Chapter 12 Chapter 12 Oil Painting

Dr. Fell let out a deep, loud chuckle, emptied the ashes from his pipe like a volcanic spirit, and rose to his feet, to greet his visitor with an earnest enthusiasm which seemed to make Mr. Anthony Pettis A lot of peace of mind.Mr. Pettis bowed slightly to the three of them. "Gentlemen, please forgive me for interrupting me so early in the morning," he said, "but I have to seek relief, or I can't be at ease. I know you, uh... came to me last night. I can tell you that yesterday I'm very restless at night." He smiled. "I've had the adventure of absconding - I forgot to get a new dog license, so my conscience is always on the edge. Whenever I go out for a walk with that nasty puppy, I always feel that the whole London street The policemen on the road were staring at me viciously, so I had to sneak around and hide all the way. So facing this case, I think it is the best choice to take the initiative to explain. And the people of Scotland Yard gave My address here."

Before he could finish his sentence, Dr. Phil was hastily peeling off the guest's coat, making Pettis a little dumbfounded; the next step, the doctor pushed the visitor into the chair, and Mr. Pettis couldn't help grinning.He was short in stature, neatly dressed, rigid in manner, with a smooth bald head, and an astonishingly loud voice.His eyes were prominent, wise, and had a power of concentration.His mouth was comically shaped, with a square jaw and a hollow in the center.It was a lean, bony face—expressive, restrained, and slightly nervous.When he opened his mouth to speak, the habitual movement of his body was to lean forward, clasping his hands, and facing the ground with a deep frown.

"It's unfortunate for Grimaud," he stammered. "Of course, people can't help but say politely: If there's anything you can use me for, just say it. But I mean it—for this." Incidentally." He smiled again. "Er—do you want me to sit against the light? Aside from writing novels, this is the first time I've had to deal with the police." "Don't say that," Dr. Phil finished, and introduced everyone. "I've wanted to know you for a long time; we write in the same way. What would you like to drink? Whiskey? Brandy? Or soda?"

"It's still early," said Pettis hesitantly, "but if you insist—thank you! Doctor, I am quite familiar with your surreal works in English novels; I can't match you in popularity. It's only fair," he frowned. "Very fair. It's just that I don't quite agree with you (or Dr. James) for always portraying the ghosts in your stories as ruthless..." "Ghosts are cruel, of course. The more cruel it is," Dr. Phil said thunderously, and deliberately twisted his face upwards to show a murderous look, "the more interesting the story. I don't want my couch There was only a faint sigh; I don't want the sweet talk that is everywhere in the Garden of Eden. I want blood!" He looked directly at Pettis, making the visitor uncomfortable, as if he was what the Doctor wanted. of blood. "Ha, sir, let me give you some principles of being a ghost. A ghost should be ruthless, it must never speak, it cannot be transparent, but it must be solid. When appearing on the scene, it must leave a deep impression, for example, suddenly stick out a grimace in the corner. It cannot appear in a brightly lit place, it must appear in a decadent or religious scene, and it must exude a medieval monastery. and the taste of Latin manuscripts. Today, however, there is a nasty tendency to sneer at old libraries or ancient ruins; stall, they call it pandering to the 'modern test'. Great, what a test for real life. It's real life people who get scared out of their wits by ancient ruins or cemeteries! Nobody would deny that This fact. Unless someone actually saw something at the lemonade stand (of course, it could also be other beverage stands) and passed out screaming, otherwise, besides saying that it is a pile of garbage, I don’t know What should I say."

"Someone might say," Pettis commented, raising one eyebrow, "to his rotten ruins. Don't you think it's hard to write good ghost stories in this day and age?" "Of course it can, and there are more good writers coming in - if they want to. The problem is, they're afraid of what they're writing, which is called 'sweet sentimental melodrama.' So if you can't avoid In the color of melodrama, they use oblique and upside-down narrative techniques in an attempt to hide the essence of the popular, and as a result, no one in the world can understand the stories they tell. They no longer tell the characters what they have seen and heard in a straightforward manner, but just concentrate on You want to create an impression and a feeling. It's like at a dance, the head waiter comes to announce the arrival of the guests, and he opens the living room door and announces loudly: 'It's the light of the top hat, but I didn't Look, maybe I'm just falling into the old habit of taking things for granted again, and mistaking the light from the umbrella stand.' Then his employer must be very displeased, because he really only wants to know who the visitor is. If we had to deal with the story in an algebraic way, the horror would cease to be scary. Suppose someone hears a joke on a Saturday night, but he bursts out laughing the next morning when he goes to church. , isn't that sad? But it's even sadder when someone reads a scary ghost story on a Saturday night, only to have a twitch two weeks later and realize that he was supposed to Scared to the bone is... sir, so I say—"

During the conversation between the two, the impetuous director was already furious, and cleared his throat from time to time to signal.Finally, he punched the table heavily, intending to settle the dispute. "Are you finished?" His tone was rather accusatory. "Now, I'm not in the mood to listen to your speech. Since Mr. Pettis wants to take the initiative to talk, so—" Seeing Dr. Phil's swollen Cheeks parted, he continued calmly, "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night, last night." "Want to talk about ghosts?" Pettis asked eccentrically, completely relaxed by Dr. Fell's talk. "The ghost that visited Grimaud?"

"Yes. First of all, in terms of form, I must ask you to explain your whereabouts last night carefully. Let's say it was between nine thirty and ten thirty." Pettis put down his glass.A puzzled look appeared on his face again. "Mr. Hadley, you mean... you mean, am I a suspect?" "That ghost claims to be you, don't you know?" "He claims to be... God, no!" Pettis screamed, jumping up, like a bald clown popping out of a magic box. "He said it was me? I mean, uh... claiming to be him... damn Grammar! What the hell are you talking about? What does it mean?"

When Hadley started to explain to him, he finally sat down quietly, just kept poking at cuffs, ties, and repeatedly trying to interject. "Anyway, if you can explain your whereabouts last night to prove your innocence..." Hadley took out his notebook. "No one told me about it at all last night. After Grimaud was shot, I went to his house, but no one mentioned it to me," Pettis looked puzzled. "Last night, I went to The theatre, the Imperial Theatre." "Can you prove this?" Pettis frowned. "I don't know, I wish I could. I don't think it's a good show, but I can still tell you about the plot. Oh, by the way, I still have the ticket stubs and the program. But you want The thing to know is, did I meet anyone I knew, eh? No, I'm afraid not—unless I can find someone who remembers me. I went to the theater alone. You know, I don't have many friends, and they Everyone has a fixed routine. Most of the time, we know each other's whereabouts, especially on Saturday nights, and we have never tried to change our current habits." His eyes showed a sarcastic look. "This... this is a kind of elegant debauchery. Of course, it is not an exaggeration to say that it is a kind of dull debauchery."

"I dare say," said Hadley, "that the murderer must have been interested in your pattern of life. What kind of habits?" "Grimaud always worked—sorry, I haven't gotten used to the fact that he's dead—always worked until eleven o'clock at night. After that, you can disturb him as you like, he's a night owl; but at this hour Don't make mistakes before. Burnaby usually plays poker at the club he belongs to. Mangan is a kind of assistant to Miss Grimaud. The two of them are usually together in the evening. As for me, I don't go to the theater. Going to the movies, but not too often. I'm an exception from this group."

"I see. After you left the theater last night? What time did you leave the theater?" "Around eleven or early eleven. I didn't feel like going to bed then, so I figured I'd go sit down with Grimaud and have a drink with him. It turned out, well, you all know what happened next. Mills After telling me what happened, I asked to see you or the person in charge of the case. I waited upstairs for a long time, and no one answered me," he said with a bit of indignation. "So I went straight to the infirmary to see how Grimaud was doing, and when I got there he was just dying. From the standpoints, Mr. Hadley, I know it's a terrible case, but I'm ashamed of it." you swear--"

"Why do you want to see me?" "I was there the night Foyle made the threat, so I thought maybe I could be of help. At the time, of course I thought Foyle had killed him; but I read the paper this morning—" "Wait a minute! From what I understand, someone copied your usual way of speaking, right? Great! Who in your circle of life (or outside of it) do you think might be able to emulate it? ?” "Or someone wants to do it," Pettis said shrewdly. He sat back in the chair, careful not to crease the creases of his trousers.His dazed, bewildered, perplexed mind had gone through a lot of tossing, and the tension and fear that had been there were gone; now, there was only an abstract question circling in his mind.He clasped his hands together, and his eyes drifted to the distant place outside the window. "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Hadley," he said with a slight cough, "I can't think of a single person, to be honest. What bothers me about this mystery isn't It's all about my own safety. If you think my views are too incredible and nonsense to be worth listening to, then I'll just have to talk to Dr. Phil. Let's just say, for the sake of discussion, that I It's the murderer—" Hadley stood up abruptly, and Pettis looked at him amusedly. "Don't be nervous! I'm not the real murderer, it's just a hypothetical. Well, I'll kill Grimaud in a grotesque disguise (oh, yes, I'd rather kill than dress like that). Hmph! And then I'm still indulging in my stupid nonsense. At this time, I ask you, is it possible for me to declare myself to those young people without a care?" He paused for a while, and patted his fingers lightly on each other. "That's the first view, a short-sighted view. However, some very intelligent prosecutors may say: 'Yes, it is possible for a cunning murderer to do this. This method is very effective and can deceive He has changed his voice a little, just to be remembered in hindsight. He talks like Pettis because he wants the listener to think otherwise that it can't be Pettis. 'You're Do you think so?" "That's right," Dr. Phil smiled, "That was indeed my first reaction." Pettis nodded. "In this case, then you must have come up with an answer to blame me. If I really want to do this, I will not let my voice change only slightly. Because if the listener thinks it is my voice from the beginning , he is unlikely to be as suspicious afterwards as I hoped. So," he emphasized his tone, "what I might do is to deliberately leave holes in my words; I should say something abnormal, weird, not It's like my personal style of phrasing, so that it's easy for people to remember after the fact. But this visitor did it differently. His imitation was so complete that it almost seemed to exonerate me. Because whether you use Simple or complex thinking, I can plead not guilty on the grounds that I am not that stupid or that I am simply too stupid." Hadley smiled, his eyes wandering between Pettis and Dr. Fell with interest, and the expression on his face was no longer sad. "You two are really like dogs," he said, "and I love this kind of brainstorming. But I tell you from practical experience, Mr. Pettis, if a criminal really tries to do this, he will find himself in a cocoon. Police Instead of leaving work to think about whether he is stupid or not, they just hang him with a straight-forward judgment." "So if you find a key piece of evidence," Pettis said, "you'll hang me?" "That's right." "Well, uh...Of course. In short," Pettis seemed a little surprised by this answer and seemed a little embarrassed, "well... can I continue? I was really beaten by you Messed up." "Of course, please continue," the director encouraged him kindly, "We can still find inspiration from a wise man. Do you have any other suggestions?" Regardless of whether these remarks were intended to be ironic or not, anyway, there was no reaction that everyone expected.Pettis smiled, but his eyes were focused, and his face seemed to grow thinner. "Yes, I think you can," he agreed, "even to excite thoughts that you may have been latent. Say, for example, that you, or someone, quoted Grimaud's murder in this morning's paper. Some reports of the murder. You detail how the murderer took care not to destroy the snow and escaped in stealth—whatever the trick. The man probably figured out that it was bound to snow last night, so he prepared everything. Plan it, and bet the gods to wait for the snow to stop so you can act. Anyway, there will be some snow when the time comes, and he's sure of that. Right?" "I said something similar, yes. So what?" "Then I think you'll remember," Pettis said calmly. "The weather forecast told him he shouldn't do anything. Yesterday's forecast said there would be no snow at all that day." "Oh, my God!" Dr. Phil looked at Pettis in astonishment for a while, and then punched the table excitedly, "Well said! I didn't think of that at all. Hadley, so , the whole thing changed! This—" Pettis looked relaxed, took out a cigarette case and opened it. "Of course, there is still a bit of a blind spot here. I mean, you can raise an obvious doubt to refute me: because the weather forecast said it would not snow, the murderer knew it would. If you really think so, then It's ridiculously hard to make. I personally wouldn't be that far off. In fact, I think weather forecasts are unfairly mocked as much as telephone relay services. Certainly in the example I gave Well, there was an error in the weather forecast, yes...but it doesn't matter. You don't believe me? Check out last night's paper." Hadley grinned and cursed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to trouble you—but I'm glad I did. Yes, your example seems to change the whole point of view. Hell, if someone intends to kill, and the timing and Whether it snows or not is closely related, so he will take the weather forecast into account more or less." Hadley knocked on the table hard. "Forget it, let's move on. I really need to get some advice now." "I'm afraid that's all there is to it. In terms of criminology, Burnaby has studied it much more thoroughly than I do. I only pay attention to the weather forecast occasionally," Pettis looked at his clothes with mocking eyes, "In order to decide whether to wear overshoes. It's a matter of habit... Why does the person who imitated my speech include me? I'm just a weird old man who doesn't hurt anyone, I can assure you. I'm not The kind of mortal avenger. The only reason I can think of is that I'm the only one in the group who doesn't have a fixed Saturday night and can't provide an alibi. As for who can imitate... Any good impersonator should do. Back to the topic, does anyone know what I call our gang?" "Could it be a member of the party at Warwick's Tavern? Besides the few we mentioned, isn't there someone else?" "Oh, yes, there are two other casual members, but I don't think they are possible candidates. One is old Mornington, who has worked in the museum for more than fifty years; he is a hoarse tenor, It's too hard to imitate my voice. The other one is Swell, but I believe he was speaking on the radio last night, and it was about the life of ants or something, so there should be an alibi..." "What time is the lecture?" "I think it was nine forty-five or thereabouts. Of course, I can't be sure. Also, these two people have never been to Grimaud's residence. By the way, aren't there some occasional visits in the tavern?" Drinkers? Well, some of them may have sat in the back or heard us talk, just didn't participate in our discussion. I think that's the best lead for you guys, albeit a little thin." Pettis produced a cigarette and snapped the case shut. "Well, we'd better make a choice, whether we should simply assume that this man is a mysterious figure, or imagine all kinds of dangers, eh? Burnaby and I were the only close friends of Grimaud. I didn't Do it while Burnaby plays cards." Hadley stared at him. "Is Burnaby really playing cards?" "I don't know," admitted Pettis frankly, "but I can guess he is, as usual. Burnaby is no fool. A man chooses a day when he is with a regular party, and goes without fear of being noticed." Kill someone, then he is probably a super big pig brain." Pettis's words obviously irritated the chief criminal more than any words he had said before. He frowned and kept tapping on the table.Dr. Phil, on the other hand, was completely in a state of chaotic contemplation.Pettis looked back and forth between the two of them curiously. "Gentlemen, have I said something worth pondering?" he asked. Hadley suddenly became animated. "Yes, yes, very thought-provoking! Now, let's talk about Burnaby. You know that painting that Grimaud took home for defense?" "Self-defense? How to defend yourself? What to use to defend yourself?" "I don't know. I hope you can explain this." Hadley looked at him carefully. "The Grimauds seem to like to say mysterious things. By the way, your opinion of him How much does the family know?" Pettis was clearly confused. "Well, Rosette is a very charming girl. Well, I wouldn't say that she likes to play tricks, but on the contrary, she is a bit too modern for me." He frowned deeply. "I don't know anything about Grimaud's wife. She died many years ago. But I still don't understand—" "Don't worry. What do you think of Dreyman?" Pettis chuckled. "Hooper Dreyman's the least pretender I've ever known. It's just because he's so normal that some people say he's got a lot of shit going on--sorry. Are you taking him into consideration? If so, then pretend I didn't say anything." "Let's go back to Burnaby. Do you know why he wanted to paint this painting, when it was painted, etc.?" "He painted it a year or two ago. I remember it especially because it was the largest painting in his studio; Burnaby would stand it upright as a A wall or a partition. I asked him once what the painting was trying to express. He said: 'A composition I've never seen before, only in my imagination.' It has a French title like this: 'In the shadow of the salt mines'." He stopped tapping his unlit cigarette, and his curious, restless mind explored again. "Aha! I remember, Burnaby said: 'Don't you like it? Grimaud was terrified when he saw it.'" "Why is this happening?" "I didn't ask, I just took it as a joke or bragging, because he was laughing as he talked; that's the Burnaby way. But the painting had been in the studio for a while, and it was There was a layer of dust, so I was quite surprised when Grimaud rushed in and asked for it on Friday morning." Hadley leaned forward suddenly. "Where were you?" "In the studio? Yes, I went early in the morning, because... I forget the reason. When Grimaud came in, he walked very hurriedly..." "Is it out of breath?" "Yes, uh, no, no, it should be said that I was very excited." Pettis secretly noticed Hadley's expression while recalling. "Grimaud said with his rapidity: 'Bernaby, where is your painting of the salt mines? I want to buy it. How much would you pay?' Burnaby looked at him puzzled, and then He limped over, pointed to the painting and said, "If you want it, man, it's yours, take it." Grimaud said, "No, this painting is useful to me, I must Buy it for money.' So Burnaby put out a ridiculous price of ten shillings, but Grimaud took out his checkbook and wrote a check for ten shillings. Then he didn't say anything more, just said Will hang the painting somewhere on the wall of his study. He took the oil painting downstairs, and I helped him call a car to carry it..." "Did you ever wrap the painting?" Dr. Fell asked in a loud voice, which startled Pettis.Dr. Fell showed more interest, if not engrossment, in this narrative than any of the topics Pettis had previously mentioned.At this moment, the doctor was holding his cane tightly, and he also leaned forward, while Pettis looked at him with strange eyes. "I wonder why you ask that?" said he. "I was about to mention it. Grimaud made such a fuss that he tried to wrap the picture. He asked for paper, but Burnaby said: "Where do you tell me to get such a big piece of paper to wrap it? Are you embarrassed to let people see it? Just take it away!" But Grimaud was very persistent. He went downstairs to a nearby store and bought yards of brown wrapping paper. The incident seems to have annoyed Burnaby." "Should you not know whether Grimaud went straight home with the painting?" "I don't know...I think he went to someone to frame the painting, but I'm not sure." Dr. Phil sighed and sat down again, also skipped Pettis's answer, and didn't ask any more related questions.Although Hadley questioned him for a while, in Rimbaud's view, no important information was elicited.When asked personal questions, Pettis chose his words carefully, but said he had no reservations.There was no friction, no discord in the Grimaud family, and the close social circle got along well. If there was any nitpicking, there was animosity between Mangan and Burnaby.Although Burnaby was in his thirties, he loved Rosette Grimaud deeply, but his attitude was negative and self-protective.Professor Grimaud had expressed no opinion on the matter, and he would have liked it if possible; but as far as Pettis knew, the professor had no dissatisfaction with Mangan. "Gentlemen, I think you will find out," said Pettis, concluding, as the House clock struck ten, getting up to leave, "we've been talking for a long time, and we're circling around minutiae. It's really hard to associate bloodthirsty crime madness with our group. I can't tell you much about the financial situation. Grimaud is very rich, I can say that .I happen to know that his lawyer is Tennant and Williams of Gray Law School... By the way, would you like to have lunch with me on this gloomy Sunday? You know, I live in Russell On the other side of the square; I have several suites in the Empire State Building there, and I have bought them for fifteen years. You are investigating cases nearby, which should be quite convenient; besides, I wonder if Dr. Phil is interested in discussing with me Ghost stories—" He said it with a smile on his face, and the Doctor accepted the offer before Hadley declined.When he left, Pettis looked much happier than when he first entered. Those who stayed in the house looked at each other in blank dismay. "Well," growled Hadley, "it's clear and simple enough to me. We'll check, of course. The point is, the most important thing to note: since last night's absence will People pay attention, so why does one of them choose to commit murder at this time? We will go to find out about this guy, Burnaby, but it sounds like he is not a suspect, unless it is for that reason..." "The weather forecast says no snow," said Dr. Phil, with a hint of stubbornness in his tone. "Hadley, this has messed everything up and turned the whole case upside down, but I don't see that . . . Caglistra Street! Let's set off to Caglistra Street quickly. It's better to go anywhere than to grope in the dark." Dr. Fell's tone was angry, and he took his cape and shovel hat and staggered out.