Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen Inquiry

Molly lay on the bed.On one side stood Dr. Graham and Dr. Robertson of the West Indies Police, and Tim on the other, Robertson's hand on Molly's pulse.He nodded to the man at the end of the bed; it was a lanky, dark man in a police uniform, Sergeant Weston of the St Annory Police Unit. "Just a few simple questions—no more," said the doctor. The sheriff nodded understandingly. "Well, Mrs. Kendall—please tell us how you found out about this woman." For a while it seemed that the man lying on the bed didn't hear at all. Later, she said in a weak, vague voice:

"In the leaves - white..." "You see something white—just want to see what it is, don't you?" "Yes—Bai—laid there—I thought—tried to lift her up—that—blood—I had blood all over my hands." She began to tremble. Dr. Graham shook his head at them.Dr. Robertson whispered, "She can't bear to ask any more questions." "What were you doing on the path to the beach, Mrs Kendall?" "Warm--beautiful--by the sea--" "Do you know who that woman is?" "Victoria--very--very woman--laughs--she laughed--oh! She won't laugh now--never. I can't forget--

I will never forget it for the rest of my life—" Her voice suddenly became nervous and high-pitched. "Molly—don't do that," Tim said. "Quiet. Quiet," said Dr. Robertson soothingly but also commandingly. "Relax—yes, relax. A shot—" He withdrew the needle. "You can't talk to her for at least twenty-four hours," he said. "I'll let you know when the time comes." The tall, handsome black man looked back and forth at the two sitting behind the table. "I swear to God," he said, "that's all I know. I told you all I know."

His head was beaded with sweat.Devontrius sighed.Chief Inspector Weston of St. Annori's Criminal Investigations, who was in charge, signaled him to come down.Big guy Jim Ellis stepped back out. "Of course he knows more than that," said Weston, with a soft West Indian accent: "but that's all we can get from him." "You think he's all right?" Devontri asked. "No problem. The two of them got along just fine." "Aren't they married?" A smile formed on the corners of Sheriff Weston's mouth. "No," he said, "they weren't married. We don't have that many married people here on the island. They do christen names, though. Victoria had two of his children."

"Whatever it is, do you think he's with her?" "Probably not. If so, he must have been in a terrible panic. And I don't think it's a big deal what she knows." "But it's enough to blackmail people, right?" "I can't even say that. I suspect that this woman might not even understand the meaning of the word. Taking money and keeping it secret is not considered blackmail here. You know, most of the people who come to live on this island are Huahua Rich and young, their moral standards cannot withstand repeated assumptions." He said a little bit harshly.

"I agree, we have all kinds of people here," Devantry said, "Maybe it's a woman, I don't want people to know that she is attracting people everywhere, so I gave some gifts to the maid who served her, of course Both parties tacitly knew that this was a gag." "Not bad." "But this time," Devantry objected, "it's not that simple. This time there was a murder case." "However, I still do not believe that the woman is aware of the seriousness of the matter. She has discovered something suspicious, which may have something to do with the bottle of pills. As far as I know, it belongs to Mr. Dyson, and I Look, we'll ask him next."

Greg entered the room with his usual smile on his face. "Here I am," he said. "Is there anything I can do for you? This woman is miserable. She is very nice.Both of us like her very much.I think they had a quarrel, or maybe she has another man or something, but she has always been happy, and she doesn't seem to have any troubles.I was joking about her last night. " "Mr. Dyson, are you in the habit of taking a drug called a sedative?" "Nice. Little pink pills." "Do you have a doctor's prescription?" "Yes. I can show it to you if you want. I have a problem with high blood pressure, and many people have this trouble nowadays."

"It seems that not many people know that you have this disease." "I don't want to yell around. I have always been healthy and cheerful. I am not someone who likes to talk about my illness all day long." "How much of this pill do you take?" "Take it two or three times a day." "Do you have a lot of medicine around you?" "A lot, maybe six or seven bottles. However, I locked them all in a box, and I only brought out the one bottle I need now." "I heard that not long ago, you lost this bottle of medicine?" "good."

"You asked this woman, Victoria Johnson, if she ever saw it, didn't you?" "Yes, I asked her." "What did she say?" "She said she last saw it on the vanity in the bathroom in my room. She said she looked for it." "and after?" "Not long after, she brought me this bottle of medicine. She also said: 'Is this the bottle that was lost?'" "what do you say?" "I said: 'That's the bottle. Where did you find it?' She said it was in old Major Balgrave's room. I said: 'How did it get to him?'"

"How did she answer?" "She said she didn't know either. But—" He hesitated. "How is it, Mr. Dyson?" "Well, she gave me the feeling that she knew more than she said, but I didn't pay much attention. It wasn't a big deal anyway. I still had a lot of bottles. I thought, Maybe I forgot In a restaurant or something, old man Balgrave picked it up and put it in his pocket to give it to me, but then he forgot." "Is that all you know, Mr Dyson?" "That's all. Sorry, I can only do so much. What? Is it so important? Why?"

Weston shrugged his shoulders. "In the current situation, anything could be important." "I don't understand what this has to do with my pills. I thought you were going to ask me about all my actions when this woman was killed. I wrote them down carefully." Weston looked at it with interest. Follow him and say. "Oh? Really? Thank you so much for your trouble, Mr. Dyson." "I thought it would save everyone some trouble," Greg said, handing them a piece of paper on the table. Weston studied carefully, and Devontri pulled the chair closer to look over his shoulder. "It's clear," Weston said after looking at it for a while. "At ten to nine, you and your wife were changing in your cabin for dinner. Then, you went out on the terrace to meet Ms. Caspialo. A few glasses of wine. Colonel and Mrs. Shillingon came to join you to supper at a quarter past nine. As you remember, you went to bed about half past eleven." "Of course," Greg said, "I don't know when the woman was killed—?" There was some questioning in his words.However, Sheriff Weston did not seem to notice. "Mrs. Kendall found out, didn't she? She must have been terribly frightened." "Yes, Dr. Robertson has given her a sedative." "It happened very late, didn't most people go to bed?" "Yes." "Was she long dead, I mean when Mrs. Kendal found her?" "We don't know the exact time of her death yet," said Weston tactfully. "Poor little Molly. She was really frightened at the moment. Now that I think about it, I didn't seem to notice her all the time last night. I thought she was lying in the room with a headache or something." "Then when did you see Mrs. Kendal?" "Early, before I change. She's setting it up in the dining room, arranging the knives on the table." "Oh." "Back then, she was still talking and laughing," Greg said. "Having me laughing. She was awesome. We all liked her. Lucky Tim." "Yes, thank you, Mr. Dyson. Can you remember nothing but what the woman Victoria said to you when she handed you the pill?" "No... that's what I said. She asked me if I was looking for the pills, and said I found them in old man Balgrave's house." "Does she know who put it there?" "I don't know—I really can't remember." "Thank you, Mr. Dyson." Greg pushed back from the room. "He's very thoughtful," said Weston, still touching the paper on the table with his fingernails, "so anxious for us to know where he was last night." "It's a little too enthusiastic, don't you think?" Devontri asked. "It's hard to say. You know, some people are naturally nervous about their own safety or getting into trouble. It doesn't necessarily indicate that they feel guilty, but then again, it may be." "What do you think the chances of a crime are? The band's playing hard, everyone's dancing, going in and out, no one can prove an alibi. Everyone goes from table to table, ladies into dressing rooms, men Go out for a walk and get some air. Dyson could have slipped out too, anyone could have slipped out. But he was really anxious to tell us that he hadn't slipped out. He looked thoughtfully at the paper on the table. "Well, Mrs. Kendall set the knives on the table," he said. "I wonder if he's bringing it up on purpose." " "Do you think it's possible?" The other party deliberated carefully for a while. "I think it's possible." Outside the house where the two were sitting, there was a commotion.A piercing shriek insisted on entering the house. "I have something to report, I have something to report. Take me in to the sir, and you take me to the police." A uniformed policeman opened the door. "There is a cook in a restaurant," he said, "and is very anxious to see you. He said he has something to report to you." A dark-skinned man with a frightened face and a white chef's hat pushed him from behind. Call the police and break into the house.He's a sous chef, Cuban, not from San Annori. "I'm going to tell you, I'm going to say," he said, "she came running into my kitchen, it was true, and she had a knife in her hand. A knife, tell you, she really had a knife in her hand. With a knife, she ran into my kitchen, and out the door again, into the garden. I saw her." "Hold your breath," said Deventry. "Uh, hold your breath. Who are you talking about?" "I'll tell you who I'm talking about. I'm talking about the boss's wife, Mrs Kendall. It was her.She took a knife in her hand and ran out into the darkness.That was before supper—she never came back. "