Chapter 22 Chapter 21

Inspector Hardcastle looked at the calendar on the table. It was September 20th, ten days had passed.The progress of the case is not as smooth as he expected.Because from the beginning it has stuck to the initial difficulty: the identity of the dead remains a mystery.Unexpectedly, it took more time than expected, and all efforts seemed to be in vain.Laboratory tests of the clothes were not particularly helpful either, and nothing could be found.The clothes worn by the deceased were of very good quality and were exported. Although they were not very new, they were well preserved.The dentist can't help, and the laundry can't help.The dead man remained a mystery, but Hardcastle did not think so. He was by no means "a mystery," only unrecognized, as it always was.Hardcastle sighed, remembering the influx of calls and letters after the "Who Knows This Man" picture in the newspapers, and his amazement at how many people he thought knew him.Many daughters are hopeful that this man is the father they haven't seen in years.A ninety-year-old woman was convinced that the person in the photo was her son who ran away from home thirty years ago.More wives identified this man as their missing husband, and sisters were less anxious to identify brothers.Perhaps the sisters are less hopeful.

But today, Hardcastle seemed to feel a little more hopeful, and he looked at the letter on the table again.Melina Riva.He liked the Christian name as a child.He thought that a reasonable person would not name the child Melina.No doubt it was a favorite name of the lady herself.But he liked the feel of the letter, which was neither sentimental nor overconfident.The writer simply said in the letter that this man might be her husband, whom she had not seen for seven years.She was coming to the station herself this morning, and Hardcastle pressed the signal on the intercom, and Officer Clay came in.

"Is that Mrs. Riva here yet?" "Just came," Clay said, "I was coming in to tell you." "What does she look like?" "A little theatrical," Clay said, and after a moment he said, "Heavy make-up—but not well-groomed. Generally speaking, a solid look." "Does she look sad?" "No. Can't tell." "Well," said Hardcastle, "let her in." Clay stepped back and returned, claiming as usual. "Sir, Mrs. Riva is here." The Inspector stood up and shook her hand.Somebody in his early fifties, he judged, but actually not that old—something in his thirties.Because of the casual make-up and close-up, she looked older than fifty.The original black hair was dyed auburn, no hat, medium build, wearing a white shirt, black coat and black skirt, and carrying a large tartan leather bag.He wore rings on his hands, and a bracelet or two on his wrists.On the whole, in his experience, she was a good person, not critical, easy going, generous, and perhaps good-natured.reliable?I don't know.Anyway, he wanted to rely on this kind of thing, and he couldn't afford to rely on it.

"It's a great pleasure to see you, Mrs. Riva," he said, "and I hope you can help us..." "I can't say I'm sure," she said apologetically, "but it does look like Harley, very similar. Of course, I was prepared to be wrong. If so, I hope it won't make you feel like a waste. time." She seemed quite concerned about it. "Please don't think so," said the Inspector. "We are in great need of help in this case." "Well, I see, I hope I'm sure. You know, I haven't seen him in a long time." "Can you tell me a few things first? When was the last time you saw your husband?"

"I've been trying to find out for sure," said Mrs. Riva. "Well, memory is scary when it comes to time. I said in my letter that it was about ten years ago, but it was more than that. You don't know, do you?" , I think almost fifteen years, how time flies." She added: "People always think less about it, thinking that they are young. Are you right?" "I suppose so," said the Inspector. "Anyway, you think it was about fifteen years ago? When were you married?" "Three years before the separation," said Mrs. Riva. "So, where do you live?", "It's a place in Shipton Boynes in Shaverk. It's a nice town. You know, that's the kind of town."

"What did your husband do before?" "The insurance salesman, at least—" she said after a pause, "he's so disrespectful to me." The inspector's eyes lit up. "You later found out that wasn't the case?" "Well, well, . . . not really, it's just that since then, I don't think he's telling the truth. It's easy for men to say that, isn't it?" "In some cases." "I mean, it gives men a good excuse to be away from home a lot." "Is your husband absent often, Mrs. Riva?" "Yes, I didn't think of it at first—"

"and after?" She didn't answer right away, but said after a while: "Don't talk about it, okay? If that person isn't Harley..." He wondered what she was really thinking. There was tension in her voice, maybe it was excitement?He wasn't sure. "I understand," he said, "let's go now." He got up and walked her outside to the waiting car.When she got to where they were going, she was as nervous as anyone else he had brought, and he had words of reassurance. "It's all right. There's nothing to be sad about, just a minute or two."

The mortuary cabinet was pulled out, and the caretaker threw back the covers.She stood and looked down for a long time.Breathing quickened.She spat softly, then turned her head suddenly, and said, "It's Harley, yes, he's much older and looks different...but it's Harley." The inspector nodded to the officer, and with his hand on her arm, walked outside and returned to the station.He didn't speak, and let her get through it by herself.As soon as they got back to his office, a policeman brought in a tray of tea. "Here, Mrs. Riva, let's have a cup of tea, and we'll talk when you get better."

"thanks." She added sugar to the tea, added a lot, and sipped it in one gulp. "It's better," she said. "I don't really care about that, it's just—it's just kind of sad, isn't it?" "Are you sure this man is your husband?" "I'm sure of it. Of course, he's seen a lot more than he used to, but he hasn't changed much. He's always looked that way—clean and respectable." Yes, Hardcastle thought, very well described.decent.Maybe Harley wasn't as respectable as he looked.Some people do, often because good looks enable them to achieve certain goals.

Mrs. Riva said, "He's always been very particular about his clothes and everything. I think that's why he's so easy to be fooled by. He's never been suspected of anything." "Who fell for him, Mrs. Riva?" Hardcastle's voice was soft, full of sympathy. "Women," Mrs. Riva said. "Women. He spends most of his time with women." "I see" "Oh, I—I doubt it. I mean, he knows a lot of women. Of course, I know something about men. I guess there's a woman with him often, but this kind of It's no use asking men, they'll just lie to you and. I didn't think — I really didn't think he was serious."

"Is he serious?" She nodded. "How did you find out?" She shrugged. "One day he came back from a trip.Go to Newcastle, he said.In short.He came back and said he had to try to get out quickly.He said it was game over.Some women had gotten him into trouble.He said that since it was a female teacher this time, maybe things went wrong.When I asked him some questions, he told me frankly, maybe he thought I knew more than he thought.You know, women are so easy on him, like me, he gives her a ring, gets engaged - and then he says he wants to invest in business for them, and they usually give themselves up to him so easily . " "He did the same thing to you, didn't he?" "To tell you the truth, yes, it's just that I didn't give him anything." "Why not?. Didn't you trust him then?" "Well, I'm not the kind of person who trusts people casually. You know, I have a little experience, I understand the dark side of men, anyway, I don't want him to take my money to invest for me, I have money I own Know how to invest. Never give money to others casually, the money is yours! I have seen a lot of women who are fools." "When did he ask you to invest money? Before you got married or after you got married?" "I think he mentioned it beforehand, but I didn't react, and he immediately avoided the subject. Then, we got married, and he told me that he had reached a golden opportunity, and I said 'no talk'. Not just because I don't trust him, also because I've heard too many men say something good about them that turns out to be nothing more than a lie." "Has your husband ever dealt with the police?" "I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Riva. "Women are deceived, and they never tell it. But this time is obviously different. This girl or woman is an educated person, and she is not as gullible as other people." .” "She is pregnant?" "Yes" "Has this ever happened before?" "I suppose so," she said. "I really don't know how he got to be like that--it's a way of life, as he said--or if he's just the kind of guy who couldn't do without women, and I think women should pay for the joy they get from him." When she said this, her voice was full of sadness. Hardcastle said softly: "You like him, Mrs. Riva?" "I don't know, I really don't know. Maybe in some way, I really shouldn't marry him..." "Are you—sorry—married?" "I don't even know if we're married," Mrs. Riva said frankly, "we were married, in church, but I don't know if he used another name and was married to another woman." , when I married him he was called Casterton, and I don't think that was his real name." "Harley Castleton. Isn't it?" "yes." "Have you lived here at Shipton Boynes since you were married—how long?" "We lived there for about two years. Before that, we lived around Doncaster. I wasn't really surprised when he came back the other day and said those things to me, I know he's a bad guy sometimes. Guy, I just can't believe it. Because he's such a decent guy. Such a gentleman!" "Then what?" "He said he had to get out of there quickly, and I said he could go, and I couldn't bear to be away from him!" she added thoughtfully, "and I gave him ten pounds, which was in my house. All the money—he said he had no money... I haven't seen or heard of him since then, to this day, or rather, until I saw his picture in the paper." "Has he got any particular marks? Scars? Have he had a knife—or a broken bone—like that?" She shook her head. "I don't think so." "Did he ever take the last name Curry?" "Curry? No, I don't think so. Anyway, as far as I know." Hardcastle handed her the card across the table. "It was found in his pocket," he said. "Well, he still says he's an insurance salesman," he said. "I see he has quite a few aliases." "You said you haven't heard of him in the past fifteen years?" "He never sent me a Christmas card, if that's what you mean," said Mrs. Riva with a sudden humor. I've been back there. It was such a bad time when I think about it, I'll drop the Casterton name and go back to Melina Riva." "Alina—er—isn't your real name?" She shook her head, with a faint smile on her face. "I figured it out myself. It's weird. My real name is Florence Garp. I think my original Christian name was Florence, but everybody calls me Flofey or Furmen. Laffer Rose Gap is not romantic at all, is it?" "What are you doing now? Still acting, Mrs. Riva?" "Accidentally," said Mrs. Rival after a long silence, "and intermittently." Hardcastle was very clever. “I do odd jobs here and there,” she says, “people give parties and I help out, do a little hostess work, stuff like that. It’s not a bad life, a lot of the crowd. It just seems to be getting tougher gone." "You haven't had any contact with Harley Casterton since you parted-never heard of him?" "No, I thought he had gone abroad—or was dead." "Another thing I can ask you is, can you imagine why Harley Casterton came around here?" "I don't know, of course I don't know, I have no idea what he's been doing these past few years." "Could it be possible that he's been doing fraudulent insurance business—things like that?" "I really don't know, but I don't think it's likely. I mean, Harley's always been a very careful guy. He wouldn't stick his neck out and do things like he'd be reprimanded. I think He probably messed with a woman again, causing some trouble." "Mrs. Riva, do you think this is a kind of blackmail?" "Well, I don't know . . . maybe in a way. Maybe the woman didn't want her past to be raked up again. I think he felt safe doing it. Mind you, I didn't say that was necessarily the case , just maybe. I don’t think he’s too aggressive, just scary.” She nodded in affirmation. "Women like him, don't they?" "Yes, they were always easily taken in by him. Mainly, I think, because of his good looks and status. They were proud to be able to conquer such a man. They felt safe and happy with him. Beautiful. This is the most real feeling I can describe, and I have experienced it myself." Mrs. Riva said it again frankly. "Just one more little thing to go," said Hardcastle to his subordinates. "Bring in those clocks, please?" The clock was placed on a plate and covered with a cloth.Hardcastle removed the cloth to let Mrs. Riva take a closer look.Mrs. Riva watched with great interest and kept nodding her head in approval. "It's beautiful! I like this." She touched the gilded one. "Have you seen these clocks before? What do they mean to you?" "No. Are they related to me?" "Do you recall what your husband has to do with the name 'Rosemary'?" "Rosemary? Let me see. There used to be a red-haired woman—no, her name was Rosalie, I'm afraid I can't recall anyone with that name. Maybe, but I don't know, Harley always Keep his business tight." "If you see a clock with the arms pointing to four-thirteen--" Hardcastle stopped. Mrs. Riva chuckled happily. "It must have occurred to me that tea time is approaching." Hardcastle sighed. "Ah, Mrs. Riva," he said, "thank you very much. As I told you, the inquest will be held the day after tomorrow. Would you mind testifying?" "No, no, it's all right. I'll just say who he is, don't I? Don't have to say anything else? I don't have to talk about his way of life--anything like that?" "There is no need for that at present. All you have to say is that this man, Harley Casterton, is the man you were married to, and the correct date can be found at the wedding parlor. Where did we get married?" do you remember?" "A place called Downbrook—the name of the church, I think, is St Michael's. Hopefully it won't be more than twenty years, and that would make me feel like I've got one foot in the grave." said Mrs. Watts. She stood up, held out her hand, and Hardcastle said good-bye.He returned to his seat, tapped his pencil on the table, and suddenly Clayzen moved in. "Satisfied with the harvest?" he asked. "Probably," said the Inspector, "named Harley Casterton—probably a pseudonym. We'll see what we can find out about the fellow. It looks like more than one woman is going to make a deliberate attempt on him." revenge." "Seems like such a respectable guy," Clay said. "It's probably his biggest asset," Hardcastle said. He thought again about the clock with "rosemary" written on it.Souvenir?