Chapter 14 third scene

The waiting room of Weehoken, the terminus of the west coast line, is an old two-story building with a whistling wind, which is as huge as the barn in the country of giants.The steel bars on the ceiling are all exposed, and the roof beams are criss-crossed in a crazy aesthetic form. From the stairs to the second floor, a platform protrudes from the edge of the wall, and the railway is ahead, and there is a walkway on one side of the platform Leading to several small offices, everything here is dirty gray and white. The body of conductor Charles Wood was carried on a canvas stretcher, still dripping wet.Pass through the empty and echoing waiting room, go up to the second floor, follow the platform aisle, and send it to the station master's office.The New Jersey police have sealed off the entire waiting room, strictly prohibiting the entry and exit of idlers.Passengers in the south cabin of the Mohawk ferry were sent to the waiting room of the terminal through the passage between two rows of police amidst the sound of sharp whistles, and waited quietly under the strict surveillance of the police. Sam and Bruno's disposition.

Sam ordered the Mohawk ferry to be locked at the pier and not allowed to sail. The ferry company immediately changed the sailing schedule after urgent discussions.In the dense fog, there are still ships coming in and out of the wharf, and the railway part is also allowed to operate as usual.Except that the temporary ticket office is placed in the garage, commuters have to take a detour to get on the bus from the ferry waiting room.As for the Mohawk, which was banned from sailing, the lights on the ship were brightly lit, and there was a large row of criminal police and policemen standing there in darkness. Except for the police and related personnel, no one else was allowed to board the ship.In the station master's room on the second floor of the station, a small group of people surrounded the lying corpse. Bruno was busy on the phone. The first call was to the home of Hudson County Prosecutor Reynolds. During the phone call, he briefly Briefly explain to Reynolds that since the deceased was an eyewitness to the Longstreet murder, which took place in Bruno's jurisdiction, even though Wood was killed this time in New Jersey, I hope Reynolds will allow him to do it. Preliminary investigation work.After Reynolds readily agreed, Bruno immediately notified the New York Police Headquarters, and Inspector Sam took over the phone and ordered some criminal police to be dispatched for immediate support.

Ryan sat quietly in the chair, carefully watching Bruno's lips when he spoke, at the tightly shut and pale DeWitt - he was forgotten in the corner, and the stormy voice into the telephone receiver Sam. It wasn't until Sam put down the phone that Ryan said, "Mr. Bruno." Bruno was walking to the side of the dead, facing the tragic corpse dully, and turned his head to look at Ren in response, with a few gleams of hope floating in his eyes at this moment. "Mr. Bruno," Wren said, "have you double-checked Wood's signature—his own signature on his identification card?"

"--what do you mean……" "I think," Ryan said softly, "the first task at this moment is to prove that Wood is the person who wrote the anonymous letter. Inspector Sam seems to believe that Wood's signature and the handwriting on the letter are from the same person. I don't doubt that the Inspector judgment, but I think it is best to let experts do the appraisal." Sam frowned uncomfortably: "The handwriting is exactly the same, Mr. Wren, please don't be so foolish about it." Kneeling beside the body, he rummaged through it like a wooden mannequin in a clothing store. Finally, from the dead man's pocket, Sam retrieved two crumpled, wet sheets of paper. One was the Third Avenue Streetcar Accident Report. The book, which records in detail the collision between a tram and a car this afternoon, Wood also signed; the other is a sealed letter with a stamp, Sam tore it up, read it, and handed it to Bruno, Bruno I also read it carefully, and handed it to Ren. This is a letter written to a correspondence school to apply for a traffic engineering correspondence course. Ren carefully studied the handwriting and signatures of both.

"Mr. Bruno, do you have that anonymous letter with you?" Bruno dug in his wallet for a long time and found the letter. Ren spread out the three pieces of paper on the table beside him and compared them intently. After a while, he laughed and returned the paper to Bruno. "I am very sorry, Inspector," he said, "but there is no doubt that these are all written by the same hand. We now know that the accident report, correspondence school application letter, and anonymous letter were all written by Wood. . . . but As it is so important to confirm this, I thought we should get an expert to appraise it, despite Inspector Sam's opinion being so unshakable!"

Sam grunted in displeasure and knelt down in front of the corpse again. Bruno put the three papers back in his wallet and called again: "Dr. It's at the Weehoken terminal, in the station master's office, yes, right here behind the ferry port... just now... oh well, well, come over as soon as you're done with the other side...it's finished at four o'clock Ah? That's all right, I'll take the body to the Hudson County Mortuary, and you go straight there... Yes, I insist that you examine it yourself, the dead man's name is Charles Wood, the Lonstra case Class conductor."

"Maybe I'm being too nosy," said Wren, who was seated in his chair, "Mr. Bruno, is it possible that the crew of the Mohawk or the crew of the tram saw Wood before he boarded the ship or spoke to him?" "Great, Mr. Lane, you reminded me that they may not have left yet," Bruno picked up the phone again and dialed to the ferry terminal in New York. "I'm Attorney Bruno of the New York District Attorney's Office, and I'm at Weehoken Terminal, where there's just been a murder - oh, you've heard it - and your help is needed here... well, deceased It's Wood, the conductor of the 42nd Street cross-car on the Third Avenue Line, service card number 2101, anyone who has seen or spoken to him tonight, invite them to come along... almost an hour ago, yeah ...Also, when they come over, can you send a trolley on duty to inspect them, there will be a police boat to pick them up here."

As soon as Bruno hung up the phone, he quickly dispatched a criminal police officer, asking him to notify the water police next to the Mohawk to act immediately. "Now," Bruno rubbed his hands, "Mr. Wren, while Inspector Sam is examining the corpse, would you like to accompany me downstairs? There is still a lot of work to be done there." Ryan got up and looked at DeWitt who was alone in the corner: "Maybe," said Ryan's clear baritone, "is Mr. DeWitt willing to join us? Everything here won't make him feel happy." The eyes behind Bruno's pince-nez flashed, and a smile surfaced on his originally serious face: "Yes, of course, Mr. DeWitt, if you want, you can come too!" Ren, who was wearing a cloak, followed the two docilely. They walked across the platform and went downstairs to the waiting room.

The three of them went down the stairs in a row like a military parade. Bruno raised his hand to call for everyone's attention: "The navigator of the Mohawk, please come here, and the captain, please come here together." Among the crowd, two people stepped forward with heavy steps. "I'm the navigator—Sam Adams." The navigator was big and powerful, with shaggy black hair like a bull. "Wait, where is the Jonas man? Jonas!" Sam's criminal policeman who was in charge of bookkeeping ran over, holding the record book, "You are in charge of recording...Okay, Adams, let's confirm the deceased's identity first. Identity, did you see the dead body when it was placed on the deck?"

"Of course I did." "Have you seen this man before?" "It's been hundreds of times to say the least," the navigator lifted his pants, "I'm pretty familiar with him, although his face was smashed like that, but I dare to swear by the Bible, he is Wood Wrong, conductor of the cross-country tram." "Why are you so sure?" The navigator fiddled with his hat and scratched his head: "Why—no why, I just know, the same figure, same red hair, same clothes—I can't say why—just know, and besides, on board tonight we We also chatted."

"Oh! You talked, where?—in the wheelhouse? I suppose the passengers are not allowed in the wheelhouse to chat, Adams, tell it from beginning to end." Adams cleared his throat, spit into the spittoon, glanced embarrassedly at the man who was skinny like a ghost but with bronze skin - the captain of the ferry, and said, "Uh, so, I know this man Charles Wood for several years, almost nine years, right, Captain?" The captain nodded positively, and spit, too, into the spittoon with uncompromising accuracy, "I guess he lives in the Weehoken area. Well, because he always takes the 10:45 boat after get off work every day." "Wait a minute," Bruno nodded to Rennes, "Is he also taking the 10:45 tonight?" Adams said a little unhappy: "I'm about to talk about this. Today he is still on this ship, and just like his old habit this year, he climbed to the top passenger deck and talked about a good time at night." Bruno frowned impatiently, and Adams hurriedly said, "Anyway, one day Wood won't be on the deck, and if he talks to me like this to amuse him, I will really feel that something is wrong. Of course, occasionally he We will not meet each other when we are on vacation or staying overnight in the city, but that is rare, and he is on time for this department almost every day.” "It's interesting," said Bruno, "very, very interesting, but you keep it short, Adams—you know, it's not a long-form newspaper run." "Oh, am I too slow?" The navigator pulled up his pants again, "I said, yes, Wood took the 10:45 boat again today, and went to the passenger deck on the top floor, on the starboard side. As usual, he yells at me, 'Yaw! Sam!', and because I'm a crewman, he's always 'Yaw, yell' at me, you know, just for fun." As soon as Bruno showed his teeth, Adams immediately became serious again: "Okay, I know I need to keep it simple," he quickened his tone, "So I just called back 'Yao' and told him, 'This ghost mist is real. thick, isn't it?' he called again, 'yes, as thick as my mother's rawhide shoes'—I saw his face as clearly as I see yours now, and he was a long way from the wheelhouse. Nearer, the light was on his face—and he said, 'Sam, you're tired of navigating this day, aren't you!' I asked him, 'Where's your streetcar? How's it going today?' And he said, 'No, got hit by a Chevrolet this afternoon, and Guinness jumped up.' And he said, 'It's driven by a stupid woman,' he said, and he said, 'A woman is a mother Stupid, it's—'" The captain of the ferry suddenly slammed his elbow into Adams' beer stomach, and Adams cried out in surprise: "What kind of fairy tales are you talking about? Booming, "Choose the key points, I can't finish talking like this in a hundred years." Adams jumped at his boss angrily: "You hit my belly again——" "Okay, okay!" Bruno stopped loudly, "Stop arguing, are you the captain of the Mohawk?" "That's right," said the bamboo pole-like captain, "Captain Shude, he has been sailing on this river for 21 years." "Did you stay in the wheelhouse all the time, and when this—er—this Adams and the two of them were talking—they were yelling at each other, did you see Wood himself?" "It doesn't matter if you don't want to see it." "Are you sure that's the 10:45 shift?" "yes." "Did you see Wood again after that?" "That's all, until he's picked up like a fish out of the river." "Are you sure that it was Wood who died?" "I haven't finished," Adams put in resentfully, "Wood said something else, he said he couldn't take two more boats today--he had a meeting, on the New Jersey end. " "Are you sure? Captain Shude, have you heard this?" "That's the first utterance of that bastard Adams tonight, yes, sir, and it's Wood who died—I've seen him miss it hundreds of times." "Adams, you said, he can't take two more boats tonight, meaning, he usually stays on the boat back and forth, and doesn't get off the boat immediately when he arrives?" "It can't be said that it's all like this, but sometimes this guy is in a good mood, especially in summer nights, he will sit back and forth more." "Okay, both of you." As soon as the two turned around, they were stopped immediately. It was Ren who made the noise, and Bruno rubbed his chin as if watching a show. "Wait a minute, Mr. Bruno," Ryan said with a cheerful look on his face, "Can I ask them a question?" "Of course, Mr. Wren, you don't hesitate to ask, you're welcome." "Thank you. Mr. Adams, Captain Shude," the two crew members looked at Ren, their jaws dropped—the shawl, the black hat, and the hideous cane. "After the speech, did either of you see Wood leave the top deck where he was?" "Yes, I saw it," Adams replied immediately. "When we received the signal to drive the boat out, Wood waved to us and walked back to the covered area on the top deck." "That's right." Captain Shude echoed like a thunder. "With the lights on at night, can you see the place from the wheelhouse?" Captain Shude spit into the spittoon again: "It's not very visible, and the part under the canopy can't be seen at all, especially at night, when the fog is heavy, the lights in the pilothouse will reflect light when it shines out, and it's as dark as him outside." Like Ma Neptune's underwater cemetery, you know, the wheelhouse looks like a dustpan, and the opening only faces the front of the ship." "Then, during the period from 10:45 to 11:40, did you not see or hear anyone appearing on the top deck?" "Hey, you don't know?" said the captain in a nasty voice. "Ever tried rowing across a river on a foggy night? I tell you, sir, you don't care about anything other than keeping the boat on the right course." No way." "Very good, so I know." Ren stepped back, Bruno frowned, and nodded to let the two crew members leave. Bruno got up on the bench and said loudly, "Now, whoever saw someone overboard on the top deck, come forward." A total of six people raised their hands, you look at me and I look at you. It took a long time before they came out. Facing Bruno's merciless questioning, all six people seemed uneasy. When they spoke, it was like a chorus. The six voices simultaneously arrive. "One by one, one by one," Bruno stopped loudly, jumping off the chair, he picked a round little guy with a head of blond hair and a fat belly, "you come first - what's your name ?” "Og Hymel, sir," said the little man nervously, wearing a clergyman's round hat, a thin black tie like a cord, and ragged and oily, "I'm a printer. —Going home after get off work.” "The printers are coming home from get off work," Bruno said, swaying easily on his heels, "Very well, Haimel, did you see someone fall off the top deck when the ship docked?" "Yes, sir, yes." "Where were you at that time?" "I'm sitting in the cabin on the boat—oh, in the cabin—right by the window," the German added, licking his thick lips, "and the boat's just going into the quay, right up to those—er , those big logs..." "Is it a stake?" "Yes, yes, the stake, and that's when I saw a big black thing that looked like—I turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse, too fast to see—like the one above Something fell out of the window, and it—all of a sudden..." Hymel wiped the sweat from his lips, "It was so sudden—" "Is that all you see?" "Yes, sir, I yelled right away, 'Someone's fallen in the water!' Everyone yelled too, and they all seemed to see..." "Okay, Hymel," the little man backed away with a sigh of relief, "does the rest of you see the same?" The choir again agreed in unison. "Did anyone see anything else—like the face of the man who fell into the water?" No one answered, and the six looked around with bewildered faces. "Very good, Jonas, you write down their names, occupations and addresses." Jonas walked among the six people, asked and logged in the information of the six people at a proficient speed of routine, and Haimel was the first , and fled like a thief into the crowd behind him when he was done; the second was a dirty Italian in a suit of black shiny material and a black work cap—named Kisip Salvatore, The ship's shoe shiner, he said, who was shining the guests' shoes, with his face to the window; and the third was a wet-looking little old woman, Irish, old Mrs. Martha Wilson, who, she said, was the age The cleaning lady of the commercial building in the square came home from work and sat next to Haimel, and saw exactly the same situation as Haimel; the fourth was a well-dressed big man named Henry Nixon, with Plaid three-piece suit - he said he was a cheap jewelry tourer and was walking through the cabin when it happened; the last two were young girls, May Cohen and Ruth Tobias Ruth, both company employees, had gone to Broadway "to see a good show" and were going back to their New Jersey residence. They were sitting next to Hymel and Mrs. Wilson, who were getting up to disembark when the incident happened. Bruno found that none of the six had ever seen the man in the conductor's uniform—or the red-haired man on the ship, who all said they were on the 11:30 sailing from New York. Ship, all don't go up to the top deck.Mrs. Wilson even claimed that she had never been on top deck - the voyage was too short - and, she added, the weather was "rotten". Bruno let the six back into the passenger group, followed by simple questioning of the others, nothing, no one had ever seen a red-haired conductor, no one had been on the top deck, all were at 11:30 They boarded the ship from New York, and no one took the boat back and forth. Bruno, Ryan, and DeWitt went upstairs to the station master's room together again. Surrounded by his criminal police officers, Sam sat on a chair, staring at the tragic corpse on the ground that was said to be Charles Wood.When the three of them entered, Sam stood up abruptly, stared at DeWitt with blazing eyes, opened his mouth to say something, and swallowed it back abruptly.Folding his hands behind his back, he began pacing up and down in front of the flattened body. "Bruno," Sam said in a low voice, "I want to speak to you privately." Bruno shrunk his nostrils and walked to Sam's side, and the two talked in a low voice. Occasionally, Bruno raised his eyes to search DeWitt's look.Finally, with a heavy nod, he walked away, leaning against the table. Sam made great strides at every step, and his ugly face turned ferocious, and he went straight to DeWitt: "DeWitt, let me ask you, what time do you get on the Mohawk Ferry tonight? Which class do you take?" DeWitt armed his thin body, his thick beard trembling: "Before I answer your question, Inspector Sam, please tell me, what right do you have to inquire about my whereabouts?" "Don't pick on us, Mr. DeWitt." Bruno also had a bad tone. DeWitt blinked, his eyes struggling to look at Ren, but the old actor responded with a flat expression, neither supporting nor adding insult to injury.DeWitt shrugged helplessly, and faced Sam again: "Great, I'll take the 11:30 shift." "The shift at 11:30? Why did you come home so late today?" "Didn't I tell you when I met you on the boat at the Club at night, the Exchange Club down town?" "That's right, that's right, you've said it all," Sam stuffed a cigarette into his mouth, "I'll ask you again, did you ever go to the top passenger deck during the 10-minute river crossing?" DeWitt bit his lip: "Am I suspicious again? Inspector Sam, the answer is no." "Ever saw Wood the conductor on board?" "The answer is still no." "Would you recognize him if you ran into him?" "I should recognize him. I have seen him many times on the cross-country tram. Besides, I was very impressed with this man in the case of Longstreet's murder last time. But I promise, I have never seen him tonight." Sam took out a box of paper-wrapped matches, took out one, struck it, and lit the cigarette slowly: "You have seen Wood many times on the tram, have you ever talked to him?" "Dear Inspector—" DeWitt looked amused. "Yes, or not?" "Of course, no." "That is, you know him, but you've never spoken to him, and you haven't seen him tonight . Get off the boat, you must have known that there was an accident, why didn't you get curious at all, and wanted to delay for a few minutes to see what happened?" The smile disappeared from the corner of DeWitt's mouth, and his face began to harden, looking ugly: "It's nothing, I'm tired, and I want to go home early." "Tired and want to go home early," Sam burst into anger, "what a good reason... DeWitt, do you smoke?" DeWitt's eyes widened. "Smoking?" he repeated angrily, turning to Bruno. "Mr. Bruno," he called out, "like an idiot, do I have to put up with this imbecile interrogation?" Bruno said coldly, "Please answer the question." Once again, DeWitt looked at Ren, and again, DeWitt seemed to be alone. "It's not wrong, I smoke," he said word by word—under his impatient eyes, but also implied a certain fear—"it's not wrong." "Cigarettes?" "No, I smoke cigars." "Do you have it with you now?" Without a word, DeWitt reached into the inner pocket of his coat and took out an expensive leather cigar box with his initials in gold. He handed it to Sam, who opened the lid and found three cigars inside. Sam took one out and looked at it carefully. On the gold band in the middle of the cigar, there was also J. O． Dew．initials. "Is it made to order?" "Yes, ordered from Huenges of Havana." "The belt too?" "certainly." "Did the tape come fitted at Huengers' place?" Sam asked. "Oh, come on," DeWitt said plainly, "all these stupid questions. What the hell do you want? Inspector, is that all you've got in your head? Yes, Cigar The straps on the top are also packed in Huengers, put in a box, and shipped to me, and so and so, and so and so, can I ask a question too, do you know what the hell they're for?" Sam ignored DeWitt, and put the cigars back in the box without authorization, and put them in the big pocket of his clothes.Seeing this absurd act of blatant encroachment, DeWitt's whole face was gloomy, and he only stood upright in rebellion, without saying a word. "Just one more question, DeWitt," Sam asked in the most genial manner in the world, "did you ever give one of those cigars to the Wood conductor, on the trolley or anywhere?" "Oh—so that's it," DeWitt said slowly, "now I understand." There was no answer, and Sam looked at DeWitt like a tiger watching its prey. "That's the end of my inquiry?" DeWitt continued, suppressing his temper. "The check is dead, eh? Inspector? You played a clever game. No, I never gave Wood Cigars, not in the car, nor anywhere else." "This is great, DeWitt, and very interesting," Sam chuckled happily, "because, I just found one of yours in the vest pocket of the dead body, and it also has you on it. Cigars with initials!" DeWitt was dumbfounded, then nodded his head painfully, as if he had foreseen the result, he opened his mouth, closed it without saying a word, opened it again, and said very desolately: "I guess, then Come down, I will be arrested for murdering this man, right?" After saying this, he began to laugh—the old man's hoarse and embarrassed smile, "I think this is not a dream, right? cigars on the murdered man!" He slumped weakly on the chair beside him. Bruno told him solemnly: "Nobody said you were going to be arrested, Mr. DeWitt..." At this time, a large group of people came to the door suddenly, the leader was wearing the uniform of the captain of the water police. Bruno stopped talking and signaled to the captain with his eyes, the captain nodded and left. "Come in, everyone." Sam greeted happily. The whole group entered timidly, and one of them was the Irish driver, Patrick Guinness, who drove the tram when Lonstray was killed; the second was a thin old man in shabby clothes, Wearing a peaked cap, he said he was Peter Hicks, who worked at the New York Ferry; the third was a weathered-looking trolley inspector, who, he said, belonged to the terminus of the cross-country tram at Four At the bottom of Twelfth Street, right where the ferry comes out. Behind them were several criminal police officers, Deputy Captain Peabody was one of them, and Officer Duffy stood behind Peabody, showing his broad and round shoulders.Everyone's eyes were immediately sucked by the corpse on the canvas. Guinness only glanced at Wood's body, swallowed convulsively, and immediately turned his head away in fright, shaking as if he was about to pass out at any time. "Guinness, do you want to seriously identify the deceased?" Bruno asked. Guinness said, "For God's sake, look at his head...it's Charles Wood, it's him." Guinness stretched out a trembling finger, pointing at the left foot of the corpse. Due to the continuous friction and impact on the wooden pile and the hard shore of the pier, the trousers of the corpse were rotten, and the part of the left foot was still there except the shoe girdle. The rest of the body was completely exposed, and one could clearly see a very long scar, twisted and hideous, winding down into the shoe—now, on the dead skin, this scar showed a shocking bluish-gray tinge. "This scar," Guinness said hoarsely, "I've seen it many times. I saw this scar on Wood's leg not long after he started working at the tram company. It was when we were transferred to the cross-country tram Before, he told me that it was left over from his injury a long, long time ago." Sam took off the sock on the corpse's left foot, revealing the horrific scar, which stretched from a little above the ankle to the knee, and the lower half bent toward the calf: "Are you sure Is this the same scar you saw before?" "It's the same scar, yes." Guinness replied angrily. "Okay, you're fine, Guinness," Sam stood up and patted the dust on his knees, "It's your turn, Hicks, tell me everything you know about Wood's whereabouts tonight." The thread-like thin crew member nodded: "No problem, officer, I know Wood very well - he takes the ferry home almost every night, so he will always meet and chat with me, tonight, around 10:30, Wood came to the ferry again as usual, and he also talked to me, and now I think about it, he really seemed to have something on his mind today, and we talked about it for a while, without talking about anything serious." "Is the time fixed—10:30?" "Of course, we work by time - the time table is there, and when the time comes, we will sail on time." "What are you talking about?" "Uh—" Hicks smacked his thick, leathery lips, and said, "we're just talking, and I see he's got a bag in his hand, and he's laughing if he stayed in town again last night for fun— You know, sometimes when he's on the town for the night, he'll have clean clothes with him--but he told me that's not the case, it's a second-hand leather bag he bought on his break today, and the old strap is broken, and-- " "What kind of purse?" Sam asked. "What kind?" Hicks pursed his lips and thought for a while, "It's nothing special, it's just a cheap leather bag, the kind you can buy anywhere for only one yuan, square black, that's the kind Well." Sam called Deputy Captain Peabody: "Go upstairs to the waiting room and see if anyone has the kind of leather bag that Hicks described, and, starting from the Mohawk, look for such a bag." The leather bag, the top deck, the wheelhouse, every place, thoroughly searched from top to bottom. In addition, there are divers on the water police boat, and they are also asked to go into the water to find them—they may be thrown into the river, or when they fall into the water Then it fell." Peabody was ordered to leave, Sam turned around, and was about to speak to Hicks, when Ryan intervened in a soft tone: "Sorry for interrupting, Inspector Sam... Hicks Mr. Woods, did Wood ever smoke a cigar when you were chatting?" Hicks looked at the ghostly inquirer, his eyes widened like copper bells, but he still said without hesitation: "Yes, I also asked him for a cigar, that Kreme cigar is very good. To my liking, he pocketed--" "I believe it was a vest pocket, Mr. Hicks." "Yeah, vest pockets, and then pockets all over the body, and he told me: 'No, I think it's all gone, Peter, here's my thousand and one.'" "Good question, Mr. Wren," Sam praised reluctantly, "Hicks, are you sure it's the Kreme brand? Does he have any other brands?" Hicks replied unhappily: "Didn't I just tell this gentleman?" DeWitt didn't raise his head, he sat on the chair like a stone, his eyes were hollow and bloodshot, making it doubtful whether he heard the question and answer just now. "Guinness," Sam said, "does Wood have a purse with him when he goes to work tonight?" "Take it," Guinness said in a dying voice, "just like Hicks said, he gets off work at 10:30 tonight, and he left that purse in the car all afternoon." "Where does Wood live?" "Small apartment in this part of Weehawken - 2075 Povard." "Is there any family living with you?" "I don't think so, at least I know he's not married, and as far as I can remember, he never said a word about his relatives." "One more thing, my lord," Hicks interrupted, "While I was chatting with Wood, he suddenly pointed out to me a strange little old man who got out of the taxi as quickly as his ass was on fire. , sneaked into the ticket office of the station, bought a ticket, threw the ticket box, and waited for the boat in the waiting room. From the beginning to the end, sneaking around, as if afraid of being seen, Wood secretly told me that the little man was the broker , John DeWitt, that old man was involved in that murder in Wood's car." "Really!" Sam's voice was loud and anxious, "You said it was around 10:30?" Sam turned his head and looked at DeWitt fiercely.John DeWitt stood up and sat back down, staring blankly ahead, clutching the arms of his chair with both hands. "Go on, Hicks, go on." "Uh—" Hicks said slowly, "Wood seemed a little bit, how should I put it, getting a little nervous after seeing DeWitt..." "Did DeWitt see Wood, too?" "Probably not. I huddled in a corner from the beginning to the end, by myself." "anything else?" "No, the boat came in at 10:40, and I had to go to work. I saw that DeWitt got up and got on the boat. Wood said goodbye to me and went on." "You're sure of the time—the boat leaves at 10:45, isn't it?" "Oh, please!" said Hicks in exasperation. "I've said that a hundred times!" "You wait, Hicks," Sam pushed Hicks away, and looked at DeWitt with wide eyes, and DeWitt took off the fur balls on his coat bit by bit, "DeWitt Witt! Look here." DeWitt slowly raised his head, his eyes were full of sadness, and even Sam was shocked. "Hicks, is this the man Wood pointed you to?" Hicks stretched his neck, studied DeWitt's face very carefully with suspicious eyes: "Yes," he said at last, "yes, that's the little one, Mr. You go to court and swear on the Bible." "Very good, now, Hicks, Guinness, and you—tram inspector, right? It's none of your business here—go downstairs, don't go, listen to me." The three were not very happy and could only Going downstairs to wait, Ryan sat down, leaning on a cane, and stared sadly at DeWitt's tense face. In the deepest part of Ryan's crystal-clear and deep eyes, there was a faint layer of mist floating. Doubt—a little doubt in the face of judgment, a question mark. "It's your turn, Mr. DeWitt," said Sam thunderously, walking straight up to DeWitt, "explain to us why you just said you were on the 10:30 ferry when someone else saw Instead, you got on the boat at 10:45?" 布鲁诺稍稍挪动一下身子，神情非常严肃地说：“在你回答问题之前，德威特先生，我有责任得先警告你，你所说的任何话，有可能成为将来指控你的证据，这里有警方的速记员，会记下你所说的每一句话，如果你不愿意回答，你可以保持沉默。” 德威特艰难地咽了下口水，用他细长的手指扶扶衣领，努力扮出一个笑脸：“要命的结果，”他声音很轻，站了起来，“这是玩弄事实的代价……是的，各位，我刚刚是撒了个谎，我搭的是10点45分的渡轮。” “乔纳斯，记下来没有！”萨姆大声下令，“德威特，为什么你要说谎？” “这个问题，”德威特毫不犹豫地说，“我拒绝做任何解释，我和一个人约了在10点45分的渡轮上碰面，但这全是我私人的事，和这件可怕的杀人案件毫无关系。” “很好，你约了某人在10点45分的渡轮上见面，那他妈的，为什么11点40分你人还会在船上？” “拜托，”德威特说，“请注意你的用词，巡官，我不习惯以这样的说话方式交谈，如果你一定得把话说得这么难听，我拒绝回答你所有的问题。” 布鲁诺飞快丢了个眼神过来，萨姆只好把就要破口出去的话，硬生生吞出来，深呼吸之后，萨姆把声调中的攻击意味尽可能调到最低：“好的，请说您这是为什么呢？” “这样好多了，”德威特说，“因为我等的那个人，并没有在约好的时间露面，我猜他可能有事耽搁，便留在船上，前后坐了四趟，直到11点40分，我放弃了，决定回家去。” 萨姆冷笑起来，“你以为我们会相信你这种解释吗？你等的那个人究竟是谁？” “对不起，恕难奉告。” 布鲁诺对着德威特摇摇手指头：“德威特先生，你正把自己推到一个最最不利的位置，你自己应该心知肚明，你刚刚说的话实在非常非常地不可信——你若没有具体的证据支持，在现在这种情况下，我们不可能相信你这种解释。” 德威特闭上了嘴巴，两手交叉于胸前，眼睛看着墙壁。 “很好，”萨姆明显动了肝火，“也许你可以说说着，你这个会面是怎么约的？随便有了什么记录都成——信件，或者约定时有人在场看见听见之类的？” “约会是今天早上用电话订的。” “你说的今天早上，是星期三早上吧？” "yes." “对方约的？” “是的，打到我华尔街的办公室，我公司的接线人员不留外面打进来的电话记录。” “你原来就认得打电话约你的这个人？” 德威特保持沉默。 “你刚刚说，”萨姆毫不放松地追问，“你后来溜下船的唯一理由，是因为你累了，决定回西安格坞的家是吧？” “我想，”德威特无力地说，“你们不会相信我说的。” 萨姆脖子上的青筋应声全浮起来了：“去他妈的，你完全说对了，我是不信！”萨姆一把抓着布鲁诺的手臂，拉他到墙角，两人低声商量起来。雷恩悠悠叹了口气，闭上眼睛。 就在这时候，皮波第副组长一马当先，领着一串人从候车室回来，后头的刑警抱着一堆黑色的廉价皮包，慌张地跟着冲进站长室来，皮包共有五个。 萨姆问皮波第，“这些是干什么的？” “你要我找的皮包，符合描述的全在这里，还有，”皮波第笑了起来，“六个忧心忡忡的皮包主人。” “默霍克上头有收获吗？” “没任何皮包的踪迹，老大，另外水上警察队那些家伙泡了半天脏水，到此刻为止，毫无进展。” 萨姆走到门边，震天一吼：“希克斯！吉尼斯！上来一下！” 一个船员和一个电车驾驶员跑着上楼梯，跑着进来，脸色一片惊恐。 “希克斯你看看这些皮包，可有伍德带的那个？” 希克斯仔细看着地板上那一堆皮包，“呃——这——每个都很像，实在很难讲。” “你呢？吉尼斯？” “我也觉得很难说，巡官，它们几乎全一个样子。” “好啦，你们滚吧！”两人离去，萨姆蹲了下来，打开其中一个皮包，清洁如威尔逊太太低喊了一声，愤慨却敢怒不敢言，跟着抽抽搭搭啜泣起来，萨姆拉出一团脏工作服，一个午餐盒子，还有一本纸面本小说，萨姆一阵恶心上来；他跟着对付第二个，汉瑞·尼克森吐出一串愤怒的抗议声音，萨姆给他冷冷的一眼，让他闭上嘴巴，毫不客气扯开皮包，里面有几片硬纸板，铺着羊毛布，上头排满了廉价珠宝和小装饰品，此外还有一堆订货单，都印了他的名字；萨姆把这皮包摆一边，再看第三个，里面只有一件胜了的旧长裤和一些工具，萨姆抬起头，山姆·亚当斯，默霍克波轮的操舵手，正紧张地看着他。 “你的？” "Yes, sir." 萨姆再打开剩下的两个：其中一个的主人是个巨大的黑人码头工人，名叫阿利亚·琼斯，里头有一套换洗的衣服和一个午餐盒子；另一个里头装着三片尿布，半瓶牛奶，一本廉价书，一盒安全别针以及一席小毯子，这是一对名为汤玛斯·柯可南的年轻夫妻的包，男的怀里抱着个快睡着、一脸不高兴的小婴孩，萨姆打雷般的声音似乎惊吓了他，小婴孩古怪地看了萨姆一眼，在父亲臂膀里扭了扭，把小脑袋埋过父亲肩膀，忽然嚎啕起来，顿时，整个站长室里一片凄厉刺耳的哭声。有一名刑警偷偷笑起来，萨姆苦笑，只好把所有皮包物归原主，让他们离开。雷恩这时发现，不知是谁找来几个空袋子，盖在尸体上，雷恩露出极欣慰的神情。 萨姆派人传下命令，让司机吉尼斯、电车稽查和渡船口职员希克斯也离开。 一名警员进来，低声向皮波第报告，皮波第朗声说：“老大，河里没找到东西。” “哦，我猜伍德的皮包一定被扔进河里沉下去了，可能永远找不回来了。”萨姆抱怨着。 达菲警官这时砰砰地跑上楼，夸张地喘着大气，手里抓着一大叠字迹潦草的纸张，指头被墨水染得红红的：“楼下所有人的姓名和住址，巡官，通通写好了。” 布鲁诺快步凑上去，站在萨姆身后跟着看那叠渡轮乘客清单，两人一张一张仔细过滤，好像想找出个什么人一样，最后，两人仿佛相互庆贺般对视一眼，布鲁诺的嘴巴紧紧抿着。 “德威特先生，”布鲁诺突然一箭穿心地说，“隆斯崔被杀那班车上的所有乘客，今晚只有你一个人在这班渡轮上，有趣吧？” 德威特眨了一下眼，茫然地看着布鲁诺的睑，然后，他纤弱的身体轻轻抖着，低下头去。 “布鲁诺先生，你所说的——”一片沉默中，雷恩冷静的声音传来，“也许全是事实，但容我大胆地说句话，这一切尚不能证明德威特先生涉案。” “啊？你说什么？”萨姆反应激烈，倒是布鲁诺只是不悦地蹩着眉。 “亲爱的巡官，”雷恩轻柔地说，“你当然也一定注意到了，在乘客叫嚷起来之后到你我上船这段时间里，默霍克上有一部分乘客已经下船走了，这点你是否也考虑在内了呢？” 萨姆的话像火山爆发般地喷射出来：“很对，我们会追踪这些人的。”他几乎是在恐吓了，“你以为我们查不出来吗？” 雷恩优雅地微笑着：“亲爱的巡官，你以往宣布侦破刑案，都像现在这么肯定、这么成竹在胸吗？你怎么知道你没漏掉任何的相关线索呢？” 布鲁诺跟萨姆咬了下耳朵，德威特再次感激涕零地转向雷恩，萨姆烦躁地摆动着他壮硕的身躯，向达菲警官吼着下了道命令，达菲远离风暴般地立刻离开。 萨姆朝德威特勾勾指头，“跟我下楼去。” 德威特默默起身，跟着萨姆走出门。 三分钟之后两人又回来了，德威特仍缄默不语，萨姆的脸色也还像全世界都欠他钱一般。 “什么也查不出来，”萨姆低声向布鲁诺报告，“没有任何一个乘客，对德威特在船上的行动有足够的留意，可让我们把他钉在这件谋杀案上头。其中有一人说他记得德威特独自一人缩在个角落里，有几分钟时间，德威特自己则说，他的电话约会，双方说好尽可能在别人不注意的地方碰面，其他妈的贱！” “但是萨姆，这样不是反倒对我们有利吗？”布鲁诺说，“这不就说明伍德被人从顶层甲板扔下去时，德威特并没有不在场的证明。” “我他妈的倒宁可有人看他从甲板上下来，现在，你说我们要怎么处置他好？” 布鲁诺摇着头：“今晚暂时先算了吧，反正他还算个有头有脸的人物，在我们有所行动前，必须握有更确切的证据在手，你派两个人随时盯住他，尽管我相信他不至于就这么鞋底抹油开溜了。” “反正你官大，说了算，”萨姆走向德威特，直视他的眼睛，“今晚就到此为止，德威特，你可以回家了，但请你随时和地检处保持联络。” 德威特一言不发起身，机械性地整整上衣，那顶毡帽重新戴在花白的头发上，环顾着周围这一切，叹了口气，沉重地走出站长室。萨姆立刻用手指比个八字形示意，两名刑警默契十足地匆匆跟了上去。 布鲁诺穿上外衣，室内，众人开始抽着烟七嘴八舌起来，萨姆叉着腿对着死者，弯下腰掀开遮盖的袋子，对着那个烂成一团的头颅。 “你还真他妈的笨，”他低声咕哝着，“在你那封神经信里，你至少可以写出杀害隆斯崔这个X凶手的姓名不是吗……” 布鲁诺也走了过来，拍拍萨姆厚实的肩膀：“好啦好啦，萨姆，提起劲来吧，对了，顶层甲板有没有叫人拍照存证呢？” “小鬼们正在拍，哦，达菲，怎样？”达菲忙得跟只狗一样又喘气进门。 达菲摇着他那涨痛的头：“老大，查不出哪些人先走掉，连大致的人数都不晓得。” 很长一段沉默的时间。 “这是什么破烂案子！”萨姆的狮子般的吼声也很快吞没在死寂的空气中，他头昏脑胀，活像一只暴怒着追自己尾巴的蠢狗，“我要带几个家伙去伍德住的公寓翻翻，布鲁诺你呢？回家是吧！” “最好如此，希望谢林医生别错过下半场，我陪雷恩先生走。”他转过身，戴上帽子，看向雷恩坐着的地方，吃惊之情浮上布鲁诺的脸。 雷恩一阵烟般早已消逝不见了。