Chapter 3 Chapter two

(one) Mrs. Garotti flung open the door as usual.She didn't seem to be answering the door, but rather declared triumphantly, "This time, I finally got you!" "Okay. What do you want?" she asked defiantly. Standing at the door was a very unremarkable boy--neither noticeable nor easy to remember, since he was like most boys.The boy sniffled because he had a cold. "Is this the priest's house?" "You want Father Goldman?" "Someone is looking for him," said the boy. "Who is looking for him? Where is it? What's the matter?"

"There's a woman dying at 23 Bentha Street, and Mrs. Coppins sent me to Father Gorman. This is a Catholic place, isn't it? The woman says the priest can't do it." After Mrs. Garotti assured him that he was right, she told him to wait at the door and walked in by herself.About three minutes later, an elderly tall priest came out with a small wallet. "I'm Father Goldman," he said. "You mean Bentja Street? Is it near the railway station?" "Yes, very close." They walked together. "C—you mean Mrs. Coppins, don't you?"

"She's the landlord and rents the house to other people. It's her tenant who wants to see you. It's Davis, I think." "Davis? I can't remember—" "She was taught by one of yours, I mean Catholic. She said priests can't do it." The priest nodded, and after a while, he arrived at Bentja Street.The boy pointed to one of the tall dirty houses in a row. "That's the one." "Aren't you going?" "I don't live there, and Mrs Coppins gave me a shilling to send you a message." "I see. What's your name?"

"Mike Bart." "Thank you, Mike." "You're welcome." Mike whistled and walked away. Others were about to die, but it didn't affect him. The door of No. 23 opened, and a tall, red-faced woman, who must have been Mrs. Coppins, stood in the doorway to greet the visitor eagerly. "Come in, come in, she's very ill and should go to the hospital. I've called the hospital, but no one knows when anyone else will come these days. When my brother-in-law fell and broke his leg, he Waited for six full hours. Let me tell you, it’s shameful! Medical services, God knows! Take away people’s money, and when they are needed, they can’t be found!”

As she spoke, she led the priest up the narrow stairs. "What's up with her?" "It was just the flu, and she looked better, but she went out too soon. Anyway, when she came back last night, she looked like she was dying, and she was in bed, refusing to eat or eat anything. See a doctor. I found out this morning that she had a severe fever and had infected her lungs." "pneumonia?" Mrs. Coppins, who was now out of breath, gave a sound like a siren in agreement with the priest.She pushed open a door, stood aside and let the priest in: "The priest came to see you, 'now' you are fine!" and left.

Father Goldman stepped forward. The rooms are furnished with old Victorian furniture and are clean and crisp.On the bed by the window, lay a woman, turning her head weakly.The priest could tell at a glance that she was seriously ill. "You're here... time is running out..." she gasped, "...evil...too evil...I must...I must...I can't die like this...repent...repent ...my...sin...too heavy...too heavy..." She half-closed her eyes helplessly... At the same time, a series of loose and monotonous words came out of his mouth... Father Goldman walked to the bedside, and as usual, slowly read out authoritative words that could express his beliefs. Peace and tranquility returned to the room, and there was no more pain in the suffering eyes.

Then, when the priest had done his duty, the dying woman said: "Stop...you must find a way to stop...you will..." The priest assured her in a positive tone: "I will do what I have to do. Trust me." A moment later, the doctor and the ambulance arrived at the same time, and Mrs. Coppins said in a tone of dejected triumph: "It's too late again! She's gone." (two) Father Goldman walked back in the twilight.It's been foggy tonight, and it's getting thicker now.He stopped, frowning.What a strange story, how much of it was she dreaming up when she was insane and feverish?Of course, some of it is true—but how much of it is true?In any case, he must write down those names while he still can remember, and he will have to call the San Franciso Guild when he gets home later. Thinking of this, he walked quickly into a small coffee shop and ordered a cup of coffee. ,sit down.He felt in the pocket of his vestment, oh, this Mrs. Garroty!He had already told her to mend the pockets, but she still didn't sew them!The notebooks, pencils, and some change he had with him all fell into the lining.The priest fumbled out some small change and a pencil, but the little notebook was really hard to handle.

The waiter brought the coffee, and the priest asked him if he would give him a piece of paper. "Is this okay?" It was a torn paper bag. The priest nodded, took it, and began to write on one side.They were names—these names must not be forgotten, he was the worst at remembering names. The door of the café opened and three boys in Edwardian costumes entered noisily. After writing down all the things that should be remembered, Father Goldman folded the paper and was about to stuff it into his pocket, but he remembered that the pocket was torn, so he had to follow the old method and stuff the paper into his shoe.

Another person came in without saying a word and sat far away in another corner. Father Gorman took a sip or two of coffee casually out of politeness, paid the bill, got up and left. The man who had just entered seemed to have changed his mind, looked at his watch, and seemed to realize that he had mistaken the time just now, and also got up and hurried out. The fog was already thick, and the priest quickened his pace and walked on the way home.Knowing his parish well, he took a short cut by the railway station.Maybe he once felt footsteps behind him, but he didn't pay attention to it, why bother?

A stick knocked him unconscious, and he stepped forward, falling to the ground. (three) Dr. Corrigan walked into the inspector's office while whistling, and straight to the point said to Inspector Li Jun: "I've already done it for you." "what's the result?" "Let's not talk about the terminology of the autopsy. Anyway, he was severely beaten with a stick. Maybe the first blow killed him, but the murderer still didn't stop. It's really vicious!" "Yes." Li Jun said. He was a stocky man, dark-haired, gray-eyed, and silent in appearance, but often making funny gestures that suggested his French roots.He said thoughtfully: "It's more vicious than a robber, isn't it?"

"Is it a robbery?" asked the doctor. "From the outside it appears that the pockets were turned out and the lining of the cassock was torn." "What the hell do robbers hope to get?" Corrigan said. "These priests are all as poor as mice." Li Jun pondered: "I knocked his head off, I really don't know why?" "There are two possibilities," Corrigan said. "First, it was done by a young man with evil intentions, for no other reason than violence. There are such young people everywhere these days." "What about another possibility?" The doctor shrugged. "Some people hate Father Goldman, is it possible?" Li Jun shook his head. "Very unlikely, he's a beloved man, everyone here likes him. As far as I know, he doesn't have any enemies. And it can't be robbery, unless—" "Unless what?" Corrigan asked. "The police have found a clue, haven't they?" "There was one thing that was not taken from him, honestly, because it was hidden in his shoe." Corrigan whistled. "Sounds like a detective story." Li Jun smiled slightly. "It's not that complicated, it's just that he's got a torn pocket. Officer Paine spoke to his housekeeper, and she seemed a bit sloppy and didn't mend his clothes properly. She also admitted that Father Gorman occasionally stuffed paper or letters in the shoes so that it does not fall into the lining of the cassock." "The murderer doesn't know?" "The murderer didn't think of it at all! What he wanted might be that piece of paper, not a little change." "What is that piece of paper for?" Li Jun took out a piece of paper from the drawer. "Just a few names," he said. Corrigan took it curiously. O'Mara Sandford Parkinson Hedges - Dubo Xiao Hamenswah Tuckerton Corrigan? De La Fontaine? The doctor raised his eyebrows. "I found my name on it too?" "Do these names have any special meaning to you?" asked the inspector. "Not at all." "You've never seen Father Goldman either?" "No." "Then you can't help us." "Do you know the significance of this list?" Li Jun did not answer directly. "At about seven o'clock in the evening, a boy came to Father Goldman's house and said that a woman was dying and wanted to see the priest, so the priest went with him." "Where are you going? Do you know?" "Yes, it was soon found out. 23 Benhart Street. The landlady's name is Coppins. The sick woman is Mrs. Davies. The priest arrived at a quarter past seven and stayed in her room for about half an hour. Hours. Mrs. Davis had just died when the ambulance arrived." "I understand." "We know that Father Goldman then went to a little coffee shop called 'Tony's House.' Apparently he fumbled in his pocket and couldn't find what he wanted, so he asked the shopkeeper for a piece of paper," he gestured, and said, "This is it." "and after?" "When Tony brought the coffee to the priest, he was writing on a piece of paper. After a while, he was gone, the coffee barely touched (I don't blame him for that), and probably finished the list and stuffed it in his shoe. " "Is there no one in the store?" "There were three sleazy boys sitting together, and then an older guy came in and sat at a table by himself, but left without ordering anything." "Following the priest?" "Probably, Tony didn't pay attention to when he left or what he looked like. He just said that he was an unremarkable man who looked like ordinary people. He thought the man was about medium height and wore a suit. Dark blue coat—maybe coffee color. Not very dark, not particularly good looking. Can't really see any reason to think he had anything to do with the case. Who knows? He didn't come out and say he saw it at Tony's Father. We are asking anyone who saw the priest between 7:45 and 8:15 that night to contact us. So far, only two people have come forward, a woman and a drugstore nearby Apothecaries, I'm going to talk to them right away. The priest's body was found by two little boys at a quarter past eight on West Street—do you know that street? It's actually just a small alley leading to the train station at one end. The rest—you know it all." Corrigan nodded, then pointed to the piece of paper. "How do you feel about this?" "It's very important." Li Jun said. "The woman told him something before she died, and he wrote down the names as soon as possible, so as not to forget. The question is-if the woman asked him to keep it secret when she confessed, would he still do it?" "There is no need to keep it secret," Li Jun said. "For example, if these names are involved—blackmail." "That's what you think, isn't it?" "I don't have any prejudices yet. It's just an assumption. These people are being blackmailed. The sick woman is either the blackmailer or knows. I think her purpose is nothing more than repentance, hoping to make amends as much as possible." , so Father Goldman took over the responsibility." "and then?" "What I'm talking about is hypothetical," Li Jun said. "Maybe everyone on this list has to pay, but some people don't want these people to stop paying. Some people know that Mrs. Davis is dying, and they found the priest Go, then there will be no doubt about the next thing." "I was thinking," Corrigan looked at the paper again, and said, "I don't know why there is a question mark after the last two names?" "Maybe Father Goldman doesn't know if he remembers correctly." "Maybe it's not Corrigan, but Mao Ligan," the doctor agreed with a smile, "that's quite possible. But I imagine a name like De La Fontaine, if I don't remember it, I will remember it very clearly—— You know what I mean. Oddly enough, it doesn't even have an address on it." He checked the list again. "Backinson—it's a very common name; Sandford—not unusual; Hedges-Dubber, that's a bit of a mouthful, probably not many people have that name." Suddenly, he had an idea and leaned over to pick up the phone book on the table. "E and L, I'll see, Hedges, Mrs A... John's & Co., Plumbing Co.... Sir Isidore, alas! Here it is! Hedges-Dubber, female, Ellasmere Square Number forty-nine. How about calling her?" "How should I say it?" "There will be inspiration at that time." Dr. Corrigan said briskly. "Okay." Li Jun said. "What?" Corrigan said, staring at him. "I said yes," Li Jun said gently, "Don't look so surprised." He picked up the receiver and said to the operator, "Get the outside line for me." Then he looked at Ke Ligen and asked: "What's the phone number?" "Grosfano six four five seven eight." Li Jun repeated it to the operator, and then handed the call to Ke Ligan. "Have fun," he said. Corrigan looked at him in confusion as he waited for the call.The phone rang for a while with no answer, and then a woman said out of breath, "Grosfano six four five seven eight." "Is this Mrs. Hedges-Dubeau's house, please?" "It's—it's, yes—I mean—" Dr. Corrigan ignored her hesitation, and continued: "Can I talk to her?" "No, no! Ms. Hedges-Dubeau died in April." "Oh!" Surprised, Dr. Corrigan didn't answer the other party's question, "Who are you?" He just gently put down the microphone. He looked at Inspector Li Jun coldly. "That's why you let me call so easily?" Li Jun smiled maliciously. "We have not yet lost sight of the most obvious facts." "April," said Corrigan thoughtfully, "it's been five months. It's been five months since I can't blackmail her or anything. Didn't she commit suicide?" "No, he died of a brain tumor." "Now we have to start from scratch again." Corrigan said while looking down at the list. Li Jun sighed. "We don't yet know if this list is actually relevant," he said. "Maybe it's just an ordinary murder with a stick in a foggy night—and unless we're lucky, there's no hope of finding the killer. . . . " Dr. Corrigan said, "You don't mind if I keep chasing this list?" "Go ahead and look it up, good luck." "You mean, if you can't find a clue, I'm no better off, are you? Don't get too confident. I'm going to check this Corrigan, Mr., Mrs., or Miss--and check the back What the hell is going on with that big question mark?"