Chapter 3 Chapter two

The police staff are working at No. 19, Wilbraham Lane. There are forensic doctors, photographers, and fingerprint witnesses. Everyone is busy with their own affairs. Finally came Inspector Hardcastle, a tall, poker-faced man, but with expressive brows and a rather dignified look.Seeing that everything was going on step by step, he glanced at the corpse, exchanged a few words with the forensic doctor briefly, and then walked to the dining room opposite.There were three people inside, and the tea cups in front of each of them were empty.Miss Pebmarsh.Holly Lamb, and a tall, curly-haired lady, had their eyes wide open with fright. "It's so beautiful." The inspector joked as usual.

Miss Pebmarsh introduced herself, "I am Inspector Hardcastle." He knew Miss Pebmarsh a little, and though their professions had nothing to do with each other, he had known her several times, and knew that she had been a teacher in Braille at the Aaronburg Academy for Handicapped Children.No one would have imagined that someone would die in such a clean and meticulous house, but the most unbelievable things happen most often. "It is a dreadful incident, Miss Pebmarsh," said he, "and it must have been a great shock to you. I want from you three an account of what happened. Whoever actually discovered the dead man This is—" He glanced quickly at the notebook the officer had just handed him—"Miss Rella Webb. Please allow me to use your kitchen, Miss Pebmarsh. I want to take Miss Webb there. There, so as not to disturb others."

He opened the door connecting the kitchen to the dining room and let the girl through.A young plainclothes police detective was already in the kitchen, concentrating on writing on a small table with a plastic top. "This chair looks quite comfortable," said Inspector Hardcastle, pulling forward a modern one. Sheila Webb sat down anxiously, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Hardcastle was on the verge of saying, "Honey, I'm not going to eat you." But he restrained himself and said, "It's nothing to worry about, we're just trying to get things straightened out. Well, your The name is Leila Webb—what's the address?"

"Fourteen Palmerston Road, beyond the Gasworks." "Oh, yes. So, I suppose you have a job?" "Yes, I am a shorthand typist in Miss Martindale's secretarial office." "The full name is Gavin Bosch Secretary's Typing Agency?" "Right" "How long have you been working there?" "About a year. Oh, ten months exactly." "I see. Now explain in your own words how you came to number 19, Wilbraham Lane today." "Blind, here's the thing." Sheila Webb spoke more confidently than before. "This Miss Pebmarsh called the agency and asked a shorthand lady to come here at three o'clock, so I finished eating. When I got back to the club for lunch, Miss Martindale asked me to go."

"Is this a routine shift? I mean, according to the rota, it's your turn—or, how do you arrange this kind of work?" "As a matter of fact, Miss Pebmarsh appointed me in particular." "Miss Pebmarsh specially appointed you?" Hardcastle's eyebrows showed surprise. "I see, ... because you have done it for her before?" "No!" Sheila replied immediately. "No? Are you sure?" "Oh, absolutely not. I mean, she's not the forgettable type, and that's where it's at." "Very strange indeed. Oh, we're not discussing it just yet. When did you get here?"

"I'm sure it was exactly a minute before three o'clock, because the cuckoo clock went 'boogoo'—" She broke off suddenly, eyes widening. "Strange, how strange! I didn't pay close attention to the time." "What didn't you notice, Miss Wilbur." "Gah—those clocks?" "What about the clock?" "The cuckoo clock chimed three times, yes, but the other clocks were almost an hour fast. What a strange thing!" "Strange indeed," said the Inspector agreeingly, "and when did you first discover the body?"

"Didn't notice until I got around the couch. He, he was lying there—it was awful, it was horrible." "It's a terrible thing. Do you know this man? Have you seen it before?" "Oh, no." "Are you sure? Maybe he didn't look the way he usually does then, and you'd know that. Come to think of it, are you sure you've never seen this man before?" "Very sure." "Well, that's it, so what did you do then?" "What did I do?" "yes." "Gah-no...nothing. There's nothing I can do."

"That's right. You didn't touch him at all?" "Yes—yes, I touched him. Just to see—I mean—just to see—but his body was—very cold—and—and—and my hands were On to the blood.' It's horrible—thick, sticky." She started shaking. "Oh, don't worry," said Hardcastle, with the air of an elder, "it's over, don't worry about it. Come down again, what happened?" "I don't know . . . Ah, yes, she's back." "You mean Miss Pebmarsh?" "Yes, but I didn't know she was Miss Pebmarsh at the time. She happened to come in with a shopping basket." She especially emphasized the tone of the word "shopping basket", which seemed very incongruous, as if it was an unrelated thing.

"What did you say?" "I don't think I said anything... I tried to speak but I couldn't. I feel like someone is choking me here." She pointed to her throat. The inspector nodded. "And then — and she said: 'Who?' and she went around the couch. I thought — I thought she was going to — step on the body. So I screamed... and I started screaming again, I couldn't stop it. I don't know how I got out of the room, out the front door—" "Looks like he's dead." The inspector remembered He Lin's description. Sheila Webb looked at him dolefully with frightened eyes, and said unexpectedly, "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about! You said it well. Don't think about it anymore. Oh, just one question, why are you in that room?" "Me?" She looked confused. "Yes. You arrived here at the time, probably a few minutes early. I think you must have answered the doorbell first. But how did you get in if there was no one?" "What, this. Because she told me to." "Who said this?" "Miss Pebmarsh." "But I thought you never spoke to her." "I haven't. Miss Martindale ordered me to wait in the parlor on the right-hand side of the corridor when I go in."

"I see." Hardcastle mused. asked Sheila Wilbur timidly. "That's—that's all, right?" "I think so. But please hold on for ten more minutes, so I can ask you if I have any questions. . . After that, I'll take you back in the police car. How's your family—do you have family?" "Both my parents are dead and I live with my aunt." "what is her name?" "Mrs Lorton." The detective stood up and held out his hand. "Thank you very much, Miss Wilbur," he said, "and get as much rest as you can to-night. After all this trouble, it must be much needed." She smiled timidly at him as she passed through the door and into the dining room. "Colin, take good care of Miss Wilbur," said the Inspector. "Now, Miss Pebmarsh, would you please come in?" Hardcastle stretched out half a hand, trying to guide the Pebmarsh team, but she went right in, found a chair against the wall with her fingers, took a step forward, and sat down. Hardcastle closed the door.Before he could speak, Milesin Pemarsh suddenly asked, "Who is that young man?" "His name is Colin Lamb." "He told me his name, but who is he? Why is he here?" Hardcastle looked at her, slightly surprised. "He happened to be passing by when Miss Wilbur ran out of the house screaming murder. Afterwards, he entered the house to find out, and he called me. I asked him to come back and serve." "You're calling his name Colin." "Miss Pebmarsh, your observations are very subtle—(Observation? It's a very inappropriate use, but what better word?)—Colin Lamb is my friend, but we haven't seen each other for a long time. We meet." He added. "He's a marine biologist." "Oh, that's it!" "Well, Miss Pebmarsh, I should be very glad if you could tell me the details of this shocking incident." "I'd love to, but I'm afraid there is little to report." "I believe you have lived here some time." "Beginning in 1950. I was - I used to be a professional teacher. Then the doctor told me that my eyesight was failing and that I would soon be completely blind. There was nothing the doctor could do to save me, so I devoted myself to learning Braille , and various technologies to help the blind, and become an expert. I work here at the Aaronburg Academy for Handicapped Children." "Thank you. Now for what happened this afternoon. Do you have any company coming this afternoon?" "No." "I'll describe to you the face of the dead man, and see if I can remind you of any particular person. He was five feet nine or ten inches tall, about sixty years old, with black hair that was beginning to turn gray, brown eyes, no Bearded, thin face, square jaw. Well nourished, but not overweight, with fair hands, wearing a dark gray suit, probably works in a bank, or an accountant, or a lawyer, or something. You Can you remember who came?" Milesin Pebmarsh was thinking hard and didn't answer right away. "It's really hard to say. This description is too common and applies to many people. Maybe it's someone I've seen or known, but I can't be sure which one it is." "Has anyone written recently, saying that they want to visit you?" "Absolutely not." "Very well. Then, you called Cavendish's Secretary Types and asked for a shorthand service—" she interrupted him. "I'm sorry, I've never done such a thing." "You didn't call Cavendish Secretary's and ask—" Hardcastle's eyes widened— "I don't have a phone at home." "But there's a payphone box on the corner," Inspector Hardcastle pointed out. "Yes, yes. But I can only declare to you for the record, Inspector Hardcastle, that I have no need of a stenographer, I have no need of one, and I have not--I repeat, I did not call Gareth. The Vendish Society demands this service." "Did you not name Miss Sheila Webb?" "I've never heard that name." Hardcastle stared at her in astonishment. "Your front door is unlocked," he said emphatically. "I do that a lot during the day." "Anyone can come in." "Anyone may do the case," said Miss Pebmarsh coldly. "Pegmarsh team, according to the forensic report. The time of death of this person was between 1:30 and 2:45. Where were you at the time of the interview? Please think about it, Ms. Pebmarsh." "At half past one, I've either already left, or I'm about to go out. I have to go shopping." "Could you please tell me where you have actually been?" "Let me see. I went to the post office, the one in Albany Road, and I posted a parcel, and bought some stamps, and then I went to buy some groceries, and yes, I bought some at the draperies. Buttons and safety pins, the name of the shop is 'Fad & Nguyen'. After that, I came back. I can tell you the correct time when I got home. When I pushed open the outermost iron gate, my cuckoo clock called Three boogoos. Its sound can be heard from the street." "What do you say about the other clocks?" "Sorry, I didn't understand what you said." "All your other clocks seem to be going an hour faster." "Quick? You mean that grandfather clock in the corner?" "Not just that one—all the other clocks in the drawing room as well." "I don't understand what you mean by 'other clocks.' There are no other clocks in the drawing room."

---

Notes: