Chapter 3 third chapter

The house on Senarion Avenue is a relatively high-end apartment, and it is obvious that the designer seems to deliberately create a unique solemn atmosphere.But the man behind the desk seemed to be trying to convince Mason that the switchboard was out of service because of a labor shortage. "Mr. Fred Milfield," said the man, repeating Mason's name, and then asking, "What is your name, please?" "Mason." "Do you have an appointment with him, Mr. Mason." "No." "Wait a moment, please. We are having difficulty keeping the switchboard open, so we must be as attentive as possible. Please wait a moment."

He walked over to the secretary's seat in front of the switchboard, connected a line, and spoke into a closed intercom so Mason couldn't hear him. After a while he turned to Mason and said, "Mr. Milfield is not here. He won't be back until after evening." "Is Mrs. Milfield there?" Mason asked casually. The man turned back to talk on the phone again, and after saying a few words, he turned to Mason and said, "Mr. Mason, she didn't ask you out." "Tell her I called to discuss the Karaku sheep business," Mason said. The operator seemed a little confused, but passed on the message anyway. "She wants to see you. You can go directly to the apartment on No. 14B."

A black man in a blue uniform with gold braid operates an elevator.Judging from his unfamiliar movements, it is obvious that he is still a novice. The elevator stopped about three inches from the floor, and then the black boy tried to correct his mistake, but went about five inches further, and when it came down, it was worse than when it started; The boy smiled, and then raised the elevator a little more, and opened the door when it reached the appropriate height. "Watch your steps," he warned. Mason stepped out of the elevator, found No. 14B in the passage, and rang the doorbell.A few seconds later, a woman in her thirties answered the door; she was well-groomed, with a face that exuded a deep appreciation for life, but with a strange swelling around her eyes. "What's your business?" she asked standing at the door. "Are you going to ask me about Karakul wool?"

"right." "Can you tell me what it is? My husband is not at home." Mason looked down the aisle again.Mrs. Milfield said: "I'll go with you to the drawing-room." Then she hesitated, and evidently remembered something which made her change her mind. "Well, you'd better come in." Mason followed her into a well-decorated apartment house. Suddenly, she turned around, and the sunlight from the south window shone on her face. Mason saw the reason for her swollen eye sockets: she cried not long ago. Pass.The red and swollen eyelids and eye bags convinced Mason that he was not crying because of some trivial troubles, but because of other special secrets.

She seemed to be aware of Mason's deduction and judgment immediately, so she sat down with her back against the window."Sit down, please," she said to Mason, pointing to a chair facing her. Sitting facing the sun, Mason pulled a box of business cards from his pocket and said, "I'm a lawyer." She took the business card Mason handed her. "Oh, I've heard of you, I thought you dealt with murder cases." "There are all kinds of lawsuits," Mason told her. "My firm handles general comprehensive cases." "I would venture to ask you: Why are you interested in Karaku sheep?"

"I had a client who was in desperate need of money," Mason said. She smiled and said, "Don't all customers want money?" "Most people are indeed like this, but this person is really needed, and I want to win for her." "You are a very kind man, but what does this have to do with my husband?" "It has something to do with his Karaku sheep business." "Can you be more specific?" "My client's name is Jin Meng, Adlai Jin Meng." "I'm afraid I don't know anything about the name, and I don't know the details of my husband's business."

"I have something important to see him right away." "I'm sorry, Mr. Mason, but I'm afraid he won't be free until Monday." "Can you tell me how I can get in touch with him?" "No, I'm afraid it can't be done." "Can you get in touch with him yourself?—now." She thought for a moment, then said, "I can't get in touch right now." Mason said: "Please tell him when you get in touch: I have a very sharp nose and I've been sniffing around the Skinner Hill area lately and what I've been smelling doesn't smell like karakul wool. Can you remember what I said?"

"Well... I think so. Strange message, Mr. Mason!" "Please tell him too: I could have my client talk to her neighbors if necessary, but she'd better not do it - because that would be bad for your husband. Please remember to tell him , my client's name is Adlay Kimmon." "I'll tell him," she said with a smile. "It's really important for him to understand where I stand and to get my words across to him as quickly as possible," Mason said. "Ok, no problem." "You'll try to get him to actually get my message?"

"Mr. Mason, you are not going to use me and take advantage of me by observing the expressions on my face, are you? On the one hand, I have to show politeness, and on the other hand, I have to put on a so-called poker face, which is really embarrassing and embarrassing contradiction." She smiled at Mason, who thought she had forgotten that there were signs of crying on her face. Mason bowed and said, "Mrs. Milfield, I certainly don't want you to betray your husband or reveal his business secrets." Mason assured her, and said, "But I really want to remind you seriously: Get my message to your husband as soon as possible."

She said suddenly: "Mr. Mason, I want to trust you, I need your help now, I...I want to tell you something." She hesitated to speak, as if trying to cheer herself up, she took a big breath . Before she could say anything, the phone rang, and she looked at the phone a little annoyed. It was obvious that she seemed to be in a dilemma and at a loss for what to do.Mason couldn't help asking, "Maybe it's your husband calling." She bit her lower lip and moved uncomfortably on the chair; at this moment, the phone rang again. Mason sat and waited in silence, watching Mrs Milfield's next move.

Her hesitation became more obvious, and she seemed to be struggling in her heart: to answer a phone call that was obviously unwelcome in front of Mason; or to force herself not to answer the phone call in front of Mason.Which is more disturbing? At this moment, she suddenly said to Mason, "Sorry!" and picked up the receiver.Now her face was turned, so the light fell on her profile, and her face was like a sculpted mask. "Hello?" she asked in a cautious and soft voice, as if afraid that any change in tone might inadvertently reveal her thoughts. Mason watched her face and saw that her expression had become confused and troubled. "Oh no! I don't know a man named Mr. Trager... Chief Trager? No, I don't know...Okay, I know... Please tell him my husband won't be back until tonight... ...Is he really like this? I can't...he...? Oh!" She hung up the receiver and said to Mason angrily, "That man is so bold! He's about to leave, and I won't open the door for him." "Wait a minute," Mason said quickly. "Do you know who Team Leader Trager is?" "I think he's a lonely soldier..." Mason said: "Captain Trager isn't a soldier, he's a police chief-deputy, from Police Headquarters, connected with the Homicide Squad. I don't know why you were crying, Mrs Milfield; but Treger Team Leader Ge doesn't handle small cases, if you're involved in a murder case, you'd better start thinking—and hurry up!" She turned to Mason.Mason saw the bewildered look in her eyes. Mason watched her. "Do you know who was murdered?" "My God! No? Unless it's mine..." "Keep talking." When she stopped in the middle of a sentence, Mason urged her to continue. "No, no, no one was killed." "You just said 'my...' and then stopped," Mason reminded her. "That possessive language is mysterious. Are you going to say 'my husband'?" "My God! No. How could you have thought that? What are you trying to do--take my word for it?" "Then why are you crying?" Mason asked. "Who said I cried?" "Well, we don't have time to discuss these things. By the way, if something really happens to your husband, and Trager finds me here again, you will easily get involved and you will never be able to explain it to him. : I did not visit you at your invitation. Is there a back door to go out?" "No." "Do you have onions at home?" Her eyes were wide open and she seemed rather bewildered. "Onions? What have onions got to do with this?" Mason said, "I'm going to hide in the pantry, and don't tell Trager I'm here, and don't let him know you know me. Put some onions on the counter and put an apron on; when he rings the bell, please Answer the door with a kitchen knife in hand, and tell him by the way that you just happened to be peeling an onion—so you can save yourself some trouble. That's a little trick a friend of mine taught me for free, and you... " The doorbell rang loudly. Mason took his hat, put his arm around Mrs. Milfield's waist, and urged her into the kitchen. "Where's the apron?" "Hang over there." Mason slipped the loop of the apron over her head and hastily tied a knot around her waist. "Bring some onions, that's the only way to explain your red, swollen eyes." She opened a food bin, and Mason dumped the onions on the counter. The doorbell rang again—long and sharp. Mason opened a drawer, found kitchen knives, took one, cut an onion in half, seized Mrs Milfield's right hand, rubbed the onion on her hand, and said: "Well, Go and answer the door. Be careful what you say and tell him you're chopping onions and especially don't let him know I've been here. Good luck!" Mason patted her on the shoulder and gently pushed her towards the door; at this time, Team Leader Trager rang the bell for the third time. Mason walked cautiously through the kitchen, opened the pantry, found a stool, and sat down as comfortably as possible. He heard the front door open, heard a few introductory lines of dialogue, and then the door closed; then the voice grew louder and faster.Mason couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could hear Captain Trager's booming voice, and Mrs. Milfield's high-pitched answer. Suddenly, Mason heard Mrs. Milfield's half-suppressed cry, followed by a moment of silence--broken at last by Captain Trager's persistent, indistinct voice. Afterwards, the volume of the conversation dropped; finally, the two finally stopped talking together. Mason glanced at his watch impatiently, opened the pantry door a little, and listened through the crack. Mason heard people moving around the house, a door opened and closed, and then heard Trager again, asking a question about shoes. Mason closed the pantry door softly, returned to the stool he had been sitting on, and scanned the shelves of food until he was finally attracted by a box of soda crackers. Mason lifted the seal, reached in to get it, crossed his heels on the crossbeam under the stool, and began to chew soda crackers. After a while, seeing a jar of peanut butter, he took a knife out of his pocket and spread the golden cream sauce over the biscuits, when the pantry door was flung open. After covering the soda crackers in his hand with peanut butter, Mason calmly looked up. Captain Trager said, "Mason, it's all right. You can come out now." "Thank you," Mason said with mock indifference. "I need a glass of milk." "In the refrigerator," said Mrs. Milfield. "I'll get it for you." Her voice was as smooth as syrup. Trager looked at Mason for a moment, then burst out laughing again, and asked, "What are you planning?" "Leader, I just want to make it easier for you," Mason said. "Make it easier for me?" Trager said in amazement. "yes." "I don't understand you." Mason said: "I've come to call on Mrs. Milfield to discuss a business matter. I don't know why you're here, but I think she'll be in a very awkward position if you find me here, and You'll also have false leads - which will be detrimental to your investigative efforts. Therefore, I have decided to recuse myself before you leave." Mrs. Milfield said, "Here is the milk, Mr. Mason." Mason took the bottle of milk to the counter and Mrs. Milfield gave him a glass.Mason poured a glass of milk, looked along the rim, and smiled at Team Leader Trager. With his mouth full of biscuits, Mason tried to speak clearly enough for the other party to understand. "Team leader, who is the victim this time?" "How do you think anyone was victimized?" "Isn't this your professional visit?" "Let's talk about your visit first!" Mason smiled and said, "I have nothing to hide, I just stopped by for lunch." Trager said a little angrily: "Mason, you're not doing us any good." "I had a good lunch, Mrs Milfield, and your peanut butter is excellent, allow me to compliment you." "Thank you." Trager said, "Well, smart fellow. Mrs. Milfield's husband's been murdered." "That's too bad." Mason murmured, with a lot of biscuits in his mouth. "I suppose you don't know anything about it!" said Trager. "Just what you told me just now." Trager looked at the onions on the counter and asked Mrs. Milfield, "Are these the onions you were peeling?" "yes." "Where do you keep the peeled onions?" "When you rang the doorbell, I... I was just about to start chipping." Trager said, "Huh!" obviously doubting what she said.After a while, he looked at Mason again with doubts. "Where was her husband murdered?" Mason asked conversationally, and took two or three more sips of milk. Trager replied: "Mason, it's within the boundaries of downtown Los Angeles." "Who did it?" Mason asked. "We don't know yet." "Sounds like fun," Mason commented. Trager said nothing. "How do you know I'm here?" Mason asked suddenly. "I told him," said Mrs. Milfield. "Why?" Mason asked.At the same time, he poured himself another glass of milk. Trager said, "Mason, you're making me hungry, too." "You're welcome, pour it yourself!" Mason said to him sincerely. "It's one of the police's prerogatives, you know. Why did you tell him, Mrs. Milfield?" "After I found out what happened, I thought it best to tell him. I don't want to be misunderstood." "Of course not," Mason said.He washed his hands under the kitchen sink faucet, then tore a paper towel from the roller on the wall. "I explained to Captain Trager that you had come to me for another matter, something to do with my husband's business; and that when you heard that Trager was here, you thought it best not to let He knows you're in my house too." Trager smiled and said, "You don't have to teach him, Mrs. Milfield; he knows all the 'lines,' even yours." Mason shook his head sadly and helplessly. "Look, Mrs. Milfield, didn't I tell you? He didn't trust me. Well, I'm going. I'm sorry about your husband; What details do you have?" She said, "Oh, yes. He gave me all the details, and it seems that..." "Stop talking!" Trager interrupted her suddenly. "Don't tell anyone else what I told you." She kept silent. Trager walked to the sink and looked at the onions inside, frowning thoughtfully. Mason said, "Well, I'm going. I sympathize with what has happened to you, Mrs. Milfield, and offer my sincere regrets." "Thank you," she said, turning to Captain Trager. "That's all I know, and I've told you the whole truth." Still staring at the onions in the sink, Trager said, "I'm glad you did, it's always worth it to be honest with the police, and it's never going to hurt you." She spoke a little faster now, apparently trusting Trager completely.She explained: "You shouldn't have found him here—that's what Mr. Mason himself meant. As for me, I have no idea why you're here. I was shocked to hear about Fred; but , I think I should tell you honestly..." "That's where I come in," Mason said. Trager watched him thoughtfully. "You mean: This is where you go out?" Mason turned around at the door and said with a smile, “Leader, isn’t it all the same to me?”