Chapter 28 Section five

Things often happen when unexpected. While my mind was full of Joanna and personal matters, Nash unexpectedly called me the next morning: "We've got her, Mr. Burton." I was so startled that I almost dropped the receiver. "You mean—" He interrupted me: "Is there anyone on your side who will hear what you have to say?" "No, I don't think it should—well, maybe—" I felt as if the door to the kitchen had been opened a little. "Perhaps you would like to come to the Bureau?" "Okay, I'll come right away." I hurried to the police station. Nash and Officer Baggins were in a room together. Nash was smiling all over his face.

"After tracking for so long," he said, "there is finally a result." He pushed me a letter from the desktop, this time, it was all typed with a typewriter.Compared with the previous letters, this letter is quite polite: "It's no use fantasizing that you'll take the place of a dead woman. The whole village is laughing at you. Find a way to get out before it's too late. This is a warning to you, don't Forget about what happened to the other girl, and hurry up and walk away." There are also some slightly obscene words at the end of the letter. "Miss Helan received this letter this morning," Nash said.

"It's kind of funny that she never got an anonymous letter before," said Officer Baggins. "Who wrote it?" I asked. The happy look on Nash's face faded a little. He looked tired and worried, and said to me calmly: "I'm sorry, because it's a big blow to a respectable man. But facts are facts, and perhaps he was a little suspicious." "Who wrote the letter?" I asked again. "Miss Amy Griffey." That afternoon, Nash and Baggins went to Griffey's house with warrants. At Nash's invitation, I also went. "Dr. Griffey likes you very much," he said. "He doesn't have many friends here, and I thought, if you don't think it's too painful, you might as well help him bear this shocking news."

I said yes, I didn't like the job, but thought I might be able to help. We rang the bell to see Miss Griffey and were ushered into the living room.Elsie Holland, Meghan Symmington and Symington having afternoon tea. Nash was very cautious.He asked Amy if he could speak to her privately. She stood up and walked towards us. I seemed to see a searching look in her eyes, but it disappeared quickly, and she returned to her usual enthusiastic attitude. "Looking for me? I hope it's not something wrong with my headlights again?" She led the way out of the living room, through the living room, and into a small study.

As I closed the living room door, I noticed Symington's head jerk, and I thought his legal training must have made him realize that there was something in Nash's look.He half stood up. That's all I saw, and I closed the door and followed the others. Nash was expressing his opinion, and he warned her quietly and correctly, and asked her to go with him.He took out the warrant and read it to her. I can't remember the exact legal term now, but the charge was anonymous letter writing, not murder. Amy Griffey shook her head, laughed and said: "What absurdity! To think I'd write something like that! You must be crazy, I've never written a word like that."

Nash, who had shown the letter to Amy Griffey, said, "Do you deny writing it, Miss Griffey?" Even if she hesitated, it was only for a short moment. "Of course! I never saw the letter." Nash said calmly: "I must tell you, Miss Griffey, that you were seen typing this letter at the girls' school the night before yesterday between eleven and half past eleven, and yesterday you walked into the post office with a stack of letters in your hand—" "I didn't send the letter." "That's right, 'you' did not. When you were waiting for the stamp, you deliberately dropped the letter on the floor while no one was looking, so that others would pick it up and post it without suspicion."

"I haven't—" The door opened, and Symington came in, saying sternly, "What's the matter? Amy, if there's anything wrong, you should get a legal representative. If you want me--" She began to cry, covered her face with her hands, staggered to a chair, and said, "Go away, Dick, you go. I don't want 'you'! I don't want 'you'!" "You need a lawyer, dear girl." "I don't want you, I—I—can't take it, I don't want you to know—all this." Perhaps he understood, and said quietly, "I'll accompany you to Exampton to appear in court, will you?"

She nodded, sobbing softly. Symmington went out and met Owen Griffey at the door. "What's going on?" Owen said aloud. "My sister—" "I'm sorry, Dr. Griffey, I'm sorry, but we have no choice." "You hold her—responsible for those letters?" "I'm afraid there's no doubt about it, sir," said Nash—turning to Amy. "You've got to come with us now, Miss Griffey—you know, you can always get a lawyer." Owen cried, "Amy?" She walked past him quickly without looking at him. She said, "Don't talk to me, don't say anything, for God's sake, don't look at me like that!"

They walked by, Owen still standing, as if in a dream. I waited a while, then approached him and said: "If there's anything I can do to help, Griffey, just let me know." He said dreamily: "Amy? I don't believe it." "Maybe I made a mistake," I said softly. He said slowly: "If it is true, she will never just accept it like this. But I don't believe it, I absolutely don't believe it!" He slumps into a chair, and I get him a shot of strong drink, which he gulps down, and seems to feel better. He said: "I really couldn't take it, and now it's fine. Thank you, Burton, but you really can't help, 'anyone' can't help."

The door opened, and Joanna walked in pale. She walked up to Owen, looked at me and said: "You get out, Jerry, it's my business." When I came out of the room, I saw her kneeling beside his chair.