Chapter 32 seventh scene

At the moment before dawn, the whole New York City was plunged into unimaginable extreme darkness.The police car galloped on the dark and gloomy avenue like a mountain path without any scruples. There were no pedestrians or vehicles. Occasionally, a single taxi passed by, its headlights blazing. Mike Collins lived in a fortress-like apartment on West Seventy-eighth Street, and as the police car rolled up in front of the house, a man emerged from the shadows.Sam jumped out of the car in the lead, followed by Bruno and a group of detectives. The man who emerged said, "Boss, he's still upstairs. He hasn't stepped out since he got home."

Sam nodded, and a group of people filed in.An old uniformed caretaker sat at a table and yawned loudly. They shook the sleeping elevator attendant awake, and the sleepy waiter rushed them upstairs. They got out of the elevator on the eighth floor, and another guard appeared immediately, pointing to one of the doors, and everyone surrounded him quietly. Bruno sighed excitedly and looked at his watch. "Have you stopped?" Sam asked routinely, "This kid is quite dangerous." Sam stepped forward and rang the doorbell.First, there was a trembling sound, and then they heard the sound of footsteps dragging, and then, a man's rough roar: "Who is it? Who is it?"

Sam roared loudly: "Police! Open the door immediately!" There was a short silence, followed by: "Fuck your mother police! You don't want to capture me alive!" A suffocated roar, another ping-pong, ping-pong footsteps, and then sharp and clear like river ice breaking, a revolver burst into flames, Eventually, they heard the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground. Now that he had to force his way in, Sam took a step back and took a deep breath. His huge body slammed into the door, but it was like hitting an iron, and the door remained motionless.Officer Duffy and a big, muscular policeman danced in a three-person dance as if in perfect harmony. They followed Sam and took another step back. Like three angry goats, they slammed into the door again. The door jerked, but remained firmly shut.

"Come again!" Sam roared... until the fourth time, the door creaked and fell to the ground, and a group of people rushed in desperately. There was a long and dark hall with The corridor leading to the bedroom was dimly lit. At the checkpoint at the junction of the hall and the bedroom, lay the body of Mike Collins in pajamas, holding a gray-black revolver in his right hand, with green smoke still curling up. Sam stomped over the parquet floor, pounced, and knelt beside Collins with a thud, listening to Collins' chest. "Alive!" Sam yelled. "Take him to the bedroom!"

A group of people hurriedly carried the unconscious body into the lighted bedroom and placed it on a bench.Collins' face was ashen, his eyes were closed tightly, and although his mouth was powerless to spit out any sound, he still panted loudly like a hungry wolf.Blood dripped from the straw-like mess of hair on his right head, and the bright red blood stained half of his face, extending all the way to his right shoulder, and spilled on his pajamas.Sam probed the wound with his fingers, and his hand was blood red instantly. "The bullet didn't go through his skull," Sam cursed lowly, "it just passed through the head, I guess I passed out from fright. Damn it sucks, it's not hard to hit yourself so close, who the hell, call me Here comes the doctor... Hey, Bruno, it looks like the show is about to end."

A criminal police officer led the way and ran out. Sam took three strides and picked up the revolver on the floor: "Okay, .38 caliber," he said with great satisfaction, but immediately pulled his face down, " He only fired one shot, the one that killed himself, where did the bullet go?" "It's embedded in this wall." A criminal policeman pointed to the spot where the white ash was peeling off on the wall. Sam dug up the bullet, and after Bruno studied it, he said, "He ran from the living room to the bedroom, and as he ran, he fired. The distorted warhead was put into the pocket; the revolver was carefully wrapped in a handkerchief, and handed over to a criminal policeman next to him.At this time, there was a commotion at the end of the corridor on the eighth floor. Everyone turned their heads and saw a group of apartment residents in pajamas poking their heads and whispering curiously.

The two criminal policemen went out to deal with it, and the commotion suddenly increased. The criminal policeman who was ordered to find a doctor pushed his way through the crowd, followed by an ordinary-looking man in nightgown, carrying a black bag in his hand. "Are you a doctor?" Sam asked. "Yes, I live in this apartment, what? What happened?" It wasn't until the criminal policeman walked to the bench that the doctor noticed Collins lying flat on it, so he squatted down without saying a word: "Give me water." He checked for a long time, waved his finger and said, "It's hot. "A criminal police officer rushed into the bathroom immediately and brought out a large basin of hot water.

After about five minutes of treatment, the doctor stood up: "It's just a bad abrasion," he said, "he will regain his sanity any time now." He cleaned the wound, disinfected it, cleaned Collins' bloody right head, and placed it on the wounded patient. With the perfect cooperation of the coma, the doctor successfully cleaned the wound for the second time, sewed up the wound, and bandaged it properly. "It must be sent to the hospital for further diagnosis and treatment as soon as possible, but this is just for insurance. He will feel a terrible headache and feel terribly sad all over his body. Oh, people are awake."

With a hoarse and weak moan, followed by his whole body trembling in pain, Collins opened his eyes, and tears poured into his eyes at the same time with sober mind. "He's fine," the doctor said without changing his face, and began to pack his first aid kit. The doctor is gone.A detective stepped forward to help Collins, let him half sit and half lie down, and thoughtfully stuffed a pillow under his head.Collins groaned again, stroked his head with bloodless hands, touched the bandage on his head, and fell back on the bench in despair. "Collins," began the inspector, who was sitting beside the wounded, "why did you kill yourself?"

Collins licked his lips with his parched tongue. Now, he has turned into a pitiful and ridiculous appearance, with a smear of dried blood on his right cheek: "Water." He murmured. As soon as Sam raised his eyes, a criminal police officer immediately brought a glass of water and supported Collins' head. The cold liquid flowed down the throat of the irresponsible Irishman. "You can say it, Collins." Collins gasped: "You got caught, didn't you? You got caught, didn't you? Anyway, I ruined everything..." "Does that mean you've pleaded guilty?"

Collins swallowed the words, nodded silently, and seemed to be still in shock, but suddenly he raised his eyelids, reappearing a bit of the tough look of the past: "What sin do you plead?" Sam smiled slightly: "Forget it, Collins, don't put on such an innocent and disgusting look, how could you not know what you did, you killed John DeWitt, that's the crime." "I--killed--" Collins was dumbfounded on the spot, and then he suddenly wanted to sit up straight, but his body twisted in pain, and Sam reached out and pressed him back on the bench.Collins yelled, "What the hell are you talking about? Did I kill DeWitt? Who killed him? I don't even know he was killed! Are you out of your mind? Or do I need to be a scapegoat?" Sam looked a little confused, and Bruno stepped forward, and Collins turned his gaze to him.Bruno said with the look of a wise man who does not speak secretly: "Listen carefully, lying will not do you any good, Collins, just now you heard that the police came to the door, immediately shouted 'You don't want to capture me alive' and planned to Suicide, could this be the last words of an innocent person? And just a few minutes ago you said 'you got caught?' What is that if it's not a confession? These can expose your lies, you His words and deeds all confirm that he is a criminal." "But I definitely didn't kill DeWitt, I can tell you the truth!" "Then why do you look like you're waiting for the police to come? And why did you kill yourself?" Sam interrupted sharply. "Because..." Collins gritted his lower lip with his powerful teeth and glared at Bruno. "It's none of your business," he said nonchalantly. The first time I saw him, he was still alive and kicking." As he spoke, Collins seemed to be struck by a sudden pain, and he put his head in his hands and moaned loudly. "So you admit to seeing DeWittrow tonight?" "Of course I have. Many people have seen it with their own eyes. I saw him on the train tonight. Was he slaughtered on the train?" "Stop acting," said Sam. "Why did you happen to be on that Newcastle train?" "I followed DeWitt, I admit, I followed him all night, and when he took his company out of the Ritz, I watched them all the way to the station. I've been looking for him for a while, I tried to meet even when he was in jail, so I bought a ticket and got on the same bus. As soon as the car moved, I went to find DeWitt - he was sitting with his lawyer Brooke, There were two others, one was Aham, and the other I don't know who—I got into a quarrel with him right away." "Of course, of course, we all know that," said the inspector. "After you got into the car and saw DeWitt, what happened?" Collins stared at his bloodshot eyes: "I want him to be responsible for the damages caused by Lonstra's bad intelligence. Lonstra caused me to fall into a big fight. DeWitt and him partnered to start a company, and it was a company I—I needed that money badly, but DeWitt ignored me, and he just said one word, no, no, no... oh, grim as a reptilian," in his voice Full of uncontrollable anger, "I almost knelt with him, but still no, no, no." "Where are you talking about these things?" "We went to the back of the car to talk... I had no choice but to get out of the car. At that time, the car drove to a place called Ridgefield Park. As soon as the car stopped, I opened the door on the side of the track and jumped off. Then I got up. Shut the doors. After crossing the tracks, I realized the last train back to town was early, so I had to hail a taxi and come straight back here, goddamn it, I swear to God." Collins leaned back on his pillow, panting heavily as if he had walked a long way. "When you jumped out of the car, was the DeWitt still in this car?" Sam asked. "Yes, he looked at me..." Collins bit his lip. "I—I hate this man," he faltered, "but not enough to kill him—God, no..." "You think we have to accept everything you say, don't you?" "I told you I didn't kill him!" Collins' voice rose from speaking to shouting, "When I was standing by the track and pulling back the door, I saw him take out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead, put the handkerchief back in his pocket, and pull the car door open. Walk in the back door, God can be my witness, I saw him, I tell you the truth!" "Did you see him sit down?" "No, I'm leaving right now, haven't I already said that?" "Why did you get out of the car, instead of going through the lighted car in front, and go down through the door that the conductor opened well?" "I don't have time. The car has been parked for a while." "You said you hated him, didn't you?" asked the inspector again, "so you had a big fight, didn't you?" Collins yelled, "You must pin the blame on me, don't you? There is absolutely nothing false in what I have told you, Sam. I have told what we have said. Of course, I am emotional. Who wouldn't? DeWitt was just as excited, I guess he walked to the back of the car probably to calm down, he's blushing and thick-necked." "Collins, have you taken your revolver?" "No." "Didn't you follow in the last trailer too?" Sam asked. "My God, of course not!" The Irishman burst into another burst of anger. "You said you bought a ticket at the ferry terminal and continued to follow DeWitt. Show me the ticket." "The ticket is in the coat pocket of my closet next to the aisle." Officer Duffy went to the aisle cabinet to find the ticket, and it didn't take long to bring the ticket. It was a ticket from Weehoken to Westwood. "What's the matter, the conductor didn't tear it up, huh?" Sam asked. "The conductor didn't come to collect the ticket before I got off the bus." "Okay." Sam got up, stretched his arms, and yawned; Collins sat up straight, looking much better, and took a cigarette from the pocket of his pajamas, "Let's do this first, Collins, how about you? How is your body?" Collins murmured, "It's better, but my head still hurts." "Well, of course I'm glad you're better," said Sam, with some sincerity. "That means there's no need for an ambulance." "ambulance?" "Of course, get up and get dressed now, and go back to the headquarters with me." The cigarette on Collins's mouth dropped immediately: "You—you're detaining me for murder? It's nothing to do with me, I've told you again and again! Everything I said is true, Inspector—look at God..." "Boy, who said that I will detain you on suspicion of murdering DeWitt," Sam and Bruno blinked. "We are just asking you to come as an important witness."