Chapter 13 Chapter Twelve

After Colin left, Hardcastle nodded while looking at the neatly written address in the notebook.Then put the notebook back in the pocket.Get to work on the routine that's piling up on your desk. It's been a busy day today, he's sent out to get him coffee and sandwiches, he's got a report from Sergeant Klay—no significant help.No one at the train station or bus station recognized Mr. Curry in the photograph, and the laboratory report only added a zero to the zero. And the suit the dead man wore was well cut, but The name of the clothing store has been cut off.Is it the identity of Mr. Curry who wants to hide, or the identity of the murderer?The detailed report on the deceased's teeth has been distributed everywhere, and it is probably the most hopeful expectation-although it will take a while, it will probably have results.Unless, of course, Mr. Curry is a foreigner.The dead man might have been French—but his clothes were not French, and there was no laundromat to look for.

Hardcastle was not impatient.Identifying is often a slow business, but in the end it always comes out, and someone has to come forward—maybe the owner of the laundry, maybe a dentist, a doctor, a relative (usually a wife or mother), or neither, but Landlady.Photos of the deceased will be distributed to each police station and published in newspapers.Sooner or later Mr Curry's identity will be established. Meanwhile, there was other work to be done, not just the Curry case.Hardcastle kept his head down at work until half-past five.He looked at his watch again, thinking it was time to pay a visit.

According to Sergeant Clay's report, Sheila Webb has returned to work at the Cavendish Secretarial Agency. She has an appointment with Professor Purdy at the Curlew Hotel at five o'clock and will not leave before six o'clock. What's the aunt's last name?Lowton - Mrs. Lowton.Fourteen Palmerston Road.Instead of driving a police car, he took a shortcut on foot. Palmerston Road was said to have been a dead street before, and Hardcastle noticed that the houses had been converted into flats or flats.As he turned the corner, a girl was walking towards him along the sidewalk.It seems to be a bit reeling.Because the inspector had something on his mind, he thought for a moment that she wanted to come over to ask for directions, but the girl paused and continued to pass by.He didn't know why he suddenly thought of shoes.Shoes... a shoe, the girl seems familiar, who is it? — just met recently... Maybe she recognized him and wanted to talk to him?

He stopped and looked back at her.She walks so fast now.The problem, he thought, was that there was nothing special about her face unless there was a special reason for him to remember it.Blue eyes, fair complexion, slightly parted mouth.It reminded him of something.What did she do with her mouth?say?Put on lipstick?No.He felt a little annoyed.Hardcastle had always prided himself on his ability to remember faces, and he used to say that he never forgot a face in the dock or witness stand if he had seen it once.But this was not the only aspect of his life, for example, he could not remember every waitress, or the faces of all the female drivers, and he put the question in his mind aside.

He arrived at No. 14, the door was ajar, and beside the door were four bells with names written on them.Mrs Lowton lived on the ground floor.He stepped into the house and rang the bell on the door on the left side of the corridor. Finally, he heard footsteps coming from inside. A tall, thin woman with messy black hair and a blouse opened the door slightly. .A smell of onions, apparently coming from the direction of the kitchen. "Mrs Lorton?" "What's the matter?" She looked at him suspiciously, a little annoyed. She was about forty-five, he thought, with a gypsy look.

"What's your business?" "May I interrupt you for a few minutes?" "Oh, what, I'm busy right now," she said sharply. "You're a reporter, aren't you?" Hardcastle said sympathetically, "I think you must be bored to death by reporters." "Exactly, knocking on the door, ringing the bell, asking stupid questions." "It's really annoying, I know," said the Inspector, "and I hope we won't give you that kind of trouble, Mrs Lowton, and I'm Inspector Harkass, in charge of the case where the reporters have been bothering you. We're supposed to keep reporters from harassing you, but we don't have the right to do that, you know, that's the newspaper's right."

"They really shouldn't be bothering people like that," said Mrs. Lowton. "They say they have to tell the news for the public, and I think they print a piece of nonsense. I think they're just making things up. Come in, please." She took a step back, the Inspector stepped over the threshold, and she closed the door.There were several letters on the doormat, and Mrs Lowton bent forward to pick them up, but the Inspector politely preempted them, and glanced at the top address before he handed them to her. "Thanks." She put them on the table. "Would you please come to the drawing room?—Would you please sit down while I cook something on the stove."

She hurried back to the kitchen.Hardcastle took another careful look at the letter on the table. One to Mrs. Lowton, two to Miss Wilbur.He walked into the room Mrs. Lowton was referring to. The room was small, untidy, and simply furnished, and it was full of stains and indescribable things.There was a fine Venetian glass, elegant in color and abstract in form, attractive but perhaps expensive, two velvet cushions in vivid colours, and a large earthenware dish of exotic shape.He thought, maybe it was an aunt or a niece, one of them was quite temperamental. Mrs. Lowton returned, more out of breath than before.

"I think it's all right now." Although she said so, she seemed unsure. The inspector apologized again. "I'm sorry to come at a bad time," he said. "I just happened to be in the neighborhood. I wanted to check a few things along the way. Your niece is unfortunately implicated in this case. I hope she hasn't suffered a serious blow. Any girl who touches It’s unavoidable to be surprised by something like this.” "Yes, it is true," said Mrs. Lowton. "Sheila came back hardly human. She was all right this morning and went back to work."

"Oh, yes, I know," said the Inspector. "She's still working for a client, and I don't want to disturb her, so it might be good to think of her home and talk to her. She hasn't come back yet, is she?" no?" "She will probably come back very late today," Mrs. Lowton said. "The client she met was Professor Purdy. According to Sheila, this person has no sense of time and often says: 'This matter is no longer It'll take ten minutes, so I think we'll get it done.' Actually, it always took close to forty-five minutes. He's a nice guy, and he admits to being wrong. Once or twice, he insisted on keeping her for dinner , because he was ashamed to find the delay longer than he had thought. However, it is annoying at times. In case Sheila is late, can I help you, Inspector?"

"Oh, maybe," the inspector said with a smile, "that day, we just took some notes, and I don't know if there are any mistakes." He said that he checked the notebook and said, "Let me see. Xue La Webb—is that her name, or is there some other Christian name? We've got to make sure of that kind of thing, you know it'll be useful in an inquest." "Is it an interrogation the day after tomorrow? She received a notice." "Yes, teach her not to worry," said Hardcastle, "as long as she tells how she found the body." "You don't know the identity of the deceased, do you?" "Not yet, I think it's early. He had a business card in his pocket. We thought he was a salesman for an insurance company, but it turned out that it was probably given to him by someone else. Perhaps he intended to take out the insurance himself." "Oh, that's it." Mrs. Lorton didn't look enthusiastic. "Well, I must get the name straight," said the Inspector. "Your niece's name is Sheila R. Webb. I can't remember the full R. Was it Rosalie?" "Rosemary," said Mrs. Lowton, "her Christian name is Rosemary Sheila, but Sheila always thinks the name Rosemary is too fanciful, so she just uses Sheila. .” "I see." Hardcastle's voice gave no sign of joy: a doubt in his mind had been answered.He jotted down a new stroke in his notebook. The name "Rosemary" did not cause Mrs. Lorton any anxiety, for to her it was merely a Christian name that Sheila "Rosemary" no longer used. "Well, the names are sorted out," said the Inspector, laughing. "As far as I know, your niece is from London and worked at the Cavendish for about ten months. You don't know the correct The date, I suppose." "Oh, I can't answer it right now, it happened in October last year, I think it was around the end of the month." "Probably so, it doesn't matter. She didn't live with you before she worked at the Cavendish Society?" "No. She lived in London before that." "Have you got her London address?" "Yes, but I don't know where to put it." Mrs. Lorton searched around, and it was so messy on weekdays. "My recollection is bad," she said, "like Arlington Park, I think—off Fulham Road. She shared a floor with two other girls. For girls, London The house is astonishingly expensive." "Do you remember the name of the company she works for?" "Oh, I remember. Hopgood & Tyrant. A real estate firm, on Fulham Road." "Thank you. Ah! It all seems very clear. Miss Wilbur is an orphan, I know?" "Yes," said Mrs. Lorton.She moved uneasily, looked at the floor and said, "I'm sorry, I have to go to the kitchen again." "Please." He opens the door for her.she walks out.He could not help wondering whether Mrs. Lowton had been disturbed by the last question he had just asked, and was he right in thinking so?Her answer seemed to have been prepared.He kept thinking about it until Mrs. Lowton came back. "I'm really sorry," she said apologetically, "you know—that's the way cooking is. It's all right now! Is there anything else you want to ask me? Oh, yes, I remembered, no Killington Park, it is Carrington Park, No. 17." "Thank you," Shen Chang said, "I visited you just now. Miss Wilbur is an orphan." "Yes, her parents are dead." "Early?" "She was just a child at that time." Displeasure was evident in his tone. "Is she your sister's or your brother's child?" "my sister's" "Oh, and what did Miss Wilbur's father do?" Mrs. Lowton bit her lip and remained silent for a while, then said, "I don't know." "You do not know?" "I mean, it's been so long that I don't remember." Hardcastle waited without answering, knowing she would go on.she said. "What does all this have to do with the murder case—I mean, who are her parents, what is her father's occupation, where is she from, what does that have to do with the case?" "Mrs. Lowton, these may appear to you as trivial matters, but the circumstances of this case are unusual." "What do you mean—the situation is unusual?" "Well, we have reason to believe that Miss Wilbur came to the scene of the murder yesterday because someone specifically named her to the Cavendish Society. It seems that someone deliberately framed her, maybe—" He hesitated ——"Maybe she has a grudge" "I can't imagine anyone having a grudge against Sheila, she's a very sweet girl and extremely nice." "Yes," said Hardcastle pleasantly, "I should have thought of that." "I don't like hints to the contrary," said Mrs. Lorton defiantly. "You are quite right," continued Hardcastle, with a calm smile, "but you must understand that your niece has been deliberately and viciously designed to be framed by someone. Arrange her to enter a house where a dead man lies." "You mean—someone wanted Leyla to look like a murderer? Oh no, I don't believe it." "It's not easy for you to believe that," agreed the Inspector, "but we've got to find out. Don't know, for example, whether a man loves your niece, but she may not." Like him? Young people tend to go to extremes when they do things, especially when they lose their balance in their hearts." "I don't think it's such a thing." Mrs. Lowton frowned, lost in thought. She went on to say, "Syra had a boyfriend or two, but they weren't very serious, and neither were they positive." "Perhaps she did when she was in London?" suggested the Inspector. "But I don't think you are quite aware of her association with friends in London." "Yes, yes, perhaps . . . well, you'd better ask her yourself, Inspector Hardcastle. Only I never heard her mention such things." "Or another girl," suggested Hardcastle, "perhaps the girl she lives with, and someone envies her?" "I suppose," said Mrs. Lowton, uncertainly, "that a girl threatened to take revenge on her, but nothing serious enough to kill." Hardcastle saw that Mrs. Lorton was by no means a confused creature.He said quickly, "I know it sounds unlikely, but the whole case is ridiculous." "It must have been done by a madman," said Mrs. Lowton. "Even a madman," said Hardcastle, "behind the madness there is a clear idea, a maddening idea, and that's why I asked you about Leila Webb's parents, you must would be surprised, because the motives of human action can often be traced to its roots in the past. Since Miss Wilbur was only a very young child when her parents died, and her memory is limited, I ask you consult." "Hey, this—ah..." He noticed doubt returning to her voice. "Did they all die together in an accident, or something like that?" "No, it's not an accident." "Then they died of natural causes?" "I—well, yes, I mean—I don't quite know." "I suppose you know more than you've told me, Mrs. Lowton," he ventured. "Or, they're divorced—something of that sort?" "No, they are not divorced." "Oh, Mrs. Lowton, you know—you must know the cause of your sister's death?" "I don't understand—I mean, I can't tell—that it's not easy to rake out something that's been buried for a long time, and it's better not to rake it out." Her eyes flashed with hopeless confusion. Hardcastle stared at her grimly, but said softly: "Or Sheila Wilbur is a—" and he saw her face in a moment, amazement mingled with relief. "She's not my child," she said. "Is she your sister's illegitimate child?" "Yes. But she didn't know it herself, and I never mentioned it to her, except that her parents died early, and that's why—oh, you know—" "Oh, I see," said the Inspector. "I assure you that I will never ask Miss Wilbur about it unless it is absolutely necessary." "You mean you don't need to tell her?" "Unless it is in connection with the case, which seems impossible to me. But I want all the facts you know, Mrs. Lowton, and I assure you that I will do my best to keep everything you say from third parties." .” "It's always a disgraceful thing," said Mrs. Lowton. "I've always been miserable about it. My sister was the cleverest of the family. She was a former teacher, and had a good reputation, and was highly respected. It never occurred to me—" "Well," said the Inspector mildly, "it often happens that it's this Wilbur—" "I don't even know his name," said Mrs. Lowton. "I've never met him. However, she came to see me one day and told me what had happened, and said she was pregnant, but the man, Can't or won't marry her, I don't know. She's an ambitious person, and if things get out, she'll have to resign, so—me, I said I'd help her." "Mrs. Lowton, where is your sister now?" "I don't know, not at all," she said solemnly. "But she's still alive?" "I think so." "You haven't kept in touch with her?" "She asked for it, and she thought it was best for the child and for her to have such a complete severance. It was so. Our mother left some money for our sisters, and she gave me her share, Asked me for child support. She said she was still going to teach, but wanted to change schools. I think she went abroad as an exchange teacher, maybe Australia or somewhere. Inspector Hardcastle, I That's all I know, and I've told you all." He looked at her thoughtfully.Is this really all she knows?Answering this question is not easy.All this, of course, was all she was willing to say, but that was probably all she knew.Although little was known about Wilbur's mother, Hardcastle felt that she was a woman with a very strong personality, the kind of woman who would never ruin her life for a single mistake.She coldly left the child, thinking that the child would be happy in this way, and then she drifted with the wind and started another life. It was conceivable, he thought, how she felt about the child.But what about her sister? He said gently: "It's so strange that she didn't even write you a letter. Doesn't she want to know about the child's growth?" Mrs. Lowton shook her head. "If you knew Ann, you wouldn't be surprised," she said. "She was always very clear about her decisions, and we weren't very close. She was much older than me—twelve years. Like me. That being said, we've never been very close." "You adopted your niece, what does your husband think?" "I was a widow then," said Mrs. Lowton. "I married young, and my husband died in the Great War. I ran a candy store." "Where did all these things happen? It's not in the local area of ​​Crowtown." "No, we lived in Lincolnshire at the time, and I went on holiday here once, and I liked it so much that I sold my confectionery shop and moved here. Later, Sheila was old enough to go to school. I went to a local university Cloth merchants 'Rothko & West' do things to this day. Nice people there." "Ah," said Hardcastle, rising, "thank you very much, Mrs. Lorton, for telling me these things frankly." "You stopped talking to Sheila?" "No, unless it is necessary. If so, it must be found that something in the past has something to do with the murder of the nineteenth, but I think it is unlikely." He took the card from his pocket and showed it to many people. The photographs, which had been seen by others, were shown to Mrs. Lowton. "You don't recognize this man, do you?" "It's been shown to me," said Mrs. Lowton. She took it and carefully identified it. "No, I'm pretty sure, I've never seen this man. I don't think he's from the neighborhood, or I'd remember seeing him. Of course—" She watched carefully, without speaking for a moment, and then popped out One sentence: "He seems like a nice guy, a gentleman, doesn't he?" In the inspector's experience, the term "good guy" is somewhat outdated, but Mrs. Lowton spit it out naturally. "People who grew up in the country," he thought to himself, "still think like this." He looked at the photo again, thought about it, and was slightly surprised, why he hadn't thought about it before.He is a good man?He has always believed that this person is a bad person.Maybe it was unconscious, maybe it was influenced by the fact that the man had an obviously fake business card in his pocket.However, the great explanation he gave Lorton may be true now.The insurance company printed on the business card found on the deceased was a fake at all, and they did not put this business card.Hardcastle turned his face in thought, which made things more complicated and difficult.He glanced at his watch again. "I can't keep you cooking any longer," he said, "your niece hasn't come back—" Mrs. Lowton looked back at the clock on the mantelpiece and said: "Thank God, there's only one clock in this room," said the Inspector softly. "Yeah, she's late," she said, "it's a good thing Ina didn't wait for her." A thin layer of perplexity came over Hardcastle's face, and Mrs. Lowton explained to him: "She's a girl from the office. She came to see Sheila. After waiting for a while, she said she had an appointment and couldn't wait any longer. She would come back tomorrow or another day." The detective suddenly realized.The girl who passed him on the street!He finally understood why she reminded him of shoes.She was the lady who had received him at the Cavendish House, the lady who was holding a high-heeled shoe with a broken heel in her hand when he left, looking sad and not knowing how to get home.He remembered her as an indescribable girl, not very attractive, who spoke with candy in her mouth. When they passed each other in the street, although he didn't recognize her, she recognized him. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to talk to him.He thought absently, not knowing what she was going to tell him.Was she trying to explain why she had come to Leila Wyver, or did she think he was going to talk to her?He asked, "Is she a good friend of your niece?" "Oh, not really special friends," said Mrs. Lowton. "I mean, they're just colleagues. And, the girl isn't very bright, and she and Sheila aren't really special friends. In fact, I'd like to know." Why is she so eager to meet Sheila tonight? She said she didn't understand something and wanted to ask Sheila." "She didn't tell you what it was?" "No. She said it was nothing urgent." "Oh, that's it, I have to go." "Strange," said Mrs. Lowton, "that Sheila didn't call back. Usually she does if she gets home late, because the professor keeps her for supper sometimes. Ah, I hope she'll be back soon. Sometimes, There is a long line of people waiting for the bus, and the Curlew Hotel is at the end of Island Road. Do you have any questions?" "I don't think so," said the Inspector. As he walked out the door, he asked, "By the way, who took your niece's Christian name? Your sister, or yourself?" "Sheila is our mother's name, and Rosemary was chosen by my sister. It's a weird name, and it sounds mysterious. But my sister is not a sentimental person." "Ah, good-night, Mrs. Lorton." As the inspector turned out the iron gate and entered the street, he thought to himself, Rosemary... Rosemary, romantic memories?Or—something else?