Chapter 12 first scene

The next morning, Bruno and Sam sat opposite each other across Bruno's desk. The two guys with big heads were arguing about this mysterious murder case. Your big eyes stared at my small eyes.Bruno fiddled with the mountains of documents and materials, and the neat and orderly desktop was completely destroyed; Sam's nose, which was born flat, was blown by the fierce morning wind outside—plus the lack of progress in the case, shrunk Flatter. "Honestly," growled Sam gruffly, "I've hit walls everywhere, got my nose bruised, and whether it's poison or corks or needles, it all went down the fucking cesspit this morning. Nicotine seems Didn't buy it, presumably it was made in secret or distilled from an insecticide, as Dr. Think it's a complete waste of time."

Bruno retorted, "Come on, Sam, I don't think it's a waste of time," he spread his hands, "I think you misjudged this guy, yes, he's a weird guy, living in a place like that , surrounded by antiques, talking about Shakespeare..." "Yeah, I'm just telling the truth," Sam said grimly. "I think he's a real jerk for playing hide-and-seek with us. It’s just a usual trick to please the audience.” "Sam, it's not fair for you to say that," Bruno guarded Ren. "After all, he knows very well that he can't announce his discovery without empirical evidence, and he hopes to pursue it further; he must also know that, Ultimately he'll have to prove it out. No, I'm inclined to believe that he knows what he's saying—what he's really found—only for some necessary reason that he can't say it at this time."

Sam slapped the table: "What do you mean by that, isn't it obvious that I'm an idiot? Are you saying that you are an idiot yourself? - What did he discover? Great, what a great discovery? Tell you, there's nothing! I bet he doesn't know anything, my God, didn't you think the same thing yesterday..." "I can always change my mind, can't I?" Bruno interrupted him, and then he became embarrassed again, "Let's not forget that when the Kramer case was still a mystery, he said it beautifully, Now that I have this damned murder case, as long as it helps solve the case, I don't want to miss even the slightest chance. Besides, since I have asked him to help solve the case, I can't ask him to walk without saying anything, no, no, Sarah Tom, we have to go on like this, at least there won't be any bad effects... Is there anything new?"

Sam tore a cigarette in two: "Collins is still making trouble. My men just came to report. Since Saturday, Collins has found DeWitt three times. Of course, he wants DeWitt to pay him back. Anyway, I Will continue to look at him, but it's really about DeWitt's family..." Bruno lazily opened a pile of letters on the table, and he threw two of them into the briefcase for filing. The third letter, which came in a cheap envelope, made him jump out of his chair with an exclamation.Sam squinted as Bruno read the letter. "Jesus, Sam," Bruno cried, "Isn't this the way to go—oh, what's the matter?" he growled unhappily at the barging secretary.

The secretary handed over a business card, and Bruno grabbed it: "He's here, what is he here for?" He lowered his voice and said slowly, "Okay, Barney, bring him in...Sam, sit still, just now There's a lot of stuff in that letter, but first we'll see what the Swiss bird is up to, and it's Impoli who's come after him." The secretary opened the door, and it turned out to be the tall and strong Swiss businessman, who entered with a smile.Impoli's attire was still as bright as ever, a standard morning gown with flowers on the lapel and a cane tucked under his arm.

"Good morning, Mr. Impoli, what can I do?" Bruno's attitude was very calm. However, the letter he was reading had been put away. He leaned on the table with both hands to talk, and Sam also simply said hello. "Morning, dear Prosecutor, and good morning, Mr. Sam," said Mr. Impoli, sitting on the leather chair at Bruno's table. "I'm just sorry, Mr. Bruno," he said. Come to an end and prepare to go back to Switzerland." "Oh, so." Bruno glanced at Sam, who stared at Impoli's broad back. "I've already booked the boat ticket for tonight," Impoli said, frowning slightly, "I also called the moving company to carry the luggage, but your men suddenly appeared from the room I borrowed, and he didn't Let me go!"

"Moving out of Mr. DeWitt's, Mr. Impoli." Impoli shook his head, looking extremely agitated: "Oh, no, I'm leaving the United States, but your men say that he won't let me carry my luggage, which bothers me very much. Mr. Bruno, I'm a businessman, and I'm in Byrne My company has urgent matters that I need to go back to deal with right away, why do I have to delay so much? Of course—" Bruno tapped the table: "Now listen to me, Mr. Impoli, I don't know what the police in your country will do, but you don't seem to have figured it out. You have been involved in a murder investigation in the United States. Listen , is an American murder."

"I know, but—" "Nothing but no, Mr. Impoli," Bruno stood up. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay in the country until the Lone Street murder is revealed, or at least officially approved. Of course, you can move." Live anywhere away from the DeWitts'—I can't forbid you to do it, but you must stay where you can go." Impoli stood up, his whole body froze there, the original joyful expression on his face disappeared, and his expression became ferocious: "As I said, this will affect my business." Bruno shrugged. "Very good," Impoli put on his hat, blushing like the fire in Wren's house, "I'll go see our consul, Mr. Bruno, and ask for justice, don't you know? I'm a Swiss citizen, you have no right Leave me here, excuse me!"

He nodded slightly, strode out the door, Bruno said with a smile: "Anyway, I advise you to cancel the boat ticket, Mr. Impoli, there is no need to waste that money..." But Yin Boli walked away without looking back. "Come on," Bruno said with full energy, "don't pay attention to him, let's sit down, Sam, you read this letter first." He took out the letter from his pocket and opened it in front of Sam, and Sam Let’s look at the back of the letter first—there is no signature, this letter is written on cheap grid letter paper, written in intermittent black ink, the handwriting is not deliberately concealed, and the address is clearly addressed to the prosecutor:

Sam carefully put the letter back on the table, and carefully examined the envelope: "Last night's postmark in Weehoken, New York," Sam whispered, "dirty hands, with a bunch of fingerprints on it, from New Jersey. One of the passengers on that bus... Bruno, I can't fucking tell if it's real or not, maybe it's just a naughty letter, or maybe it's for real, damn it, I don't know what to do, you Say?" "It's hard to say," Bruno said, looking at the ceiling. "Looks like a clue worth pursuing. I'll be there on time anyway, and it doesn't matter anyway." He stood up and paced the room, "Sam, I have a hunch that this trip might be very fruitful. The birdman who wrote the letter, no matter who he is, did not sign his name, so it seems to be true. Look at the content of his letter, here and there The sentence was incoherent, and his tone was inflated because he suddenly became important, especially his trembling fear of the possible dangers of revealing his identity. Elements - tedious, nagging, nervous - you can see that he even misspelled the word meet, and forgot to add a slash to many T letters. Anyway, the more I think about these things, the more I feel that we have found a treasure .”

"Well..." Sam hesitated, but soon became excited, "This letter is undoubtedly a blow to Mr. Wren, at least, in the future, you should no longer need to listen to his so-called analysis suggestions that pretend to be ghosts. " "Leave that to me, Sam, let's strike while the iron is hot," Bruno rubbed his hands in satisfaction, "If you look like this, immediately contact Prosecutor Reynolds in Hudson County across the river and ask him to send police officers from New Jersey Monitor the area around the Weehoken terminal, so as not to get into trouble with the fucking jurisdiction issue. Anyway, as a principle, all personnel do not wear uniforms, Sam—all civilian clothes, will you go too?" "Anyone who wants to stop me can try it." Sam grinned roughly. Before Sam left the door, Bruno immediately picked up the phone on the table and dialed Hamlet Heights. He waited with the receiver in his hands, feeling peaceful, no, it should be said to be a very pleasant and peaceful feeling, and the bell on the other end of the line rang. "Hello, Hamlet Heights? Excuse me, Mr. Wren...I'm Prosecutor Bruno...Hello, who are you?" A shrill and trembling voice replied, "I'm Quesy, Mr. Bruno, and Mr. Wren is beside me." "Oh, by the way, why did I forget—Mr. Wren can't hear you." Bruno raised his voice, "Then, please tell Mr. Wren, I have further news to report to him." He heard Quisi repeat his words verbatim. "He said 'Great'!" Quasi's voice sounded again, "And then?" "Please tell him that he is not the only one, but someone else knows who killed Longstreet." Bruno's tone was full of victory. He listened attentively to what Quasi relayed to Ren, and then, it was Ren's clear voice: "You tell Mr. Bruno, this is really big news, definitely big news, did the murderer turn himself in?" Bruno told Kuisi about the anonymous letter and its content, and the other end of the phone was quiet for a while, and then Ryan's calm voice came out again. "You tell Mr. Bruno, I'm sorry I can't talk to him directly, and you ask him for me, can I participate in this meeting tonight?" "Oh, welcome," Mr. Bruno told Quesy, "uh—Quesy, does Mr. Lane look surprised?" Bruno heard an old dark-time laugh—a dwarf babble, and Quesy said in a quaveringly playful voice: "No, he's glad the situation has changed, usually he always That is to say, what he looks forward to the most is that something unexpected happens, he—” But Bruno simply said goodbye and hung up the phone.