Chapter 10 chapter Ten

Douglas Powell was a tall man of about thirty, with prominent cheekbones, bright black eyes, and dark, wavy hair.There are prominent circles under his eyes; his unkempt hair is loose and matted.In the room, the ashtray on the table looked very conspicuous, because it was filled with too many cigarette butts, so some of them fell out; and it seemed that every cigarette was extinguished before half smoked. . There was something in the way he spoke that indicated that he was indeed suffering some sort of emotional shock at the moment.But judging from his behavior and attitude, he didn't have the sincerity and enthusiasm of Van Nuys at all.

"Well, what's the matter?" he asked briefly. Mason gave him a searching look, then said, "I want to ask you some questions about Ms. Milfield." If Mason punched Powell in the stomach without warning, he would His reaction may not be as strong as it is now - his expression is full of panic and surprise. "About...about..." "About Ms. Milfield." Mason said, kicking the door lightly with his foot to make it close, and pointing to a comfortable chair, he said, "Della, please sit down." "But I don't know anything about Miss Milfield."

"Know Fred Milfield?" Mason asked. "Yes, I have seen him." "Is it for business?" "yes." "When did you meet his wife?" "I... I think I've only seen her once, May... What did you say your name was, sir." "Mason." "Mr. Mason, I've only seen her once. Can you tell me why you're asking these things? I don't think it's right for you to come here without asking. You've got something to do with the police." ?" "Haven't you heard that her husband has been murdered?"

"Have." "How did you know he was murdered?" "She told me." "Oh? So, you met her?" Now Powell's voice was measured and serious. "I called her home and tried to get in touch with Mr. Milfield. That's when her wife told me on the phone what happened." "Is that the only reason you called her house?" "yes." "Have you any special affection for Mrs. Milfield?" "Mr. Mason, I have already told you that I have only met that woman once. In my impression, she is a very attractive woman. However, I can't describe her details to you anyway, I I only had a glimpse of her."

Mason said, "Very well, now I have a perfect case." "What do you mean by that?" Powell asked. "You can sue now, sue someone, and I'm going to represent you in that case," Mason said. "Are you a lawyer?" "yes." "Oh, I thought you had close ties to the police." "There's no direct relationship," Mason said. "However, the police will inevitably want you to take some kind of action, and then I can represent you." "Take some action! What do you mean by that?" "Indictment for forgery."

"Whom to sue for forgery?" Mason reached into his pocket, pulled out six bundled letters, and said, "That's the one who stole your name on these letters. He wrote these very interesting, naive, and quite warm letters to Mier Mrs. Fee, and signed your name on the letter." Powell's defensive posture disappeared as quickly as a flat tire. "My letter!" said Powell in surprise. "Is it your letter?" "yes." "I think you said you only met this woman once." "Mr. Mason, where did you find these letters?" "Is it necessary to tell you?"

"yes." "Someone gave it to me," Mason said. "Who gave it to you?" "It might have been the police," Mason said. "Or a reporter from a newspaper, or a client may give it to me. I can't tell you where I got these letters; but I can tell you what I'm going to do with them." "What are you going to do?" "I intend to turn them over to the police." "Mr. Mason, please don't do this." "why?" "The press will get it." "Then I can't help it. I have no right to prevent the police from obtaining evidence."

"evidence!" "yes." "What kind of evidence?" "Show evidence of your involvement in the murder of Fred Milfield." "Mr. Mason, are you out of your mind?" "I do not think so." "How could those letters be related to the murder?" Mason said, "Listen, Powell, why don't you just tell the truth? When Mrs. Milfield was going to meet you in San Francisco, she wanted to go away with you, but a friend stopped her. She... ..." "The one who stopped her was a friend of hers?" Powell said in surprise.

Mason nodded. "No, it's not like this. She changed her mind later, and she told me on the phone that she decided not to come, she...Mr. Mason, isn't this another trap? You're not trying to trick me again, right?" Mason pointed to the phone and said, "Call her and ask." Powell went to the telephone, suddenly changed his mind. "No, I...no, I don't want to do it right now...for now." "Okay," Mason said. "Call later, then. She was leaving for San Francisco, and a friend of her husband's made her change her mind, so here you are. And Fred Milfie found out about your affair when he On a yacht in Burbank, and you're young and crazy enough to go straight up to him on the boat. Then you two have a showdown, he pissed you off, you attack him, and..."

"Okay, stop talking!" Powell protested loudly. "You make such a statement without any basis at all. Fred Milfield is of no importance in my life. I have no reason to see him, nor do I want to. He is a bossy, cruel man. Husband, he is indifferent and indifferent to his wife's emotional needs. Fred's wholehearted pursuit of money and wealth, without a moment's rest, has left his wife in the cold and left her completely unloved. This heartless man even It's not worthy to touch his wife's clothes, he doesn't..." Mason said, "You've seen too much of those old romances, why don't you bring yourself up to date?"

There was a look of sadness in Powell's eyes. "Okay," Mason sympathized with his present pathetic embarrassment, and changed the subject again. "After you came to Los Angeles and got in touch with Mrs. Milfield, what did she say?" "she told me……" "What?" Mason asked. "Well," Powell blurted out suddenly. "She told me that her husband had been killed and told me not to go to her so as not to arouse the suspicion of the police." "When did that happen?" Mason asked. "Shortly after I got off the train." Mason glanced at Della secretly, and then said nonchalantly, "You came here on the Skylark, didn't you?" "right." "Where did you call her from—the train station or the hotel?" "From the hotel where I'm staying." "About when did you fight?" "Oh, about ten o'clock." "I see," Mason said casually. "Then she told you that her husband was murdered, didn't she?" "Not at that time. When I first called, she didn't pick up." Mason stuffed the letter back into his pocket and said, "Did you get in touch with her later?" "Yes. She told me her husband died when I spoke to her." "Did she tell you he was murdered?" "Well, that's not it. She's saying there was an unfortunate accident and Fred was killed, and the police are investigating." "What did she tell you to do?" "She told me to stay away from this place, not to go to her, and advised me to take the next train back to San Francisco." "You didn't do that, did you?" "yes." "Did you come here on the Skylark?" Mason asked. "good." "From what I understand, you called Mrs. Milfield as soon as you got here, didn't you?" "Yes, I managed to get in touch with her, but she didn't get a call from me shortly after noon." "Shortly after noon? Huh?" Mason said thoughtfully. "Are you sure it's not one o'clock in the afternoon?" "Oh, no, it's just around twelve o'clock at noon." Mason glanced at Della, then said casually, "Is that the first you've heard about the murder?" "yes." "Did she mention any details to you?" "She said the body was found on Mr. Burbank's yacht and told me not to make it public." "Didn't you go back to San Francisco?" "Of course not. I want to stay here, I want to stay with her, in case there's anything I can do to help...in case..." "There's nothing you can help with," Mason interrupted. "Oh, I know. My intellect tells me that the objective situation really overwhelms me, and I can't help it; but I just can't get away." "You still wish you had a chance to see her face, don't you?" "um, yes." Mason asked again: "Do you know Roger Burbank?" "do not know." Mason said, "I might try to get in touch with you again. And just to remind you, if I were you, I would never try to get in touch with Mrs. Milfield again." "Mr. Mason, can't you tell me how she is? Can you let me know how she looks now? She... oh! This is really causing me great pressure, it's really..." Mason interrupted, "Don't you talk a lot when you're drunk?" Powell smiled nervously, then said, "No, I'm going to get dizzy and go to sleep." He said it with a tone of apology. Mason opened the door for Della, and at the same time turned to Powell and said, "In that case, I suggest you go in and get drunk right away! Good night."