Chapter 8 Chapter VII Forty-Five Guns

Julian Hunt was involuntarily called out of Mars's box and into the presence of Sergeant Willie, who was poked like a granite statue in the doorway.The puffy bags under his eyes looked like giant frogs.His cheeks were extremely flushed and his expression was extremely dull, which was much worse than his usual condition. "Come in, Mr. Hunter," ordered Officer Quinn curtly, "and sit in a chair." The pair of eyeballs shrank, and the eyes flickered quickly: "No, thank you," Hunter said, "I'd better stand." "Go ahead. Do you know Horn well?"

"Huh?" said Hunter. "Interrogation? Isn't that a little absurd, my dear Inspector?" "What words!" The nightclub owner waved his well-kept hand. "Obviously, you see me as a suspect in the murder of that - er - old gentleman running around the field! You're stupid for doing it, you should know." "Honestly, stop talking nonsense, Hunter. You're not doing yourself any good by showing off like this," said Sergeant Quinn sternly. "Now answer my question truthfully, and don't waste our time—we've got big things to do, I don't have the patience to play tricks on you. Okay, can you tell me?"

Hunter shrugged: "Actually, I don't know him very well." "That doesn't mean anything. How long have you known him?" "A week, to be precise." "Well. When he came into town to prepare for the horse show?" "Exactly, Sergeant." "Through whom?" "Tony, Tony Mars." "On what occasion?" "Tony took him to my nightclub..." "Club Mara?" "yes." "Was that the only time you saw him? Before tonight, I mean?" Hunter lit a cigar with his steady fingers: "Well, you can't say that." He blew out a puff of smoke lazily, "Maybe Horn came to the nightclub again later. I don't know. "

Officer Quinn stared at him and said, "You're lying, you must be." Hunter's pink cheeks gradually turned red: "What do you mean?" Officer Quinn smiled softly: "Tsk! Please forgive me, Mr. Hunter. I didn't mean to offend you. I really shouldn't have said it so loudly." Ellery sat in the corner and smiled indifferently, "Look, I Knowing that you have a deal with Tony, I guess it must be to fund Horn's return to the screen. Then I think, you have to get together to discuss it a few times..." "Er—" said Hunter, taking a slow breath, "yes, of course. It's a natural speculation. But I'm telling the truth, Sergeant. Besides, I'm not really what you say, Get involved in some 'deal' to fund Horn's comeback. Mass and Grant mentioned it to me. I'm just hesitant. You know, it's kind of out of my league Son."

Officer Quinn took out a snuff bottle, solemnly picked up a handful, and inhaled it reverently: "So, you are waiting to see how Horn's reaction will be after his appearance in the arena this time? " "Yes, yes! That's right." "Oh! So you're impeccable, eh, Mr. Hunter?" Sergeant Quinn put the snuffbox back into his pocket with a smile. The room fell silent.What was muttering in Hunter's throat suddenly burst out loudly, and the veins on his temples also bulged, and he roared sharply: "If you really think of me as... yes, officer, I have been with you all night You are sitting in the same box! How could I..."

"Of course," Officer Quinn reassured, "of course, Mr. Hunter. Don't let yourself be so excited. These questions are just routine procedures. Now you go back to Marth's box and wait." "Wait? I can't keep waiting, can't I...?" Officer Quinn spread his hands helplessly: "We are just law enforcement officers, you should understand, Mr. Hunter. I'm sorry, but you can only wait." Hunter took a deep breath: "Huh. Well, I can see it too." After speaking, he turned and walked out, howling a cigarette. "Wait a minute," Ellery wandered out from the corner, "do you know Miss Horne—Jitter Horne—well, Mr. Hunter?"

"Oh, Miss Horne. No, not very well. I've seen her once or twice--once in Hollywood, I think, through Mrs. Hunter--I should call her Miss Gay--my Ma'am... that's all." He waited where he was, as if waiting for the next question.But no one paid him any more attention.After a while, he nodded slightly and walked out of the office. Quinn and his son looked at each other and smiled strangely. "What's the matter, Mr. Inspector?" Ellery asked. "I've never heard you be so gentle with a witness!" "Who knows," the old man said in a muffled voice, "I think it's probably intuition. That bird man must know something, and I'll deal with him after I figure it out." He stuck his head out of the door and looked at the aisle, "Thomas! The actress is calling—that woman called 'Quack Gay'!" He turned around and grinned, "By the way, what did you want to ask just now, about Kit Horn, um ?”

"I don't know either, my lord. I guess, probably because of intuition." Ellery smiled slyly, until the graceful and fragrant Mara Gay walked through the simple doorway. The woman entered the door with her slender waist swaying, and sat down with a dignified air like a queen, with a sacred and inviolable look on her face.She stared at Officer Quinn with Medusa-like vicious eyes. "Well," she sniffed, and said with her well-groomed little head held high, "this is too much! It's too much to bear!" "What's the matter?" said Sergeant Quinn flatly. "Oh, it's Miss Gay! Please don't speak in that tone, please. I'm going to-"

"You want it!" roared the orchid in Hollywood, "you don't need to 'beg' me, this police officer who has never heard of it! I can use whatever accent I want, understand! Now... . . . " She complained incessantly. Officer Quinn looked at her in surprise, and just about to make a little protest, she was aggressively dismissed. "Please explain to me exactly what it means to treat me in such a vile, bossy way! Keep me locked up in that disgusting place for hours and not let me leave - not even a toilet Come on! No, don't interrupt me. Do you know it's going to hurt my public image? Not that I care much about it, but, but it has its uses. But..."

"The sweet thing is..." Ellery murmured a line from Shakespeare. "What? It used to work, but now—what's the matter now! Look at the reporters who called the papers as soon as it happened. Tomorrow I'll find myself posted all over the world, And it's tied up with a--my God--with a murder! My press agent would be happy, but what is he, a vulgar fellow! I can answer your questions, but you Gotta let me out right away—right now, get it?—I gotta call my lawyer, and—and—” She stopped, gasping for breath. "Still talking nonsense here!" Officer Quinn said seriously, "Now listen to me: what do you know about this murder?"

Those provocative actor's beautiful stares may burn many people, but they can't help the calloused Police Officer Quinn, not to mention that the calluses are made of asbestos.So she dug out a diamond-encrusted lipstick stick from her handbag, and painted her red lips provocatively: "I don't know anything, dear police officer." Ellery grinned and Sergeant Quinn blushed with exasperation. "Don't do that with me!" he snapped. "When did you see Buck Horne?" "The circus performer? Let me think about it." She thought, "Last week." "Not in Hollywood?" "Officer! He has been away from there for more than ten years!" "Oh. I reckon you were a nursing baby then," said Constable Quinn sarcastically. "Where, then, did you meet Horn?" "At the Mara Club, my husband's little place. You know." Her husband's "little place" is at least one-sixth the size of the arena, and the decoration alone uses more marble and gold leaf than the most magnificent movie palace on Broadway. "Who else was there when you saw him?" "Julian—my husband, and the big guy, Curley's father, and Tony Mars." "You've known Miss Horne for a long time, haven't you?" "Just that arrogant little pony girl?" She sniffed her nose disdainfully. "They brought her to show me when they were rehearsing on the coast." "Bringing it to you, huh?" said Sergeant Quinn sarcastically. "She's going to—tell you to see it. Now, Miss Gay, here you go. I'm busy." She suspected that Officer Quinn was making some kind of terrible hint to her, and she suddenly felt a sense of fear, and she couldn't breathe: "Why, you, old—" Officer Willie grabbed her arm with two fingers and dragged her from the chair and out of the room. Ellery jumped up: "Isn't it almost enough to ask so many questions?" "Hell, not yet, I have to see—" "You," Ellery said decisively, "major Kirby, the guy who directs the newsreels, is worse than anybody." "Kobe? What are you doing seeing him?" "It seems to me that the most important thing we need at the moment is to find someone who knows how to use guns and ammunition—considering where we are." Officer Quinn muttered, "You wanted a weapons expert, so you picked one who made movies, huh? What logic!" "I heard that the major was not only a sharpshooter, but also an authority figure in some fields-I guess it means weapons. I heard it from Tony Mars' flattery, remember Kobe before it happened Come to visit our box? All right, send someone to call him, and we will soon find out if Mas is reliable." Inspector Willie set off at once to find the major. "But, what are we going to do with a firearms expert?" Officer Quinn asked with a frown. Ellery sighed. "Dad, dear dad, what's going on in your head tonight? We found the bullet, didn't we?" Officer Quinn was obviously annoyed: "Sometimes, son... do you really think I don't know how to ask a weapons expert to identify that bullet and compare it with other bullets from a professional point of view? But what's the matter?" Are you in a hurry? Why do you have to..." "Look, we've got to go over all those forty-five guns as soon as possible--can't delay, gotta do it right away, Dad!" "Where did you get the forty-five guns?" "Well, they had forty-five guns, I reckon," said Ellery impatiently. "I noticed that almost all the cowboys riding with Horne wore a holster, which meant every and that makes forty; then add the three guns Teddy Lanes carried--a . Barrel guns. Forty-three now; finally add Crazy Bill's and Horn's own—forty-five guns. What's there to argue about? Can't you see, Dad, we must Check it out?" Officer Quinn's anger dissipated: "You are right. Besides, the sooner this matter is done, the better... What's your business, Hesse?" One of Police Officer Quinn's guards walked in, a sturdy Scandinavian, his small eyes were red with excitement: "Sir, there is a riot in the stands! The brothers are desperately trying to hold those people! They clamoring to go home." "I still want to go home," grumbled Officer Quinn. "Pass the word, Jesse, the officers can use batons, for God's sake, if necessary! Before a thorough search is done. , no one is allowed to leave here." Hesse opened his eyes wide: "Search 20,000 people?" He gasped in shock. "It's a huge job, I know," said Sergeant Quinn darkly, "but it looks like we're going to have to. Now, Jesse, call Rhett first..." Officer Quinn sent him out the door, walked into the aisle, and explained in detail the task of searching everyone.It was also a privilege of his eminent old police officer.By this point, he was almost happy. "It'll take a night's work," said Sergeant Quinn when we got back. "I guess by tomorrow morning, I'll be on my stomach, and that's all right! That's all. . . . Oh, come in, Major!" Major Bryant looked tired.He tried to pull himself together, only to look ridiculous instead.He glanced at Ellery. "Is the camera still shooting?" Bryant shook his head: "It's already stopped. Boy, if our boss finds out how much film we used, we will have to fight! Fortunately, I have enough. Come on, sir, I can do something for you What? Your sergeant said you were going to summon me specially." "It's not me," said Constable Quinn. "My son wants to see you. Say it, Ellery." "It's up to you now, Major," said Ellery suddenly. "I heard this evening that you were admired for your marksmanship during the war. Is that true?" The major's small and bright black eyes suddenly became dull like two small black coal balls: "That's it." He said quickly, "But what do you mean by mentioning it?" Ellery's eyes widened, then he laughed. "My God, I didn't bluff you and make you a suspect! I'm interested in you for a whole other reason. Now tell me if that's true. " Kobe regained his composure and smiled easily: "I thought that was true. Well, I did win a few medals." "I've also heard that you're an expert in ordnance. Is that true?" "I did study ballistics, Mr. Quinn. Not as a profession, but as a hobby. I don't dare call myself why-expert." "Humility itself means skill," Ellery said with a smile. "What do you think of me as a consultant?" Major Bryant stroked his mustache subconsciously: "I am willing to help, of course," he muttered again, "But you also know that I have to be in charge of my team. And the film we shot has to..." "What a problem! We'll take care of that for you. You have a lieutenant on staff at your desk, don't you?" "Yes, my chief cameraman, named Hall, can do it." "Great! Suppose..." "I've got to make it clear to Hall. We've got a lone eater here tonight, Mr. Quinn, and the films that come out, you know, are the lifeblood of our business." He mused, " Let me tell you this, if you can let my people out as fast as possible, I'll drop everything and do it for you. Those films have to be developed, printed, cut, and sounded and narrated quickly, and delivered early in the morning To the theater on Broadway. It has to be given away, can you accommodate?" "Accommodating," Constable Quinn unexpectedly agreed, "but you and your men must undergo a routine inspection, Major, before we can release you." The major became cold: "Is this necessary?" "I hope not." Kobe shrugged his shoulders: "That's fine, there are rules for each profession. Well, Mr. Quinn, it's up to you." Officer Quinn gently instructed Officer Willie: "Thomas, I have a special mission for you. Go to the platform and search for Major Kobe and his group, and carefully check every piece of equipment." The major seemed surprised: "I said, this is..." "It's a formality, Major, just a formality," said Inspector Quinn, looking gracious. "Go ahead, you two. I'm going to do my thing." The inventory was completed in twenty minutes.In the police circle of this city, when it comes to the ruthlessness of law enforcement, no one can compare with Officer Willie.Under his supervision, all personnel and equipment on the platform passed through the sieve once.Including the small and thin Major Kobe himself, his clothes, his group of disgruntled and disgruntled photographers, sound engineers, and Major Kobe’s camera, Major Kobe’s film box, Major Kobe’s current controller... In a word , and everything associated with Major Kirby and his little army was frisked, even the coils of wire were unrolled, inspected, touched, pinched, punctured, cut open, or simply disassembled. The result is nothing.There are no suspicious items hidden in the platform itself, the people on the platform, and the equipment and tools on the platform, nor are there any parts that can be used to assemble any suspicious items.So, the photojournalism team hastily withdrew from the stadium under the close surveillance and escort of many police officers, and went straight back to find the editor-in-chief of their production company with Major Kobe's hasty and repeated instructions. The major was the last to be checked.Convinced of his innocence, he was escorted through the side gate of the stadium like a relay to Ellery.Ellery was waiting for him on the sidewalk, a huge police bag piled at his feet, bulging with forty-five murder weapons of various shapes and hundreds of rounds of bullets of various sizes. Officer Quinn also came out to see them off. "As soon as you find a clue, you will immediately shoot the headquarters and inform us?" Ellery asked solemnly. "Just wait and see." Officer Quinn stood there and watched their taxis drifting away thoughtfully, and then resolutely returned to the stadium to personally supervise the massive sweep of 20,000 people.

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