tracy stood beside him, pale. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "I didn't mean to..." "Ambulance..." he gasped. Tracy hurried to the desk where the telephone stood and dialed the operator's number.She said dryly, "Please call an ambulance immediately. The address is 421 Jackson Square. Someone has a gunshot wound." She put down the phone and looked down at Joe Romano.God, she prayed, don't let him die.I hadn't meant to kill him.She knelt beside him to see if he was still alive.His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. "The ambulance will be here soon," Tracy reassured him. Tracy escapes. She tried not to run for fear of attracting attention.She wrapped her coat tightly over her torn dress.After four blocks, Tracy wanted to hail a taxi.Six or seven cars drove past her, full of laughing people.She heard the sound of a whistle in the distance.After a while, an ambulance passed her and sped in the direction of Joe Romano's mansion.Gotta get out of here, Tracy thought.A taxi stopped ahead and put down its passengers.Fearing that it would drive away, Tracy hurried over and asked, "Is it carrying passengers?" "That depends. Where are you going?" "Airport." She held her breath. "boarding." On the way to the airport, Tracy was still thinking about the ambulance.What if it was late and Joe Romano died?She became a female murderer, and her gun was still in the house with her fingerprints on it.She could explain to the police that Romano was going to rape her and that the gun accidentally went off.They won't take her word for it.She had bought the gun on the floor beside Joe Romano.How long has it been?half an hour?One hour?She must escape New Orleans as soon as possible. "Have you had a good carnival?" the driver asked. Tracy swallowed. "I'm very good." She took out the small mirror and retouched it.You have to make yourself look plausible.She was a fool to go and force Joe Romano to confess his crime.Everything is wrong.How to explain it to Charles?She knew Charles would be shocked.But after she explained it, he would understand.Charles knew what to do. As the car arrived at New Orleans International Airport, Tracy asked herself: Did I just get here this morning, did all this happen in one day?Mother committed suicide...she was caught in a horrible carnival crowd...the man hissed, "You shot me... bitch..." Tracy walked into the waiting room and felt that everyone was staring at her condemningly.This wasn't so-called Criminal Minds, she thought, and she hoped to find out about Joe Romano, but she didn't know which hospital he was going to be taken to, or whom to call.He will be out of danger.Charles and I were coming back for my mother's funeral when Joe Romano was rescued.Tracy tried to forget the man lying on the ground, the blood that stained the white carpet.She must hurry back to Charles. Tracy walked to the Delta Airlines counter. "I want a one-way ticket for the next flight to Philadelphia. Economy class." The conductor used the computer to inquire: "You can take flight 304. You are lucky, there is one ticket left." "When does the plane take off?" "Twenty minutes to go. You must board the plane immediately." As Tracy reached into her purse for the money, she felt rather than saw two uniformed police officers standing to her left and right.A cop said, "Is that Tracy Whitney?" Her heart stopped for a moment.Hiding your identity is stupid. "yes……" "You're under arrest." Tracy felt the cold steel cuffs on her wrists. Things seem to happen to other people in slow motion.Tracy saw herself being led through the airport, handcuffed to a policeman.Passers-by turned to look at her.She was stuffed into the back seat of a black and white police car separated by a mesh grille.The police car starts up, red lights flashing, sirens blare.She huddled in a corner, trying to hide and not be seen.She is a murderess.Joe Romano is dead.But she killed someone by mistake, and she will explain the ins and outs.They will surely take her word for it.Will. Tracy was taken to a police station in the Algiers section of the West Bank of New Orleans, a gloomy building with a tinge of gloom.The registration room was full of wretched characters—whores, male whores, robbers, and victims.Tracy was led to the desk of the officer on duty. One of the officers who arrested her said: "This is the woman named Whitney, officer, we caught her at the airport and she was trying to escape." "I don't……" "Open the handcuffs." The handcuffs were removed, and Tracy's tongue was quicker. "I accidentally injured that person. I didn't want to kill him. He was going to rape me, and then..." She was so excited that she couldn't control her voice. The officer on duty asked curtly, "Is your name Tracy Whitney?" "yes, I……" "Lock her up." "No, wait a minute," Tracy said, "I'm going to make a call. I—I'm entitled to a call." The officer on duty snorted, "You know the rules, huh? How many times have you been to the police station, baby?" "Never, it's..." "Call, I'll give you three minutes, what number to dial?" Tracy was so nervous that she couldn't remember Charles' phone number, and she couldn't even remember the three-digit Philadelphia area code.Is it 251? No, she trembled. "Hurry up, I can't wait for you all night." 215, yes! "215, 5559301." The officer on duty dialed the number and handed the receiver to Tracy.She could hear the phone ringing, and it kept ringing, but no one answered.Charles should be at home. "Time's up," said the officer on duty, and he was going to take the receiver from her. "Wait, please!" she shouted.Then she suddenly remembered that Charles always turned off the phone at night so as not to be woken up.She listened to the hollow ringing and knew there was no way to get in touch with Charles. The police officer on duty asked, "Is the fight over?" Tracy looked up at him and said blankly, "It's over." A policeman in a shirt-sleeved shirt took Tracy to a room to register, get her fingerprints taken, then lead her down a corridor and lock her into a holding cell alone. "Interrogation tomorrow morning," the policeman told her, and left her. It's all fake, Tracy thought, a nightmare, and God, I beg you, don't make it real. But the stinking cot in the cell was real, the squat urinal in the corner was real, and the iron bars of the prison were real. There is no end to the long night.If only I could have gotten on the phone with Charles just now.Never before had she needed his help.I should have told him everything from the start.In that case, this series of troubles will not happen. At six in the morning, an immortal warden brought Tracy lukewarm coffee and cold cereal.She couldn't eat at all, her stomach was churning.At nine o'clock a female guard came. "It's time to go to court, baby." She opened the cell door. "I gotta make a call," Tracy said, "it's very..." "Call back later," the guard said. "Don't keep the judge waiting for you. The son of a bitch is dead." She led Tracy down the corridor and into a courtroom.An elderly judge sat on the bench.His head and hands were shaking constantly.In front of him stood District Attorney Ed Taupa, a thin man in his forties with salt-and-pepper curly hair cut into a short brush cut and dark, impassive eyes. Tracy was ushered to a seat, and a moment later the marshal announced loudly, "Louisiana sues Tracy Whitney." Tracy walked toward the bench.The judge was reading a document in front of him, bobbing his head up and down. It's time.Now it was time for Tracy to state the truth of the matter to someone in authority.She clasped her hands together so they wouldn't tremble. "It wasn't murder, Mr. Judge. I shot him, but something unexpected happened. I just wanted to scare him. He was going to rape me, so I—" The district attorney interrupted her. "Mr. Judge, I see no need to waste court time. This woman broke into Mr. Romano's house with a 32-caliber revolver and stole a Renoir worth half a million dollars, Mr. Romanow Caught her red-handed, she brutally shot Romano and walked away without him." Tracy felt the color drain from her face. "What—what the hell are you talking about?" She had absolutely no idea what was going on. The D.A. snapped, "Here's the pistol with which she wounded Mr. Romano. It has her fingerprints on it." Hurt!Then Joe Romano is alive!She did not kill. "She ran away with that painting, Mr. Judge. It may have been in the hands of some dealer. Therefore, the State is asking the court to hold Tracy Whitney on charges of premeditated murder and armed robbery, and her bail should be set at Half a million dollars." The judge turned to Tracy, who stood stunned. "Do you have a lawyer representing you?" Tracy didn't hear him at all. The judge raised his voice. "Have you hired a lawyer?" Tracy shook her head. "No, I... what this man said is not true. I have never..." "Can you afford a lawyer?" Her salary is deposited in the bank.Charles also has money. "I . . . no, Mr. Judge, but I want to ask . . . " "This court will appoint a lawyer for you. This court has decided to detain you, and the bail is set at 500,000 yuan. Now the next case will be heard." "Wait a minute! This is a total misunderstanding! I didn't..." She couldn't remember how she was led out of the courtroom. The court-appointed attorney was named Perry Pope.He was twenty-seven or eighteen, with an intelligent, angular face and understanding eyes.Tracy immediately took a liking to him. He walked into her cell, sat on the bed and said, "You're an amazing woman. You've only been in this city for twenty-four hours, and you've made a lot of noise." He grinned. "You're lucky, though. You shot so badly that you only hurt him a little. Romano won't die." He produced a pipe. "is it okay?" "Can." He filled the pipe with tobacco, lit it, and studied Tracy. "You don't look like a desperate gangster, Miss Whitney." "I'm not, I swear, I'm not a gangster." "You've got to convince me," he said, "tell me what happened. Start at the beginning. Take your time, take your time." Tracy told him all about it.Perry Pope sat quietly listening to her without interjecting.After she finished speaking, he leaned against the cell wall with a stern expression on his face. "The villain!" Pope whispered. "Their accusations baffle me." Tracy's eyes were full of doubts. "I don't know any famous paintings at all." "It's really simple. Joe Romano made you a scapegoat. He tricked your mother the same way. You've just fallen into your own trap." "I still do not get it." "Let me explain to you. Romano is going to claim half a million dollars from the insurance company for the theft of a famous Renoir painting. He has hidden the painting elsewhere, but the insurance company will pay him and then come to you Settle the bill. When the limelight passes, Romano will quietly sell the painting to a private collector and earn another half a million from it. Thanks to you for sending it to your door. Don't you know that a confession written at gunpoint is worthless ?" "I—I knew that too. But I thought at the time, if I could get him to tell the truth, I could get someone to investigate later." His pipe went out and he lit it again. "How did you get into his room?" "I rang the bell, and Mr. Romano opened the door and let me in." "That's not what he said. There was a window at the back of the house that was broken, and he said you got in there. He told the police that you were sneaking away with a Renoir and he saw you, He tried to stop you, you shot him and ran away." "It's a lie! I..." "But he lied. It happened at his house and the gun was yours. Know who you're dealing with?" Tracy shook her head silently. "Well, let me explain to you the reality of life, Miss Whitney. This city is tightly controlled by the Ursady family. Nothing can be done without the permission of Antony Ursady. If You want permission to build a house, build a road, open a brothel, gamble or deal drugs, you have to go to Wusardi. Joe Romano started as one of his thugs, and now he is the number one butler in the Wusardi gang. .” He looked at her in surprise. "How dare you break into Romano's house with a gun and use force with him." Tracy sat there numb and dejected.Finally she asked, "Do you believe me?" he laughed. "Everything you say is true. You are so stupid to do this, so stupid that it can't be false." "Can you help me?" He said slowly, "I want to try it. I really want to put them all in jail. This city is theirs, and most of the judges in the city are theirs. If you go to court, they will put you in a black jail." Prison, so that you will never see the light of day again." Tracy looked at him puzzled. "What if I go to court?" Pope stood up and paced back and forth in the small cell. "I don't want you to stand trial because, believe me, the jury is going to be full of people he put in. There is only one judge who has never been bribed by Ursadhi, and his name is Henry Lawrence. If I can manage to get him to come Try the case, and that will surely help you negotiate a solution. Strictly speaking, it's not appropriate, but I want to talk to him in private. He hates Usadhi and Romano as much as I do. Now the only The best way is to consult Judge Lawrence." Perry Pope managed to get Tracy to call Charles, and Tracy heard the familiar voice of Charles' secretary. "This is Mr. Stannob's office." "Harriet? This is Tracy Whitney. Please..." "Oh! He's been looking for you, Miss Whitney, and we don't have your number. Mrs. Stanhope is in a hurry to talk to you about the wedding. Please call her as soon as possible..." "Harriet, I want to speak to Mr. Stannob." "I'm sorry, Miss Whitney. He's in Houston for a meeting. Please give me your number and he'll get back to you as soon as possible." "I..." Tracy couldn't let him call the jail unless she had a chance to explain everything. "I... I'll hang up Mr. Stannob later." She slowly put down the phone. Tomorrow, Tracy thought anxiously.I'm going to tell Charles the whole thing tomorrow. Tracy moved into a larger cell that afternoon.There was a nice dinner at Galatoa, followed by a bouquet of flowers and a letter of affection.Tracy opened the envelope and took out the greeting card inside. "Be strong, we're going to beat the villains. Perry Pope." He came to see Tracy the next morning.As soon as she saw the smile on Pope's face, she knew there was good news. "Lucky for us," he said, "I just got here from Judge Lawrence and District Attorney Taupa. Taupa howled like a wolf for a while, but in the end we made a deal." "protocol?" "I have given Judge Lawrence the full details of the incident as you describe it. He agrees to accept your plea." Tracy stared at him in horror. "Confession? But I didn't..." He raised a hand. "Listen. If you plead guilty, you'll save our state a trial fee. I've convinced the judge that you didn't steal the painting. He knows what Joe Romano is, so take my word for it." "But...if I plead guilty," Tracy asked hesitantly, "what will they do with me?" "Judge Lawrence will sentence you to three months' imprisonment and then..." "Imprisonment!" "Take it easy. He's going to give you a suspended sentence that can be served out of state." "Then I—I'd have a criminal record." Perry Pope sighed. "If they tried you for armed robbery and murder in the course of committing a felony, they would probably give you ten years in prison." Close here for ten years! Perry Pope looked at her understandingly. "The decision is yours to make," he said, "and I can only suggest what I think is best. It is a miracle that I have managed to secure such a solution. They demand an immediate answer. You are not obliged to accept it." This agreement won't work. You can also hire another lawyer..." "No." She knew the man was honest.In the current situation, considering the stupid things she has done, he has done a lot for her.If only I could talk to Charles.But they demanded to call back now.The sentence of only three months of probation may be considered cheap for her. "I—I accept the offer," Tracy said with difficulty. Pope nodded. "Such a clever girl." They didn't allow Tracy to call anyone until she was back on trial.Now, she has Ed Taupa on one side and Perry Pope on the other.Sitting on the judge's bench was a noble-looking man in his fifties, with plump cheeks and no wrinkles, and thick hair combed into a fashionable style. Judge Henry Lawrence told Tracy: "The court has been informed that the defendant wishes to change his plea from not guilty to guilty. Is that so?" "Yes, Mr. Judge." "Do all parties to the lawsuit agree?" Perry Pope nodded. "Agreed, Mr. Judge." "The State agrees, Mr. Judge," said the District Attorney. Judge Lawrence sat for a long time in silence.Then he leaned forward and looked into Tracy's eyes. "One of the reasons why our great country is in such a bad state is that the streets are full of criminals who think they can get away with whatever they do. Some of our judicial system is more tolerant , Connive bad people. However, in Louisiana, this approach does not work. For example, if someone commits a felony while attempting to kill inhumanely, we believe that this person must be punished as he should." Tracy began to feel a surge of fear in her.She turned to look at Perry Pope.His eyes were fixed on the judge. "Defendant admits that she attempted to kill one of the city's best citizens - a man known for his philanthropy and other good deeds. Defendant shot the man during the theft of a work of art worth half a million dollars. Citizen." His voice became harsher. "Therefore, this court must not give you the opportunity to squander that huge sum of money - you will not have this opportunity for the next fifteen years, because, for the next fifteen years, you will be imprisoned in the South Louisiana Prison for Women." Tracy felt the courtroom spinning.Someone is making a terrible joke.A role for the judge in the play, but he mispronounced his lines.He shouldn't have said what he just said.She turned to tell Perry Pope the thought, but his eyes were averted.He was fiddling with papers in his briefcase.For the first time Tracy noticed, he was chewing his nails until the flesh was showing.Judge Lawrence stood up and collected the papers.Tracy stood there dumbfounded, not sure what was going on. A bailiff walks up to Tracy and grabs her by the arm. "Let's go," he said. "No," Tracy yelled, "wait a minute!" She looked up at the judge. "It was a total misunderstanding, Mr. Judge, I..." But when she felt the bailiff's hand grip her arm even tighter, she finally understood that it wasn't a misunderstanding.She was cheated.They are going to destroy her. Just like they had ruined her mother.