Chapter 11 chapter Ten

The next day, after a night of excruciating nightmares, we drove to the police station.The record was drafted in French, typed clearly, and formatted for signature.Witold was the interpreter, and we signed them one by one.After that we went back to the hotel and Kitty and I packed our bags. "I was wondering where Scarlatt put a curling rod," Kitty said. "What?" I asked. She looked around and shrugged. "Come on, maybe she put it in the suitcase. The suitcase is with the police anyway. Because she's the pharmacist's wife, maybe they're looking for some drugs or something like that." .”

We say goodbye to the men.I sympathize with Witold, he is pale, unshaven, pouring himself his eighth cup of coffee, a difficult task awaits him, at least one more day to help the heartbroken Ernst . Kitty drove smoothly.She doesn't talk much, which is just what I like.We were both lost in thought. "Do you like this Reiner?" she asked suddenly, very bluntly. "Well," I replied cautiously. She smiled slightly. "We all fell for him. Why should your results be any different from mine. If you're happy with him, he's a lovely friend. And if you want me to give you any good advice, Then you try to be happy with him."

I wanted to tell Kitty everything, as I used to want to tell Bid everything.But I cannot speak of my love, since it is, after all, the motive of my crime.But I'm not entirely sure myself. "Oh, Kitty..." I began, as overwhelmed as Witold was the night before. "Kitty, I'm not going to go after men any more. On this excursion I'm quite interested in mixed parties of the sort I've never had before." "Yes, I understand that. Don't get me wrong, I'm just talking nonsense. I don't want to hurt you." "Never mind, Kitty. I like driving with you, by the way, and you're pretty sure of it."

"It's a good thing I don't have to drive the pharmacist's big car, otherwise I must have no direction." Kitty walked me to Witold's house, where my car was still parked.She shook my hand, regretting to say that she did not expect this trip to Alsace to end in such a tragic way. I took my suitcase and set off in the direction of Mannheim.I was frantically thinking about how to get rid of the curling rod first.I stopped by the Neckar, took the incriminating piece of evidence out of the box, and stuffed it into my handbag.Then, walking along the field path, I threw the electric reel into the water in a hidden place.

Witold called me about two hours after I got home.He said he and Ernst would probably be able to go home the next day, and the body would be transported from France to Rattenburg, but the police had one more problem: There was an electric coil in Scarlatt's suitcase. The box, but the curling rod wasn't in there, did we—Kitty and I—accidentally take something from her by mistake.I said "no," but then said, and Kitty also felt as if she had seen this thing somewhere. "So she brought this thing out?" Witold said. "I thought Scarlatte was just out of his wits and just brought an empty box. Well, I don't know what the thing looks like." , and don’t know why the police would be interested in this object.”

He said goodbye to me and promised to get back in touch shortly. I got mad at myself afterwards.Maybe I should tell him that I put that curling rod in my suitcase.I could totally buy a new curling iron right away.On the other hand, I don't know what brand Scarlatt's curling rod is or how long it's been.Once the item doesn't fit the original box, the thing may look more suspicious.Still, I felt restless and irritable.Fortunately, I still have two days off; I want to use them all in order to fully recover physically and mentally. The next day Mrs Roemer called.Can she come and have a look?She came here in the afternoon, and Disco was lying in my arms, which moved me so much.Frau Roemer mentioned her planned trip to America cautiously.I promised her that the dog would be welcome any time, and Mrs Roemer was very pleased with that.If this is the case, then she is going to book a ticket immediately and stay with her daughter in the United States for three weeks.I encouraged her to stay there for six weeks if she had nothing to do, because I would go there anyway, just stay at ease... I took this opportunity to ask her if her daughter knew who her father was.No idea, she said, that her father had died.

By the way, I wore the brooch that afternoon in honor of Mrs Roemer.I haven't given it to Ernst Schroeder yet, but I plan to give it to him after the funeral.Mrs Roemer was overjoyed to see me wearing this priceless item. She mentioned her old dog, whose eyesight and sense of smell didn't seem to be as good as they used to be. "When Disco was young, he was really good at catching cats. No matter what was moving, even birds, he would chase after it. With the growth of experience, he at least gave up this idea." She laughed out loud to herself. "Once, when he was small and silly, I took him with him to the paragliding field. From a distance, people could see a big bird flying to the green lawn and landing smoothly. The dog was useless. I was holding the leash, so I rushed to catch the prey. Of course I followed it closely, because there was a roadblock, and it escaped from me. I yelled and yelled, and it came back obediently."

"Hey," I said, "you little dog, if you can catch the bird, what on earth can you do with it?" I dutifully smiled a little. Mrs. Roemer continued: "Later, such a picture often appeared in front of my eyes like a symbol. I, or all people, were pursuing a great goal and hoping to get everything, but it was like Like this puppy, we rarely know that this prey is not what we want, so we are completely out of our hands." She looked at me and said, "By the way, that's a completely different matter! Go see a doctor, Ms. Helt, I don't think you've been looking well lately."

For the rest of the day, I mostly lay in bed.On Sunday night, I learned from Witold that he had called Kitty, but there was no answer at her house.He and Ernst went home again.Pharmacies are closed.Ernst was busy with the children. I asked him when the funeral would be held. "Next Wednesday," Witold replied, "the autopsy report indicated that Scarlatte drowned. As we imagined, she had a heart attack, lost consciousness, and then drowned." "Witold, how are you?" I asked. "It's all right," he said curtly. I decided to give my opinion. "You smoked with Scarlatt that night," I began, "but I didn't speak to the officer about it because it was certainly not a serious matter."

Witold let out a cry that sounded like his prey had been shot. "Tiha, I'm telling you: you don't have to protect me. I'll take care of myself." "Then why didn't you mention it?" "Out of respect for the dead, and of course for Ernst. He's had enough bad luck. Should he suspect that his wife is cheating on him with his friends?" "But that's what she does," I asserted. I heard the click of Witold's lighter, and his rapid breathing. "Pure nonsense," he said angrily. "We just sat and talked outside for a long time and didn't do anything else."

"Then why did you get in the car afterwards?" I asked. Witold was thrilled. "If this is an interrogation, then I am in your position, and I will be the first to clear the door. We went to the village to buy cigarettes. Goodbye!" He hung up the phone angrily. Ten minutes later, he called again. "Teha, don't get me wrong, I lost my grip just now. Of course you were kind enough not to tell us about our meeting at night. I thank you. So did you hear that Scarlatt was back?" Ahhh, it's just a short drive to the vending machine, not a lot of time in the car.Witold might be concerned, but I can fully expect them to be more than just smoking in the car. He seemed to have calmed down a little more and finally asked me if I was going to the funeral. "What time did the funeral start?" I asked. "As far as I know, the funeral took place at two o'clock in the afternoon in the prayer room of the Rattenburg Cemetery." "I'm afraid I won't be able to go on vacation again at this time," I explained, because I didn't want to attend a funeral a second time in such a short amount of time.Let's say goodbye amicably. Although it was quite exhausting, I had to go back to the office.I can't get someone else to do my job, and my boss won't take on my job at all, and all the work I have to do this week is piled up on my desk.It's unimaginable if I don't go to work for three whole weeks!For the next few days, I worked hard overtime.Boring piles of official documents have taken up my office hours and spare time.Thoughts of love, food, and roaming had long since ceased to exist in my mind, and memories of dead women, danger, and nervous excitement had more or less been dispelled by my busy professional life.In the past, it was a piece of cake for me to occasionally have some important arrangements at night.Maybe now I'm one of the older ones, or maybe I'm finally going through menopause, because getting up early, working hard all day, and hanging out the laundry and washing the glasses at night make me feel uncomfortable. I am exhausted.I almost forgot to think about Witold every day, but not long ago, the first greeting from my heart in the morning and the last greeting from my heart in the evening belonged to him. About five days into my hard work, Witold called.He looked excited.This time he had little of the usual friendly opening, which he always started the conversation with, and which mostly involved asking about my state of mind. "Do you remember, Teeha, that people used to talk about 'lucky cops'? These days the most successful cops have been replaced by 'computer cops'. Anyway, there are a lot of young cops these days who don't stop And ruthlessly fed data, facts, people and crimes into their computers, sometimes uncovering correlations that were not normally thought of." I listened curiously. "And then?" I asked in a low voice. "Well, I went to the Rattenburg police station again to give my statement. I've been there a lot since Schirko's death, but this one really got me out of my wits. The La Schroeder case was closed and passed on to colleagues in Rattenburg. And in the Rattenburg Police Department, there was a computer nerd. Without any technical analysis, he first thought of this: The wives all died in a short period of time under unknown circumstances, and two of the husbands were still good friends. But now it is more interesting. He knew a colleague in Baker Street, who was in charge of Bid Also a computer nerd. The two of them thought, all these cases happened in the vicinity of here, and all three women were not old and not sick. I said the same thing to you last time, Tiha After that, I'm not a police officer!" "I don't understand at all how you got involved with computers," I said. "I'll get to that in a moment. That is, the two officers entered into their computer everyone who had anything to do with the three dead. And of course they've followed up on many other leads that have so far been fruitless. Well, whatever Anyway, they unanimously concluded that I know all three of these women, and two of them are very familiar. Besides, Vivian and I are friends, and they know it very well, and they must have spied on me occasionally." "Yes, but what conclusions have they now drawn?" "Tiha, of course they didn't outright point out that I was a genius murderer of women. But maybe they were thinking in that direction. Anyway, I am now being watched again, which I have clearly felt today .” "Did they mention anything about me?" "They say, for example, that Ernst Schroeder knew these three women too—he's in the same situation as I am now. They'll definitely pay attention to him. But maybe I'm even more suspicious, because The string of murders started with my wife." "What about me?" I asked again. "They didn't mention your name. In fact, you don't know Shilk. Among the people around me, many people know not only Scarlatt, but also Shilk, but they don't know Bid. Presumably they are now focusing their attention on the people who were connected to all three dead, so it's probably me and Ernst." "You mean they'll find me too?" Witold thought about it, and now his mind was mainly on himself. "Who knows? Maybe it's in the 'other' category. But people don't find motivation in you." "Witold, thank God, where are you calling from?" "From a phone booth, and I'm not crazy. In theory, my side had a motive for killing my wife: I couldn't stand her drinking anymore. But the second one? Bid didn't object to me With Vivian, no one would believe that I had to kill her to get the girl, and if it was supposed that Scarlatte was my fancy, then I should kill her husband. " "Perhaps people think these cases are all murders?" I asked, which was also a question that particularly irritated me. "They didn't make it that clear. They just said that there's too much mess here. If you were in my position, how would you deal with it? Whether it's Shirko's death, or Scarlat's death , I don’t have a clear conscience.” "You mustn't let anyone see it," I suggested. Did he not think of me at all?Didn't he have any doubts?Not long ago, he was getting close to the truth.He's self-centered, I thought, and Ernst didn't particularly interest him.I promise to be considerate of everything, and I won't say anything about Sirko's (and my) role at the time of her death, or his tryst with Scarlatt shortly before her death. I have to be careful all the time.They have already thought that the three women may have been murdered, and it is very likely that the perpetrator is the same person.I had to think about what to say in case of an interrogation.And it's entirely possible that my phone has been tapped and they're stalking me. Wednesday night.Scarlatt's funeral is overdue.Witold and Kitty are definitely back at home again.Instead of calling, I drove from my office to Rattenburg.Bidder's car was parked in front of Witold's door.My heart suddenly stopped beating for a moment, and I suddenly realized that Vivian must be here.No, I don't want to get caught on her tryst with him.I drove off right away.I didn't want to go home either, so I decided to go and see Kitty. Although Witold and I had driven to Kitty's place once, it was not easy to find her home in Schlingsheim, and I had to ask for directions twice before I found the right place.It was a multi-family home in a residential area.I rang the doorbell.The door was opened immediately.Kitty was standing in the corridor with a child.Not surprised by my visit, she bid farewell to the female student who was doing homework and made an appointment to meet next time, then we entered the living room. Kitty's north-facing house is very bright, a guitar is hung on the wall, a floral carpet is spread on the floor, sheepskin is hung on the canvas sofa chair, there are log bookshelves on the wall, many books are placed on the shelves, and a cat Peeping on the desk. In order to reverse the restraint situation, I approached the cat and tried to pet it, but the animal jumped off the table in fear and hid.Kitty asked me to sit down, and went into the kitchen herself: she was off to make tea.Witold's book is on the desk.A photo of him and her, probably taken during a class outing, was placed in a very delicate frame and hung in a somewhat hidden corner of the window sill. Does not own such photos. When Kitty reappeared with two unglazed ceramic teacups, brown sugar cubes and a sprinkling of ginger, I asked if the photographs of her trip to Alsace had been developed.She stared at me in surprise. "My God, you're thinking of pictures after this blow! I've only used half the film, and I'm sure to use the other half when I find the right opportunity in a few months' time." I then asked how the funeral was going.Kitty then ran into the kitchen and poured boiling water into the teapot. "Of course it's terrible," she began, "but at least the priest's speech was good, and it wasn't sentimental or boring. We were all very excited. Ernst and the two children—it was unbearable! It was a great pain." Oh, I can't describe it to you at all!" Kitty's eyes filled with tears. "Are there many people present?" "I feel like the whole of Rattenburg is here. Half the teachers at Oleg and Annette's school, the students in their classes, people from different clubs. The Schroeders are loved by everyone. My God, what a tragedy the mother of two has passed away!" Once again I heard with great satisfaction the great funeral.Everything is my work.All I regret now is that I wasn't there. "Why didn't you go to the funeral?" asked Kitty. I explained to her that the trip was already strenuous enough, and it would take up an afternoon soon, and there was no way to ask for leave. "Are you saying I should send Ernst Schröder's mother's brooch in a package to him?" I asked. Kitty thought about it, and scratched the cat gently. "I think it would be better to wait. It's certainly not on his mind at the moment. Besides, the brooch will remind him of our recent evenings together. Hurting his wife. No! At any rate it must wait until the worst is over. At that point, Reiner can be careful to ask him if he still wants the brooch." The suggestion is reasonable, but I have an almost strong desire to throw away and get rid of Mrs. Roemer's brooch.Maybe I want to make amends with this... "How is Witold?" I have nothing to ask, so I have to ask this question. Kitty looked at me.She is very tired.Wearing old jeans and an even older Norwegian jacket over a leather jacket, she has largely lost her youthful, homeless air, replaced by that of a weary schoolteacher. Amiable image. "Reiner liked Scarlatt, I think so. He was saddened by her death," she said, after a moment's hesitation, "but I think his young girlfriend will comfort him." Her last few words were quite harsh.Kitty wished to let me know of Vivienne's existence, apparently as much as I thought she was Witold's "only confidante."I decided not to lie. "I know he's friends with Vivian," I said. "Of course he talked to me about it." Kitty didn't seem much surprised by this, but only confirmed her suspicions: we both acted as close sisters who listened to the dandy's confessions.Can one accuse him of doing this?Maybe he didn't make any exaggerated promises and confessions of love, but just tried to find as many ways out of the situation as possible. Kitty was moaning.She seemed to have a similar idea in mind.But I dare not ask about the relationship between them. It's starting to get dark early now.I decided to stop by Rattenburg on my way back.Out of old habit, I parked the car and walked past Witold's apartment, looking intently at Bid's car.I crawled to the apple trees, but the leaves had fallen a lot, and some trees were bare. Vivian sat alone in the living room crying.I would have expected to see some other scenes like seductive scenes etc.A young man, perhaps his eldest son, came out of the kitchen and put a tray of bread and butter and sliced ​​meat on the table.Witold yelled from the kitchen, and the son took a cork screwdriver from a drawer and disappeared.Vivian was blowing her nose.Her eyes were dirty and her nose was red.At this time, Witold came and stroked her black hair kindly as he walked past her, then put the red wine and the glass on the table.The three sat down and ate.They weren't particularly talking or laughing, but rather silent.But even so, the dinner party scene under the chandelier exudes a safe charm that annoys me more than the completed one-off seduction.I suddenly had an infinite yearning for human society and its members.Only my death will put an end to every impossible family life I know.I thought again of the revolver that was hiding in my bathroom right now.It sits in the little scrub pocket on top of my little medicine cabinet.Maybe I can use it on my poor head right now. The glass door was closed tightly, and it was difficult for me to hear what the three men were talking about.The son took a newspaper and seemed to be reading an article on it, and then everyone started a discussion.I dare not come any closer.It was cold.I feel very alone. Finally, the son left the room with Vivian, and they drove away in Bid's car.Witold went into the kitchen with the cutlery.He walked with a limp, with a slightly resigned expression on his face.I decided to go home. Witold suddenly opened the glass door and walked out onto the balcony.He took a deep breath and suddenly saw me.It seems that he just saw a hazy shadow, he cried, more out of fear: "Who is it?" It's embarrassing.I can't wait to get into the hole.Should I run away?If so, he might have caught me as easily as a burglar in the act.I was about to die of shame, but I still approached the light and said, "It's me." Witold looked at me in bewilderment. I faltered and said: "I wanted to come to see you and ask about your funeral. But I saw a car at your door and realized that you had guests, so I didn't want to disturb you." Witold searched for the right words. "Can I understand that you are spying on me?" "No, thank God, no! I would never do such a thing! But something drew me to that yard where I was standing when your wife had an accident." "Do you mean that the murderer will return to the scene of his crime?" Witold roughly grabbed my knuckles and pulled me into the room.He closes the door. "How many times have you stood out there?" He was so angry that I was really scared of him. "Today is the second time. I suddenly wanted to come over so impulsively," I stammered. "I don't believe you anymore." Witold lit a cigarette and looked me in the eye with an expression of undisguised hostility. "Once I catch you again in my garden I will call the police and tell them you have big feet!" this is not fair.I started to cry bitterly.Not so much because of my big feet, but because of his vitriol.But I knew that when women shed tears he softened, and despite his irritation he was always a trained comforter.My guess was right: After a few cigarettes and a few blows of my nose, he backed down. "Teha, you're a very lonely person. No, it doesn't fit your personality; you probably haven't had anyone to talk to since Bid passed away. Maybe you should join a women's self-experience group, or go to counseling Go there and try..." "You mean, I'm a little out of order?" I choked out. He hugs me. "We all have a bit of a problem really. I'm sure as neurotic as you are. Only interested and sensitive people need a psychologist. I'm going to see a psychologist soon too, I've already made an appointment with them. " "No one can help me," I said loudly and harshly, "I'd better die!" Witold stroked my back and I felt very comfortable.I started crying again because he kept touching my back. "Don't cry, don't cry! This is a handkerchief. From now on, if you stand at the gate of my house, then you can ring the doorbell, regardless of whether I have guests here. You are welcome to come anytime!" My mood calmed down, and I finally asked Witold about the funeral that day.His face immediately darkened. "I've been through the whole mess after my wife's death, and now I'm going through it with Ernst! My poor friend is as independent as a child. But you really don't know, undertaker How do people say it to people. "To give life a grand end", this sentence means that as much money as possible should be invested in the coffin. If it was changed in the past, Ernst must have refused , would rather donate the money to the orphanage, but now he is so helpless and sad, he had to order the most expensive coffin for his dead wife." I haven't thought about it at all.How much did the three funerals cost in total? We sat side by side in silence.Witold was smoking, and I crumpled his wet handkerchief in my hand irritably. "The kid went to the movies," he added suddenly, "I'm too tired and I'm not interested in going." "Kids?" I asked. "Yes," he explained, "in terms of age, Vivienne is more my child than my lover. She seems to be looking for more in me than a lover, but a father. My old God, she has a lot of problems that she can't handle." I really want to know if she is his regular girlfriend now.Just as the two of us sat side by side so sadly, I thought, we might just as well be a couple sitting together again silently after his children's visit.Witold seemed to sense my curiosity about Vivian. "I'm too old for a girl like this," he said softly. "After all, I have a job and a home and a yard. I can't and don't like to toss about every night—I need sleep." Many thoughts flashed through my mind.Should I declare my love to him, should I boldly try in this direction?What if he, with a touch of loneliness and sentimentality, wants to sleep with me?I pondered over and over whether this was what I was always after.On the other hand, if you don't dare to do it, you can't gain anything. This is an ancient truth.I leaned in on him a little, it was a little test for him.He didn't immediately respond to my pounce.In order not to be disrespectful, he let it happen, but after a tolerable amount of time had elapsed, he moved a bit, then drew back, and lit a second cigarette. Why would I even bother to think about the possibility if it was obvious from the start that it was going to be a failure?He didn't want me; he just liked my platonic admiration, and for that he was willing to go out of his way to comfort and care for me whenever he got the chance.I stand up.He immediately followed me, without any intention of keeping me for a while.We go to the door. "You must remember in the future: I welcome your presence at any time. But I don't want someone standing in my yard and watching me secretly. Just thinking about this makes me angry!" However, in order not to Giving a sense of how serious his warning words were, he smiled and touched my cheek lightly with his lips.I say goodbye to him. Mrs. Roemer has gone to America.The dog came back to me, and I felt a little comforted by his presence.I spoke to it often, as lonely people are wont to do; I also spoke to the dead, to Bid, to my mother, and even to Scarlatt, and explained to her my mortal wound and my melancholy state of mind. . One night Witold called me.I haven't seen him or spoken to him since he caught me in the yard.Afterwards, I felt more and more clearly the embarrassing situation I was in at that time, and I suddenly didn't want to see him anymore. He didn't beat around the bush, he just got straight to the point. "The computer officer just came to my house again. I called to draw your attention. There's a good chance he'll be at your house too." "Anything new? Is there anything that needs my special attention?" I asked. "Well, then, we've already talked about it anyway. You promised me not to tell me about the night I met Scarlatt, or about me being with you when Sirko died. Can I trust you? " "Of course, of course you can trust me. The Silco case is between us." Half an hour into our phone call, the Rattenburg officer did show up at my house.I locked the swearing dog in the bedroom.The man was polite and composed.He said he had a few questions because there were still some unanswered questions about the three deaths, some of which I might recall. He began by questioning me in detail about my relationship with Bid, even though the case was not at all in his purview.I had to describe to him exactly what I knew about the accident. "I know what's written in all the papers, that's all I can tell you," I said. "Well, maybe more than that. It occurred to me that a friend of yours called you and told you about that picnic that happened later. It's possible that you're trying to shelter someone A person, such as Mr. Engelstein. Your friend is in love with him, and you are the only one who knows about it, and she doesn't seem to have told it to anyone else." "Yes, she revealed it to me. But Bid can't help but suspect that up to now this love has been nothing more than wishful thinking on her part. If she were to have a date with Mr. Engelstein, she might tell me Yes. But she never told me about it!" The detective looked at me intently, and he seemed to have a lot of questions. "Your friend's shopping list is in her wallet, and that weekend basket is in the car. Of course she can take the bottle of champagne from home, but the meal is not hers. Someone else must have brought it. Because The butcher where she buys the goulash doesn't sell roast chicken. How the hell do you know Bud Spember eats roast chicken?" "Did I say that?" I asked. "You spoke to Mr. Engelstein," he said, "because he talked about that Last Supper as if he had been there. Bid Spember stood on the tower with a champagne flute and a chicken leg, and fell to the ground .We did not announce to the media what the deceased ate in his belly. The newspaper only said that there was an empty champagne bottle. Mr. Engelstein initially claimed that he had seen the text about roast chicken in the newspaper, but after a long discussion Then he said you mentioned it to him." I shrugged.I'm reminded of the scene in Bickelbach: Scarlatt with champagne and chicken.It reminded me of Bid at the time, and perhaps I mentioned it to Witold. "I don't remember," I said, looking natural. "Even if I said it, I probably just saw it in a paper somewhere, or heard it from someone else. Anyway, Bid Didn't tell me about the picnic." The officer came over to the cupboard where I kept the glasses.He purposefully retrieved five crystal glasses from which he drank champagne. "This is the crystal glass your friend drinks champagne from. Where's your sixth glass?" “不过我请您注意，”我愤怒地回答，“杯子总是不断地坏掉。谁家的杯子会是齐全的呢。” “您，海尔特女士，”他简短地回应道，“比如我在这里就看到有六只雪利酒杯子、六只葡萄酒杯子和六只喝水杯子。在您家里一切看上去差不多都跟新的一样，特别井井有条。” 这真是厚颜无耻的诡计，我生气了。 “怎么？我没有家室，很少有客人来访，所以那些餐具和杯子自然就用得不多。但我一个人在家时，我也喝香槟酒，因为我有低血压。一只杯子早就被我摔成碎片了。您难道想用一只缺的香槟酒杯子来陷害我吗？” 他什么也没说，而是打量起我的脚来。 “您穿几码的鞋？” “三十九码，”我撒谎道，他又不会真的去量尺寸。 “我要带走您的一只杯子，如果可以，也包括您的相册。另外，我想看一下您的鞋柜。您有体操鞋吗？” I shake my head.我是不是该问问他有没有搜查证，我是不是该给我的律师打电话？ He stood up. “噢，对了，我还想看一看浴室。” 我随着他一起走。他首先走到了鞋柜那里，连问也不问，在卧室里找到了那个地方。那条狗愤怒地对着他怒吼。他检查了好几双鞋子，用责备的口气说道：“四十一码，您要是穿三十九码，您的脚会疼死的！” 他在衣柜前并没有久留。 然后他就进了浴室。I followed him.他打开那只小五斗柜的“丽盛板”牌抽屉，检查我那只电吹风的功能。 “请您把药柜打开一下！”他像一名海关官员命令道。再说我也比他站得更近。他的眼睛在我的药物和化妆品上面急速地掠过。 “那里面是什么？”他指了指最上面放洗刷用具的小口袋。 “淘汰的卷发夹，”我说。 他头转动了一下命令道：“拿下来，打开，”与此同时，他自个儿跪倒在地，打开洗手盆下面的折叠门，折叠门后面的桶里放着去污粉和抹布。我从袋子里抽出那把左轮手枪，从近处直接朝他的左太阳穴上开枪，他甚至连回头的时间都来不及。 他躺倒在地上，脑袋上有一个洞眼，血流到了浴室垫上，枪声震得我的耳朵嗡嗡作响。他肯定在寻找斯卡拉特的那把电卷棒，他已经带上了我的那只香槟酒杯子，到头来还完全可能查出来，那个烤鸡就是我在肉铺师傅那里买的。 我昏昏沉沉而又不知所措地坐在浴缸边上(就像上一次一样)，目瞪口呆地凝视着血迹。住在我楼下的那对耳朵不好的夫妇或许没有注意到枪声，可是我的女邻居就很有可能听见了。我走到过道上偷听，但没有听到那台老是发出单调刺耳声音的收音机，也没有灯光从乳白色的玻璃门中透射出来。