Chapter 5 Chapter 5 The Caymanian Couple

When he returned to the Vicarage about half an hour later, Bobby realized that his connection to Alex Pritchard's death had not been completely closed.He was in the study with his father when he learned that the Caymans had come to visit him.When Bobby went to the study, he saw his father having the courage to have a decent conversation with them, but obviously not enjoying his task. "Ah," said his father with some relief, "here comes Bobby." Mr Cayman stood up to greet him, and extended his hand to the young man.He was stout and ruddy, with a pretentious earnestness, but a pair of cold and slightly deceitful eyes pierced through that pretended earnestness.Mrs Cayman, though striking in a harsh, vulgar fashion, bore little resemblance to her early photographs, and nothing remained of her brooding expression. trace.Bobbie thought to himself that if she couldn't recognize her own picture, it seemed doubtful that anyone would.

"I'm coming with my wife," Cayman said, squeezing Bobby's hand. "You know, having to stay with her. Amelia's not in a good mood." Mrs Cayman took a breath. "We came to see you," continued Mr. Cayman, "you see, my poor wife's brother died, or rather in your arms. Naturally, she wanted to know what you knew about him. All circumstances at the end of life." "Absolutely," said Bobby with some displeasure in his heart, "oh, absolutely." He grinned nervously, and was immediately aware of his father's sigh, a sigh that Christians let go.

"Poor Alex," Mrs. Cayman wiped her eyes, "poor Alex." "I see," said Bobby, "it's terrible." He squirmed uncomfortably. "You see," said Mrs. Cayman, looking hopefully at Bobby, "if he left any dying words or messages, of course I'd like to know." "Oh, of course," said Bobby, "but he didn't really say anything." "Did you say nothing?" Mrs. Cayman looked at Bobby disappointedly and suspiciously.Bobby was sorry. "No, uh, nothing actually." "It's best," said Mr. Cayman, gravely, "to go unconscious and painless. Well, Amelia, you'll have to consider that a boon."

"I think I will," said Mrs. Cayman. "You think he doesn't feel pain?" "I'm sure he didn't," said Bobby. Mrs Cayman sighed deeply. "Oh, that's something to be thankful for. Perhaps I wish too much for him to leave a last word, but I can understand that it is for the best. Poor Alex, such a fine drifter." "Yes, isn't it?" said Bobby.He recalled the bronzed face, the deep blue eyes.Alex Pritchard is such an engaging personality, even in his dying moments.The strange thing is that he is Mrs. Cayman's younger brother and Mr. Cayman's brother-in-law.Bobby thought he deserved more respect.

"Well, we are very grateful to you, indeed," said Mrs Cayman. "Oh, that's nothing," said Bobby. "I mean, well, I can't do anything else, I mean..." Bobby was incoherent in despair. "We won't forget you," Mr Cayman said.Bobby felt that painful handshake again.He took Mrs. Cayman's loose hand and shook it, and the priest bade them good-bye again.Bobby accompanied the Caymans to the door. "What's your personal occupation, lad?" asked Mr. Cayman. "Home leave, eh?" "I've spent a fair amount of time looking for work," Bobby added after a pause. "I'm in the Navy."

"Tough times, these are tough times." Mr. Cayman shook his head. "Well, good luck to you, I think so." "Thank you very much," said Bobby politely. He watched them walk up the grassy drive. He stood there lost in thought.Thoughts swirled through his mind, confused images: the face of the girl in the photograph with the thick hair and the wide-set eyes; The eyes, set wide apart like pigs' eyes, sunk in wrinkles in the skin, and the hair was harsh, dyed auburn.All traces of youthful innocence were gone.Poor man!The reason for this may be all because of being married to such a strong and rough man as Mr. Cayman.If she had married someone else, she would most likely look elegantly old: a little gray hair, a smooth pale face with eyes still wide apart.But maybe...

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "It's a bad marriage," he said grimly. "What did you say?" When Bobby came to his senses, he realized that Frankie was beside him. He didn't hear her coming. "Hello," he said, "Hello. Why marriage? Whose marriage?" "I'm just reflecting on the general phenomenon," Bobby said. "Refers……" "On the devastating effects of marriage." "Who is destroyed?" Bobby explained.He found Frankie unmoved. "Nonsense, that woman is exactly the same as in the photo."

"When did you see her? Did you go to the autopsy hearing?" "Of course I was there. What do you think? There's nothing to do there. An investigation is a perfect act of providence. I've never been in one before, and my teeth are chattering. Better yet, a mysterious poisoning case, with Assayer's report and that sort of thing. But one needn't get too excited when such frivolous pleasures are at hand. I hope there's some scandal in the end, but it all seems extraordinarily obvious." "You have a cruel nature, Frankie." "I know. Probably atavistic (but you said that? I've never been sure). Don't you think so? I believe I have atavism in me. My nickname in school was 'Monkey Face'."

"Monkeys like to kill?" asked Bobby. "You look like a Sunday newspaper reporter," said Frankie. "Our journalists' views on the subject are fascinating." "You see," said Bobby, returning to the original subject, "I don't agree with you about Mrs. Cayman. She's lovely in pictures." "Fixed, that's all," Frankie interrupted Bobby. "Well, then, the photo is retouched so much that you don't recognize it as the same person." "You're so ignorant," said Frankie, "that everything a photographer does is what the art of photography can do, but it's still a bit of a nasty job."

"I definitely don't agree with you," said Bobby coldly, "but where did you see that photograph?" "In the local Evening Echo." "Probably poorly copied." "I think you're downright crazy," put in Frankie, "much more than a painted shrew. Yes, I mean a shrew, like that Cayman." "Frankie," said Bobby, "I'm surprised at what you say. It's a semi-holy place in the parsonage drive." "Come on, you don't have to be so ridiculous." After a pause in the conversation, Frankie's anger suddenly subsided.

"That's ridiculous," she said, "arguing over that damned woman. How about I suggest a round of golf?" "Okay, boss," replied Bobby quickly. They set off together intimately, talking about things like hooking the ball and perfecting the decisive shot in the finish area. Bobby completely ignored the recent tragedy until he hit the seventeenth shot when he nudged the ball into the hole and suddenly let out a cry. "What's up?" "Nothing, I just remembered one thing." "What's the matter?" "Oh, those two people, the Caymans, they came to ask me if the guy said anything before he died, and I told them he didn't say anything." "Oh?" "But I remember now what he said." "This is not your brightest morning." "Well, you know, that's not the kind of thing they want to know. That's why I didn't think of it." "What did he say?" Frankie asked curiously. "He said: 'Why didn't they hire Evans?'" "It's so inexplicable. Is there anything else?" "No more. He just opened his eyes and said, all of a sudden, and then died. Poor guy." "Oh, well," said Frankie, thinking about the words, "I don't think you need worry, it's not important." "Yes, of course it doesn't matter. But I wish I had mentioned it. You see, I said he didn't say anything." "Well, it's the same thing," said Frankie, "I mean, it's the same thing as 'Tell Gladys I've always loved him' or 'The will's in the walnut desk,' or in a book No unique romantic last words are the same." "Don't you think it's worth writing to them about it?" "I don't think it's time to worry about it. That sentence can't be important." "I hope you're right," said Bobby, returning his attention to the game with renewed vigor. But the thing hadn't really faded from his mind.It was a small matter, but it troubled him, and he always felt a little uncomfortable.He felt that Frankie's view was correct and reasonable.It's no big deal, just let it go.But his conscience kept blaming him.He has said that the deceased said nothing, which is not true.Insignificant as this sentence was, he still couldn't take it for granted. That night he finally sat down on the spur of the moment and wrote Mr. Cayman a letter. Dear Mr. Cayman: I just recalled that your brother-in-law did say a word before he died.I think the exact words are: "Why didn't they hire Evans?" I'm sorry for not bringing it up this morning, but I didn't pay much attention to that at the time, so it slipped from my memory. yours sincerely robert jones He got a reply the next day: Dear Mr. Jones: I have received your letter of the 6th.Thank you so much for reciting my brother-in-law's last words so accurately, however insignificantly they were.What my wife wanted to know was what final message her brother might have left her. Still, thank you for your sincerity. your faithful Leo Cayman