Chapter 24 Chapter Twenty-Four

Ladislas Malinowski looked from one policeman to another and threw back his head and laughed. "That's ridiculous!" he said. "You look as serious as owls. It's ridiculous that you should bring me here to ask me questions. You have nothing against me, nothing." .” "We thought you might be able to help us with our investigation, Mr. Malinowski," said Chief Inspector Davy in a businesslike, even tone. "You have a car, Mercedes-Otto. Registration number is FAN2266." "Is there any reason I can't own such a car?" "No reason at all, sir. It's just that we were a little bit unsure about the correct number plate. Your car was on a motorway - the M7, and it had a different number plate."

"Nonsense. That must be another car." "There aren't many cars of that make. We've checked all other vehicles." "No matter what your traffic cops tell you—I think so, you believe it? Ridiculous! Where did this happen?" "It's not far from Bedhampton where the police stop you and ask to see your licence. It was the night of the Irish Mail robbery." "You guys really amuse me," Ladislas Malinowski said. "You have a revolver?" "Of course, I have a revolver and an automatic. I own them legally." "You're right. Are they still with you?"

"certainly." "I warned you, Mr. Malinowski." "The famous policeman's warning! Anything you say will be recorded and used as evidence against you in court." "Your wording isn't quite right," said Father mildly. "Used, yes. Against, wrong. Don't you want to revise your statement?" "No, I don't want to." "Are you sure you don't want your lawyer here?" "I don't like lawyers." "Some people don't like it. Where are the firearms now?" "I think you know where they are, Mr. Chief Inspector. The little pistol is in the little pocket on the door of my car, the Mercedes-Otto, registration number is--as I said--FAN2266 .The revolver is in a drawer in my apartment."

"You were right about the one in the drawer in your apartment," said "Pop," "but the other one—the pistol—wasn't in your car." "Yes, definitely. In the left-hand pocket." "Father" shook his head. "It may have been there once, but it's not. Is that the one, Mr. Malinowski?" He passed a small automatic across the table.Ladislas Malinowski picked it up in astonishment. "Aha, yes. That's it. So you took it from my car?" "No," said "Pop," "we didn't take it from your car. It wasn't in your car. We found it somewhere else."

"Where did you find it?" "We found it," said Father, "in a place on Bond Street. That street is off Parker Road, as you must know. It may have been taken by a People threw it away." Ladislas Malinowski shrugged. "That has nothing to do with me - I didn't put it there. It was in my car a few days ago. People don't often check to see if an item is still where he put it. He thought it must be Where." "You know, Mr. Malinowski, this is the pistol that was used to kill Michael Gorman on the night of November 26th." "Michael Gorman? I don't know anyone named Michael Gorman."

"The doorman at Bertram's Hotel." "Oh, yes, the one who got shot. I've seen the reports on it. You say my pistol shot him? Bullshit!" "It's not bullshit. Ballistics experts have checked it. You know a lot about weapons and know their evidence is solid." "You want to frame me. I know what you cops do!" "I suppose that's not all you know about the police in this country, Mr. Malinowski." "You mean I killed Michael Gorman?" "So far, we're only looking for statements, no charges have been made."

"But that's what you think - I shot that funny guy dressed like a soldier. Why would I do that? I don't owe him money and I don't have a grudge against him." "The target of the shooting was a young lady. Gorman ran to protect her and blocked the second bullet with his chest." "A young lady?" "I think it's a young lady you know: Miss Elvira Black." "You mean someone tried to shoot Elvira with my pistol?" It sounded unbelievable to him. "Maybe there is a disagreement between you." "You mean I got into an argument with Elvira and then shot her? That's crazy! Why would I shoot a girl I'm going to marry as a wife?"

"Is that part of your statement? You intend to marry Miss Elvira Black?" Ladislas hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and said: "She's still young. It's negotiable." "Perhaps she promised to marry you, and then—she changed her mind. Someone frightened her. Was it you, Mr. Malinowski?" "Why do I want her to die? Either, I fall in love with her and marry her. Or, if I don't want to marry her, I don't need to marry her. It's that simple. Then why should I kill her?" "No one else close to her wanted to kill her." David paused for a moment, and then said, almost casually, "And her mother, of course."

"What!" Malinowski jumped up. "Bess? Bess killed her own daughter? You are crazy! Why did Bess kill Elvira?" "Maybe because, as a close relative, she may inherit a huge fortune." "Bess? You mean Bess would kill for money? She gets a lot of money from her American husband. It's enough to spend anyway." "A lot of money is not exactly the same thing as a lot of money," said Father. "People do kill for a lot of money. Mothers kill their children, and children kill their mothers." .” "I tell you, you're crazy!"

"You said you might marry Miss Black, and perhaps you already married her? If so, it would be you who would inherit a large fortune." "You're getting more and more stupid and absurd! No, I'm not married to Elvira. She's a beautiful girl. I like her, and she's in love with me. Yes, I admit it. I'm in Italy Met her. We've had fun—that's all. Nothing more, you understand?" "Really? Just now, Mr. Malinowski, you said very clearly that she was the girl you intended to marry." "Oh, that." "Yes—that. Is that true?"

"I say that because - it sounds more respectable - you're so rigid in this country..." "That doesn't sound like an explanation to me." "You really don't understand anything. Me and the mother...we were lovers...I didn't mean to say that...I mean me and the daughter...we were engaged. It's more British tradition and appropriate." "Sounds more far-fetched to me. You need the money badly, don't you, Mr. Malinowski?" "My dear Mr. Chief Inspector, I have been short of money. It is very sad." "But a few months ago, I knew you were spending a lot of money." "Ah, I took a lucky little adventure, and I'm a gambler. I admit it." "I think that's easy to believe. Where did you take the 'adventure'?" "I won't tell you that. You must not expect it." "I didn't expect that." "Is that all you want to ask me?" "As it stands, yes. You have identified the pistol as yours. That would be very helpful." "I don't understand...I can't imagine..." He broke off and held out a hand. "Give it to me, please." "Sorry, we have to keep it temporarily, and I'll send you a receipt." He wrote the receipt and handed it to Malinowski. The latter went out and slammed the door hard. "Moody guy," said Father. "You didn't put pressure on him about the fake number plate and the Bedhampton incident?" "No. I want him to be nervous, but not too nervous. We worry about one thing at a time—he's really worried." "The old man wants to see you, sir, as soon as the interrogation is over." Chief Inspector Davy nodded and walked towards Chief Ronald's office. "Ah, Father, any progress?" "Yes. It's going well - there's already a lot of fish in the net. Mostly small fry. But we're getting closer to the big ones. Everything is being arranged..." "Nice job, Fred," said the assistant chief of police.