Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

"You don't seem to like this guy very much," Ted Cullen said after Grant told Ted on the phone the whole story of his visit to Lloyd. "Really? Well, maybe he just wasn't my type. Look, Ted, are you really sure you don't know, in the back of your memory at all, where Bill might be spending the night? " "I don't have a depth of memory. I just have a small cramped space in the front where I can store useful information, like some phone numbers, a prayer or two." "Well, then, tomorrow I want you to visit some obvious places, if you like."

"Oh! Of course. I'll do anything at your beck and call." "Okay, do you have a pen? Now I'll list it for you." Grant gave him the names of about two dozen likely restaurants.He guessed that a young man from wide open spaces and small towns would look for a hotel that was large, comfortable, and inexpensive.Just to be on the safe side, he also added two of the most famous expensive hotels, because young people always like to spend extra money when they have extra money. "I think these few should be enough," he said. "Any other homes?" "If he doesn't stay in any of the hotels we've listed, then we're really clueless. Because if he doesn't stay in one of these places, we'd have to go to every hotel in London to find them, let alone some boarding houses. apartment or something."

"Well, I'll do it early tomorrow morning. Mr. Grant, I want to tell you that I'm so grateful for what you've done for me. You sacrifice your time to do what no one else is willing to do, I mean Say, things the cops don't want to touch. If it wasn't for you—" "Listen, Ted. I'm not doing a good job. I'm a freewheeling and nosy person, and I enjoy it. If it wasn't for that, believe me, I'd never be in London right now, tonight Probably still sleeping in Knu. So, good night, sleep well. Let's talk about it when we meet!" He hung up the phone to see what Mrs. Tinker had left for him on the stove.It looked like a pie, and he carried it into the living room and ate it mindlessly, thinking only of Lloyd.

What was it about Lloyd that felt familiar to him? He thought back to the first few seconds when he had felt that way.What was Lloyd doing then? Lloyd opened the bookcase door with a self-conscious grace, the gesture of a self-promotional type.Did the gestures evoke this familiarity in him? Then there were stranger things. Why does Lloyd ask "Where is it written" when he mentions Kenrick's graffiti on the paper? That's really the most unnatural response. What the hell did he tell Lloyd? He told Lloyd that he was interested in Kenrick because of the lines he doodled.The normal response to this sentence would be "verse?" Because the key word in that sentence is "verse" and it doesn't matter what he's scribbling on.If one's response to this sentence is "Where is it written", it is really puzzling.

Analytical, however, none of the human responses are puzzling. In Grant's experience, the irrelevant, unnoticed words in a statement are the ones that matter the most.Surprising and satisfying flaws usually exist between conclusive and inconclusive. Why did Lloyd say "Where is it written"? He went to bed with that question and fell asleep with it. In the morning he began to visit the Arab authorities one by one, with the expected result-no result at all. Those who make Arabian expeditions their hobby have few means of sponsoring anyone; on the contrary, they usually sponsor themselves.The only chance is that some of these people are actually interested in the project and willing to help finance a little.But no one has ever heard of Charles Martin or Bill Kenrick.

It was lunch time before he concluded his visit.He stood by the window waiting for Ted's call, wondering whether he should eat out or ask Mrs. Tinker to make him an omelet.Another gray day, but with a slight breeze and the smell of wet ground, with an oddly country feel to it.He noticed that today was a good day for fishing, and for a moment he wished he was walking down the heath to the river, and not wrestling with London's telephone system here.It didn't even have to be a river at all, just an afternoon in a leaky boat on Derwood Lake with Pat's company was enough. He turned to his desk and began to clear up the mess left by opening the mail this morning.

He knelt down to throw the torn paper and empty envelopes into the trash can, but stopped halfway through the motion. Something came to his mind. He knew now who exactly Heron Lloyd reminded him of. That's Archie. It was so unexpected and ridiculous that he sat down in his chair and started laughing. What on earth did Archie have in common with a refined, cultured man like Heron Lloyd? Frustration? Of course not. Or a foreigner in a country you love? No, that's too far-fetched.It should be something closer to the essence. It was Archie that Lloyd reminded him of, he was sure now.He felt a unique sense of relief, like finally remembering a name he couldn't remember.

Yes, that's Archie. But why? What do these two polar opposites have in common? Their expressions? Nope.Their physiques? Nope.Their voices? No, what the hell is that? "It's their vanity! You idiot," said his inner voice. Yes, that's it.Their vanity, that sick vanity. He sat quietly thinking, not feeling very happy anymore. Vanity, the first element of all crimes, is the common factor in the mind of all criminals. Just think about it—the phone at his elbow suddenly rang with a "ring." It's Ted.He had reached the eighteenth question, and he said he was a very old man now, but with pioneer blood in his veins, so the search continued.

"Take a break and come and eat with me!" "Oh! I've already had lunch. I've had some bananas and a milkshake in Leicester Square." "My God!" Grant said. "Well, what's wrong with that?" "Sweets! That's what's wrong." "But it's nice to have something sweet when you're tired. No progress there?" "No. If he's going up north to meet someone who can finance him, that person must be a wealthy amateur rather than someone actively engaged in Arabian exploration." "Oh! Okay. I should go then, when can I call you again?"

"Call me as soon as you're done with that hotel list. I'll be here waiting for your call." Grant decided on an omelet, and walked up and down the living room while Mrs. Tinkle prepared it, letting his mind wander before pulling it off right away. As long as they can find a place to start.But what if Ted asks all the hotels and is still clueless? He only has a few days left before he has to go back to work.He stopped speculating about vanity and its possibilities, and started wondering how long it would take Ted to ask the remaining four. Excitement and a sense of victory.

"I really don't know how you got the idea that that drab little dump had anything to do with Bill." "But you're right, there's nothing wrong with him just living there," he said. "What drab little dump?" "It's Pentland! How did you think of that?" “It is internationally famous!” "Which family?" "The house that generations of Britons have gone to live in." "It looks like that!" "So, that's where Bill Kenrick lives. I like him better." "Yes," Thad said more quietly, the flush of victory fading from his face. "I really hope you know Bill. There's nobody like him." "Sit down with some coffee so you can digest your smoothie. Or would you like a glass of wine?" "No, thanks, I'll have my coffee. It smells really good." He added unexpectedly: "Bill checked out on the third, March 3rd." "Did you ask them about the luggage?" "Yeah! They weren't very interested at first, but eventually they produced ledgers the size of a trial book, and said Mr. Kenrick left nothing in a safe or storeroom." "In other words, he took all his luggage to the storage so that he could pick it up and go when he got back from Scotland. If he was going to fly to Paris when he got back, he would have left his luggage at Euston station on the way, to pick it up before going to the airport. And if he's going to take the boat, he might leave his luggage at Victoria station before going to Euston station. Does he like the sea?" "Fortunately, not particularly obsessed, but he has a ferrymania." "The ferry?" "Yes. Like when he was a kid in a place called Pompey, you know that place?" Grant nodded. "He spent all his time on those penny ferries then." "Halfpenny. It used to be halfpenny." "Oh! It's that kind of boat anyway!" "So, you think there's a chance he'll take the train ferry. Well! We could try that. But if he's in a rush and late to see you, then I think he'll take the plane. If he sees his suitcase, Will you recognize it?" "Yeah. I live in the same dorm as Bill, and I packed him. In fact, one of the suitcases was mine. He only had two suitcases, and he said if we bought a lot, We can get another suitcase—" Ted's voice faded away, sinking back into his coffee.The coffee cup was a large shallow bowl with a pink willow pattern, brought to Grant from Sweden by Marta Harold, because he liked to drink his coffee in a large cup and occasionally used it to cover his emotions. "We don't have a ticket to get those suitcases back, and I can't abuse my position. But I know some folks who work at the Grand Terminal who might be able to use a little trick to find that suitcase. But it's entirely up to you Go check those boxes. Is Bill the kind of guy who puts name tags on suitcases?" "I figured if he was going to leave something in one place, he'd put a name tag on it. Why? Didn't he put the check in his purse?" "I thought it might have been someone else's luggage for him. The guy who picked him up at Euston, for example." "The man named Martin?" "Perhaps. If Bill borrowed Martin's papers to impersonate, he'd have to return them. Perhaps Martin intended to meet him at the airport, or at Victoria Station, or wherever he left England for Paris; Martin brings the luggage and the papers." "Yes, that sounds reasonable. Can't we put an ad for this Martin?" "I don't think this Martin would be very willing to show up. Because he lent the papers to someone to do an exciting thing, and now the person who borrowed his identity is dead, and he has no identity." "Yeah, maybe you're right. Anyway, he's not a guy who lives in that kind of hotel." "How do you know?" Grant asked in surprise. "I checked that book, the boarding book, when I was looking for Bill's signature." "It's a pity that you are still working at OCAL, you should join us as a police officer." But Ted wasn't listening. "You can't experience that strange feeling. When I suddenly saw Bill's handwriting among all the unfamiliar names, I almost stopped breathing." Grant took Lloyd's photo of the "ruin" of the crater from his desk and put it on the dining table. "This is where Heron Lloyd thinks Bill saw it." Ted looked at the photo with interest, "It's really weird, isn't it? Like an abandoned skyscraper, you know, until I saw Arabia, I thought it was the Americans who invented skyscrapers . But certain old Arab towns, like little Empire State Buildings.But you said it couldn't have been what Bill saw. " "Yes, impossible, because it should be more obvious from the sky." "You told Lloyd?" "No, I let him keep talking." "Why do you dislike that guy so much?" "I didn't say I didn't like him!" "I can see it even if you don't tell me." Grant hesitated, and began to analyze his true feelings as usual. "I find vanity disgusting. As a human being, I hate vanity, and as a policeman, I don't believe in vanity." "But that's a harmless defect!" said Tad, lifting one shoulder indulgently. "If you're thinking that way you're wrong, it's a totally destructive trait. When you talk about vanity, you're just thinking about looking at yourself in the mirror, or buying clothes to dress yourself up. That's totally personal. narcissism. But the real vanity is different, it is not a matter of appearance, but of character.Vanity says: 'I have to have this because I am who I am. ' That's terrible, because there's no cure for vanity.You can never convince a vain man that anyone else matters; because he just doesn't understand what you're talking about.He would rather kill a man than inconvenience him by having to serve a six-month sentence. " "It's just crazy." "But vain people don't think that way, and vain people aren't medically insane. Because vain people are quite logical. Like I said, that's a horrible quality and the basis of all criminal traits. .Criminals, real criminals, are not limited to the kind of petty people who falsify accounts on the fly, or kill their wives in anger because they see her in bed with a stranger. Real criminals don't care about looks, taste, intelligence And their modus operandi are as varied as anyone else in the world. But they all share one constant: morbid vanity." Ted seemed to have only one ear, as he was using the message to corroborate his own private affairs. "Oh, Mr. Grant," he said. "Are you saying this man named Lloyd can't be trusted?" Grant thought for a moment. "I wish I knew," he said at last, "I wish I knew." "Well!" said Ted, "it's a different angle, isn't it?" "I've spent a long time this morning wondering if it's because I've seen so much vanity in criminals that I've started to have prejudices? That's excessive mistrust. On the surface , Heron Lloyd is flawless. Even higher, he is admirable. His good record, simple life, and great taste mean he has a natural sense of balance, and his accomplishments are more than satisfying The most self-centered people." "But you feel—you feel there's a problem somewhere." "Do you remember that little guy preaching his ideas to you at Milf Moore's restaurant?" "Persecuted Scotland! That little man in the kilt?" "Kilt," said Grant without thinking. "For some reason, Lloyd strikes me the same way as Archie Brown. Seems irrational, but very strong. They have the same—" He kept searching for a word. "Breath," Thad said. "Yes, that's the word. They have the same aura." After a long silence, Ted said, "Mr. Grant, do you still think what happened to Bill was an accident?" "Yes, because there's no evidence that it wasn't an accident. But I'm ready to believe it wasn't, if I could find any reason. Would you clean the windows?" "What will I do?" "Clean the windows." "I think I can polish really well if I have to!" said Ted, and then asked, wide-eyed, "What?" "You may need to clean the windows before this thing is over. Come on, let's go find the suitcases. I hope all the information we need is in those two suitcases. By the way, I just remembered, Bill went to history Dagon's berth was reserved a week ago." "Perhaps the Scottish patron won't see him until the fourth." "Perhaps. In any case, all papers and personal things will be in those two trunks. Besides, I hope there will be a diary in there." "But Bill never kept a diary!" "Oh! It's not that kind. It's the kind of journal that sees Jack at 1:15 and calls Du Chi at 7:30." "Oh, that kind. If he's going to be looking for patrons all over London, I think he'll have one of those diaries. OMG, that's probably all we need!" "Yes, that's what we'll need, if it's in the trunk." But there is nothing at all. Nothing at all. They easily start looking for the obvious places: Euston station, the airport, Victoria station; glad the pattern is going well: "Hah! Officer, what can I do for you today?" "Well, you might be able to help my young friend from America." "Okay, what's the trouble?" "He wants to know if his friend left some suitcases here. Do you mind if he looks around? We're not moving anything, just looking." "No problem! It's something the UK still doesn't pay for so far, believe it or not, officer. Come back, ok?" So they went to the back.Every time they went to the back, and every time these mountains of luggage looked back at them with a contemptuous and withdrawn expression.Only someone else's luggage would seem so distant. They start where there is a good chance, find a place where there is only a little chance, and become more serious and apprehensive.They had hoped to find a diary and personal papers, and now they had the next best thing, just a glance at the suitcase. But there are no familiar suitcases on any shelf. This surprised Ted so much that Grant could barely get him out of the final leg.He kept circling around the shelves full of luggage with an expression of disbelief on his face. "It must be here," he kept saying, "it must be here." But they are not here. When the last bet fell through, they stepped out into the street, frustrated.Ted said: "Inspector—I mean, Mr. Grant—besides these places, where do you think you would leave your luggage if you checked out of a hotel? Do you have any private lockers like that? ?” "There are only limited-hour lockers. If you need to leave for an hour or two to do other things, you can leave your luggage in these places." "Well, where the hell did Bill's stuff go? Why not in these obvious places?" "I don't know, maybe at his girlfriend." "What girlfriend?" "I don't know. He's young and handsome and single; there are plenty of options." "Oh! Of course, this is also possible! Oh, this reminds me of one thing." The original dissatisfaction and blankness on his face were swept away, and he glanced at his watch, it was almost dinner time. "I have a date with a girl at a coffee bar." He blushed as Grant watched him. "But if I can be of any help to you, I can make her wait." Grant let him go and let him meet the little sweetheart in the coffee bar, but he felt a sense of relief in his heart.He decided to postpone dinner and go out to see his friends in the big city first. He went to the police station in Eswick Street and was greeted with the same sentence he'd been listening to all afternoon today: "Hah! Sergeant, can I help you?" Grant said maybe they could tell him who the policeman in Britt Lane was now. Britt Lane is Bissell's precinct, and if the officer wants to see him now, he's eating sausage and mash at the restaurant, and his number is 30. Grant found Number 30 alone at a table at the far end of the restaurant.He spoke French English, and sat looking at Grant, as if he didn't know it.How much the police force in London has changed in the short twenty-five years, Grant thought! He knew he wasn't a typical cop, and that trait was useful in a variety of situations. .Bissel was a dark, gaunt boy from the country, with faded skin and a kindly, languid demeanor.Between French English and this languid attitude, Grant saw that Bissel would excel in the future. After Grant introduced himself, the boy tried to get up, but Grant sat down and said, "One little thing, maybe you can help me. I want to know who cleans the windows at 5 Britt Lane, You might be able to find out for me—” "You mean Mr. Lloyd's house?" said the boy. "Richard did it." Yes, Bissel must have a future.He must pay attention. "how do you know? ". "I used to walk up and down with him on patrol, and he kept his cart and other things in the stables a little further down Britt Lane." He thanked the new inspector and went to Richard.Richard seems to call his cart home, a single war veteran with short legs, a cat, enamel mug collection and dart shooting.There was nothing in Bissel's district that he did not know, although he had only just come from the country. There was a shop called The Sunshine on the corner of Britt Lane, where Richard used to shoot darts, so Grant went towards it.Since he wants an informal arrangement, an informal start is required.He doesn't know the store, or who runs it, but he just needs to sit down and behave himself, and he's invited to shoot darts, and it's only one step away from chatting up Richard. . But this step took him several hours.At last he was alone with Richard in the corner for a pint of beer.He hesitated in his heart whether to take out his business card and use his authority to engage in private affairs, or exchange a small favor for both of them as veterans.At this time Richard said: "Sir, you don't seem to have gained much weight in recent years!" "I've seen you before?" Grant asked.I was a little annoyed that I didn't recognize the other person's face. "Camberly. It happened many years ago, so you don't have to be ashamed," he added, "because I suspect you never saw me, I was a cook. Are you still in the army?" "No, I'm a policeman now." "Really? Stop kidding! Yeah, I'll just say it! I now know why you were so eager to corner me. I thought it was you admiring the way I shot darts!" Grant smiled and said, "Yes, you can do me a favor, but it's not business. Would you like to take an apprentice tomorrow for a little money?" Richard thought for a while and asked, "Anyone's windows in particular need to be cleaned?" "5 Britt Lane." "Ha!" said Richard with great interest, "I'd pay him to do it." "why? " "That bastard will never be satisfied. There's no catch in it, is there?" "Absolutely not, we're not taking anything from the house, we're not messing things up, I can assure you. And, if you think it's necessary, I can put a written agreement in writing. " "Well, it's up to you, sir. Your men will clean Mr. Lloyd's windows tomorrow for free." Then he held up his big glass. "When will your apprentice come tomorrow?" "How about ten o'clock?" "It's half past ten. Most of your "Sui people" go out at eleven o'clock in the morning!" "You are really thoughtful. " "Okay, then I'll clean the windows which I'm supposed to do in the morning, and then meet him at 3 Britt Lane Mews, where I live, at ten-thirty." It was no use trying to call Ted Cullen tonight, so Grant left a message at the Seymoreland Hotel asking Ted to meet him at the apartment tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Then he finally ate his dinner and went to bed gratefully. As he was about to fall asleep, a voice hovered in his head: "Because he knew there was nowhere to write." "What?" he said.He woke up, "Who knew?" "Lloyd! He said, 'Where is it written? ' "And then?" "He's saying that because he's scared." "He did sound surprised." "He was surprised because he knew there was nothing to write on." He lay thinking about it until he fell asleep.