Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven

In the warm California sun, the Skinner Hill Ranch presents a delicate, undulating silhouette.Herbs in early spring are lush and green, making the land look soft, fertile and thriving. In about a month, when the hot and dry season comes, the blazing sun will bake the hillsides into a golden brown.The otherwise beautiful scene of green grass will be enriched by a large expanse of live oak trees, whose lush branches and foliage will provide shade from the harsh sun.At present, the few trees that dot this green landscape are scattered here and there, very few and sparse as if they were rare.The undulating green hillsides are lively and lively with the rhythm of nature, and the beautiful scenery comes into view, which is dizzying.

Mason stopped the car at the curb at the top of the hill and said to Della, "Well, here we are." "It's beautiful," she cried. "Indeed." Mason agreed. "Where are all the karakul sheep?" Mason took out a pair of binoculars from the leather case, opened the door and stepped out of the car, standing in the warm spring sunshine.He propped one elbow on the car door to steady the binoculars in his hand. "There they are." "You mean those little dots in the pasture grass?" "yes." "let me see." Della turned around quickly, stepped out of the car with both feet, then stood up and stood beside Mason.Mason handed her the binoculars and stepped aside so Della could rest her arm over the door.

"Wow! How interesting!" Della exclaimed in surprise. "So that's where our fur coats come from?" "That's right." "You mean those sheep made..." "Not mature sheep. The wool of mature sheep is used for tweeds, blankets, rugs, etc.; as for the karakul coat, it is lambs that are just born-only a day old. made." "This seems too cruel for those poor lambs." Della said. "yes." "I never knew about it before." "On the other hand," Mason said. "If it weren't for the wool industry, pure blood wouldn't be able to be bred; so little lambs wouldn't be born at all—so, that's it!"

"It's kind of like the 'which came first, the chicken or the egg?' question." "indeed." "Okay, what are you going to do now?" Says Mason, "I'm going to find Frank Palermore first and find out what he knows—if he's willing to be honest. Then I'll have a nice meeting with our client." Della said, "Do you think the clients are hiding something from you?" Mason pointed to the winding road and said: "If what Van Nuys said is true, then they are indeed hiding something. According to the information I have, we should turn left there first, and then drive all the way." Go to that small forest."

Della returned the telescope to Mason, who put it back in the leather case.They got into the car together, and Mason started the car and drove up the winding and rugged hill road. They crossed a small bridge over a small valley with babbling water.The hillside road began to climb up, Mason put on full power, drove the car up the narrow and undulating hillside, and then turned to a dirt road on the left. "There were obvious tire tracks on the road," Della said. "It seems that there are often cars passing by this road." "Ok." "Do you know what Palermo looked like?" Della asked.

"I know what kind of guy he is." "What are the characteristics?" "Stubborn, obstinate, cunning, strong, flashy-eyed, with an air of arrogance, and a taste of garlic and sour wine on his mouth when he speaks." Della laughed and said, "You make him seem very sophisticated and ruthless." They had driven for miles, passing rough log cabins, unpainted huts, and the pipes of boilers rising like rows of chimneys within the terracotta ring fence.Some bleak, weather-beaten, and long-abandoned houses are vividly visible, silently witnessing the hard work of people struggling on the barren land.Now, as a result of a purchase between Fred Milfie and the Skinnerhill Karaku Wool Company, the owners of the land have sold it for a very attractive price.Landlords have also moved away to live a better and richer life.

The dirt road winds up a narrow stretch of mountains, following the ridge to a small canyon.A simple house appeared in front of them, the appearance was the same as those wooden houses seen along the way; only a wisp of smoke was added, slowly coming out of the chimney. "Probably cooking his Sunday dinner," Mason explained to Della. "Is this the place?" "According to my sketches, this is the right place." Mason drove the car across a dry sandbar, out the slope on the other side, around a small sand dune, and then turned into the garbage dump outside the house.

The high mountains behind the house formed a natural barrier at the end of the rolling country.These hills are covered with dense scrub oaks, and here and there are scattered clumps of gray-green sagebrush. The door of the house was open, and a man with a bright red face and disheveled hair stood in the doorway.His grey-green eyes sparkled brightly as if to focus on the scene ahead. "I'm looking for Frank Palermore." "Okay, you've come to the right place. I'm Frank Palermore, what's your business?" "I'm Attorney Paley Mason." Enthusiasm suddenly appeared on the man's face. He ran forward quickly, stretched out his hand, and said, "Mr. Mason, my God! A famous barrister like you would come to see me Little shepherd. Wow! I guess your car must be worth a lot of money, right? Get out of the car! The lady comes out too, let's chat and have a glass of wine, shall we?"

"No," Mason said.He smiled at Della. "We can just talk here, I have other things to do." He stepped out of the car and shook hands with the man. "You'd better have a glass of wine! You're welcome, I'll bring it out." "Sorry," Mason said. "I never drink before noon." Palermo's face fell. "I've got some fantastic wines that you can't get in any restaurant—they're too sweet and cloying, and it's not good for your health to drink that kind of sweet wine. You should drink good quality Sour wine, that will make you healthy and strong."

"It doesn't matter if you're used to it," Mason said. "Be careful if you're not used to it! It's a pretty strong drink." "Not at all, who is this lady? Your wife?" "She's my secretary." "Your secretary, oh, what do you do with a secretary?" Mason's eyes seemed to be smiling. "She writes down the important things." Della smiled at Palermo. Palermo's eyes twinkled and he looked intently, as if speaking to someone else in a mysterious language he knew only himself. "Wow! That's not easy. Does she record things?" Palermore laughed, throwing his head back.

Della reached stealthily into the holstered compartment of the car and took out a shorthand pad and a pencil, laid the pad on her lap out of Palermo's sight, and placed the pencil on top of the pad.Then she said to Mason, "Your description seems to be quite accurate. By the way, what about the bad breath problem? Have you prescribed the right medicine to solve it completely? I can't help." "You're lucky," Mason said. "Your olfactory nerves would compliment me as a prophet if I could get you near me." Palermo immediately stopped laughing, his bushy eyebrows drooped, and he looked at Mason with a frown, then shifted his gaze to Della's face again, and asked, "What are you talking about?" "My secretary was alerting me," Mason said. "I have an appointment this afternoon, and I have to rush back to the office later." "Do you work on Sunday too?" "sometimes." Palermo looked at Mason's car and said, "You make a lot of money, why do you have to work on Sunday?" "I just make a lot of money, so I have to work on Sundays to pay my income tax," Mason explained grimly. "My God! You make a lot of money and you don't make enough to pay taxes. That's tiring, it's so hard. By the way, I was going to see you, but you came to see me first." "Are you looking for me because of the land?" "Yes, what do you think? You just file a complaint against me, and we can make a fortune together." "How?" Mason asked. "How about you prove that I don't own the land?" "You don't really own it, Palermo." "No, no, what I mean is, just do what I say, we'll arrange it, and I'll help you prove that I don't own the land myself." "Are you saying you're going to lose this lawsuit on purpose?" Palermo nodded vigorously, his eyes sharp and flickering. "yes." "Why?" Mason asked. Palermo casually grabbed Mason's arm again, trying to pull him out of the car. "What do you want to do?" Mason asked. “We make money from wool—the wool that goes into women’s coats,” Palermo said.Then he laughed loudly again, while quickly poking Mason in the chest. Mason waited for him to continue speaking. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Palermo leaned closer to Mason and said, "You know what? I signed a deed with Mr. Milfie to buy my land for a—well, a good price." "But you have no title to the eighty acres!" "Oh! I'll have title, you don't have to worry about me, Frank Palermore is a smart man. You're a lawyer, yes, but I know the law myself--perhaps? I'm staying on the land Been there for 5 years and paying taxes every year; if you don't have any rights like this, it's unreasonable. I've seen this in court before, my brother did the same thing, and I decided to do like him smart." Mason said, "You're too smart this time." Palermo's dark, small eyes were suddenly hostile, then friendly again. "Mr. Mason, do you know what's going on? A man came to my place the day before yesterday - he had a big car like yours. He said: 'Palermore, what will Mr. Milfie pay for it? Your land?' "I said, 'Why do you want to know?' He replied, 'Because, maybe I can pay you more.' "I told him: 'Okay!' and then: 'I drew up a contract and set a price. But Milfy is going to give me cash and the contract is in my pocket...'" "Did you tell him how much that money was?" "Of course I told him it was a thousand dollars—a thousand dollars in cash. But there was no mention of a thousand dollars in cash in the contract; and then Milfy showed the contract to other landowners around here." , let the contract look like there is nothing wrong with it, understand?" Mason nodded. "Well, this man said: 'Listen! Maybe I can buy your land for five thousand dollars.'—Did you hear that? Five thousand dollars! How attractive! Signed, but I think its validity is questionable." "Why?" Mason asked. "There are no witnesses." "But you've already signed." "Of course I want to sign, why not? I can earn a thousand yuan once I sign, why not do it?" Mason said, "So you want me to sue you to prove that you don't have title to the land?" Palermo's small eyes twinkled. "good." "Have you put the land sale on hold?" Palermo nodded vigorously. "So what do we do next?" Mason asked. "How? God! Then I can't sell the land to Milfy because I don't have title, understand? He can't get a thousand dollars back because there's no witnesses. I'll say he never gave me one at all. Thousands. So, you get the land, I don't; I can't sell it, and the contract is invalid because I don't have the land. You get the land, you sell that person for five thousand dollars, and then you get half and I get the other half .So we're all making money, right?" Palermo looked at Mason eagerly, as if wondering how Mason would react to his suggestion. Mason said, "I don't think my client would be interested. What's the guy's name?" "He didn't tell me his name, saying that he would reveal it later, but I was smart enough to copy down his license plate number when he wasn't paying attention—his car is as big as yours, which is very cool. Now that I copied it The license plate number, what's the problem if you don't know his name?" "Is it Friday?" Mason asked. "Yes, Friday." "When?" "afternoon." "What time is it in the afternoon?" "I don't know. I didn't bring a watch. I only know that it was shortly after noon. Did you see that tree? When that person came, the shadow of that tree was in this place." Palermo walked briskly to about forty feet south of the trunk of an oak tree and dug with his heels to create a small mound of dirt on the ground.He said: "It's right here, and the shadow of the tree is pulled to this position." Mason observed the oak tree and the angle of the sun, then nodded. "Do you have the license plate number of his car?" "Yes, I wrote down the car number with a pencil. I'm a smart man, and you're a smart lawyer, and as soon as you get that land, sell it for five thousand dollars as quickly as you can, and then we'll Divide that money equally." Mason glanced at Della, and then asked, "Should we share the one thousand yuan in cash that Milfy gave you?" Palermo took a step back. "Hey! What are you talking about? I got no cash at all, no witnesses at all." Mason laughed out loud. Palermo reached into his pocket with his stubby fingers and pulled out a folded sheet of paper with a few words scrawled on it, as if scribbled by an illiterate person.He read out the license plate number: 8P3035. Mason smiled and shook his head again. "I'm not here to discuss your land titles, Palermo. I'm asking you about what happened on Saturday morning." Palermo's small suspicious eyes narrowed. "Saturday morning, nothing! I went to find Milfy on the yacht and found him dead, that's all." "How did you know Milfy was going to the yacht?" "Because I know he's there." "How do you know?" "Because he told me he was going there." "You called Milfy!" "yes." "Did you tell him—another person came to you about buying the land?" "Yes, I told him about it." "What did Milfie say?" "He asked me to meet him on the yacht the next day." "Listen," Mason said. "If you met Milfie on the yacht on Saturday morning, you must have made some kind of deal." Palermore spread his hands in denial. "What nonsense are you talking about? You can't get money from a dead man. I know that. Evidence is worthless without black and white letters. The lawyer once told my brother." "So, you did come to some sort of agreement with Milfy," Mason asked. "You have already negotiated on the phone. If Milfy is still alive, this agreement may have been fulfilled long ago, right?" "No witnesses," said Palermo flickeringly. "Well, you went on board the yacht and what did you find?" "I found the yacht right there and I copied the name of the yacht. I paddled out and found the yacht and went around it. I'm a pretty good boatman and I took a quick look at the boat Once I got out of the yacht, I found it impossible to row from the yacht to the shore." "how do I say this?" "There is no boat, no boat, just the yacht. Excuse me, how do I go ashore like this? I said to myself: 'The boat is gone, which means that the people on the yacht are gone, which means I am It was a waste of time.' I was annoyed and yelled, but there was no response. So I got on the yacht." "Did the yacht break down?" Mason asked. Palermo laughed loudly: "The yacht is stranded in the mud, of course it can't move." "However, there is sea water around the yacht." "Oh, sure. But not much water." "Are you in your own boat?" "Yes, I was in my own boat, and the boat was still there. I used that little boat to take hunters out on the lake, and you think I'd have to pay for a boat? I had my own boat, and you thought I was crazy? How can I, Frank Palermore, be so stupid?" "I just don't know whose boat it is," Mason explained. "Now you know, it's my own ship." "Then what do you do?" "I went down the steps of the yacht." "Was the hatch opened by then?" "Yes, the hatch is open." "what have you found?" "I didn't notice anything unusual at first, then I looked around and saw a corpse, it was Mr. Milfield, and I immediately had an idea. 'Well, Milfield is dead, now there are no witnesses, and the contract is void gone.'" "Where was Mr. Milfield lying?" "Beside the cabin." "On the lower side?" "yes." "Is the yacht leaning?" "Yes, it was low tide." "What action did you take again?" "Leave as soon as possible." "Did you touch anything on the scene?" "I'm not a fool," Palermo said with a smile. "I didn't touch anything other than my feet walking across the cabin." "Perhaps you touched the top of the hatch when you entered the cabin?" "yes." "Then you left your fingerprints there." "Well, so what? It was in the morning, and Milfy has been dead all night." "However, you may have left your fingerprints." Palermo's voice grew louder. "Hey, what's going on? Are you trying to set me up and take the five thousand dollars for yourself? What do you mean by 'possibly leaving fingerprints'?" Mason said, "I just wanted to know..." "There's so much you want to know. Why don't you make a deal with me? Perhaps you're trying to kill me so you can get the land?" Palermo turned abruptly and walked towards his house. Mason said, "I just wanted to ask you..." Palermo turned around, with a livid face, and shouted angrily: "Get out of this place! If you don't leave, I'm going to go in and get a shotgun!" Mason watched as he turned and walked back into the house. Della said: "Boss, I think you should have collected almost all the clues you want." Mason nodded, without saying a word, standing still and staring at the room.He saw Palermo pull the screen door aside, enter the house, and slam the door shut. "We'd better get out of here before he comes out with a shotgun," Della urged. "I think he's a little crazy." Mason said, "Della, let's say it's a psychological test, and I'd like to see if he's actually going to pull out a gun." "Boss, I'm a little nervous." "Me too," Mason said bluntly, smiling at the same time. "He doesn't seem to be coming out." Mason waited another thirty seconds, then walked slowly along the car body, opened the door, and sat in the driver's seat. Della starts the car. "Would you like to call Paul to look up that license plate number?" Della looked at the room worriedly. Mason pursed his lips, and then said, "I don't think it's necessary. I happen to know the license plate number." "Really? Whose car is that?" Mason said: "Yesterday afternoon, I got a lift on this one we're talking about. Carlo Burbank drove me to the Surf and Sun motel and then back to Dobo's. "