Chapter 24 Chapter Twenty-Three

Narrative by Colin Lamb The hotel I stayed in was run-down, just near the police station.They sell a barbecue, and that's the only thing worth mentioning, and, of course, it's cheap. At ten o'clock the next morning I called the Cavendish Agency and said I wanted a shorthand typist to shorthand my letters and retype a commercial contract.My name is Douglas Werribee, and I live at the Carranton Hotel (the humbler the hotel, the brighter the name).Is Miss Sheila Webb free?I have a friend who says she is very efficient. I'm lucky.Sheila could come right away, but she had an appointment at twelve.I said I could get her to finish work by twelve o'clock because I had an appointment myself.

"Mr. Douglas Werriby is at your command," I said. "You made the call?" "Yes" "You can't do this kind of thing." She looked indignant. "Why not? I was going to pay the Cavendish Society. What does it matter to them that I spend your precious and expensive time in the coffee shop across the street instead of making you write tiresome letters?" Come on, let's find a peaceful environment and have a cup of quiet coffee." With its strong and dazzling yellow, the Goldilocks Coffee House is really a real "Goldilocks". Whether it is the table surround, chair cushions, cups and saucers, they are all light yellow.

I ordered two coffees and round cakes. After the waitress left, we looked at each other across the table. "Well, Sheila" "What do you mean—how am I?" There are two dark circles under her eyes, which look more purple than blue. "Have you suffered a lot these days?" "Yes—no—I don't know. I thought you were gone." "Yes, but I'm back." "why?" "You know why." Her eyes drooped down. "I'm afraid of him." She didn't speak for a full minute, which was a long time. "Who are you afraid of?"

"That friend of yours—that inspector. He thought...he thought I killed that man, and I killed Yi Na..." "Oh, that's the way he is," I cheered her up. "He starts a case like everybody's a suspect." "No, Colin. It's not like that. It's no use trying to cheer me up by saying something. From the first he's decided I had something to do with the murder." "Good girl, there is no evidence against you! It's just because you were there that day, because someone designed..." She cut me off. "He thinks I designed it myself. He thinks it's all a fabricated story. He thinks Ina must know something. He thinks Ina recognizes me as Miss Pebmarsh's voice on the phone."

"Is that your voice?" I asked. "No, of course I did. I didn't make that call. I've been telling you that." "Listen, Sheila," I said, "whatever you say to anyone else, you have to tell me the truth." "Then you don't believe me." "No, I believe it. You probably made that phone call yourself that day for no reason. Maybe someone asked you to do it, told you it was a joke, and then you freaked out, and since you've lied, you just keep going. Yes Isn't it like this?" "No, no, no! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"That's all right, Sheila, it's just that there are things you haven't told me. I want you to trust me. If Hardcastle has some facts against you, some things he hasn't mentioned to me—" She interrupted me again. "You expect him to tell you everything?" "Well, there's no reason he shouldn't tell me. We're pretty much in the same business." Just then the waitress brought coffee and biscuits.The taste of the coffee is like the color of the mink fur coat that is in fashion recently. "I don't know what you have to do with the police," Sheila said, slowly stirring the coffee in her cup.

"I'm not a cop. I'm in a different line of work. What I'm trying to say is that if Dick knows about you and doesn't tell me, there must be a special reason. It's because he thinks I have Interested. Ah, I'm interested in you, and more than that. I'm 'for' you, Sheila, whatever you do. You stormed out of the house that day. Scared to death. You really gave Scared. You're not pretending, you can't pretend like that." "I was scared! I was really scared to death." "Are you just frightened by the discovery of the body? Or is it something else?"

"Where else is there?" I gather enough courage. "Why did you steal that 'Rosemary' clock?" "What do you mean? Why would I steal it?" "I'm asking you why." "I never touched it." "You came back in later because you said you forgot your gloves. You weren't wearing them that day. It was a fine day in September. I never saw you wearing gloves. You went back in and stole Take that clock. Don't try to hide it from me. You got it, didn't you?" She was silent for a while, smashing the round cakes on the plate.

"Well," she whispered, almost in a whisper, "well, I stole it. I picked it up and put it in the handbag immediately before I went out." "Why did you do that?" "Because my name - 'Rosemary' - that's my name." "Your name is 'Rosemary', not Sheila?" "Both." "Just because of this? Because the writing on the clock is the same as your name?" She heard that I didn't believe it, but still insisted. "I told you, I was terrified." I glared at her.Sheila is "my" girl - the girl I want - the girl who teaches a lifelong dream.But I can't kid myself.Sheila lied.And I'm afraid I'll be a liar forever.That was her way of surviving - articulate, direct and easy denial.It was a child's weapon—and she might never shake it off.If I wanted Sheila, I'd have to accept her for what it was—and now I was determined to attack.Only this method.

"That's your clock, isn't it?" I said. "It belongs to you?" She took a breath. "how do you know?" "tell me." The story collapsed in a panic.The clock had been with her almost all her life.She had been called Rosemary until she was six--but she hated it and insisted on being called Sheila. .The clock has been having a lot of trouble lately.She took it with her to a watch shop near the typing agency to have it repaired, but she lost it. —Maybe on the bus, or at the dairy where you get a sandwich for lunch. "How long before the murder at number 19, Wilbraham Lane?"

About a week, she thought.She didn't feel very upset, because the clock was really old and it couldn't run accurately.Should have bought a new one. "I didn't notice it at first," she said, "and when I went into the living room, I didn't notice it. Then I found the body. I was paralyzed. I touched him and I stood up, stunned, And my clock was facing me on a table near the fire--my clock--my hands were bloody again--then she came in and I forgot everything with horror. Because she About to step on him. And—then—I cried out. I ran for the door—that was all I could think of at the time.” I nod. "and after?" "I started thinking. She said she didn't call me, so who could it be? Who tricked me out there and put my pendulum there? I—I said I dropped my glove—and put It's stuffed in my purse. I think I'm—stupid." "You've never done anything more stupid than that," I told her, "in some ways. Sheila, you have absolutely no sense." "But someone's trying to set me up. That postcard. It must have come from someone who knew I stole the clock. On the postcard—the building. If my father was a prisoner—" "How much do you know about your parents?" "My parents died in an accident when I was very young. That's what my aunt told me, and she kept telling me that. But she never told me about them (never. Sometimes, I asked I passed her a time or two. Both times it was different. So I knew there must be something wrong." "So. I think my father may have committed a crime—even a murderer. Or, the person who committed the crime was my mother. If someone tells you about your parents, Xu Fei has something special—is there anything special? You don't want to know the terrible things, otherwise you wouldn't say your parents died, or wouldn't tell you about them." "All of this is just your personal guess. Maybe the matter is very simple. You are just an illegitimate child." "I thought about it too, how stupid people sometimes are to keep things like this from their kids. It'd be much better if it was made public. Times are different and it's not such a big deal. But the whole thing is I don't know. I don't know the truth behind it. Why was I named Rosemary? It's not a family name. It means remembrance or memory, doesn't it? " "It might be a good idea," I pointed out. "Yes, maybe... but I don't think so. Anyway, since the inspector asked me some questions that day, I started to think, why would anyone plan to go there? Teach me to meet a dead person there? Or that Where did the dead want me to meet him? Could it be that he was—my father, what did he want me to do for him? Then a man came and killed him. Or, from the beginning that People try to set me up as a murderer? Oh, I'm out of place, I'm so scared. Anyway, somehow, it's always coming my way. Tricked me out there, a dead man with my name on the clock— Rosemary—but the clock wasn't there. I was frightened, and I did what you call stupid." I shook my head at her. "You read too many horror detective novels, or type too much in such works." I scolded her and said, "Yina? Do you know what's on her mind? She sees you in the office every day." , why did you run to your house to talk to you?" "I don't know at all. She can't think I have anything to do with the murderer. Impossible." "Could it be that she heard something by chance and misunderstood?" "No, I tell you, no!" I doubt it.I can't help but wonder...even at this moment, I don't believe Shera is telling the truth. "Do you have any enemies? A young man with a grudge, a girl who is jealous, or someone out of balance who might trouble you?" I don't feel confident listening to my own voice. "of course not." That's the way it is.Even now I'm not sure about that clock.This story is really mysterious.Four thirty-thirteen, what is the significance of this number?In addition to this number, the word "remember" is also written on the postcard. Why?Unless they have any special meaning to the sender. I sighed, paid the bill, and got up. "Don't worry," I said. (That's the silliest thing to say in English or any other language.) "Colin Lamb Private Services will do its job to the end. You'll be fine and we'll be married and live happily ever after." I know, if you stop there , let the romance be a rest, it must be much better, but I couldn't suppress Colin Lamb's curiosity, so I added: "What did you do with that clock, hidden in a drawer?" She was silent for a moment, then said, "I threw it in the bin next door." I couldn't help being surprised.Clean and neat!Thank goodness she figured it out.Maybe, I underestimated Shira.