Chapter 17 chapter Five

Reese found Ruth Lessing busy arranging a pile of papers at a large desk.She is wearing a white blouse, black coat and skirt.He was impressed by her calm demeanor, taking her time.He noticed the dark circles under her eyelids and the unhappy look on her mouth.Yet her grief, if it was grief, was as completely contained as her other emotions. Rhys declared his purpose, and she immediately replied: "It's very kind of you to come. Of course I know who you are. Mr. Button was expecting you to join us last night, wasn't he? I remember him saying so." "Did he mention it the night before?"

She thought for a while. "No. That was after we were all seated. I remember being a little surprised—" She paused, blushing a little, "of course not because he invited you. You're an old friend of his, I know. And a You were supposed to be at the dinner a year ago. I mean, I'm surprised Mr. Barton didn't invite an extra lady to make it right if you were to come, but of course if you're coming later Maybe can't come—" She broke off. "I'm so stupid. Why do you say such trivial things? I don't know what I did today. I'm so stupid."

"But you still come to work as usual?" "Of course." She looked surprised—almost shocked. "It's my job. There's so much to clean up." "George keeps telling me he thinks highly of you," Rhys said gently. She steps aside.He saw her take a quick breath and blink.Her utter indifference almost convinced him of her innocence.Almost, but not quite.He had seen women who were good at acting, and their red eyelids and dark circles under their eyes were not natural but artificial. He reserved judgment, saying to himself: "Anyway, she's a cool 'client'."

Ruth returned to her desk and said calmly: "I've been with him for years -- eight years in April -- and I know his way of doing things, and I think he -- trusts me." "I believe." He continued, "It's almost lunch time. I hope you'd like to go out with me to find a quiet place for lunch? I have a lot to talk to you about." "Thank you, I'd love to." He took her to a small restaurant he had been to where the tables were far apart for a quiet conversation. He ordered.After the waiter left, he watched her across the table. She's a good-looking girl, he thought, with smooth hair, good features, and a firm jaw.Before the food was delivered, he chatted casually, and she chatted with her, showing her wisdom and affection everywhere.

Soon, after a pause in the conversation, she said: "You want to talk to me about last night? Please don't be shy. It's so incredible that I want to. I wouldn't believe it if it hadn't happened, and I saw it with my own eyes." "Have you met Inspector Kemp?" "Yes, last night. He seems very smart and experienced." She paused. "Is that really murder? Race on." "Did Kemp tell you so?" "He didn't say anything, but it was clear from the questions he asked that he thought so." "Your own opinion as to whether it was suicide or not is as good as anybody's, Miss Lessing. I suppose you know Barton very well, and you were with him most of yesterday. How did he look?" ?As usual? Or troubled—uneasy—excited?”

She hesitated. "Hard to say. He's confused, but there's a reason for that." She explained the situation caused by Victor Derek, and at the same time gave a brief account of the young man's affairs. "Well," said Reese, "the inevitable black sheep. So he upset Barton?" Ruth said slowly: "It's hard to explain. I know Mr. Button very well, you know. He's very upset about it, and I think Mrs. Derek must have been in tears with worry, as she always does when things like this happen, so of course he Want to get it over with. But I got the impression—"

"What impression, Miss Lessing? I believe your impression must be correct." "Well, I don't think his upset is normal, if I may say so. Because the same thing has happened before, it's not much different. Victor Derek had trouble here last year, and we had to arranged for him to be sailed to South Africa, and last June he telegraphed home asking for money. So, you know, I am familiar with Mr. He called when he was preoccupied with preparing the banquet. He seemed to be too preoccupied with the banquet. So he was bored with anything else he had to take care of."

"Is there anything strange about this banquet, Miss Lessing?" "Yes, yes. Barton is really special about this banquet. He's excited—like a child." "Have you ever thought that this banquet may have a special purpose?" "You mean this banquet is a reenactment of Mrs. Barton's suicide a year ago?" "yes." "Frankly, I think the idea is pretty weird." "But George didn't offer any explanation--or tell you what was on his mind?" She shook her head. "Tell me, Miss Lessing, have you ever had any doubts about Mrs. Barton's suicide?"

She looked shocked: "Ah, no." "George Barton didn't tell you that he believed his wife was murdered?" Her eyes widened. "George believes it?" "I know you didn't expect that. Yes, he believed it, the Lessing Group. George got an anonymous letter saying his wife didn't commit suicide but homicide." "So that's why he's been so weird this summer? I can't even think about what he was doing then." "You don't know anything about these anonymous letters?" "Yes. Lots of letters?" "He showed me two."

"I don't even know anything!" There was deep hurt in her voice. He watched her for a while.Then say: "Well, Miss Lessing. What do you say? Does it seem to you that George committed suicide?" She shook her head. "No, oh, it's impossible." "But you didn't say he was nervous—uneasy?" "Yes. But he's been like that several times. Now I understand why. And I understand why he was so excited about last night's party. He must have had something special in his head, and he must have hoped to Repeated situation, to get some extra information. Poor George, he must have made a mess."

"And about Rosemary Button, Miss Lessing? Do you think she killed herself?" She frowned. "It never occurred to me that there was any other reason. It seemed so natural." "Depression after Influenza?" "Well, maybe that's not the only reason. She's unhappy, anyone can tell." "And have you guessed the reason for her unhappiness?" "Oh—yes. At least I guessed. Of course I might be wrong. But women like Mrs. Button are very transparent. They don't hide their feelings. It's a good thing Mr. Button doesn't know. . . Oh, yes Yes, she was unhappy. And I know she had a bad headache that day in addition to being down from a cold." "How do you know she has a headache?" "I heard her telling Mrs. Alexander—in the dressing room, she regretted not bringing medicine, and Mrs. Alexander happened to have one, so she gave it to her." Colonel Race stopped in the air with his cup. "She ate?" "yes." He put down his glass and looked at her.She looked calm and didn't realize that what she just said meant anything.However, it makes sense.That meant that Mrs. Alexander, who was least likely to put anything into Rosemary's cup from the seat of her seat, had another chance to poison.She may have given Rosemary a capsule filled with potassium cyanide, which dissolved in a few minutes after eating, but it is possible that she used a special capsule.Or it could be that Rosemary didn't eat it on the spot, but later. He suddenly said: "Did you see her eat it?" "what?" He could tell by the confusion on her face that she was thinking of other things. "Did you see Rosemary Barton swallow that capsule?" Ruth looked a little startled. "I—er, no, I didn't see it. She just thanked Mrs. Alexander." Then Rosemary might have dropped the capsule in her purse and had a worse headache while performing in the cabaret area.She might just drop the capsule in champagne and let it dissolve.This is inference - pure inference - but a possibility. Ruth says: "Why are you asking me this?" Her eyes were suddenly alert and full of questioning.He watched carefully, and it seemed that her wisdom had flashed again. Then she added: "Oh, I see, I see why George bought the house near the Farretts. And I see why he didn't tell me about the letters. It's very unusual that he didn't tell me. But of course Well, if he believes what the letter says, it means that one of us, one of the five at the table, murdered her. It might even be—it might be me!" Rhys said in a very soft voice: "Have you any reason for murdering Rosemary Barton?" At first he thought she didn't hear his question, she sat there so quietly with her eyes on the ground. But suddenly, with a sigh, she raised her eyes to meet him. "There's one thing that not everyone wants to talk about," she said. "But I think you'd better know. I was in love with George Patton. I was in love with him before he met Rosemary. I don't think he knew, and of course he wouldn't have cared. He liked I—like me—but not that way, I think. Yet I often think to myself that I'd be a good wife to him, that I'd make him happy. He loved Rosemary, but he wasn't happy with her. " Rhys said gently: "Then you don't like Rosemary?" "Yes, I don't like her. Oh! She's beautiful and charming and has a unique charm. She has never been nice to me! I don't like her very much. I was scared when she died, and her death Look, but I'm not really sad. I'm afraid I'm just a little bit happier." She pauses. "Shall we talk about something else?" Reese quickly replied: "I'd like you to tell me in detail everything you can remember from yesterday—since yesterday morning—especially anything George said or did." Ruth answered quickly, repeating what had happened yesterday morning—George's annoyance about Vito's business, her call to South America to arrange everything, and George's joy when the matter was resolved.Then she recounted her visit to the Luxembourg restaurant and her excitement, excitement, about George being the host.She spoke until the last moment of the tragedy.Every aspect of her account matched what he already knew. Ruth frowned apprehensively, and voiced her own confusion. "It wasn't suicide, I'm sure it wasn't suicide, but how could it be murder? I mean, how could it have happened? It couldn't have been either of us! Did someone sneak a drink in George's glass while we were all going dancing?" Poison? But if so, who? Doesn't seem to make sense." "Someone prove that no one approaches the table when you all go dancing." "That's even more unreasonable! Potassium cyanide will never go into the cup by itself!" "Have you ever figured out--didn't even suspect--who might have put the potassium cyanide in the glass? Think back to last night, was there nothing, no little incident, no matter how small, that caused you any degree of suspicion?" He saw the expression on her face change, her eyes cast a momentary look of uncertainty.There was a barely discernible pause before she answered "no." But the answer should in fact be "yes," he was sure.Something she sees, notices, or hears and decides not to say. He didn't force her, and he knew that coercion didn't work on a girl like Ruth.If, for some reason, she made up her mind to keep silent, she would never change her mind, he was sure of that. But something did arouse her suspicions.This cheered him up and gave him new confidence.This was the first clue that appeared before his eyes. He left Ruth after lunch and hitchhiked to George's, thinking of Ruth all the way. Could it be Ruth Lessing?For the most part, he didn't think it was her.She seemed to be completely candid. Does she dare to murder?Most people dare, and dogs will jump over the wall in a hurry.Not daring to murder anyone, but a particularly personal murder.Herein lies the difficulty, and it is difficult to exclude any one suspect.The young woman was a little lacking in compassion.Besides, she had a motive, or rather she had chosen one among various motives.Get rid of Rosemary, and she has a good chance of becoming Mrs. George Button.Whether her motives were to marry a rich man, or marry someone she loved, getting rid of Rosemary was imperative. Reese doesn't think the motivation to marry a rich man is enough.Ruth Lessing was too cool, too cautious, to risk the death penalty for it.for love?possible.Judging from her calm, objective manner, he suspected that she was the kind of woman who would fall in love with a particular kind of man.Loving George and hating Rosemary, she could have calmly planned and murdered Rosemary. Later George received an anonymous letter? (Who wrote it? Why? This is the most difficult question that he often thinks about) and he became suspicious.He set a trap, and Ruth shut him up forever. No, not like that.It doesn't look like the truth.That meant the murderer had panicked—and Ruth Lessing was not the sort of woman to panic.She had a better mind than George, and could easily avoid any trap he might lay. It seemed unlikely that it was Ruth.