Chapter 24 Chapter Twenty-Four

Their eyes stared at him. "You didn't expect that, did you?" Resderick said angrily, "You're wrong. That girl doesn't even know what she's done. She's innocent—completely innocent, and she can't be held responsible for what she didn't even know she did." responsibility." "Just let me talk for a while, I know what I'm talking about. You know. The girl is sane and responsible for her actions. Wait a minute, we'll invite her in and explain it to herself. She's the only one who hasn't gotten Chance to say a few words for herself? Yes, they're still here watching her at the moment - locked up in her bedroom with a policewoman. But before we ask her a few questions, I have Some words, everyone present may wish to listen first."

"When that girl came to my clinic, she had already taken so many drugs!" "He ate it!" cried Resderick. "That perverted, hopeless boy." "It was indeed induced by him, it's no problem." "Thank goodness," said Resderick, "thank goodness." "Why should you thank God?" "I misunderstood you. You kept insisting that she was sane. I thought you were sending her to a tiger's mouth. I misread you. It was the drugs that made her do what she wanted. She didn't even know she had done what she wasn't allowed to do."

Sterling Fried raised his throat and said: "If you can say a few words, don't think you know everything. Listen to me. Maybe we can all understand better. First of all, she is not addicted to drugs, she has no pinholes, she does not smoke white flour Son. Someone, maybe that kid, maybe someone else, put her on drugs without her knowing, not one or two purple hearts that are fashionable these days, but a potpourri of psychedelic Drugs make people have endless dreams-there are bad dreams and good dreams. Marijuana messes up a person's sense of time, so she may perceive an experience of only a few minutes as something that lasted an hour.In addition, there are several different kinds of strange medicines. I don't want you to know that there is a person who is very experienced in medicines and once took her to the sky.Stimulants and tranquilizers were also used to control her, causing her to see herself as someone else entirely. "

Resderick interjected, "I mean, I'm saying Norma is not responsible! Someone hypnotized her to do these things." "You still don't get my point! No one can make this girl do what she doesn't want to do, but they can make her do it. Well, let's bring her in now and let her see for herself what she's been through. What's going on." He glanced at Sergeant Neil requestingly, and the other party nodded. As he walked out of the living room, Stelling Freed leaned over to Croier and asked, "Where did you put the other girl? The one you brought over from Jacobos and sedated her?In her room or on her bed?Better shake her awake too, and try to drag her here too.Brainstorming is always needed. "

Claudia also walked out of the living room. Stelling Fried pushed and helped Norma in, still encouraging her in a rough voice. "That's a good boy... Nobody's going to bite you. Sit down." She sat down obediently.Seeing her obedient look still makes one's heart palpitate. The policewoman hovered at the door with an annoyed look on her face. "As long as you tell the truth, I will never be as difficult as you think." Claudia came in with Frances Jali.Frances yawned big.Her dark hair fell like a veil over her face, half covering her yawning mouth. "You need a sobriety," Sterling Fried told her.

"I hope you can all let me go to bed," Frances murmured indistinctly. "Nobody's going to sleep until I've finished cross-examining one by one! Well, Norma, you answer my question now—the woman in the hallway said you admitted to her that you killed David Baker. right?" Her gentle voice replied: "Yes. I killed David." "Stabbed with a knife?" "yes." "How did you know you stabbed him?" With a puzzled look on her face, she said, "I don't understand you. He's lying on the floor—dead." "Where is the knife?"

"I picked it up." "Is there blood on it?" "Yes, and on his shirt." "What does it feel like—blood on that knife? Blood you got on your hands to wash off—wet? Or like strawberry jam?" "Like strawberry jam—sticky." She shuddered. "I have to wash it off." "Very sensible. Then, everything will be in order. The victim, the murderer—you—and the murder weapon are just as good. Do you remember that you really did it?" "No...that, I don't remember...but I must have done it, didn't I?" "Don't ask me? I wasn't there, you said so. But there was a life before that, no?

The earlier murder. " "You mean—Louis?" "Yes, I mean Louise... When did you first try to kill her?" "Many years ago. Oh, many years ago." "When you were young?" "yes." "It's been a long wait, isn't it?" "I have long forgotten." "Until you saw her again and recognized her?" "yes." "You hated her when you were little. Why?" "Because she took my father, my father away." "It makes your mother very unhappy, doesn't it?" "My mother hated Louise. She said Louise was a terrible woman."

"She must have been telling you about her often?" "Yes. I wish she hadn't... I don't want to keep listening to her." "It's boring—I know. Hate is a very uncreative thing to do. When you see her again, do you really want to kill her?" Norma seemed to be thinking about it, and there was a look of fascination on her face. "I didn't, really, you know...it seems like a long time ago. I can't imagine myself—so—" "Why don't you dare say you killed her?" "Yes. I have so many strange thoughts in my head, and I know that I didn't kill her at all. I think it's all a dream. I think maybe she really jumped out of the window to die."

"So what's wrong with that?" "Because I know I did it—I said I did it." "You said you did it? To whom?" Norma shook her head. "I can't say...is a kind person who wants to help me. She said she would pretend she didn't know anything." She kept talking, words coming fast and furiously: "I was at Louise's door Outside, outside door seventy-six, I just came out. I think I was sleepwalking. They—she—said something happened. Under the patio. She told me over and over, that it was okay, No one would ever know--I don't remember what I did then--but I had something in my hand--"

"Stuff? What stuff? You mean? Blood?" "No, not blood—a torn curtain or something. When I pushed her down." "You remember you pushed her off, didn't you?" "No, no. That's the most annoying part. I don't remember anything, so I'm looking forward to it, so I'm looking for—" She turned her head to Poirot: "He—" She turned back to Stanley Freed and said: "I never remember what I did, not at all. But I was getting more and more afraid. Because there was a big blank - hours of blank - I had no memory, no memory of myself Where or what, but I found many things - must have been hidden by myself. Mary was poisoned by me, they found her poisoned in the hospital. I found in the drawer I got my weed killer stash, I found a switchblade here at the apartment, and I have a revolver I don't even remember buying! I did kill people, but I don't remember killing them. So I'm not really A murderer--I, I'm just--crazy! That's finally clear to me. I'm crazy, I can't control myself.If a person is crazy, he should not be blamed for what he did.That I should come here and kill David too, proves I'm crazy, doesn't it? " "You like to be crazy, don't you?" "I—I think so." "If so, why did you confess to anyone that you pushed a woman out of a window to die? Who did you tell it to?" Norma turned her head away hesitantly.Then he raised his hand and said: "I told Claudia." "There is absolutely no such thing." Claudia looked at her and reprimanded, "You never told me such a thing!" "I said it, I said it." "When? Where?" "I—I don't know." "She told me she confessed everything to you," Frances said vaguely. "Frankly, I thought she was hysterical, and she made up everything by herself?" Stanley Freed looked towards Poirot. "It's possible she made it up herself," he said, as if refereeing. "It's going to take a lot of work to solve the problem. But if that's the case, we'll have to find motives, an impetus." Her strong motives for planning to kill these two. Lois Chavente and David Baker. A childish hatred? Something that passed years ago? How is this possible!And David - just to 'get rid of him'?This girl will never kill him for this!We're going to find a more tenable motive than this.An astonishing sum of money—yes! --greedy! " He looked at everyone, then changed his tone to a normal voice and said: "We still need a little help. There's one more person who isn't here. Your wife has kept us waiting, Mr. Resderick?" "I can't figure out where Marie is? I called and Claudia left messages wherever we could think of. She should at least have a call by now." "Perhaps we are all mistaken," said Hercule Poirot. "Perhaps Madame is at least partly here, after all." "What are you talking about?" Resderick growled angrily. "May I trouble you, dear lady?" Poirot leaned his body towards Mrs. Oliver, who stared at him sternly. "The bag I gave you for safekeeping—" "Oh." Mrs. Oliver felt in her big bag.She handed him the black clip. He heard someone next to him take a deep breath, but he didn't turn his head away. He gently shook off the paper in the bag, and then lifted it - a fluffy blond wig. "Mrs. Resderick isn't here," he said, "but her wig is here, which is interesting." "Where did you get it, Poirot?" Neal asked him. "Found it in Miss Frances Jally's traveling bag, which she hasn't had a chance to open yet. Would you like to see how she looks in it?" With one stride, he deftly pushed aside the black hair that had been carefully covered on Frances's face, making her unable to defend herself, and then put a golden hair crown on her head, and she stared at him coldly. Mrs. Oliver exclaimed: "My God—it's Mary Resderick." Frances writhed like an enraged poisonous snake. Rastaley jumped up to meet her - but was grabbed by Neil. "No, we can't make you rough. When the scene is over, you should know, Mr. Restarick—perhaps I should call you Rob Orwell—" A lot of swear words came out of the man's mouth.Frances raised her voice and cursed sharply: "Shut up, you idiot!" Poirot laid down his prize, the wig.He walked up to Norma and gently took her hand in his own. "Your suffering is over, child. Victims are not sacrificed. You are not mad and you did not kill anyone. You have been conspired by two cruel and heartless scum, who used drugs and lies to force you to commit suicide or confess your crime and madness. " Norma stared in horror at the other conspirator. "My father. My father? How could he think of doing this to me, his daughter. My father loved me—" "Not your father, my dear boy—he was just a man who came here after your father's death, and pretended to be him to seize a great fortune. There was only one man who could have known him—that is, whether he was Andrew Resderick, who was Andrew Resderick's mistress fifteen years ago."