Chapter 10 Chapter nine

They drove along Wilbraham Lane, turned right onto Albany Road, and then turned into the other half of Wilbraham Lane. "It's as simple as that," said Hardcastle. "If only I knew," replied Colin. "Number 61 is behind Mrs. Hemm's house - but a corner touches Number 19, that's all right, now you get a chance to see your Mr. Bland. Mind you, no foreign aid of." "That's a beautiful theory." The car pulled over and the two got out. "Wow," sighed Colin, "what a beautiful garden" 'A perfect example of a small suburban garden, indeed.There were beds of geraniums fringed with lobelias, begonias with large leaves crisp and fresh, and here and there ornamented the garden--frogs, mushrooms, funny elves and fairies.

"I believe Mr. Bland must be an unusual man," said Colin, shrugging his shoulders, "otherwise he would not have these unusual thoughts." When Hardcastle turned the doorbell, he said: "You Think he'll be there this time in the morning?" "I called," Hardcastle explained, "and asked if he was available." Just then, a sleek mini station wagon, apparently a new addition to the home, pulls up and turns into the garage.Mr. Bland got out of the car, slammed the door, and came towards them. Mr. Bland was of middle height, bald, with small blue eyes and a very enthusiastic manner.

"Inspector Hardcastle? Come in, come in!" He took the lead to enter the living room. The furnishings inside showed the wealth of the owner.Luxurious lamps, a writing desk in the style of the French Revolution, a pair of golden brass mantel ornaments, inlaid cabinets, and a shelf full of flowers on the window sill.The chairs are modern and everything is very luxuriously furnished. "Sit down, please," said Mr. Bland eagerly. "Smoking? Can't you smoke at work?" "No, thanks," said Hardcastle. "No bar, I suppose?" said Mr. Bland. "Well, it's better for everybody. Well, what's the business of being here today? About the nineteenth, I suppose? Both of us." The garden adjoins in one corner, but nothing is visible except from upstairs. What an odd case—at least according to the reports in the local papers this morning. I'm glad to have your call, it's an acquired Good chance for the right news. You don't know the rumors that go around and the ones that drive my wife crazy - always thinking that the murderer will show up again at any moment. The problem is that today's mental sanatoriums put some mildly ill patients Come to the street, or send them home, or so-called parole. When they make another mistake, send them back with a clang. Speaking of those rumors! Well, I mean our cleaning woman, milkman People and newsboys, you should be surprised. Some say that he was strangled to death by a hanging painting rope, some say that he was stabbed to death with a knife, and some say that he was beaten to death with a stick. In short, the victim was a A man? I mean, it wasn't an older woman, was it? The newspapers said it was an unknown man."

Mr. Bland stopped at last. Hardcastle smiled, and said with a slight refutation: "Well, it's not that he's nameless, he has a business card in his pocket." "Then that story is bullshit," Brand said. "You know people are like that, and you don't know who made it up." "Since we're talking about victims," ​​said Hardcastle, "perhaps you'd like to see this." He pulled out the police photo again. "That's him, isn't it?" said Brand. "An ordinary man, like you and me. Is there any particular reason why he was murdered?"

"It's too early for that," said Hardcastle. "What I want to know, Mr. Bland, is whether you've seen this man before." Brand shook his head. "I'm sure not. I've always had a good memory for faces." "Hasn't he ever called on you for a special purpose?—like selling insurance. Or a vacuum cleaner, or a washing machine or something?" "No, absolutely not." "We should perhaps ask your lady," said Hardcastle. "After all, if he ever came to your house, it must have been your lady who received him." "Yes, you are right, but I don't know...Willie has always been in poor health, and I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable. Well, I mean, this is a photo of that person after death, right? ?”

"Yes," said Hardcastle, "not bad, but not a miserable picture." "Yes, it's well illuminated, and it really looks like she's asleep." "Are you talking about me, Josiah?" A door leading to the next room was pushed open, and a middle-aged woman walked in.Hardcastle was sure she must be listening attentively to their conversation in the next room. "Why, dear," said Brand, "I thought you were taking a nap. Inspector Hardcastle, this is the wife." "What a horrible murder," murmured Mrs. Bland, "every time I think of it, I get chills."

She sighed softly and sat down on the sofa. "Honey, put your feet up," Brand said. Mrs. Bland did as her husband did.She had light tawny hair, spoke limply, and was pale, as if accepting her frailty with some joy, and Hardcastle, looking at her, remembered that she was very much like someone, but could not remember who it was. Who.The dark mournful voice continued: "I'm in poor health, Inspector, so of course my husband always tries not to frighten or disturb me. I'm a very sensitive person. You were talking about the photograph, I think--the man who was murdered." picture. Oh dear, what a dreadful thing. I don't know if I can bear it!"

"That's a lot to see," Hardcastle thought to himself. There was some malice in his voice, and he said: "Well, Mrs. Bland, I think you'd better not look at it. I just thought that if this man ever came to the house, maybe you could help us." "I must do my duty, must I not?" said Mrs. Lubrand, smiling bravely and sweetly, and holding out her hand. "You're going to feel uncomfortable!" "It's all right, Josiah, I can't help watching." She looked at the photograph with interest, but—perhaps the Inspector himself thought so—was greatly disappointed.

"He doesn't look—not at all dead, really," she said. "Not at all murdered. He's—wasn't he hanged?" "I was stabbed to death with a knife." Shen Chang said. Mrs. Bland closed her eyes, trembling. "Oh, my God," she said, "that's horrible." "Have you seen him before, Mrs. Bland?" "No," said Mrs. Bland, apparently reluctantly, "no, no, never. Is he one of those—door-to-door salesmen?" "He seems to be an insurance salesman," answered the inspector cautiously. "Oh, it's like that. No, I ain't seen no one like that, I'm sure. Josiah, did you ever hear me say anything like that?"

"Not at all," said Mr. Bland. "Has he anything to do with Miss Pebmarsh?" asked Mrs. Bland. "No," said the inspector, "she didn't know him at all." "It's queer," said Mrs. Bland. "You know Miss Pebmarsh?" "Oh, yes, of course I mean, I know her as our neighbor. Sometimes she asks my husband for advice on gardening." "Your gardeners are very good," said the Inspector. "There, there," Brand said, seemingly not convinced, "Of course, I know a little bit myself, but I really don't have the time, so I hired a gardener, who came twice a week and did a good job of grafting, Keep the yard tidy. I bet there's no one around here that can beat us, but we're not like some neighbor, and that's the real gardening."

"Is that Mrs Ramsey?" Hardcastle was startled. "No, no, a little further on. Sixty-two. Mr. Mark Norton. He seems to live for the garden, composting in the garden all day long. Really, composting is a rotten subject--I I don't think you're here today to talk about this—" "Not really," said the Inspector. "I just wanted to know if you—you or Mrs. Did you happen to see something interesting happen—or hear something?" "At noon, isn't it? I mean when the murder happened?" "Probably between one and three o'clock." Brand shook his head and said, "We didn't see much then. I'm here, and so is Willie, but we're eating, and the dining-room window opens onto the road, and we can't see what's going on in the garden." .” "When do you usually eat?" "Around one, sometimes half past one." "You didn't go out into the garden all afternoon after that?" Brand shook his head. "As a matter of fact," he said, "my wife usually goes upstairs to rest after dinner, and if I'm not busy, I'll take a nap in that chair. I'm in—well, it's about fifteen minutes to three. It was time to go out, but unfortunately I did not go into the garden." "Oh, yes," said Hardcastle, with a sigh, "we'll ask everybody." "Of course, of course. Wish I could be a little more helpful." "Your house is really nice," said the inspector. "I'm afraid it cost a lot of money." Brand smiled kindly. "Ah, we like good things, and my wife's taste is more particular. A year ago, we had an unexpected harvest. Wei Lili had an uncle who hadn't seen each other for 25 years, and left her one by one A large amount of property is really unexpected. It has changed our life from now on, and we are no longer as tight as before. We also want to join a few tour groups this year. I believe it will be quite profitable, such as Greece. places, many scholars have mentioned in their lectures. Ah, of course, I am a self-made man, and I don’t have much time to do that kind of thing, but I have always been very interested. The person who said that the excavation was a grocer. Interesting Yes! Frankly speaking, I like to go to foreign countries - not as usual, just happen to spend a weekend in Paris, I have an idea in my mind from time to time, but it's just for fun, someday I really sell this place, and then Move to Spain, or Portugal, or even the West Indies. Lots of people do that and save a lot of income tax, but the wife has no interest at all." "I like to travel, but I don't like living outside the UK," Mrs Bland said. "Our friends are all here - my sister lives here, everyone knows us. If you move abroad, the place of life will be different." I don't know, it's hard. Besides, I have a very good doctor here who knows my health very well. I don't like foreign doctors, and I have no confidence in them." "Just wait and see!" said Mr. Bland enthusiastically. "You might fall in love with the Greek islands when we go." Mrs. Bland looked disapproving. "There must be a reliable English doctor on board! Is there any?" "Of course there will be," said her husband. He walked Hardcastle and Colin to the door, saying again how sorry he was for not being of help. "How?" said Hardcastle. "What do you think of him?" "I don't want this kind of guy to build me a house," He Lin said. "I want the kind of dedicated guy, not this dishonest little builder. Speaking of you. You've got it wrong The case is settled. Suppose that Brand, in order to inherit his wife's wealth, married another blonde beauty, conspired to give his wife arsenic, or push her to the Aegean—" "We'll deal with it when it happens," said Inspector Hardcastle. "It's 'this' case that we have to worry about at the moment."

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