Chapter 7 fifth scene

Inspector Sam went straight into the lounge of the garage, and what he faced was a strange scene - some men and women there were standing, some were sitting, some were fidgeting, some were spitting, full of impatience, An atmosphere of restlessness and discontent.The inspector looked at a criminal policeman on duty at the scene, stepped hard, and paid attention to the quietness of the scene. Sure enough, everyone rushed over in response, panting, complaining, protesting, questioning, and cursing. "Back back!" Sam roared in his most majestic and mighty voice, "Now everyone, please cooperate, don't complain, don't question, don't protest, the more you cooperate, the faster things will get better, and the sooner you will go home. "

"Miss Jewett, you go first, did you see who put something in the victim's pocket—I mean when he was standing in front of you?" "I was chatting with my companion," said the young girl, licking her lower lip, "and, it was very stuffy in the car at that time—" Sam couldn't help growling, "Answer my question, yes, or not?" "No, I didn't see it." "If someone puts something in his pocket, would you notice?" "I don't think so. I was talking to my friend..." Sam immediately turned to ask the big man with gray hair and a face so cruel that it was almost fierce. He was the one who helped Lonstree when he fell down. Choi one.He replied that his name was Rob Classon, he was an accountant by profession, and although he was standing on the left side of Longstreet when the accident happened, he didn't feel anything unusual.When Klaassen was answering the question, the ferocious smell on his face suddenly disappeared, and he even turned pale because of anxiety, and his mouth didn't follow commands when he spoke, and he became a little funny.

Antonio Fontana, a middle-aged Italian man — a stocky, bearded barber — said he had just returned home from get off work at the barbershop and had spent the entire drive engulfed in an Italian newspaper, completely unable to What clues are provided. The next person to ask was the conductor, Charles Wood, number 2101, who had served the Third Avenue trolley for five years, tall, red-haired, about fifty years old.Wood said he remembered what the victim looked like, and he also remembered that the victim got on the bus with a group of people from Eighth Avenue. He also remembered that the victim took a one-dollar bill and bought ten tickets.

"Wood, when those people got into the car, did anything unusual happen?" "No, the car was full at the time, I wanted to close the door, and I was busy collecting money." "Have you ever seen the victim before?" "Yes, he often takes this bus at this time for several years." "Know his name?" "have no idea." "So, is there anyone among his companions whom you recognize?" "There's one! A little gray-haired guy, I've seen him hitchhiking with the victim." "Then do you know the man's name?"

"do not know either." Sam looked up at the ceiling: "Now, if you think about it carefully, this is very important, and I need an unmistakable answer. At the stop on Eighth Avenue, you close the door and the car starts, okay, the car leaves this road. After the stop, is there anyone getting on or off the bus?" "No, sir, the car was full, so when I got to the next stop at the corner of Eighth Avenue, I didn't even open the door. It's not that someone got out of the car, you have to ask my partner Guinness, he is the driver, he should know." Sam finds the driver, Guinness.He was a broad-shouldered Irishman number 409.Guinness said that he had been driving on this route for eight years and had never seen the victim. After he thought about it, he said, "Maybe that's the case. I want to drive, unlike Charles who has to face passengers." .”

"Are you sure you've never seen it?" "Uh, it seems, I seem to have a little impression again." "Did anyone get off the front door after Eighth Avenue?" "The door has never been opened at all, inspector, you should know that on this line of trams, most of the passengers ride from the starting station to the final station, and then change to the ferry to New Jersey. There are a lot of companies there. The Philippine police officer can also prove what I said, he just happened to be standing next to me-he is a police officer when I come home from get off work! Anyway, he happened to be in this car, which is great."

Sam frowned when he heard this, but it was a frown that implied some excitement: "Okay, no problem, after the Eighth Avenue stop, the door never opened again, no matter the front door or the back door, Is it this way?" "That's right." Wood and Guinness said in unison. "Very well, thanks for your hard work." The inspector turned to ask the other passengers, but no one seemed to have noticed how the things went into Longstreet's pocket, and there was no suspicious sign. Among them, two passengers were vague They talked a little bit, but it was clear that they were idle guesses conceived by zealous and forced associations. The experienced Sam ignored them and only asked Jonas to register all the names and addresses of these people.

At this time, the deputy team leader Peabody rushed in, carrying a burlap bag full of sundries. "Did you win the lottery?" Sam asked. "A pile of rags, take a look!" Peabody dumped the sack on the floor. There were shreds of paper, torn newspapers, empty cigarette cases, broken pencil ends, lighted matches, trampled Chocolate chip candies, and two battered timetables—completely generic rubbish, with no clue of corks or needles, or anything remotely related to corks or needles. "We searched the whole car, from head to toe, and we just missed looking for it with a microscope. So whatever tricks these guys brought into the car, I think it's probably still on them now."

Sam's gray eyes suddenly lit up. He is the most capable and well-known inspector in the New York Police Department. Climbing from the grassroots to his current position, he handles the case rigorously, without any compromise, and makes a decisive decision without hesitation... "That means there's only one thing left to do," he said. "Start searching, every lord and lady in the house." "Search for what?" "Corks, needles, and all the things that don't fit the identity and the place, and look obtrusive, whoever croaks and doesn't cooperate, just beat him up, let's start!"

Peabody smiled and walked out. After a while, he brought back six male police officers and two female police officers.He jumped on the chair and yelled loudly, "Listen everyone, please line up now, women's side, men's side, keep your mouth shut, whoever wants to go home early, line up early." For the next fifteen minutes, Inspector Sam, with his back against the wall and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, grimly watched what might have been more of a farce.With firm and strong hands, the female police unceremoniously searched the body, rummaged through pockets, checked purses, hats and shoes, while the women who thought they were violated responded with screams one after another, and the men generally tried to maintain elegance His demeanor is as quiet as a group of lambs waiting to be slaughtered.After the body search, Jonas is responsible for writing down the name, company and home address.Officer Sam didn't do anything, but his hawk-like eyes didn't let anyone go. He called to a man, a thin, pale, office worker-type guy in an old coat, and Sam wanted He stepped aside and took off the waterproof field jacket, the man was so frightened that his lips were purple on the spot, Sam checked it carefully, and returned the jacket to him without saying a word. He left like fleeing for his life.

Soon, everyone left. "Nothing," said Peabody, disappointed. "Check this room again." Peabody led his men to conduct another carpet-like search, including the corners, and all the rubbish and sundries under the benches were quickly cleaned up.Sam sat with his legs crossed on the heap of waste from the old sack, fingering it carefully. Finally, he took a first look at Pipo, shrugged, and walked out of the lounge quickly.