Chapter 8 Chapter 6: Alan Deo enters the scene

Before that, I had only vaguely felt a distant dreamy shadow hanging over us.All the evidence was in a mess in my mind, making me forget the tragedy that happened before my eyes.However, it was as if a sharp knife had been stabbed in the back, and suddenly, I saw all this clearly through the clouds and mist.Alan Deo...the name itself doesn't make sense to me, it could also be John Smith or Knut Sorensen.I've never heard the name, never seen the person, and yet—with this little clue, some sort of spiritual, or sixth sense, or subconscious deduction—I've been given the power of a prophet To judge immediately that the suspect, the possible victim of this social distortion, must also be the victim of that great, real blur that hangs over our heads.

I briefly recalled these clues, my head was heavy with these vague and chaotic thoughts, and my heart was beating violently.I felt helpless, even though my father was by my side, able to give me the strength to be safe and comfortable, but I found that the person I most longed for was the old gentleman who lived in Hamlet's Heights. Prosecutor Hume and Rufus Cotton were discussing in low voices, while Kenyon suddenly became animated, walking up and down the room, giving orders in a disgruntled tone, as if the little character who had just been released from prison could He was buoyed by the hope of a breakthrough in the case.Thinking back to what Hume said on the phone and Kenyon's command, I couldn't help trembling, and I understood it all at once!Based on their conversations and pursuits, they had already convicted the still-unidentified Aaron Doo, who had only been out of the Algonquin prison for a few hours before being caught in the trap of fleeing again.

Jeremy's strong arms helped me out of the house and into the car, and I felt refreshed breathing the fresh night air.The prosecutor sat next to Jeremy, my father and I sat in the back, and the car sped away.My mind was still groggy, my father was silent, Hume was smugly gazing at the dark road ahead, and Jeremy was holding the steering wheel in silence.The car drove up the steep mountain road, which was hazy and uncertain like a dream. Then, in the darkness, a silhouette of a carnivorous monster looms in front of you... Algonquin Prison has arrived. It was unimaginable that a building made of lifeless stone and steel could exude such a living evil.As a child, stories of dark haunted houses, abandoned castles and haunted churches always terrified me, but in the past few years of traveling in European monuments, I have never seen such buildings, purely man-made A terrifying force... Now, as Jeremy honked his horn in front of the steel gates, I suddenly understood what it was like to be afraid of a building.Most of the prison was dark, the moon was gone, and the cold wind whined.It was so close to the prison that no voices could be heard behind the high walls, nor were there any lights.Huddled in my seat, I felt my father's hand suddenly grasping me--whispered, "What's wrong, Petty?" His words brought me back to reality, the demon escaped without a trace, and I tried to shake Emotion of fear.

The gate opened suddenly, and Jeremy drove the car past. There were a few men standing in front of the headlights, black uniforms, square hats, and rifles in their hands. They were daunting. "Prosecutor Hume is here!" Jeremy yelled. "Boy, turn off the lights." A gruff voice said, and Jeremy did.Then a strong beam of light came, shining on our faces in turn. The guards surveyed us, their impassive eyes neither suspicious nor friendly. "It's all right, man," said Hume hastily. "I'm Hume, and these are my friends." "Mr. Hume, Warden Magnus is waiting for you," said the same man, but in a much warmer voice, "but the others—they'll have to wait outside."

"I promise they'll be all right," he whispered to Jeremy. "I see you and Miss Sam just parked outside and waited for us." He got out of the car.Jeremy seemed to hesitate, but the big men with rifles clearly intimidated him, so he nodded and leaned back.My father walked towards the building, and I followed.I'm pretty sure neither he nor the prosecutor noticed me, they walked past the guard.Entering the prison's front yard, the guards said nothing, apparently acquiescing to my presence.After a while, when Hume turned his head, he realized that I was silently following behind, but he just shrugged and continued to stride forward.

The place is huge—I don’t know how big it is because of the darkness, and our footsteps echoed hollowly on the flagstone walkway. Not long after we walked, a blue-uniformed guard opened the heavy steel door to let us in. After passing, we found ourselves in the administration building, so empty, dark and lifeless.Even the walls, not the walls of the cells, but the walls of the administrative offices, silently whispered horrible legends.I began to suspect that some terrible vision would appear before my eyes. I followed father and Hume awkwardly up a stone-flagged staircase leading to a modest door, no different from an ordinary office, with the words "Warden Magnus" embossed on it.

Hume knocked on the door, and it was answered by a sharp-eyed man in plainclothes—untidy, obviously called out of bed in a hurry, probably a clerk or a secretary, as is the case with these prison fellows, no smiles, No warmth, no mercy—he muttered a few words in a low voice, led us through a large reception room and an office outside, to another door, opened it, and waited impassively for the door to let us in. Let's go in.As we passed him, he just looked at him coldly. I suddenly discovered an irrelevant thing. All the way from the outside to this room, all the windows were equipped with steel bars.

In the tidy, quiet room, a man rose to greet us, who looked like an ex-banker.Dressed in plain gray, everything looked meticulous except for the hastily put on tie.He has the characteristics of dealing with villains face to face for many years. He is tough, serious, and weathered. His eyes reveal the vigilance of living in danger for a long time. He has thin gray hair and slightly loose clothes. "Hello, Warden," said the prosecutor in a low voice, "I'm sorry to wake you up so early in the morning, but the murder case doesn't pick a time that's convenient for us. Ha, ha... Come in, Inspector .And you, Miss Sam."

Warden Magnus smiled hurriedly, pointed to the chair and said in a gentle tone: "I didn't expect so many people to come." "Oh, Warden Magnus, this is Miss Sam, and Inspector Sam. Warden, Miss Sam is also a detective, and, of course, Inspector Sam is already Veteran." "Yes," said the warden, "it doesn't matter anyway." He had a thoughtful expression on his face: "So, something happened to Senator Fawcett after all, it's really strange, it's hard to say about retribution, right? Hume?" "Yes, he has been punished." Hume said calmly.

We sat down, and my father suddenly said: "God bless, I finally remembered! Warden, did you participate in police work fifteen years ago, in the northern part of Honshu?" Magnus's eyes lit up, and he smiled and said, "I remember now... yes, in Buffalo. You are the famous Mr. Sam? I'm so glad to see you here, are you retired? ?..." He went on and on, and I lay back my aching head on the back of the chair and closed my eyes, Algonquin Prison . . . a thousand or two thousand people were sleeping, or Tossing and turning unable to fall asleep.Their bruised and bruised bodies cannot be stretched out in the narrow cells; men in uniform are patrolling the porch; the night sky is above the roof, and there is a dense forest not far away; in Hamlet, the sick old man is sleeping ; and outside the steel door is the sullen Jeremy Clay; in the funeral home in Leeds, the body of a man who once called the wind and rain lies in the morgue... What are they waiting for?I wonder why they don't talk about Alan Deo?

Hearing the sound of the door opening, I opened my eyes, and the sharp-eyed clerk stood at the door: "Warden, Father Muir is here." "Please come in." Not long after, a short, ruddy man appeared at the door, with thick glasses, silver-gray hair, wrinkled, and the kindness and kindness of his face, which I have only seen in my life.Under his anxious and painful expression, he still cannot hide his natural noble temperament. This old missionary was born to save the lost. Even the most ferocious criminals will open their hearts and reveal their true feelings in front of this saint. . He was wearing a faded black cassock, his nearsighted eyes blinked constantly under the light, and he held a shiny pocket prayer book in his right hand.Seeing so many strangers coming to the warden's office in the middle of the night obviously made him a little confused. "Come in, Father, come in." Warden Magnus said politely, "Come and meet some guests." Then he introduced us one by one. "Yes, yes," Father Muir replied softly and absent-mindedly, staring at me, "Hello, dear." Then he hurried to the warden's desk and shouted: "Magna Damn, it's horrible, God knows, I can't believe it!" "Don't get excited, Father," Magnus said softly, "everything is always going to be a mystery, sit down first, and let's figure out the whole thing together." "But," said Father Muir tremblingly, "Aaron has always been so good and so kind." "Okay, Father. Hume, I think you must be eager to hear what I have to say, but wait a minute, let me find out the complete file of this person first." Warden Magnus pressed a button on the table Button, the clerk reappeared at the door, "Bring me the materials of Deo, Alan Deo, the one who got out of prison this afternoon." The clerk left, and came in shortly after with a big blue file, "It's all here, Alan Deo, No. 83532, forty-seven years old when he was imprisoned." "How long has he been in prison?" the father asked. "Twelve years and a few months... five feet six, one hundred and twenty-two pounds, blue eyes, gray hair, a semicircular scar on the left chest—" Warden Magnus looked over carefully He said, "But during the twelve years in prison, he has changed a lot. His hair is almost completely bald, and his body is getting weaker—he is now nearly sixty years old." "What crime did he commit?" the prosecutor asked. "Manslaughter, New York Criminal Court sentenced to fifteen years. He killed someone in the Harborside Hotel in New York, and seemed to be drunk from too much cheap gin. He had no previous convictions, at least he was charged at the time. Prosecutors didn't find out." "Are there any earlier records of him?" asked the father. Warden Magnus flipped through it, "It doesn't seem to be at all, even his name seems to be fake, but they can't prove this." I tried to picture this person in my mind, but it was still not complete, and some places were still blurred. "Warden, what kind of prisoner is Deo? Is he very naughty?" I asked timidly. Warden Magnus laughed, "Looks like Miss Sam asked a crucial question. No, Miss Sam, he's a model prisoner—an A prisoner according to our classification. All inmates go through a probationary period, participate in labor service on coal piles, and then are assigned to each occupational department by our division committee. What status does each inmate have in our little community—you know, In fact the prison is a city unto itself - it's all up to him. If he stays out of trouble, plays by the rules, and does his job well, he can win back some of the self-esteem society has stripped him of. We have a discipline management The trainer, the trainer assigned to every prison, Alan Dow never gave their disciplinary officers trouble, and because he kept getting A's and good behavior, he got thirty months of his sentence commuted. " Father Muir rubbed his deep eyes and turned to me: "Miss Sam, I can assure you that Aaron is the most non-aggressive person. I know him too well, but I promise, he is very religious, my dear." Yes, there's no way he's going to—" "He killed someone before," Hume said coldly, "I must say, he has a criminal record." "Besides," said my father, "how did he kill that man in New York twelve years ago? Stabbed?" Warden Magnus shook his head, "Hit a whole bottle of whiskey on the other person's head, and that person died of a concussion." "Does it make a difference?" the prosecutor murmured impatiently. "Warden, is there anything else?" "Very few, of course, the more stubborn the prisoner, the more records." Magnus flipped through the blue file again, "Yes, you may be interested in this record regarding the identification issue. He was imprisoned An accident in the second year of his life resulted in blindness in the right eye and paralysis of the right arm—unfortunate, but entirely due to his negligence in operating the lathe—” "Oh, then he's a one-eyed man!" cried Hume. "That's important, Warden, if you tell us." Warden Magnus sighed: "This kind of material is usually not officially recorded, and we don't want the press to make it public. You know, the prison situation in this state and other states was not very good a while ago—— I'm afraid of being said that we treat prisoners as beasts, not as patients as modern prison administration thinks. But in any case, most people think that our prison administration is like the Siberian concentration camps in the Tsarist era, and we are working hard. Trying to change that image, when Deo had an accident—” "Interesting." The prosecutor interjected politely. "Well, yes," Magnus leaned forward, looking a little aggressive, "for a while, he was arguably causing our problems. Since his right arm is paralyzed, and he's right-handed, Our division of labor committee had to assign him some special handicrafts. He had no education. Although he could read, he could only write in print, and his handwriting was like a child. His intelligence was very low. As mentioned earlier, when the accident happened , he worked as a lathe in the carpentry department, and finally the committee let him go back to his original department, because although his hands were crippled, according to the records, he was obviously quite good at carpentry... I guess you think these are irrelevant Things, maybe, but I hope to give you a full picture of the man—for my own reasons." "What does this mean?" Hume sat up straight and asked quickly. Magnus frowned: "You'll understand when I finish. Deo has no family, no friends—at least he doesn't seem to have any, because during his twelve years in Algonquin, he confiscated A letter has arrived, and no one has ever visited him." "Interesting." Father murmured, rubbing his chin. "Isn't it, Inspector, I think it's a bloody odd--forgive the inelegant word, Miss Sam." "You don't need an apology at all," I replied, tired of having to accept an apology for every "fuck" and "damn". "It's so weird," Warden Magnus continued, "I've been in charge of prison administration for so many years, and I've never seen a prisoner who has completely cut off relations with the outside world like Deo. It seems that no one outside cares whether he is dead or not." Yes, this is too strange. Based on my past experience, no matter how bad and cruel a prisoner is, at least someone cares about him--mother, sister, lover. But Deo not only has no contact with the outside world at all, but also In the first year, he usually participated in building roads outside the prison. Until yesterday, he had never been outside! He actually had a lot of opportunities. Many of our prisoners with good records can participate in labor outside the prison, but Deo performed well, and it seems that he did not go out. Not because of a desire to atone, to be human again, but just tired, or tired, or too indifferent to do anything wrong." "That doesn't sound like a blackmailer," my father whispered, "nor does it sound like a murderer." "Exactly!" exclaimed Father Muir excitedly. "That's what I think, Inspector, and I can tell you—" "Excuse me," interrupted the prosecutor, "we haven't come to a concrete conclusion yet. "I listened vaguely, sitting in that strange room, outside the place where the fate of thousands of people is decided, a flash of light flashed in my mind.Now is a good time for me to say what I have learned by reasoning with precise logic.I opened my mouth halfway, almost said it, then closed it again.Those trivial details—are they really as meaningful as I think?Looking at Timo's shrewd and childish face, I decided to keep it.Logic alone cannot convince him, anyway, there is plenty of time... "Now," Warden Magnus threw the blue file on the table, "I want to tell you something, and that's why I'm inviting everyone here today." "Excellent!" said Hume briskly. "That's what we want to know." "Please understand," Magnus continued in a serious tone, "Although Deo is no longer a prisoner here, I still care about him. We will still keep records of many prisoners who have been released from prison, because many of them are still in prison. will be sent back to prison - in recent cases, about 30% - and more and more studies in prison politics show that prevention is better than cure. to tell you this." Father Muir was pale with pain, and his knuckles were livid from the strain on the black prayer book. "Three weeks ago, Senator Fawcett came to me, and what was even more strange was that he cautiously questioned a prisoner." "Holy Mother," the priest moaned. "The prisoner, of course, is Alan Dow." Hume's eyes lit up, "What is Fawcett here for? What does he want to know about Deo?" Warden Magnus sighed: "Well, the senator asked to see Deo's materials and file photos. According to the regulations, I should refuse, but because Deo's sentence is about to expire, and Senator Fawcett is an outstanding Citizen," he grimaced, "I just showed him the photos and documents. Of course, the photos were taken twelve years ago when Deo was imprisoned, but the senator seemed to recognize him because he swallowed hard at that time. He breathed a sigh of relief and suddenly became very nervous. I won't go into details. In short, he made a ridiculous request, asking me to seal Deo's mouth and lock him up for a few more months! 'Shut his mouth' , that's the word he used. What do you think of the matter?" Hume rubbed his hands and said ambiguously, "That's unusual, Warden! Please continue." "Leave aside that he dared to ask for such an impossible thing," Magnus gritted his teeth, "I think this matter should be handled with care. At the same time, I am also curious that a prisoner and a citizen, especially a person like Fossey It is my responsibility to investigate the relationship between Senator T., who has such a disreputable reputation. So I didn't promise anything, but asked him why he kept Aaron D'O's mouth shut. " "He didn't say why?" Father asked with a frown. "Not at first, just sweating like a drunk and trembling all over. Then I told me that Allen was blackmailing him!" "We know that," Hume murmured. "I don't believe it, but I don't make a show of it. Do you want to blackmail? Well, I really don't see any possibility, so I asked the Senator how Dow got in touch with him. You know, We have always strictly checked all prison emails and external communications." "He sent a letter and a small box of sawn-off toys," the prosecutor explained, "and it was hidden in a box of prison-made toys." "Then," Magnus pursed his lips and thought, "we have to plug that loophole. Of course, it probably wouldn't be too difficult to do—but I was very curious at the time, because the secret correspondence inside and outside the prison has always been It’s one of our biggest headaches, and I’ve long suspected there was a loophole. But Fawcett would never reveal how Dow got in touch with him, so I stopped asking.” I licked my dry lips: "Is Senator Fawcett admitting that he did have something to do with Deo?" "How could that be? He said Dow's story was absurd, a shameless lie--old-fashioned. Of course, I don't believe it, and whatever it is that Dow has up his sleeve, Fawcett looks too nervous to be As if completely innocent. To explain why he cared so much about it, he also said that even if the Dow story was fabricated, it would pose a serious threat to his chances of re-election to the state senator." "A serious threat, eh?" Hume said coldly. "He has no chance of being re-elected at all. But that's not the point. I'll bet that no matter what Dio is holding, the truth must be very high." Warden Magnus shrugged: "I think so too, but I'm also in a dilemma. I told the senator that Doug can't be punished just for his one-sided words. Of course, if he wants to extend Doug's sentence , you have to tell me what the 'lie' is... But the Senator flatly rejected the proposal. He said he didn't want it to be publicized. Then he suggested that if I could get Deodore to go to jail for a few months, He can give me some 'help' in politics." Magnus bared his teeth and grinned ferociously, "This meeting has fallen into an old-fashioned melodrama, purely the dirty work of these corrupt bureaucrats. Of course, I will not let political forces influence prison administration, and I reminded Fawcett that I have a fairly clean reputation in this regard. He saw that this would not work, so he left." "Are you scared?" Dad asked. "Looked dazed. Of course, I wasn't sitting idle, and as soon as Fawcett was gone, I called Alan D'O into my office. He acted innocent and denied any attempt to blackmail the Senator. So, since the senator is unwilling to explain clearly, I just told Deo that if I find out that his blackmail is true, I will cancel his parole and all special treatment." "That's it?" Hume asked. "That's pretty much all. By this morning—yesterday morning, I should say—Fawcett called and said he had decided to 'buy' Dow's silence to keep that 'fabricated story' from getting out, and Ask me to forget the whole thing." "It's so bizarre," said the father with a thoughtful expression. "To be honest, it sounds very strange! It doesn't look like Fawcett at all. Are you sure Fawcett made the call?" "Yeah. I think the call is weird too, and I'm curious, why did he go to the trouble of telling me he's going to pay that blackmail?" "It's really weird," the prosecutor frowned. "Did you tell him Deo would be released from prison yesterday?" "No, he didn't ask, and I didn't say either." "Guys," my father said slowly, with his legs raised gracefully like a large statue, "this phone call gave me an idea, like a sudden blow to the head. I think Fossey is going to be the senator. A two-sided attack forced Alan Deo to have no way out." "What do you mean?" the warden asked with interest. Father laughed: "Warden, he's spreading suspicion to prepare for future exoneration. Hume, I bet you that if you investigate, you'll find that Fawcett has withdrawn five dollars from his account. Ten thousand yuan, in this way, he is innocent, understand? It shows that he originally planned to pay the extortion fee, but—bad! Unexpectedly, an accident happened. " "I don't understand you," the prosecutor interrupted. "You see, Fawcett planned to kill Deo at all! He deliberately arranged the testimony of the warden, and withdrew the money to pay the blackmail fee. After the incident, he could say that he planned to pay the blackmail fee. It’s money, but Deao is too arrogant, and an accident happened in the dispute. Hume, he is in a critical situation now, and after weighing it, he thinks that even risking murder is better than being threatened by Deao.” "It's possible," Hume pondered. "It's very possible! But his plan went wrong, and he was the one killed instead, um." "Gentlemen," exclaimed Father Muir, "Aaron Dow is innocent in this bloody murder! Mr. Time, there must be a terrible hand behind the whole thing. But God will not suffer innocent souls, The kid is so unfortunate—” The father said: "Warden, Hume just said that the letter from Deo to Fawcett was sent out from here together with a small box. In your carpentry department, do you have this kind of letter stamped on it?" A small box of letters?" "Let me check." Magnus connected to the prison's intercom, and then waited for a while, I guess he was waiting to wake up the other party to answer the phone.Finally, he put down the microphone and shook his head: "Inspector, there is no such thing in the woodwork department. The toy group was established recently. We found that Deo and the other two prisoners are good at carving, so we focused on their expertise, especially in woodwork." The department set up this group." My father gave the prosecutor a puzzled look, and Hume said quickly, "Yes, I also think it's time to find out what that wooden box signifies." Its cause is irrelevant and of no importance at all.He reached out to pick up the warden's phone receiver: "May I borrow it? ——Inspector, let's see now whether you guessed the whereabouts of the 50,000 yuan requested by Deo in the letter." The warden blinked: "It seems that the way Deo caught the senator must be very important, fifty thousand yuan!" "I have urgently sent someone to investigate Fawcett's bank account, and now we will see what the result is." Hume told the prison operator a number, "Hello, Markasi? I'm Hume, have you found anything?" He The corners of his mouth were tightly pursed, "Very well, now go investigate Fanny Kaiser and see if there is any money exchange between her and the senator." He hung up the phone and said roughly: "Inspector, you As expected, yesterday afternoon the senator brought up fifty thousand yuan in negotiable bonds and small notes, note that it was the afternoon of the day he was murdered." "However," my father frowned, "I don't think it's right. Think about it, the extortion money has already been obtained, and the person who paid the money has already been obtained, isn't it a bit absurd?" "Yes, yes," said Father Muir excitedly, "Mr. Hume, this is very important." The prosecutor shrugged: "Maybe they had a dispute. Remember, Fawcett was killed by his own paper knife, which means that this murder was not premeditated. If the murder was planned long ago, the murder weapon It will be prepared beforehand. Maybe after Fawcett gave the money to Dow, he quarreled with him, or got into a fight, and Dow picked up the paper knife—and there was a murder." "There is another possibility, Mr. Hume," I said softly, "the murderer prepared the murder weapon in advance, but after seeing the paper knife, he used it conveniently." John Hume's expression was obviously impatient, "This is too far-fetched, Miss Sam." He said coldly, while the warden and Father Muir nodded in surprise, as if they couldn't believe how a little girl could Can come up with such complicated explanations. At this time, a telephone on Warden Magnus's desk rang, and he picked up the receiver. "Mr. Hume, your caller sounds excited." The prosecutor jumped up from the chair and grabbed the phone... When he finished speaking, he turned around, and my heart beat so nervously.From his expression, I knew something big was going on, his eyes were shining with ecstasy. "It's Chief Kenyon," he said slowly. "After a lot of trouble, Alan Deo has just been arrested in the forest on the outskirts of the city." For a moment, everyone was silent, only the priest lamented softly. "That guy is completely dirty and drunk like a ghost," Hume's voice sounded. "Of course, everything is over. Warden, thank you very much. When it comes to court, you may be required to testify in court—" —” "Wait a minute, Hume," said the father quietly. "Did Kenyon find the money in him?" "Er—no. But that's all right, maybe he buried the money somewhere, the important thing is, we've got Fawcett's murderer!" I stood up and put on my gloves. "Really, Mr. Hume?" He stared at me. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean—" "Mr. Hume, you never understood, did you?" "What the hell do you mean by that, Miss Sam?" I pulled out my lipstick: "Aaron Deo, didn't kill Senator Fawcett. And," I took off a glove and looked at my lips in the little mirror, "I can prove it!"