Chapter 22 careless

The life of a plainclothes police officer is not all about the excitement of car chases, heroes saving the beauty, and going into the tiger's den alone. Most of the work is very low-level and boring.What Larson often does is go door-to-door searching for shoes that match crime scene footprints, and then pass the owner back to the police station for questioning. Today, he spent most of the day looking for the person who might have killed Kelly the day before yesterday.The prime suspect was a red-faced man with mange.This man named Mellock was Kelly's boyfriend. If he confessed, the case could be closed. However, many people testified for him, saying that he was in a meeting several miles away when the crime happened.

It seems that this case cannot be settled in a day or two.Larson stopped at the Kennedy Motel on his way home from get off work to his bachelor dormitory.The cocktail lounge here is his favorite place. This cocktail lounge is actually nothing out of the ordinary, except that Jack the bartender is Larson's middle school classmate. Jack is very understanding. When you want to chat, he will talk about the old days; if you are in a bad mood, he will just concentrate on scrubbing the goblet.As soon as Larson sat down, Jack poured him the wine he was used to drinking. Larson noticed that a short gentleman with a small beard was sitting next to him, drinking a pink cocktail, and a guest next to him was also drinking the same wine.

It was very quiet in the hotel.By the time Larson had his second drink, he and Jack were chatting about their middle school pranks, and the two were laughing. "Wow--" Someone smashed the wine bottle at one end of the bar.People rushed to salvage all kinds of food and receipts, and Jack rushed back to wipe the bar. "Careless!" muttered the little gentleman, his mustache bobbing up and down.Larson looked at him again, square forehead, slightly pointed chin, thinning hair, blue eyes, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. "There are too many careless people right now." The gentleman said emphatically, "If people were more careful, there wouldn't be so many careless things happening. In my opinion, there are too many careless people in this city." many.

Somehow, it sucks, it sucks that Larson is so outspoken about where he was born, it makes him uncomfortable.Larson turned around and asked for an explanation.Both sides introduced themselves.This little man was from Philadelphia, and his name was George Ford. "I'm doing poll work in a market research firm in Philadelphia, and I'm here this week to do market research for a brand-name detergent company. As for the brand of detergent," he lowered his voice and looked around: "Please forgive me for not revealing " "I can understand," Larson said, "but what does that have to do with carelessness?"

Mr. Ford swallowed the pink wine. "In the past two days, I've had two serious accidents-really, very serious-caused by human carelessness. Two afternoons ago, after my interview, I was walking downtown, Saw a construction site, you know the place I'm talking about?" Larson nodded.There was only one place in the city where there was a lot of construction going on, and foundations were being dug right now, with big trucks hauling dirt back and forth. "Just as a truck full of dirt was coming down the driveway," continued Mr. Ford, "all of a sudden I fell on the driveway, right in front of the truck!" "Did you slip?"

"No, I didn't slip, it was a crowd, someone pushed me and I fell down the steps. I heard women screaming, and someone grabbed me by the collar of my coat and dragged me aside.Otherwise, I would be a puddle of mud by now. "He shuddered and took another sip of his drink." The truck driver was terrified, and so was the foreman.They kept asking me if I needed to go to the hospital, and they also transcribed the names of several witnesses.I told them I wasn't hurt and I wasn't going to sue them. " "Well, it's really dangerous." Larson said, "but that doesn't mean that many people in this city are careless." "And yesterday!" Ford took another sip of the pink Wine, "Yesterday I went back to the hotel early, and it was only about three o'clock in the afternoon. I sat at the desk and sorted out the materials. I didn't know how long I sat there, and suddenly I heard the sound of glass breaking, and something hit the wall next to my head. It was a bullet."

"A bullet? Are you sure?" "I wasn't sure at the time," admits Ford. "I immediately called downstairs and complained to the manager. The manager lazily came up to check. Then he got nervous and called the police. The police came and said it was a bullet.Because the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows has been smashed, it is impossible to tell whether the bullet came from the courtyard or the apartment on the opposite side.Later, they concluded that someone had misfired while playing with a rifle.careless! " Larson was about to defend himself when the other person sitting next to Mr. Ford—who also drank a glass of pink drink, but kept silent, as if preoccupied—suddenly groaned and held his hands on his chest. , sat down on the ground.

There was a dead silence, followed by a commotion.People jumped up, mostly backing away, and Jack jumped off the bar.Larson quickly took two steps, recalling the first aid steps for a heart attack in his mind.Larson pushed away a person who wanted to help and was taking the patient's pulse. He had no time to think about how that person could take the pulse of a person wearing gloves. "Hey," said Jack, "this guy ordered a drink, and there's no way he's going to get drunk." "He's not drunk," Larson said without looking up. "Jack, you'd better call an ambulance. But I don't think it's going to help. He's dead. The next night, George Ford came to the Kennedys again." Hall. When Larson walked in, Ford greeted him warmly, as if the two had been friends for many years.

"Good evening, Mr. Larson, how about sitting together?" "Of course, Mr. Ford." The waitress took down the drinks they wanted. "You don't look like a cop at all," said Ford.Larson was used to this sentence.Most people always mean "you are not competent" when they say this, but today Mr. Ford is appreciative. "Plainclothes cops just want to give people the impression they're not cops," Larson replied. "In most cases, the less I look like a cop, the easier it is." "" Your conversation is not like that either. "

"I know." Larson sighed. "My boss said the same thing. He said I looked like a graduate student in literature. How is your work today at Poisson Street?" Mr. Ford blinked in surprise, "How do you know I'm investigating on Poisson Avenue?" "You see, you didn't see me, did you? That's what a plainclothes cop is supposed to do. I'm working on a murder case—perhaps you've seen it in the papers." Ford shook his head. "I seldom read the local paper when I travel for work. Too many ads." "Oh," Larson said, "I saw you coming out of an apartment down the street, and you're still doing research for that detergent company?" Ford nodded. "I still have half a day to work, and then I'm going back to Philadelphia."

"I hope you haven't had one of those careless accidents today." "No, no," he said, "you reminded me, what happened to the guest who had a heart attack last night?" "Not a heart attack." "Not a heart attack?" "The coroner said he was poisoned." Ford's eyes were wide behind the glasses. "My God, did he commit suicide?" "It's still hard to say. We are investigating, but the deceased has a withdrawn personality and rarely socializes, so it is difficult to find clues. He has not registered in this hotel either. Obviously, he just happened to come in for a drink or two." After a brief pause, Ford sighed. "Your life must be exciting and intense." "The hero saves the beauty, chases the murderer in a speeding car, and breaks into the tiger's den alone," Larson said lightly.Seeing Ford's envious look, he quickly added, "I'm joking. In fact, the work is quite rigid and boring. Any profession is similar. You will encounter some novel things at work, won't you?" "Sometimes. Mr. Ford's eyes twinkle." In polls, for example, I often get unexpected responses.A man once told me that when the packaging of his favorite coffee was changed, he stopped drinking it.Once when I was doing a TV survey, I walked into a house and found that there was only a little pug watching TV, and it was watching a film about environmental protection. " "Once I went to visit a friend named Rhett Brad, who was practicing yoga with a young woman. As a result, the young woman did an upside-down dragonfly for a class without any clothes on. Rhett Brad retired soon after. said Ford darkly. "He declares that there is no further world to conquer." "When you were interviewing, did anyone refuse to answer questions? We often encounter people who refuse to answer questions in our business." "Quite the opposite. My constant headache is not how to get them to talk, but how to get them to shut up. Some people don't shut up once they start talking, and there are times when they seem desperate for someone to talk to. The day before, I I rang the doorbell of a house and found that someone was arguing inside. A woman opened the door, and I only asked her four or five questions. Her husband pulled her away desperately, and then closed the door, "You should ask her too A few questions from the husband, if both of them answer the questions, maybe they will forget about the quarrel." "I didn't see the husband himself, he was behind the door, I just saw a hand pulling her away and closing the door. Now think about it, that hand is wearing a glove. ""and then? " Ford shrugged, "I tried all the neighbors around, but there was no one. Later, I estimated that it was almost time, so I walked around the city for a while. At that time, I was pushed down and almost crushed to death .” Larson and Ford talked very speculatively. They had dinner together, and each described the difficulties and risks encountered in the work. After dinner, the two returned to Ford's new room -- the original room to repair the floor-to-ceiling windows -- to chat.Ford took out the questionnaire and told Larson how to organize and analyze it.Then, Larson took Ford to visit the police station. The facilities in the police station opened Ford's eyes.The two returned to the hotel together, drank two glasses together, and parted happily.Larson lives in the hotel. Three o'clock in the morning.There was a slight click on the door of Larson's room, and then a tall figure crept into the room. The person who came holding a knife about one foot fiercely directed at a sleeping person on the bed, and slammed Prick a few times. Larson flashed out of the bathroom, turned on the light, and the man was still stabbing. "That's enough, Mr. Mellock. You're under arrest for Kelly's murder, and if you drop your knife I'll read you your citizenship rights." The visitor fainted all of a sudden.He was Kelly's boyfriend—the one with the many alibi's. "How did you suspect me?" Merlock asked Larson as the two drove to the police station together. "I think it may be because of your excessive care, Mr. Mellock," Larson replied. "The first time Ford almost died under the wheel, which can be explained as an accident; the second time he was almost hit by a misfired bullet. It must be suspected; but the third time he killed the person who sat at the same bar and drank the same drink as him, the matter could not be more obvious. Someone knocked over the bottle, distracted everyone, and took the opportunity to poison. Just the wrong cup. I had to think. Someone was going to kill Mr. Ford. But I couldn't think of a motive, because he was not from this city and he was leaving the city soon. So, I decided to follow him, just Followed him closely, and found that you were following him too!" "At first, I didn't suspect you. Later, he told me that he saw a man and a woman quarreling, and the man wore a special glove. When you first investigated Kelly's murder, you told me , you wear gloves to protect and cover up the psoriasis on your hands. You have to kill Mr. Ford before he remembers the strange phenomenon of a man wearing gloves while arguing with his wife at home. Merlock nodded. "I just don't understand why Mr. Ford didn't come to you right away after reading the newspaper." "You don't know that Mr. Ford doesn't read the local papers when he travels, so he doesn't know anything about the murders. If you don't want to kill him, you can't be in trouble. Kelly is just a name in his interview data. Last night, he showed me the information, and I found Kelly's name, and I realized why someone wanted to kill him over and over again. I was with him all night and took him to the police station just to prevent another attack.Moreover, you would think that he would provide information to the police, and you would kill him to silence him tonight.I secretly asked the manager to change Mr. Ford's room, and I lived in this room myself.I piled up a human form with several pillows and covered it with a blanket. " "I see." Merlock smiled wryly. Due to poor rest, Larson slept all morning.In the afternoon, I went to the restaurant to eat sandwiches and drink coffee.Mr. Ford spotted him and greeted him warmly. "I saw you in the paper!" said Ford. "Although I never read a newspaper, I have to make an exception when my friend's picture is published on the first page. The paper says you have solved the murder under investigation." case." "In fact, I solved two cases," Larson corrected. "A man who strangled his girlfriend and accidentally poisoned a stranger to silence him." Mr. Ford's eyes widened in admiration. "And you're saying plainclothes cops have a boring job? He took a sip of the pink sprinkle." I'm almost done.After visiting a few more in the afternoon, I will leave by plane at 4:35.I surveyed so many people this time, it was really eye-opening and rewarding.By the way, I almost forgot to tell you that I had another accident this morning.The brakes of my rental car failed and luckily crashed into a haystack.The people in this city are really careless..."