Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven

Erica put on the brakes and brought her notorious little car to a slow stop.Then he retreated the necessary distance and stopped again.She looked with interest at the sole of a man's shoe showing itself among the grass and gorse, then surveyed the clearing, and the straight country road, gleaming in the sun, with clematis and Coast hairpin. "You can come out now," she said. "There's no one around here for miles." The sole of the shoe disappeared immediately, and a surprised man's face appeared in the bushes. "It's a relief," Erica said, looking at him. "For a moment I thought you might be dead."

"How do you know it's me? I feel like you really know it's me?" "Yes, there are some strange curves on the sole of your shoe, right where the price tag was torn off. I noticed it when you were lying on the floor in my dad's office." "Oh, yes, it's you, yes. You're a very good detective." "You're a poor escaper, anyone can see your feet." "You didn't give me much time. I didn't hear the sound until you drove very close." "I reckon you're most likely deaf. Poor Tinny, she's one of the laughing stock of the county. As famous as Miss Midway's hat and old Mr Dyne's collection of shells."

"Tinnie?" "Yeah. There's no way you can't hear her." "I think I fell asleep for a minute or two. I—I'm a little sleep deprived." "Yes, I think so. Are you hungry?" "Are you being polite, or—or do you really have something for me?" Erica reached in the back of the car and pulled out a half dozen rolls, a can of beef tongue, half a pound of cream, and four tomatoes. "I forgot to bring a can opener," she said, handing him the beef tongue, "but you can find something hard to tap on the mouth of the bottle and it will make a hole." She took it out of her pocket. A jackknife sliced ​​the bread open and the butter began to spread.

"Do you always carry food with you?" he asked curiously. "All the time. I'm always hungry. And often away from home from morning to night. The knife is here. Cut a piece of tongue and put it on. "She brought him the buttered bread." Give me the knife, and I'll spread another piece of bread. "He did as she told her to. So she took the knife and got back to work, politely ignoring him so he wouldn't have to pretend he didn't care, which was hard for him now. Presently he said: "I think you should know that this is very wrong?" "Why not?"

"First, you are helping a fugitive, which should not be in itself, and you are someone's daughter, which is even more wrong. Then there is-this is even worse-assuming If they're right about me, you're in the worst possible danger right now. You shouldn't be doing this, you know." "If you are really a murderer, committing another crime just to kill me will not help you much." "If you've already killed someone, I don't think it's that difficult to kill another person, since there's only one execution anyway. So you don't think I did it? "I'm pretty sure it wasn't you. "

"How can you be so sure?" "You don't have the patience." "Thank you," he said gratefully. "I did not mean that." "Oh! I understand." He smiled sincerely. "It's embarrassing, but it sounds straightforward." "I'm as good at lying as anyone." "You're bound to lie tonight, unless you're going to get me out." "I don't think I'll be asked any questions at all," she said, pretending not to hear the rest of his sentence. "By the way, I don't think a beard suits you."

"I don't like it myself. I have a razor but I can't do anything without soap and water. I guess you don't have soap in your car?" "I'm afraid not. I don't bathe as often as I eat. But I have a bottle with some foamy stuff in it for washing my hands after I change a tire. Maybe you can use it." She got up from the car Get that bottle. "You must be a lot smarter than I thought, you know." "Really? What makes you think I'm so smart?" "Get away with Inspector Grant. He's good at his job, my father used to say."

"Yes, I think he should be. If I hadn't been terribly afraid of being put in prison, I wouldn't have had the guts to escape. What happened within half an hour was the most exciting thing I've ever encountered in my life. Now I know what it means to live at speed. I thought being rich and being able to do whatever I wanted — twenty different things a day — was called living at speed. But I didn’t know anything.” "Christine Clay, is she nice?" He was a little flustered. "Your mind is really leaping, isn't it? Yes, she's a very nice person." He temporarily forgot his food. "You know what she did? She left me her farm in California because she knew I had no money and hated sitting in an office."

"Yes, I know." "you know? " "Yeah, I've heard Dad and others discuss it." "Oh, yes...but you still believe that I didn't kill her? In your eyes, I must be a good picker!" "Is she pretty?" "So you haven't seen her? I mean on screen?" "No, I probably haven't seen it." "Neither have I. Weird isn't it. I guess it's easy for a wanderer to miss some movies." "I don't go to the cinema that often. It's a long way from my house to find a good one. Eat your tongue."

"She didn't mean to help me - Chrissy. Ironic, isn't it? Turns out her gift might be my death call." "I don't think you have any idea who did it, do you?" "I don't know. I don't know any of her friends. I just hitch a ride with her one night." He was worried about the female student in front of him. "That sort of thing sounds terrible to you, doesn't it?" "No. Not as long as you both like each other. I often judge by appearance myself." "I can't help but think that the police might have made a mistake—I mean, it might have been an accident. If you've seen the seaside that morning. It's pretty lonely, and it'll be at least an hour before anyone gets up. It's unimaginable that someone would go to that place at that time to kill someone. Besides, that button might just be a coincidence."

"If your coat is found and there are no missing buttons, won't that prove that you have nothing to do with this case?" "I think so. The police seem to have only this evidence." He smiled faintly: "But you know more than me." "Where were you when you lost it—I mean the coat?" "We went to Dimjo one day: it was a Tuesday. We got out of the car and walked on the embankment for half an hour or so. We both used to leave our coats in the backseat. I kept going until halfway back when I stopped for gas. I didn't think about my coat when I turned to get the purse Chriss had left in the backseat." His face flushed suddenly, and Erika looked at him first in surprise, then in embarrassment.It took her a few seconds to realize that the tacit acceptance of a woman paying for him was more humiliating than any murder charge. "The coat disappeared then," he went on quickly, "so it must have disappeared while we were walking." "Is it a gypsy?" "I don't think so. I didn't see any gypsies. It was more likely someone passing by." "Is there any feature that would identify that coat as yours? You know, if you can prove it to the police." "It's got my name on the inside—you know, it's on the tailor's label." "But if the coat is stolen, the person who stole it will definitely remove the tag immediately." "Yes. Yes, I think so. But there's one more spot, a little burnt mark under the right pocket, where someone's cigarette touched it." "That's good, isn't it? It's clear now." "If the coat can be found!" "Nobody steals a coat and sends it to the police just because the police are looking for it. And what they're looking for is not the coat they're wearing, but the coat they've lost. So far no one has Find your coat. I mean look for it from your standpoint. That is, to help you find evidence." "Then what can I do?" "Go surrender." "what? " "Surrender yourself. Then they'll send you a lawyer. That way someone can find your coat for you." "I can't do that. Really can't... I forgot your name." "Erica." "Erica. The thought of going to jail makes me sick." "Claustrophobic?" "Yeah. I don't care about enclosed spaces, like caves, as long as I know I can get out. But being locked in a place, and just sitting there with nothing to do, thinking—I just can't do it. " "Well, I guess you can't help it, if you think so. Unfortunately, it's the most logical thing to do. So what are you going to do?" "Keep sleeping rough, I suppose. It's not raining anyway." "Have you no friends to turn to?" "With the identity of a murder suspect? No, you overestimate human friendship." He paused, then added in a panicked voice, "No, no, maybe you haven't. It's just that I haven't met a nice person before." "Then we'd better agree on a place where I can bring you food tomorrow. Here it is, if you like." "don't want! " "Where is that going?" "I didn't mean that. I meant you can't come to me again, not anywhere." "why? " "Because you're going to commit a felony, or get in big trouble. I don't know what the penalty is, but you're going to be a criminal anyway. Absolutely not." "Nobody can stop me from throwing food out of the car, can they? There's no such thing in the law, and I know that. There's going to be cheese and bread and some chocolate falling out of the car into these bushes tomorrow morning, and so on." That's all. I should go. There doesn't seem to be anyone around here right now, but if a car is parked long enough, someone will pop up out of nowhere and ask questions." She threw the leftovers into the car and got in. He was about to stand up. "Don't do anything stupid," she snapped, "sit still." He knelt and turned around. "Okay. You don't object to this gesture, and it's more expressive of my gratitude." She closed the door and leaned against the window. "Nuts or plain?" "what? " "Chocolate." "Oh! The one with the raisins, thanks. Someday, Erica Burgoyne, I'll let you wear the ruby ​​and walk the carpet like—" The end of his words was drowned in the roar of the engine as Dinnie left.