Chapter 2 Chapter two

Chief Inspector Balck tapped the ivory button on the side of the table with his manicured fingers and rested his hand on it until his men appeared. "Tell Inspector Grant that I want to see him," he said.The man tried his best to appear respectful to the big man in front of him, but this kindness was violated by his plump posture, forcing him to lean back slightly to maintain his balance, so that the angle of his nose was just right. Made him an arrogant and disrespectful nuisance.Embarrassedly aware of his own defeat, his subordinates exited the room to convey Balck's orders, while burying in their memories those embarrassing things that were not sympathetic but repeated again and again.At this moment Inspector Grant entered the office and greeted his superior cheerfully, but his smug superior simply ignored his presence.

Leaving aside Inspector Grant's usual willingness to sacrifice his devotion, sagacity, and courage, the most admirable thing about him is that he is, by all accounts, a standard policeman.Medium height, well-proportioned build, can be said to be a short and dapper.The way I describe him may make you think he's an idiot, unable to associate him with those perfect characters, but Grant is definitely a different person.You imagined a short, dapper man, but not a dull fool, and that must have been Grant.Over the years, Balck's limelight had been outshone by his subordinate; Balck was particular about dress, but his taste, as he was about everything else, was one less muscle.

Worse, when he was going to work as hard as anyone else, everyone wished he didn't exist. He looked at his right-hand man with admiration now, grateful for being able to come to work on this pleasant morning after he had been tossing and turning the night before with sciatica. "There's trouble with Gower Street," he said. "As things stand, there's a lot going on behind the Gower Street case." "Oh? Someone is playing tricks behind your back?" "No. The case last night is already the fifth major and difficult case that their bureau has received in the past three days.

They're going to hand over this last case. " "What case? The one with the theater team?" "That's right, as the detective of the criminal investigation team, you will take over this case, and you can transfer Williams to it. I've sent Bob to the Berkshires to investigate the Newberry burglary.I've called, there's just a few chores to take care of over there, Bob would be a better fit than Williams, and that's it.You'd better go to Gower Street now.good luck. " Half an hour later, Detective Inspector Grant questioned a patrolman from the Highbridge Police Station.

The police said that the deceased died before being sent to the hospital, and the murder weapon was a sharp dagger.The knife stabbed hard into the left side of the man's back, and the blood only oozed slightly from the punctured wound of the coat, but did not flow everywhere. It seemed to him that the man was surrounded by the moving crowd during the period between when he suddenly fell and when the line moved forward—ten minutes or more.In fact, if the crowd had been so tightly packed, it would have been impossible to fall over. He thought the man might not have been aware that he was about to be killed, and was being jostled under the circumstances so that he had no warning of the sudden pain.The jostling was so severe that it might have been more or less accidental, so no one noticed when the deceased fell suddenly and painlessly.

"What about the murderer? Is there anything special about the case?" "No. The guy must be strong and left-handed." "Is it possible that a woman did it?" "Impossible. You have to have a force stronger than a woman's wrist to control the use of the knife freely. You also know that in such a crowded situation, there is no room to swing your arms. The murderer must be in a static state It was done by a woman, so it was not done by a woman. It was done by a man, and he was a man with a good hand." "Tell me about the deceased," said Inspector Grant.He likes to hear arguments that are backed by science.

"Limited knowledge. Well nourished - glowing, I must say." "How's your brain?" "Well, pretty smart, I guess." "What kind of a man is he?" "You mean. What trade is he in?" "No, I'll know that. I mean, what's his 'character'?" "I understand." The patrolman thought for a while, then looked suspiciously at the person who asked him. "It's hard to say with certainty—do you understand?" Inspector Grant agreed with him. "All I can say is, he's a 'doomed loser.'"

He raised his eyebrows to test the other party's opinion, and after confirming that he understood, he added, "From his appearance, he has quite a lot of experience; but his hands are the hands of a dreamer. You will know when you look at it." gone." Then they went to see the body together.The deceased was a young man in his twenties or thirties, with blond hair, hazel eyes, thin build, and medium height.The doctor especially pointed out his slender hands, as if they had never done rough work. "Probably stood for too long," said the patrolman, staring at the dead man's feet. "He turned his left toe inward when he walked."

"Do you think his assailant had any idea of ​​anatomy?" Inspector Grant asked.It is unbelievable that such a small wound can kill. "It didn't take a surgeon to do it. Anyone who survived the war had some knowledge of anatomy. It was a stroke of luck—that's all I can say." Inspector Grant thanked the patrolman and returned to his Gower Street office.The information bag on the desk contained very little information about the deceased, and the inspector felt depressed after reading it.Calico towels, a small bag of change (two 2.5s, two 6s, one shilling, a 4p and a halfpenny), and more.Unexpectedly - a revolver.The white handkerchief wrapped around the pistol was free of any tags, and the revolver was fully loaded.

Grant examined the gun in annoying silence. "Are there any tags on the clothes?" he asked. No, nothing. Can no one tell him? No one can find out? No, no one, except for a crazy old woman who said something to him, the police have checked everything they can. Well, he's going to examine the dead man's clothing himself.Both hat and shoes have been scuffed to a shine.The logo letters that had been sewn into the lining of the shoes had faded; the hats were bought from factories in London or elsewhere.Both things are outdated.The blue blazer was well tailored, as was the gray overcoat.

The men's clothing is of high-quality and inexpensive linen material, and the shirts are of very ordinary styles.Judging from his overall attire, this man is either a well-dressed person, or a person who is used to walking around in high society.Probably a male clothing salesman.The people at Gao Boji said they didn't see the laundry label.The deceased did nothing more than to conceal his identity, or else he always washed clothes at home by himself.If the answer is the latter, the absence of laundry labels makes sense.On the suit jacket, the name of the tailor is deliberately removed.In addition, the strange thing is that even the deceased's personal clothing showed his intention to conceal his identity. One last thing—the dagger.A wickedly fine weapon, with a silver handle, about three inches long, noble in appearance, sharp, dazzling, bright and unadorned in appearance like a holy relic in a Catholic country.Probably from Italy or the southern coast of Spain.Inspector Grant picked up the dagger carefully. "How many people have touched this thing?" he asked.Detectives said that the short knife was removed after the deceased was sent to the hospital, and so far, no one has touched it.Fingerprint examination showed that the result was a waste of work, and the expression of deep satisfaction on the inspector's face disappeared without a trace.There is not even a trace of marks on the holy and shining handle. "I took these things with me," Grant said, instructing Williams to make an exception and send the gun for inspection after the deceased's fingerprints had been taken.In his opinion, this revolver is just like the grandfather clock that every British household must have after the last world war, it is a very common thing.However, as previously mentioned, Inspector Grant only believed in well-founded arguments.He hails a taxi and plans to spend the rest of the day going door to door visiting the seven strangers who were closest to the fallen man at the time of the crime. As the taxi drove around, he let himself rehearse the scene of the crime over and over again in his mind.He did not expect that visiting these people would do him any good.Most of these people were reluctant to admit what they knew when they were first interrogated, and they are even less likely to change their minds now.Those who lined up in front of the dead or found out that something was wrong at the moment were so well prepared that they said nothing.According to Inspector Grant's past experience, the information provided by ninety-nine out of one hundred people is worthless, and the only person who knows is often silent.The doctor said that the victim was assassinated without warning, and it is impossible for the murderer to stay near the victim waiting to be discovered after killing someone. Even if the murderer is a daring person who has the opportunity to squeeze into the dead, sensitive people cannot be completely unaware-people with self-defense awareness will be alert at any time.Impossible, the murderer should have left the team before the body was found.Grant must find someone who noticed the killer before he was killed, or who saw the killer talking to the dead man.Maybe, the two people didn't talk at all, the murderer stood directly behind the deceased, and after striking, he slipped away without anyone noticing.He had to find the witness to the case, to see the man who left the team halfway.It shouldn't be difficult.The media must be able to help him. He wondered wildly: What kind of person is the murderer? The British would not use such a weapon.Those who are addicted to steel knives will simply take a razor to cut people's throats.The weapon he himself probably used was a club, and if he didn't have a club, he would use a gun.This is an ingeniously planned strategy, and the foreign style challenges the traditional thinking of the British. It may be the so-called Levant (Le-vant, the coastal areas of the countries in the eastern Mediterranean.), or people whose lifestyle is similar to the Levant.It was the crew, probably the British crew who frequented the ports around the Mediterranean.But would it be possible for a crew member to think of joining the ranks? Waiting for an opportunity in a deserted alley at night is more British.Moreover, the British are most keen on beatings as a provocative method, and they would never even think about this kind of backstabbing. This reminded Grant of the murderer's motive.He filters for several common motives: theft, revenge, jealousy, fear.The first excludes that any professional doctor or lawyer has more than twelve times as much money in his pocket as the dead: besides, the murderer could not afford to commit such violent atrocities in broad daylight. More likely out of revenge or jealousy - Levantines are best known for their emotionality. When they are insulted, they will hold grudges in their hearts; when they are happy, a casual smile can make them ecstatic.Did the dead man show his charm with hazel eyes in front of some Levantine and his girlfriend? No matter what Detective Inspector Grant thought, he couldn't find any reason.He's constantly thinking about possibilities, but—he just doesn't think that's going to be the case.The last remaining motive is "fear".A fully loaded revolver, did the deceased get ready to sneak up behind the murderer with the silver dagger? Did the deceased attempt to point a gun at a Levantine ready to shoot? Did the murderer find himself in crisis, or did he not Have a picture? Why didn’t the deceased who was carrying a self-defense weapon use the gun in the end? The unknown deceased seemed to be trying to conceal his identity. Could it be that the revolver was loaded with bullets to commit suicide? If he really wanted to commit suicide, Why was the idea put off on the way to the theatre? What other motives were there for the deceased to conceal his identity? Afraid of being arrested by the police? He intends to kill someone, and he hides his identity because he wants to kill someone? That makes sense. This reason makes sense, at least it assumes one thing, the friction between the deceased and the Levantine who was considered by Inspector Grant to be superior was due to old acquaintances.Grant had always had some expectations for the mysterious group, thinking that it might be the source of the murder.Mysterious groups often use despicable methods such as plunder or blackmail to get what they want. They have committed some cases in the past, which gave Detective Grant a headache.But there weren't many impressive occult groups in London these days, and he hoped there wouldn't be any.The murder made him tired of his routine.For him, it was a great pleasure to be able to contemplate the possibility of this play with his heart.The connection between the Levantine and the unnamed dead aroused his curiosity.Now he must do what he can to find out the identity of the unnamed dead - and the Levantine has given him a clue.Why hasn't anyone come forward to identify the dead? It's too early, yes.He could be recognized at any moment.After all, he was just one of the "missing" people in the crowd that night.Not all were eager to see who had been killed, as they thought their children and loved ones were spending the weekend elsewhere. Using patience, understanding, and astute intellect, Inspector Grant interviewed seven people he was due to meet—only formally, really. Even if he didn't expect to hear anything directly from them, he still had to visit them one by one to sort out the content of the interrogation.He found that they all gave different descriptions as best they could, except James Locklear's wife.Mrs. Lockleigh lay weak and awaiting the doctor's attention, still distressed by her fright. Her sister, a charming girl with long honey-colored hair, came out to speak to Inspector Grant.She went into the drawing room, hostile to the police coming while her sister was ill.Surprised by the presence of the police, she inadvertently glanced at the visitor's ID.The smile in Grant's heart was greater than the expression on his face. "I know you don't want to see me," he said apologetically in a flat tone, "but I wish you could let me have a few words with your sister, just two minutes. You can clock outside, of course, if you want to come in It doesn't hurt to listen. I don't want to talk to her about anything secret, but I'm in charge of the case now, and it's my duty to know the seven people who were closest to the deceased on the night of the murder, which will help me in my work tonight. The progress, to draw up tomorrow's investigation direction. I don't know what you like? It's just a small routine, but it is of great help to me." As he wished, his reason received the nod of the beauty.After a moment's hesitation, the girl said, "I'll see if I can convince her." She blushed with embarrassment at Inspector Grant's charm.It went better than he expected, and after a while, she came back and took the inspector to her sister's bedroom.The inspector saw the weeping Mrs. Lockley leaning on the bed, and she claimed in self-defense that she had not noticed such a person before the deceased fell to the ground.She kept looking at the inspector with teary eyes, covered her mouth lightly with a handkerchief, and pressed her lips from time to time.Grant wished she'd put the handkerchief down for a moment, his theory being - mouths always reveal more than eyes - especially women. "You were standing right behind the dead man when he fell?" "yes." "At that time, who was standing side by side with him?" She can't remember.Going to the theater, no one would remember those trivial things, not to mention that she rarely pays attention to others when she is usually on the street. Before the inspector left, she said in a weak voice: "I'm really sorry, I hope I can use my place. I noticed the knife at that time. I would do anything to help you catch the murderer." ’” Inspector Grant dismissed her as soon as he had taken his leave. He had gone to another city to see the woman's husband - he could have sent any Scotland Yard agent there, but he wanted to see what they were doing the first day after the murder.Mr. Locklear provided useful information.He said that at that time, some hawkers were walking around in front of the line, because the doors of the theater were wide open, and the positions of people around them changed.He still remembered that the man next to the deceased, that is, in front of him, was one of the four accomplices who had come together at the beginning.Mr. Lockleigh, like his wife, did not notice the man's presence until the deceased had fallen to the ground. The other five people visited by Inspector Grant were all ignorant, and no one noticed the man, which surprised the Inspector a little.Why didn't anyone pay attention to him? He must have stayed where he was, and a person who has not been pushed to the front of the line will not cause other people's displeasure for the time being.People who don't notice anything somehow remember what they saw after the fact, even if they didn't mean to see something at the time.Inspector Grant was still brooding over this question when he returned to Scotland Yard. He sent a press release to the media asking anyone who saw anyone leaving the team that night to contact Scotland Yard.He also released detailed information on the deceased and the investigation process of the case.He called Williams to ask him about the progress of his work. Williams reported that they had collected the fingerprints of the deceased and sent them to the identification team, but the police information did not reveal the identity of this person.Weapons experts couldn't find anything special about the pistol, probably a second-hand gun, well worn, but still a deadly weapon. "Hmm!" Grant snorted. "Great expert!" Williams smiled. "Experts said there was nothing special about the gun," he recalled. Williams also explained that he inspected the gun before sending it to a specialist and that there were a large number of fingerprints on the gun, and that he was now awaiting the results of the tests. "Well done! " After Grant said that, he took the fingerprint file of the deceased to see the Chief Inspector.He briefed Balck on the findings of the day's investigation, but concealed his opinion that this unusual, un-British form of crime might have been committed by a foreigner. "So we've found nothing today," Balck said. "Except for the dagger, the whole case looks more like a novel than a real murder." "That's right," said Grant. "I was wondering how many people would line up at the Wuffington Theater tonight." He changed the subject. Not long after Balck thought about this interesting question, he was interrupted by Williams who entered the door. "Sir, fingerprints on the revolver," he reported succinctly, placing the file on the table.Inspector Grant casually picked up the file and compared the fingerprints that made him confused.Suddenly, he was excited like a hound. There were five clear fingerprints, and the others were incomplete, but none of these intact or incomplete fingerprints belonged to the deceased.The fingerprint report comes from the fingerprint analysis team, but the report does not make any notes on these fingerprints. Grant went back to his office and sat down, thinking.What does this mean, what do these messages mean? Doesn't the gun belong to the deceased? It was borrowed, is it possible? Even if it was borrowed, the gun was indeed found on the deceased.The gun really did not belong to the deceased. Could it be that someone deliberately put the gun in the deceased's pocket? No one would not even feel that a heavy automatic pistol was stuffed in their pocket.No, the man was dead—he was planted after he was killed.Why? No answer.No matter how complicated the situation was, the problem was still in front of his eyes.Grant unwrapped the wrapped dagger and put it under the microscope for a closer look, but he was still stuck in the five-mile fog with no turning point and felt very tired.He has to go for a walk.About five o'clock he walked to Wuffington to see the gatekeeper the night before. The sky at dusk is pale yellow, setting off London, which is smudged with purple haze.Grant took a grateful breath.Spring is coming.He would have to take a few days off from tracking down the Levantines--sick if he couldn't think of a good reason--to go fishing.Where should I go? The ideal place is the Scottish Highlands, but the people there seem to be a little unfriendly.Or go fishing in Tester - the Starkbridge area might be good.Eel fishing is a dull sport, but there's a neat little pub out there that's a great place to go.He can also ride a horse, or walk on the lawn.Springtime in Hampshire... he thought, pulling himself together and walking along the embankment on the north bank of the Thames, leaving the official business at hand for a while, which was Grant's style.Balck had a famous quote: "Chew and chew, chew and chew, sleep and wake up, and you'll find the crux of the matter." This statement was directed at Balck, not Grant. Grant thought again about what he hadn't considered while chewing, but he felt a dull ache in his mouth.Whenever something that worries him bothers him, or he can't break through in the process, he temporarily loses some of his senses.When he receives a major case, he always indulges himself to "close his eyes" for a while, and when he opens his eyes again, a ray of dawn suddenly appears, and the unexpected inspiration will give new interpretations to old problems. Wuffington's afternoon play had just ended when Grant found the theater empty in front of the theater and messy behind it.The porter was not on duty, and no one knew where to find him.It seemed that the work he had to do at night was numerous and complicated. "Sir, didn't see him" from the other end of the building, from an eager messenger. Grant finally found him behind a darkened stage.After revealing his identity and purpose of coming, the man became very enthusiastic and eloquent.Usually he could only pay his respects to distinguished people from a distance, but it wasn't every day that he had the opportunity to have such a cordial conversation with them, especially when it was the inspector of Scotland Yard.He smiled and adjusted the angle of his hat, straightened the ribbon on his chest, and wiped his wet palms with his trousers. If that pleased the Inspector, he would say that he must have seen the brat in the line.Grant grunted inwardly. He always kept his usual distance, and he—with the mentality of a bystander—thought who the hell this old guy was.Presupposing the result with the police's second-career instinct, he politely bid farewell to the porter who provided no clues.A sentimental voice came, "What is Inspector Grant!" He turned to see Rey Macbeth standing outside the door where her things were piled up, apparently her dressing room. "Are you looking for work? I'm afraid you won't want to be here in an hour's time." She teased Grant with a smile, while her gray eyes, drooping under the brim of her hat, gazed lovingly at he.They met a year ago when an expensive makeup case given to her by a fan of the show was stolen, and they never saw each other again, and she clearly never forgot about him.He didn't change his face - even though he was a bystander, he felt her affection and smiled.He explained to her that he had come to the theater on business, and the smile faded from her face instantly. "Well, poor fellow!" she said, "but here's another one just like you," she continued, putting her hand on his arm. "You've been asking questions all afternoon? Your throat must be dry now. Come to my room and have a cup of tea. I have a maid and she'll make it for us. We should have a good chat, we haven't seen each other for so long , it's really sad." She took him into her dressing room. Half of the walls in the room were mirrors, and the other half was a wardrobe full of clothes. It was more like a flower shop than a room designed for people to use.She waved the flowers in her hands. "I was not in good health and couldn't get close to the flowers, and in the end they all had to stay here. The people in the hospital were very polite, but they insisted that I do what they said. I couldn't properly say, 'no flowers allowed' , saying that would be as sad as funeral flowers." "It's the only thing people can do," Grant said. "Well, yes, I know." She said, "I'm not ignorant, I just have to get used to it." When the tea came, she poured it out for him, and the maid brought out a plate of shortbread on a tin tray.He stirred the tea lightly as she poured it for herself.His heart trembled suddenly, like an inexperienced knight bumping into the horse's mouth in shock.She's left-handed! "My God!" he murmured to himself, "it's not that you deserve a day off, you must take a day off. What the hell are you going to say about it? How many left-handers like that in all of London?" , You actually developed such an inexplicable nerve." A thought woke him up, and he broke the silence and said, "Are you left-handed?" "Yeah," she said nonchalantly, turning the conversation, of course, to the state of his investigation. All he told her was what the press would report the next day, what interested him about her description of the dagger and the case. "The dagger is a silver sacred vessel adorned with red and blue lacquer." There was a sudden flicker in Rey Macbeth's calm eyes. "What?" she said involuntarily. He was about to ask, "Have you ever seen anything like it?" before changing his mind, because he was convinced that her answer would be no.He had grasped the clues, he realized what he hadn't noticed before, and continued his description. She said: "Holy artifact! It's amazing, how unbelievable! — I'm sure you'll be blessed with such an important case." She picked up his cup with her cold and smooth left hand, and wanted to add some more tea for him. He noticed her steady wrist and calm movements, hoping that this was all his meaningless delusion. "That's not true." He said to himself in his heart: "You may be tossed by the sixth sense for a long time in this strange place, but you have no clue about the progress of the case." They talked about some of the America Grant was familiar with and that she was visiting for the first time.He was about to leave, and thanked her sincerely for the tea, but his mind had no idea what tea it was.Now it didn't matter how late he had dinner.He went out, lit a guard's cigarette, and in a fit of shudders he had the good fortune to learn that Miss Macbeth had been in the dressing-room until the footman came to ask her out at six o'clock the night before. .God has eyes, he said to himself, raising his eyebrows exaggeratedly. Grant smiled and nodded goodbye to the guards, but he looked solemn as he walked alone in the direction of Scotland Yard.What was it that made Miss Ray Macbeth's eyes flash suddenly? Not from fear. No, is it because it looks familiar? Probably, absolutely.Must be very familiar.