Chapter 17 Chapter 17 Mr. Laifel Takes Over

"I don't know," said Miss Marple. "What do you mean? What the hell have we been talking about for twenty minutes?" "I think maybe I'm all wrong." Mr. Ryfell glared at her. "Still an old fool after all!" he said with disgust. "You still think you're sure!" "Well, I'm pretty sure about the murder. I'm not sure who the murderer is. Because, I see, Major Balgrave told more than one murder story--you told me he did Stories about dead bodies in the bathroom." "That—he did say it. But he's something else."

"I know. But Mrs. Essu Wadders said she'd heard stories of people being poisoned in gas ovens—" "But the one he told you about—" Miss Marple was determined to interrupt him this time--not that Mr. Ryfell often happened. Her speech this time was extremely urgent but quite coherent. "Can't you see that--it's hard to be sure. The thing is--usually people don't listen very carefully to such things. Ask Mrs. Wadders, and she said the same thing, at first, We also listened—before long the attention got distracted—began to be distracted—and suddenly realized that we missed a lot. I just wondered if there was something missing, I mean, he told me About that man—and what he said when he took out the folder: "Do you want to see the picture of the murderer?" In between, will I miss something, even if it's just a little bit."

"But you just thought it was a picture of the man he was talking about." "Indeed, I thought so. It never occurred to me that it might not be the man. But now—how can I be sure? " Mr. Ryfell looked at her thoughtfully. "What's wrong with you," he said, "is that you feel like you're suspicious of something when you're talking about it with the priest brother and sister and the others." "Perhaps you are right." "Then you don't think too much. Let's discuss what you have in mind first. Because nine times out of ten, people's first judgment is correct-at least, in my experience. We have three suspects on hand, one of us Take a good look at one. Where do you think you should start?"

"I don't particularly like one," said Miss Marple. "Anyway, three people are very unlikely." "Well, look at Greg first," said Mr. Rifle, "can't stand the guy. However, this does not make him a murderer.However, there are still one or two points against him.Those blood pressure pills were his.It is quite convenient and practical to use to harm people. " "That's too obvious, isn't it?" Miss Marple concurred. "I don't think so," said Mr. Rifle. "Besides, the most important thing is to act immediately, and he has the pills. It's too late to find out if anyone else has them. Let's just assume it is." Greg. Well! Suppose he wants to get rid of his lovely wife Lucky (I think that's a good idea. I understand his feelings.) But I don't see his motives. First, he is very Rich. Inherited from his rich ex-wife. At this point, he might have been his wife's murderer. But that's done. And he got away with it. But luck is just him The ex-wife's poor relatives don't have a dime, so if he wants to kill her, he must want to marry someone else. Have you heard any gossip about this?"

Miss Marple shook her head. "At least I haven't heard of it. He's - er - he's very nice to the ladies." "You're kind of old-fashioned," said Mr. Rifle. "Actually, he's a satyr. He likes to tease women. But that's not enough! We need more reason. Now look at Edward Hillingdon, he's a real dark horse." "I don't think he is a happy person." Miss Marple offered her opinion. Mr. Riffel looked at her deliberately for a while. "Do you think murderers should be unhappy people?" Miss Marple coughed dryly. Miss Marple could have told him that he was wrong on this assumption.But she restrained herself from confronting him.She knows that men don't like to admit defeat.

"I'm quite fond of Hillingdon, personally," said Mr. Ryfell. "But I think there's something odd about him and his wife. Have you noticed?" "Yes," said Miss Marple, "I have noticed. Of course, the couple behaved well in public, which is also to be expected." "You know this kind of people better than I do," said Mr. Rifle, "that is to say, on the surface they are very respectful as husband and wife; but it is very likely that Edward Hillingden is quietly trying to put Ive Lynn Hillingdon was shoveled. Do you agree with me?"

"If so," said Miss Marple, "there must be another woman involved." "But what kind of woman is it?" Miss Marple shook her head dejectedly. "I really think it's never that simple." "Well, let's move on to the next one—Jackson? Don't count me in." Miss Marple smiled for the first time. "Why can't you be counted, Mr. Raifel." "Because if you're going to discuss the possibility that I'm a murderer, you're going to have to go to someone else. Talking to me is a waste of time. Besides, I'm asking you, am I right for the role? Paralyzed, out of bed like a mummy Drag it up, get dressed, push it in a wheelchair, push it out for a walk. How am I going to murder someone?"

"As much chance as anyone," said Miss Marple plausibly. "How do you say that?" "Well, I think you will agree with yourself. I think, because you have brains?" "Of course I have brains," said Mr. Rifle solemnly, "more brains than anyone here, I dare say." . " "Brains," went on Miss Marple, "will enable you to overcome the physical barriers of being a murderer." "That will take a lot of work!" "Yes," said Miss Marple, "it will take some work. But, Mr. Rifle, I think you will be very interested."

Mr. Ryfell stared at her for a long time before he burst out laughing. "You're not timid!" he said. "You don't look like your kind, confused old lady at all? So, do you really think I'm a murderer?" "No," said Miss Marple, "I haven't." "why?" "It's easy. You have brains. With brains, you don't have to kill to get what you want. Murder is stupid." "Anyway, who do you think I'm going to kill?" "That's an interesting question," said Miss Marple. "I haven't had the honor of having a long conversation with you, and I haven't been able to come up with a theory."

Mr. Raifel's smile became brighter. "It's dangerous to chat with you." "If you want to hide something, chatting is quite dangerous." "You have a point. Let's talk about Jaxon. What do you think of Jaxon?" "It's hard for me to say, I've never had a chance to talk to him." "Then you have nothing against him?" "He reminded me of a man," Miss Marple recalled, "that young clerk at the town hall not far from my house, Jonas Barry." "How is it?" asked Mr. Rifle. "His character," said Miss Marple, "is not very good."

"Jackson's not a great character. He's a good fit for me, though; he's extremely efficient and he's not afraid of being scolded. He knows he's getting paid well, so he'll just accept everything. I wouldn't hire him if I needed to." I don't need to trust him. Maybe he has a clean past, maybe a lot. Judging from his guarantor's recommendation, it is indeed good; but, so to speak, I have always taken recommendation letters. I have a reserved attitude. Fortunately, I have no hidden worries, and I am not afraid of being blackmailed." "No secrets?" Miss Marple asked intentionally, "Mr. Raifel, you don't have any secrets in your business, do you?" "It's not something that Jaxson can get anyway. No. Jaxson may be a bit of a talker, but I can't see him being a murderer. I don't think he's that material." He paused, then said suddenly: "Have you ever thought that if we step back a bit to look at this wicked affair, Balgrave, what he said, and the rest of the situation, I think the cart before the horse. I'm the one who should be murdered." Miss Marple looked at him puzzled. "Wrong characters," explained Mr. Rifle. "Who are the victims of murder? Rich old men." "There were a lot of people who wanted him to step aside and get his money," said Miss Marple: "right?" "Well—" Mr. Rifle thought for a while and said, "I can name at least five. Six people in London would not shed a tear when they read my obituary in the Times.But they don't have to kill me.Why bother?I can die anytime.In fact, a lot of idiots really can't figure out that I can survive to this day.Even the doctors were surprised. " "However, your will to live is strong," said Miss Marple. "I suppose you find it very strange, don't you?" said Mr. Rifle. Miss Marple shook her head. "Oh, that's not true," she said, "I think that's a natural thing. When you're about to lose it, life feels worthwhile and more interesting. Maybe it shouldn't be, but it's true." When you are young, strong, and healthy, life unfolds before your eyes, and being alive is not important at all. It is young people who are prone to suicide, lovelorn, and sometimes even out of pure anxiety and depression. Only old people know the meaning of life Valuable and interesting." "Ha!" Mr. Raifel snorted and said, "Listen to the sourness of the two old gangsters!" "What? Is what I said unreasonable?" Miss Marple questioned. "Uh, yes," said Mr. Rifle, "of course it makes sense, but don't you think it's wrong for me to say that I should be the victim?" "That depends on who gets you what you get," said Miss Marple. "To tell you the truth, no one," said Mr. Raifel, "except for what I've said, some rivals in the business world, and even they, as I said, have a while to go before I die. I'm not foolish enough to leave a large fortune to be divided among relatives. After the government taxes, there will be very little left to them. This, I arranged many years ago; It's all done." "Take Jackson as an example. After you pass away, won't he get some light?" "He doesn't get a penny," said Mr. Ryfell, proudly. "I pay him twice as much as other people. It's because he has to put up with my bad temper; He also knows very well that if I die, he will be a loser. " "Where is Mrs. Wadders?" "And she too. She's a good woman. A first-rate secretary, brains, good-natured, understands my disposition, doesn't make a fuss when I get mad, and doesn't care if I don't give her face. She's like Like a babysitter for a cranky, crying child. She annoys me sometimes, but who doesn't? There's nothing superhuman about her, and she's a pretty mediocre woman in every way, though. I can't find anyone who is more suitable than her. She has had a lot of ups and downs in her life. She married a worthless man. I think she has never judged men. Many women can't. My heart softened. I always believe that all men need a woman's understanding. As long as you marry her, you will cheer up and flourish! Of course, this kind of man will never be able to do it. Fortunately, her useless man is dead , I drank too much wine outside one night and was hit by a car. Yishu had a daughter to support, and she went back to be a secretary. She has been with me for five years. I made it clear to her from the beginning : Don't expect her to get anything after I die. I paid her a very high salary at the beginning of her employment, and then raised her salary by more than a quarter every year. No matter how kind and honest people are, we should not trust He - that's why I told Yishu don't expect anything from my death. If I live an extra year, her salary will increase. If she saves more money every year - I think she is already doing that ——When I stretched my legs and stared, she should be a very rich woman. I volunteered to support her daughter's education, and set up a large fund for her, which she could use when she became an adult. Therefore, Yishu Walders should have nothing to worry about. Let me tell you, my death is a loss to her finances." He looked at Miss Marble seriously and said, "She knows all this very well. Yishu, She's a very sensible person." "Does she and Jaxon still get along?" asked Miss Marple. Mr. Rifle cast a quick glance at her. "What did you notice?" He said, "Yes, I think Jaxon likes to smell everywhere, especially recently, he has also been eyeing her. Of course, he is quite handsome, but unfortunately it doesn't help. First of all, the two of them have different identities. She is a little taller than him, just a little bit. If she is a lot taller, it doesn't matter, but she is a lower-middle-class person, which is weird. Her mother is a teacher and her father is a banker. Cashier. I don't think she's going to be fooled by Jaxon. I dare say he's set his sights on her savings, but there's nothing to be gained." "Hush—here she comes!" said Miss Marple. They both watched Esther Walders coming towards them from the hotel path. "You see, she's actually quite a pretty girl," said Mr. Rifle, "but she has no charm at all. I don't know how it's done. She's pretty pretty." Miss Marple sighed softly, no matter how old a woman is, she will feel it when she sees any missed opportunity.In Miss Marble's life, there are many words used to describe what Yi Shu lacks: "not attractive enough to men", "not sexy", "lack of seductive eyes".In fact, she has soft hair, delicate skin, brown eyes, a good figure, and a pleasant smile. Unfortunately, she lacks the charm that men would turn back when they see them on the street. "She should remarry," said Miss Marple softly. "Well, she would be a good wife." Esther Walders came up to them, and Mr. Raffles said with a little affectation: "You're here at last! What are you up to?" "Everyone seems to be sending telegrams this morning," Yi Shu said, "Besides, there are people checking out of the room—" "What? Are you leaving? Just because of a murder?" "I suppose so. Poor Tim Kendall dying of anxiety." "How can it be his fault. The young couple are really unlucky." "I know. I think it is not easy for them to take over and run this restaurant. They have been worried that it will not work well, but in fact, they have done a good job." "Well, that's a good job indeed," agreed Mr. Raifel. "He's very capable and hardworking. And she's a nice girl--and pretty too. The couple work hard like niggers. Of course, niggers don't work hard here. I saw a black person, pruned Coconut trees can earn a breakfast, and then go back to sleep, and sleep for the whole day. Life is very pleasant." "We're talking about a murder here," he added. Esther Walders looked a little surprised.She turned to Miss Marple. "I misunderstood her," said Mr. Rifle, with his usual frankness. "I have never liked old ladies. There is endless knitting and endless gossip, but this old lady is different. She You have eyes and ears, and you use them to your advantage." Esther Walders looked at Miss Marple apologetically, but Miss Marple didn't seem to mind. "He's flattering you, you know that." Yi Shu explained for him. "I know very well," said Miss Marple, "and I know that Mr. Rifle is privileged, or at least he thinks so." "What do you mean—privilege?" asked Mr. Rifle. "Be polite when you think about it," said Miss Marple. "Am I being impolite?" Mr. Raifel asked in surprise, "Please forgive me for the offense." "You didn't offend me," said Miss Marple. "I'm very tolerant." "Stop being sarcastic. Yishu, bring a chair. Maybe you can give us some advice." Yi Shu went to the balcony of the wooden house and brought a canvas chair over. "We went on," said Mr. Rifle. "We began with dead old Balgrave, and his endless stories." "Oh, God," Yi Shu said, "When I saw him, I hid as soon as I could." "Miss Marple is much more patient than you." Mr. Raifel said, "Let me ask you, Yishu, has he ever told you a story about a murderer?" "Oh, yes," Yi Shu said, "Several times." "What did he say? Think about it." "This—" Yi Shu stopped and thought about it. "The trouble is," she said apologetically, "I didn't pay much attention to him. Because it was like that annoying thing he used to say about a lion in Rhodesia. It was tiresome and long, and as time went by, I'd Stop listening." "Then tell me what you remember." "I think it started with a murder case in the newspapers, and Major Balgrave said he had an experience that was not common to ordinary people. He said he would meet a murderer face to face." "Meet?" Raifel exclaimed, "Did he really use the word 'meet'?" Yi Shu was a little confused by the question. "I suppose so," she said hesitantly. "Or he just said, 'I can point you to a murderer.'" "Which one is it? They are different." "I'm not sure either. I think he said he was going to show me a picture." "That's about the same." "Later, he talked a lot about the case of the bathroom corpse." "Don't talk about that case, we all know about it." "He mentioned the person who poisoned him, and also said that the gorgeous corpse was originally beautiful with red hair. He said that there are probably more women who poisoned people in the world than everyone knows." "That seems quite probable to me," said Miss Marple. "He also said poison was a woman's weapon." "It seems to be a bit off topic," said Mr. Rifle. "Of course, he said that the story always digressed. People who listened didn't listen, and just responded with 'Yeah', 'Really?' or 'How could it be?'" "He said he would give What picture are you looking at?" "I don't remember. Maybe I saw it in the paper." "Did he not show you that photograph of his life?" "Life photo? No." She shook her head and said, "It's not a life photo, I know that. He said it was a very beautiful woman, and she definitely didn't look like a murderer." "female?" "Look here," cried Miss Marple, too. "It's getting more and more confused." "Is he talking about a woman?" asked Mr. Riffel. "Yes." "That photograph is of a woman?" "Yes." "how could be?" "But it's true," Yi Shu insisted, "He said: 'She's on this island. I'll show you, and then I'll tell you the whole story.'" Mr. Raifel cursed One sentence.His remarks on the dead Major Balgrave were unassuming. "It seems to me," said Mr. Ryfell, "that there's probably not a single thing he says that's true!" "I'm a little suspicious, too," murmured Miss Marple. "So," said Mr. Rifle, "this old fool starts telling stories about hunting when he sees people. Stucking wild boars, shooting tigers, hunting elephants, and other things like lion's mouth, one of them. Two may be true, several are just made up, and the rest are other people's experiences! Then he started talking about murder, one thread after another. That's not enough, he's right It's as if I experienced it myself. In fact, nine out of ten are all picked up from TV or newspapers." He expressed dissatisfaction and said to Yi Shu: "You admit that you didn't listen carefully, you may have misheard what he said at all." "I bet he's talking about a woman," Yi Shu said stubbornly, "because, of course, I had in mind who that woman would be." "Who do you think it is?" asked Miss Marple. Yi Shu's cheeks were flushed, and she looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, I didn't actually—I mean, I hate to say—" Miss Marple didn't insist any more.She felt that, with Mr. Lai Fell present, it would be very difficult for her to ask Esther Walders what doubts she had in her heart.This can only be done when two women are whispering in private.Of course, Esther Walders could be lying too.Miss Marple naturally didn't say it clearly, she only kept this possibility in her heart, but she wouldn't believe it.First, she didn't think Esther Walders was supposed to be a liar (although that was hard to say), and besides, she didn't see the need for lying. "But you said," Mr. Rifle pointed his arrow at Miss Marple, "that he told you a story about a murderer, and that he wanted to show you a picture of that man." "Yeah, I think so." "You think so? You were quite sure at first!" Miss Marple retorted without fear: "Repeating someone else's conversation verbatim is never easy. It is always easy for people to assume that what others say means that.Then when speaking to other people, I chose the words that I thought were correct.Yes, Balgrave told the story to me.He said the person who told him about it was a doctor and showed him a picture of the murderer; but, if I'm being honest, I'll admit that what he actually said to me was, 'Would you like to see a A picture of the murderer? 'Of course I think he meant the murderer he said.But we have to admit; it is possible—although it is a small possibility, after all, only— An association in his mind caused him to confuse a photograph he had shown people in the past with a recent photograph taken here of what he believed to be the murderer. " "Woman!" Mr. Laifell sniffed his nostrils again in extreme anger: "It's all the same, including you two, it's the same! Never sure. Never sure about anything. Now," he said angrily Say, "What are we going to do? Is it Evelyn Shillingden, or is Greg's wife lucky? This whole thing is a mess." With a slightly apologetic cough, Arthur Jaxon was standing beside Mr. Raifel.He appeared so quietly that no one noticed him. "Sir, it's time for your massage," he said. Mr. Riffel immediately became angry. "What do you mean by sneaking over here so frightened me half to death? I didn't even hear you coming over." "I'm very sorry, sir." "I don't want to massage today, it's useless anyway." "Oh, sir, don't say that," Jaxon said with a smile on his face as a standard servant, "If you delay, you will soon feel something is wrong." He carefully pushed the wheelchair away. Miss Marble stood up, smiled at Yi Shu and walked towards the beach.