Chapter 22 third quarter

The next week was the strangest time in my life, like a strange dream, everything seemed so unreal. When the inquest of Agnes Wardell was underway, everyone in Linstark participated curiously.Nothing new was found, the only verdict: "Murder by unknown perpetrators." So, poor Agnes Wardell was buried in the quiet old churchyard after a moment of public attention, and Linstak resumed her usual routine. No, the last sentence is wrong, it cannot be said as usual... In almost everyone's eyes, there was a look of half fear and half hope.Neighbors watched each other, and the autopsy proved one thing—the one who killed Agnes Wardell must not have been a stranger, and no one had seen a homeless person or a stranger in the vicinity.Someone in Lynstack, then, must have knocked the defenseless girl unconscious and pierced her brain with a meat skewer while shopping in the street for fun.

No one knew who the murderer was. As I said, the days passed like a dream.I met everyone with a new vision—everyone could be a murderer.This is not a pleasant feeling! Every night, after the curtains were drawn, Joanna and I sat down and talked and debated and debated possibilities that still seemed incredible. Joanna always insisted that it was Mr. Pi. After a while of hesitation, I returned to Miss Jin District whom I had suspected. But we still discuss a few suspects again and again: Mr. Pi? Miss King District?The Reverend Mrs. Cassop? Amy Griffey? Emily Barton? Patrick? During this time, we are always anxiously waiting for what will happen next.

But nothing happened, and as far as we know, no one ever received an anonymous letter. Nash occasionally appeared on the street. As for what he was doing and what traps the police set, I had no idea.Graves left again. Emily Barton came for tea, Meghan came for lunch, Owen Griffey called on his way out, we had sherry at Mr Pie's, we had tea at the vicar's. I was delighted to find that the Reverend Mrs. Cassop did not show the tough and fierce manner of our last meeting.I think she probably completely forgot about last time. She now seems to be concerned only with exterminating white butterflies in hopes of saving plants like cauliflower and kale.

That afternoon at the parsonage was, indeed, one of the most peaceful afternoons we have ever spent.The house was old but attractive, with a large, austere, comfortable living room with faded rose-cotton curtains.The Cassops had a visitor, a kindly elderly woman who was knitting with white cotton.While we were serving tea with delicious hot biscuits, the vicar came in, smiling at us quietly, and talking to us in a gentle and learned way, and we had a very pleasant time. I'm not saying we avoid talking about murder, we don't. The guest, Miss Marple, was of course shocked by the subject, and said regretfully:

"There's really nothing to talk about in our country!" She decided that the dead girl was like her family's Edith. "Such a good maid, so hardworking, but occasionally 'a little' slow to react." Miss Marple's sister-in-law, a cousin and niece, was also troubled by anonymous letters, so the lovely old lady was also interested in the subject. "Tell me, dear," she said to the Reverend Mrs. Cassop, "what does the town say? What do they think it is?" "I think, or think it's Mrs. Colett," said Joanna. "Oh, no," said Mrs. Cassop, "the 'now' don't think so."

Miss Marple asked who Mrs. Colette was. Joanna told her it was the village witch. "Yes, Mrs. Cassop." The priest whispered something in Latin, I think it was about the evil power of wizards, and we all fell into a respectful silence. "She's a very stupid woman," said the Vicar's wife. "She likes to show off. Every night when the moon is full, she goes out and gathers herbs and all, and wants everybody to know about it." "I suppose there must be some silly girls who go to her for advice?" said Miss Marple. I found that the pastor was going to spread Latin to us again, so I hurriedly asked, "Why don't others suspect that she is the murderer now? Don't they think that the anonymous letter was written by her?"

Marble finally said: "Oh! But I heard that the girl was stabbed to death by a skewer, and it's very unpleasant to hear. But that completely removes the suspicion of this Mrs. Colett. Because, you know, she Just curse her, and she will die naturally." "It's strange that this ancient belief is still handed down," said the pastor. "In the early AD, local superstitions were closely related to Christian teachings, and those bad characteristics gradually disappeared." "We're not dealing with superstitions," Mrs. Cassop said, "but with facts."

"Unpleasant truth," I said. "You are right, Mr. Burton," said Miss Marple; "forgive me for being blunt, but you are a stranger here, and should have your opinion of the various aspects of life here. I think You should be able to find a solution to this nasty problem." I smiled and said: "My best solution at the moment is to dream. Only in a dream can I solve this problem satisfactorily. It's a pity that when I wake up, it's just some absurd thoughts!" "That's interesting, tell me, what are you thinking about?" "Oh, it's all because of a ridiculous idiom 'Where there is no fire, there is no smoke', someone said it all the time, it almost made me sick, and then I associated it with war, smoke screens, notes, phone messages— - No, that's another dream."

"What was that dream about?" The old lady seemed so interested, I think she must also secretly like to read "Napoleon's Dream Collection", which was my former nurse's favorite? "Oh, just a dream that Elsie Holland, Symington's nurse and governess, was marrying Dr. Griffey, and the vicar was praying in Latin—" , my dear.")—but Mrs. Cassop stood up and said it must be stopped!" "But the last part is true," I continued with a smile, "because when I woke up, you stood in front of me and said that." "I'm not wrong," said Mrs. Cassop--with considerable modesty, I was pleased to find.

"But how did you get that phone message?" Miss Marple asked me with a frown. "I'm sorry, I didn't make it clear. It wasn't a dream. It was because when I entered the room, I found Joanna left a note asking us to pass it on to someone who called." Miss Marple leaned forward, with a slight blush on her cheeks, "If I asked you what was written on that note, would you think I was too curious and reckless?" She glanced at Joe. Anna, "Excuse me, dear." In fact, Joanna was also very interested in listening to our discussion. "Oh, never mind," she said to the old lady, "I don't remember it myself, but maybe Jerry does, and I think it must be something small."

I solemnly read as many words as I could remember, for I was delighted by the old lady's keen interest. I was worried that I would disappoint her if I actually read it, but she nodded and smiled, as if she was very happy, maybe she thought of a beautiful love story. "I see," she said, "I guess it's something like that, too." Mrs. Cassop asked sharply, "What kind of speech?" "A few common words," said Miss Marple. She looked at me thoughtfully for a while, and then said unexpectedly: "I can see that you are a very bright young man. You only lack a little self-confidence. You should have self-confidence!" Joanna yelled, "My God! Don't encourage him like that, he's confident enough." "Be quiet, Joanna," I said. "Miss Marple knows me." Miss Marple resumed her knitting, saying to me, "You know it's like magic to pull off a successful murder." "Cheated the eye with the quick movement of the hand?" "Not only that, but it also lures the audience to look in the wrong direction." "Whoa," I said, "so far, everyone seems to be looking in the wrong direction for the psychopath." "If it were me," said Miss Marple, "I would look for normal people." "Yes," I mused, "Nash said the same thing, and I remember he emphasized that he was a respectable person." "Yes," said Miss Marple, "that's 'very' important." Well, it seems everyone agrees. I said to Mrs. Cassop again, "Nash thinks anonymous letters will still appear. What do you think?" "Maybe," she said slowly. "If the police think so, there must be," said Miss Marple. I persisted in asking Mrs. Cassop, "Do you still feel sorry for the man who wrote the letter?" She blushed and said, "Why not?" "I don't agree with you, my dear," said Miss Marple. "In this case at least, I don't agree with you." I said excitedly: "The anonymous letter has forced a woman to commit suicide, and it has also caused many people's heartache and pain." "Have you ever received an anonymous letter, Miss Burton?" Miss Marple asked Joanna. Joanna said happily, "Oh, yes! There are some terrible things in the letter." "I think," said Miss Marple, "that young and pretty people are the most likely candidates for anonymous letters." "That's why I find it strange that Elsie Holland didn't receive the anonymous letter," I said. "I'll see," said Miss Marple, "do you mean the Simmingtons' nurse-governor—the one you dreamed about, Mr. Burton?" "yes." "Maybe she has, but won't tell," Joanna said. "No," I said, "I take her word for it, and so does Nash." "Ha!" said Miss Marple, "that's very interesting! It's the funnest story I've ever heard."