Изучение английского языка по детективным историям

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Kurganov А. (2016). Изучение английского языка по детективным историям. in Library, 16(2), 1–81. извлечено от https://inlibrary.uz/index.php/archive/article/view/12237
Anvar Kurganov, Академия МВД Республики Узбекистан

Заместитель начальника Управления языковых исследований МВД Республики Узбекистан

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Аннотация

Данное учебное пособие предназначено для студентов и слушателей Академии МВД Республики Узбекистан и служит для развития навыков быстрого понимания и устной речи.
Пособие может быть использовано студентами и курсантами учебных заведений МВД Республики Узбекистан, сотрудниками правоохранительных органов и всеми интересующимися английским языком.


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O‘ZBEKISTON RESPUBLIKASI ICHKI ISHLAR VAZIRLIGI

AKADEMIYA








A. M. KURGANOV



Ingliz tilini detektiv hikoyalar yordamida o‘rganish


o‘quv qo‘llanma














TOSHKENT


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2

O‘zbekiston Respublikasi IIV Akademiyasining
Tahririyat-noshirlik hay’atida ma’qullangan


Taqrizchilar:

O‘zbekiston Davlat jahon tillari universiteti tarjimonlik fakulteti tarjima
nazariyasi va amaliyoti kafedrasi mudiri filоlogiya fanlari nomzodi,
professor

O. M. Mo‘minov;


filоlogiya fanlari nomzodi

R. R.Tumparov;

P-88 Kurganov A.M.

Ingliz tilini detektiv hikoyalar yordamida o‘rganish o‘quv qo‘llanma.

A. M. Kurganov. – T.: O‘zbekiston Respublikasi IIV Akademiyasi,

2016. – 81 b.

Ushbu o‘quv qo‘llanma O‘zbekiston Respublikasi Ichki ishlar vazirligi

Akademiyasi tinglovchi va kursantlari uchun mo‘ljallangan bo‘lib, u
bo‘lg‘usi kasb egalariga inglizcha detektiv matnlarni tanishtirish bilan birga,
ingliz tilida berilgan matnlarni turli interfaol mashqlar bajarish orqali tezroq
tushunish va og’zaki muloqot qilish ko’nikmalarini rivojlantirishga xizmat
qiladi.

Qo‘llanmadan O‘zbekiston Respublikasi Ichki ishlar vazirligi o‘quv

yurtlari tinglovchi va kursantlari, huquqni muhofaza qilish organlarining
xodimlari va barcha ingliz tiliga qiziquvchilar foydalanishlari mumkin.

BBK 81.2 Angl.ya 73










© O‘zbekiston Respublikasi IIV Akademiyasi, 2016


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SO‘Z BOSHI

Mamlakatimizda so‘nggi yillarda ta'lim sohasini yanada rivojlantirish va

yangi bosqichga olib chiqish borasida ko‘plab ijobiy ishlar amalga oshirildi.

Jumladan, chet tillarni o‘rganish va o‘qitishning kompleks tizimini

shakllantirish maqsadida Yurtboshimiz tomonidan 2012-yil 10-dekabrda
qabul qilingan “Chet tillarni o‘rganish tizimini yanada takomillashtirish
chora-tadbirlari to‘g‘risida”gi PQ-1875-sonli qarori e'lon qilindi. Ushbu

Qarordan kelib chiqib zamonaviy pedagogik va axborot-kommunikatsiya

texnologiyalaridan foydalangan holda o‘qitishning ilg‘or uslublarini joriy

etish yo‘li bilan, o‘sib kelayotgan yosh avlodni chet tillarga o‘qitish, shu

tillarda erkin so‘zlasha oladigan mutaxassislarni tayyorlash tizimini tubdan

takomillashtirish hamda buning negizida, ularning jahon sivilizatsiyasi

yutuqlari hamda dunyo axborot resurslaridan keng ko‘lamda foydalanishlari,

xalqaro hamkorlik va muloqotni rivojlantirishlari uchun shart-sharoit va

imkoniyatlar yaratish bugungi kunning eng dolzarb masalalardan biriga

aylandi.

Belgilangan dolzarb masalalar orasida rivojlangan horijiy mamlakatlar

tajribasini o‘rganish va ulardan bizning sharoitga mos keladigan ijobiy
jihatlarini o‘zlashtirish zaruriyati alohida ahamiyat kasb etadi. Shuni
e’tiborga olgan holda huquqshunoslarning horijiy tillarni kasb talabi
darajasida egallashlari zaruriyati kelib chiqqanligini e’tiborga olib ushbu
“Ingliz tilidagi detektiv matnlarni mashqlar yordamida o‘rganish” nomli
o‘quv qo‘llanmasi tayyorlandi va keng kitobxonlar ommasiga taqdim
qilinmoqda.

Ushbu o‘quv qo‘llanma turli mazmundagi detektive matnlarni o‘z ichiga

olgan bo‘lib, O‘zbekiston Respublikasi IIVga qarashli Oliy ta’lim
muassasalarida ta’lim olayotgan tinglovchi va kursantlar uchun
mo‘ljallangan. Ushbu nashrning maqsadi bo‘lg‘usi huquqshunoslarga turli
interfaol mashqlarni bajarish orqali matnlarning mazmun-mohiyatini tezroq

o‘zlashtirib olish hamda og‘zaki nutqni rivojlantirishga yaqindan yordam

berishdan iboratdir.

Mazkur o‘quv qo‘llanma ilk marotaba tayorlanlganligi bois unda

muayyan kamchiliklar uchrashi tabiiy. Shu bois muallif ushbu o‘quv


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qo‘llanma yuzasidan bildirilgan tanqidiy fikr-mulohazalar va takliflarni
mamnuniyat bilan qabul qiladi va kelgusi ishlarida ulardan foydalanadi.


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Contents

Activities 1

6

Story 1

Three is a Lucky Number

7

Activities 2

13

Story 2

Full Circle

16

Activities 3

25

Story 3

How’s Your Mother?

28

Activities 4

36

Story 4

At the Old Swimming Hole

39

Activities 5

48

Story 5

Slowly, Slowly in the Wind

51

Activities 6

60

Story 6

Woodrow Wilsons Tie

63

Story 7

The Absence of Emily

71

Talk about it

77

Project: Crime and Punishment

79


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Activities 1
What's the book about?

Discuss these questions with another student.

1. What famous murder stories in real life or fiction do you know?

2. What famous detectives do you know? Are they real-life or fictional?

3. Which of the words in this box can describe: a murderer; a detective; both

a murderer and a detective? Write them below and add another word to each

list.

cruel enthusiastic greedy guilty honest imaginative intelligent patient polite

1.

1.

1.

2.

2.

2.

3.

3.

3.

4.

4.

4.

What happens first?
Look at the pictures in the first story and the words in

italics

on page 6.

What do you think?


1. Who is the criminal?
2. What will the crime be?
3. Why and how will it be done?
4. Will it be successful?


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Story 1

Three is a Lucky Number

This was the difficult bit. The discovery of the div must be made,

but not too soon.


t five o’clock on a September afternoon Ronald Torbay was making
preparations for his third murder. He was being very careful. He

realized that murdering people becomes more dangerous if you do it often.

He was in the bathroom of the house that he had recently rented. For a

moment he paused to look in the mirror. The face that looked back at him

was thin, middle-aged and pale. Dark hair, a high forehead and well-shaped

blue eyes. Only the mouth was unusual — narrow and quite straight. Even

Ronald Torbay did not like his own mouth.

A sound in the kitchen below

worried him. Was Edyth coming up to

have her bath before he had prepared it

for her? No, it was all right; she was

going out of the back door. From the

window he saw her disappearing round

the side of the house into the small

square garden. It was exactly like all

the other gardens in the long street. He
didn’t like her to be alone there. She

was a shy person, but now new people had moved into the house next door,

and there was a danger of some silly woman making friends with her. He
didn’t want that just now.

Each of his three marriages had followed the same

pattern

1

.

Using a

false name, he had gone on holiday to a place where no one knew him. There

he had found a middle-aged, unattractive woman, with some money of her

own and no family. He had talked her into marrying him, and she had then

1

pattern

[pæt(ə)n]

(n)

a regular way of doing something

A


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8

agreed to make a

will

2

which left him all her money. Both his other wives

had been shy, too. He was very careful to choose the right type of woman:

someone who would not make friends quickly in a new place.

Mary, the first of them, had had her deadly accident’ almost unnoticed,

in the bathroom of the house he had rented — a house very like this one, but

in the north of England instead of the south. The police had not found

anything wrong. The only person who was interested was a young reporter on

the local newspaper. He had written something about death in the middle of
happiness, and had printed photographs of Mary’s wedding and her

funeral

3

,

which took place only three weeks after the wedding.

Dorothy had given him a little more trouble. It was not true that she was

completely alone in the world, as she had told him. Her brother had appeared

at the funeral, and asked difficult questions about her money. There had been

a court case, but Ronald had won it, and the insurance company had paid him

the money.

All that was four years ago. Now, with a new name, a newly invented

background, and a different area to work in, he felt quite safe.

From the moment he saw Edyth, sitting alone at a little table in the

restaurant of a seaside hotel, he knew she was his next subject’. He could see
from her face that she was not happy. And he could also see that she was

wearing a valuable ring.

After dinner he spoke to her. She did not want to talk at first, but in the

end he managed to start a conversation. After that, everything went as he

expected. His methods were old-fashioned and romantic, and by the end of a

week she was

in love with him.

Her background was very suitable for Ronald’s purpose. After teaching

at a girls’ school for ten years, she had gone home to look after her sick

father and had stayed with him until he died. Now, aged forty-three, she was
alone, with a lot of money, and she didn’t know what to do with herself.

2

will

[wil]

(n)

a legal document saying who should have your property after your death

3

funeral

['fjuːn(ə)rəl]

(n)

an occasion when people say goodbye to someone who has died


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Five weeks after they met, Ronald married her, in the town where they

were both strangers. The same afternoon they both made a will leaving all

their property to each other. Then they moved into the house which he had

rented cheaply because the holiday season was at an end. It was the most

pleasant of his marriages. He found Edyth a cheerful person, and even quite

sensible — except that it was stupid of her to believe that a man would fall in

love with her at first sight, Ronald knew he must not make the mistake of

feeling sorry for her. He began to make plans for ‘her future’, as he called it.

Two things made him do this earlier than he intended. One was the way

she refused to talk about her money. She kept all her business papers locked

in a desk drawer, and refused to discuss them. His other worry was her

unnecessary interest in his job. Ronald had told Edyth that he was a partner in

an engineering company, which was giving him a long period of absence.

Edyth accepted the story, but she asked a lot of questions and wanted to visit

his office and the factory.

So Ronald had decided that it was time to act.

He turned from the window, and began to run water into the bath. His

heart was beating loudly, he noticed. He didn’t like that. He needed to keep
very calm.

The bathroom was the only room they had painted. He had done it

himself soon after they arrived. He had also put up the little shelf over the

bath which held their bottles and creams and a small electric heater. It was a

cheap one, with two bars, and it was white, like the walls, and not too

noticeable. There was no electric point in the bathroom, but he was able to

connect the heater to a point just outside the door.

He turned on the heater now, and watched the bars become red and hot.

Then he went out of the room. The controls for all the electricity in the

house were inside a cupboard at the top of the stairs. Ronald opened the door

carefully and pulled up the handle which turned off the electricity. (He had a

cloth over his hand, so that he would not leave fingerprints.)

Back in the bathroom the bars of the heater were turning black again.

Still using the cloth, he lifted the heater from the shelf and put it into the bath


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water, at the bottom end of the bath. Of course, you could still see it. It

looked as if it had fallen off the shelf by accident.

Edyth was coming back from the garden: he could hear her moving

something outside the kitchen door. He pulled a small plastic bottle out of his

pocket and began to read again the directions on the back.

A small sound behind him made him turn suddenly. There was Edyth’s

head, only two metres away, appearing above the flat roof of the kitchen

which was below the bathroom window. She was clearing the dead leaves

from the edge of the roof. She must be standing on the ladder which was kept

outside the kitchen door.

He stayed calm. ‘What are you doing there, dear?’
Edyth was so surprised that she nearly fell off the ladder. ‘Oh, you

frightened me! I thought I’d just do this little job before I came to get ready.’

‘But I’m preparing your beauty bath for you.’
‘It’s kind of you to take all this trouble, Ronald.’
‘Not at all. I’m taking you out tonight and I want you to look as nice as

possible. Hurry up, dear. The

bubbles

4

don’t last very long, and like all these

beauty treatments, this one’s expensive. Go and undress now, and come
straight here.’ ‘Very well, dear.’ She began to climb down the ladder.

Ronald opened the little bottle, and poured the liquid into the bath. He

turned on the water again, and in a moment the bath was full of bubbles,

smelling strongly of roses. They covered the little heater completely; they

even covered the sides of the bath.

Edyth was at the door. ‘Oh Ronald! It’s all over everything — even on

the floor!’

‘That doesn’t matter. You get in quickly, before it loses its strength. I’ll

go and change now. Get straight in and lie down. It will give your skin a bit
of colour!’

He went out and paused, listening. She locked the door, as he expected.

He walked slowly to the electricity box, and forced himself to wait another

minute.

‘How is it?’ he shouted.

4

bubble

['bʌbl]

(n)

a ball of air in a liquid


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‘I don’t know yet. I’ve only just got into the bath. It smells nice.’
His hand, covered with the cloth, was on the controls.
‘One, two ... three,’ he said, and pulled the handle down. A small

explosion from the electric point behind him told him that the electricity had

gone off. Then everything was silent.

After a time he went and knocked on the bathroom door.
‘Edyth?’
There was no answer, no sound, nothing.

Now he had to prepare the second

stage. As he knew well, this was the

difficult bit. The discovery of the div

must be made, but not too soon. He had
made that mistake with Dorothy’s
‘accident, and the police had asked him
why he had got worried so soon. This

time he decided to wait half an hour

before he began to knock loudly on the

bathroom door, then to shout for a neighbour and finally to force the lock.

There was something he wanted to do now. Edyth’s leather writing-case,

which contained all her private papers, was in the drawer where she kept her

blouses. He had discovered it some time ago, but he had not forced the lock

open because that would frighten her. Now there was nothing to stop him.

He went softly into the bedroom and opened the drawer. The case was

there. The lock was more difficult than he expected, but he finally managed

to open the case. Inside there were some financial documents, one or two

thick envelopes and, on top of these, her Post Office Savings book.

He opened it with shaking fingers,

and began reading the figures - £17,000
... £18,600 ... £21,940 ... He turned over
a page, and his heart jumped wildly.

On 4th September she had taken

almost all the money out of her savings

account!


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Perhaps it was here, in these thick envelopes? He opened one of them;

papers, letters, documents fell on the floor.

Suddenly he saw an envelope with his own name on it, in Edyth’s

writing. He pulled it open, and saw in surprise that the date on the letter was

only two days ago.

Dear Ronald,

If you ever read this, I am afraid it will be a terrible shock to you. I

hoped it would not be necessary to write it, but now your behaviour has

forced me to face some very unpleasant possibilities.

Did you not realize, Ronald, that any middle-aged woman who has been

rushed into marriage to a stranger will ask herself about her husband’s
reason for marrying her?

At first I thought I was in love with you, but when you asked me to make

my will on our wedding day, I began to worry. And then, when you started

making changes to the bathroom in this house, I decided to act quickly. So I

went to the police.

Have you noticed that the people who have moved into the house next

door have never spoken to you? Well, they are not a husband and wife, but a

police

inspector

5

and a policewoman. The policewoman showed me two

pieces from old newspapers, both about women who had died from accidents

in their baths soon after their marriages. Both pieces included a photograph

of the husband at the funeral. They were not very clear, but I was able to

recognize you. So I realized that it was my duty to agree to do what the

inspector asked me to do. (The police have been looking for the man since the
photographs were given to them by your second wife’s brother.) The
inspector said the police needed to be sure that you were guilty: you must be

given the opportunity to try the crime again. That’s why I am forcing myself

to be brave, and to play my part.

I want to tell you something, Ronald. If one day you lose me, out of the

bathroom,

5

inspector

[ɪn'spektə]

(n)

a title for a police officer


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13

I mean, you will find that I have gone out over the kitchen roof, and am

sitting in the kitchen next door. I was stupid to marry you, but not quite as

stupid as you thought.

Yours,

Edyth


Ronald’s mouth was uglier than ever when he finished reading the letter.

The house was still quiet. But in the silence he heard the back door open

suddenly, and heavy footsteps rushed up the stairs towards him.

Activities 2

Were you right?

Look back at your answers to Activity 1.2. Then read these

sentences. Only one of them is true. Which one? Correct the others.

1. Edyth is Ronald's fourth wife.

Edyth is Ronald's third wife.

2. Ronald’s first wife died in an accident.
…………………………………………
3. Edyth married Ronald because she loved him.
………………………………………….
4. Ronald tries to kill Edyth with poison.
…………………………………………..
5. At the end of the story, Ronald goes to prison for murdering Edyth.
…………………………………………..

What more did you learn?

1. Put these pictures in the right order. Number them, 1-8.


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2. Discuss how Ronald feels at each of these times and why.

Language in use

Look at the sentence in the box. Then use these words to complete

the police report on Ronald's first murder. Use past perfect verb forms.

When Mrs. Torbay came to us with her fears, we looked for information

on her husband’s first two marriages. This is what we learnt about the first.

Using a false name, Ronald Torbay

1

had gone

on holiday to a place where

no one knew him. There he

2

______ a rich, middle-aged, unattractive woman.

She

3

________ in love with him. When she

4

__________ his first wife, she

5

_______ him all her money in a will. A couple of weeks later, Torbay

6

_______ her in their bathroom. A reporter

7

_________ about it in the local

newspaper. The funeral

8

________ place only three weeks after the wedding.

What's next?

Look at the pictures in the next story and the words in

italics

on page

14. Circle the right answer.

1. The story happens in the

UK / USA.

Each of his three marriages had

followed the same pattern.

become, fall, go, leave, meet, murder, take, write


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15

2. The detective, Millhone, is a

man

/

woman.

3. Millhone is a

police

/ private

detective.

4. Millhone is trying to catch a

car thief / murderer.


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16

Story 2

Full Circle

While I was looking in the minor I heard a loud noise,

a bit like a gunshot.

The accident happened on a Friday afternoon, as I was driving home.

The traffic was moving quickly along the Santa Teresa

freeway

6

and my own

little Volkswagen was running well, although it’s fifteen years old. I was
feeling good. I’d just solved a difficult case, and I had a cheque in my
handbag for four thousand dollars. That’s good money, for a female private
detective working for herself.

The sun shone down on the freeway out of a cloudless California sky. I

was driving in the middle

lane

7

. Looking into the driving mirror, I saw a

young woman in a small white car coming up behind me in the fast lane. A

bright red Porsche was close behind her, and I guessed she wanted to move

into the middle lane in front of me to let it pass, so I reduced my speed.

Coming up on my right was a dark blue Toyota. While I was looking in the

mirror I heard a loud noise, a bit like a gunshot.

I turned my attention back to the road in front of me. Suddenly the small

white car moved back into the fast lane. It seemed to be out of control. It hit

the back of the red Porsche, ran into the fence in the centre of the freeway,

and then back again into the road in front of me. I put my foot down hard to

bring the Volkswagen to a stop. At that moment a green Mercedes suddenly
appeared from nowhere, and hit the side of the girl’s ear, sending it right off
the road. Behind me all the cars were trying to stop — I could hear them

crashing into each other.

It was all over in a moment. A cloud of dust from the side of the road

showed where the girl’s car had come to rest. It had hit one of the posts of a
road sign, and the broken sign was now hanging across her car roof.

6

freeway

['friːweɪ]

(n)

a very wide road in a city on which cars can drive fast

7

lane

[leɪn] (n) one of the narrow areas that separate lines of cars on a road or swimmers in a

pool


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17

I left my car at the side of the road and ran towards the white car, with

the man from the blue Toyota close behind me. The girl’s head had gone
through the front window. She was unconscious, and her face was covered in
blood. I couldn’t open the car door, but the man from the Toyota forced it
open and reached inside.

‘Don’t move her,’ I said. ‘Let the ambulance people do it.’ I took off my

coat, and we used it to stop the blood from the worst of her cuts. He was a

man of twenty four or twenty five, with dark hair and anxious dark eyes.

Someone behind me was asking for help, and I realized that other people

had been hurt in the accident as well. The driver from the green Mercedes

was already using the telephone at the roadside, to call the ambulance and

police, I guessed. The driver of the red Porsche just stood there, unable to

move from shock. I looked back at the young man from the Toyota, who was
pressing the girl s neck. ‘She seems to be alive,’ he said.

I left him with the girl, and went to help a man with a broken leg.

By the time the police and the ambulance arrived, a small crowd of

drivers had stopped their cars to look, as if a road accident was some kind of

sports event. I noticed my friend John Birkett, a photographer from the local

newspaper. I watched as the girl was carried into the ambulance. Then, with

some of the other drivers, I had to tell a policeman what I had seen.

When I read in the newspaper next

morning that the girl had died, I was so

upset that I felt sick. There was a short

piece about her. Caroline Spurrier was

twenty-two, a student in her final year at

the University of California, Santa

Teresa.

She

came

from

Denver,

Colorado. The photograph showed

shoulder-length fair hair, bright eyes

and a happy smile. 1 could feel the

young woman’s death like a heavy weight on my chest.

My office in town was being painted, so I worked at home that next

week. On Thursday morning there was a knock at the door. I opened it. At


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18

first I thought the dead girl was alive again, and standing on my doorstep. But

then I realized that this was a woman in her forties.

“I’m Michelle Spurrier,” she said. “I understand you saw my daughter’s

accident.”

‘Please come in. I’m so sorry about what happened.’
She couldn’t speak at first, then the words came slowly. ‘The police

examined Caroline’s car, and found a bullet hole in the window on the
passenger side. My daughter was shot.’ She began to cry. When she was
calmer I asked, ‘What do the police say about it?’

‘They’re calling it murder now. The officer I talked to thinks it’s one of

those freeway killings — a crazy man shooting at a passing car, for no
special reason.’

‘They’ve had enough of those in Los Angeles,’ I said.
‘Well, I can’t accept that. Why was she on the freeway instead of at

work? She had a job in the afternoons. They tell me she left suddenly without
a word to anyone.’

‘Where did she work?’
‘At a restaurant near the university. She’d been working there for a year.

The manager told me a man had been annoying her. Perhaps she left to get
away from him.’

‘Did he know who the man was?’
‘Not really. They had been out together. He kept coming to see her in the

restaurant, calling her at all hours, causing a lot of trouble.

Lieutenant

8

Dolan tells me you’re a private detective — I want you to find out who’s
responsible for her death.’

‘Mrs. Spurrier, the police here are very good at their job. I’m sure

they’re doing everything possible.’

‘I’m not so sure. But I have to fly back to Denver now. My husband is

very ill and I need to get home. I can’t go until I know someone here is
looking into this. Please.’

8

lieutenant

[lef'tenənt]

(n)

a title for an American police officer


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19

I said I would do it. After all, I already had a strong interest in the ease.

‘I’ll need a few names,’ I said.

She gave me the names of the girl who shared Carolines room and the

restaurant where she’d worked.

Usually I try со keep out of cases that the police are working on.

Lieutenant Dolan, the officer responsible for murder cases, is not fond of
private detectives. So I was surprised that he’d sent Mrs. Spurrier to me.

As soon as she left, I drove over to the police station, where I paid six

dollars for a copy of the police report. Lieutenant Dolan wasn’t in, so I spoke
to Emerald, the secretary who works in the Records Department.

‘I’d like a bit of information on the Spurrier accident. Did anydiv see

where the shot was fired from?’

‘No, they didn’t.’
1 thought about the man in the red Porsche. He’d been in the lane to my

left, just a few metres ahead of me when the accident happened. The man in
the Toyota might be a help as well. ‘What about the other witnesses? There
were five or six of us there. Who’s been questioned?’

Emerald looked angry. ‘You know I’m not allowed to give out

information like that!’

‘Come on, Emerald. Dolan knows I’m doing this. He told Mrs Spurrier

about me. Just give me one name.’

‘Well... Which one?’ Slowly she got out some papers.
I described the young man in the Toyota, thinking she could find him in

the list of witnesses by his age.

She looked down the list. ‘Uh-oh! The man in the Toyota gave a false

name and address. Benny Seco was the name, but I guess he invented that.

Perhaps he’s already wanted by the police.

I heard a voice behind me. ‘Well, well. Kinsey Millhone. Hard at work, I

see.’

I turned to find Lieutenant Dolan standing there, his hands in his

pockets.


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20

I smiled brightly. ‘Mrs. Spurrier got in touch with me and asked me to

find out more about her daughter’s death. I feel bad about the girl. What’s the
story on the missing witness?’

‘I’m sure he had a reason for giving a false name,’ said Dolan. ‘Did you

talk to him yourself?’

‘Just for a few moments, but I’d know him if I saw him again. Do you

think he could help us?’

‘I’d certainly like to hear what he has to say. The other witnesses didn’t

realize that the girl was shot. I understand he was close enough to do it
himself.’

‘There must be a way to find him, don’t you think?’
‘No one remembers much about the man except the car he drove.

Toyota, dark blue, four or five years old.’

‘Would you mind if I talked to the other witnesses? I might get more out

of them because I was there.’

He looked at me for a moment, and then gave me the list.
‘Thanks. This is great. I’ll tell you what I find out.’
I drove to the restaurant where Caroline Spurrier had worked. I

introduced myself to the manager, and told him I was looking into Caroline’s
death.

‘Oh, yes, that was terrible. I talked to her mother.’
‘She told me you said something about a man who was annoying

Caroline. What else can you tell me?’

‘That’s about all I know. I never saw the man myself. She was working

nights for the last two months. She just went back to working days to try to
get away from him.’

‘Did she ever tell you his name?’
‘Terry, I think. She really thought he was crazy.’
‘Why did she go out with him?’
‘She said he seemed really nice at first, but then he got very jealous. He

used to follow her around all the time, in a green Ford car. In the end, I guess

he was completely crazy. He probably came to find her at the restaurant on
Friday afternoon, and that’s why she left.’


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21

I thanked him, and drove over to the university houses where Caroline

had lived. The girl who had shared her room was busy packing things in

boxes. Her name was Judy Layton. She was twenty-two, a history student
whose family lived in the town. When I asked why she didn’t live at home,
she explained that she had a difficult relationship with her mother.

‘How long did you know Caroline?’
‘About a year. I didn’t know her well.’
I looked at the boxes. ‘So you’re moving

out?’

‘I’m going back to my parents’ house.

It’s near the end of the school year now. And
my parents are away for a month, in Canada.
My brother’s coming to help me move.’

‘Did Caroline have a boyfriend?’
‘She went out with lots of boys.’
‘But no one special?’

She shook her head, not looking at me.
I tried again. ‘She told her mother about a man who annoyed her at

work. They’d been going out together. They’d just finished a relationship. I
expect she told you about him?’

‘No, she didn’t. She and I were not close. She went her way and I went

mine.’ ‘Judy, people get murdered for a reason. There was something going
on. Can’t you help me?’

‘You don’t know it was murder. The policeman I talked to said perhaps

it was a crazy man in a passing car,’

‘Her mother doesn’t agree.’
‘Well, I can’t help. I’ve told you everything I know.’
I spent the next two days talking to Caroline’s teachers and friends.

She seemed to be a sweet girl, well-liked by everyone. But I didn’t get

any useful information. I went back to the list of witnesses to the accident,

talking to each in turn. I was still interested in the man with the Toyota. What
reason could he have for giving a false name? I didn’t seem to be making any
progress. Then an idea came to me as I was looking at the newspaper picture


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22

of the crashed car. I suddenly remembered John Birkett at the scene of the

crash, taking pictures. Perhaps he had one of the man in the Toyota? Twenty
minutes later I was in Birkett’s office at the

Santa Teresa News,

looking at

the photographs.

‘No good,’ John said. ‘No clear pictures of him.’
‘What about his car?’
John pulled out another photo of Caroline’s car, with the Toyota some

distance behind.

‘Can you make it bigger?’
‘Are you looking for anything special?’
‘The numberplate,’ I said.
When we had made the photograph bigger we were able to read the

seven numbers and letters on the California numberplate. I knew I should

inform Lieutenant Dolan, but I wanted to work on this myself. So I

telephoned a friend of mine at the Department of Motor Vehicles.

The number belonged to a 1984 Toyota, dark blue, and the owner was

Ron Cagle, with an address on McClatchy Way.

My heart was beating loudly as I rang the bell of the house. When the

door was finally opened, I just stood there with my mouth open. Wrong man.
This man was tall and fat, with blue eyes and red hair. ‘Yes? he said.

“I’m looking for Ron Cagle.”
‘I’m Ron Cagle.’
‘You are? You’re the owner of a dark blue Toyota?’ I read out

the

number of the car.

He gave me a strange look. ‘Yes. Is something wrong?’
‘Well, I don’t know. Has someone else been driving it?’
‘Not for the last six months. See for yourself.’ He led me round the side

of the house. There sat a dark blue Toyota, without wheels and without an
engine. ‘What’s this about?’ he asked.

‘This car was at the scene of a recent accident where a girl was killed.’
‘Not this one,’ he said. ‘This has been right here, in this condition, for

six months.’ He looked at it again in sudden surprise. ‘What’s this?’ He


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23

pointed to the numberplate and I saw that it had completely different

numbers.

After a moment I realized what

had happened. ‘Somediv stole your
plates, and put these in their place.’

‘Why would they do that?’
‘Perhaps they stole a Toyota like

this, and wanted new numberplates for
it, so the police wouldn’t catch them.’
You could see Cagle’s car from the
road, I noticed.

I called Lieutenant Dolan and

told him what I’d found. He checked the list of stolen cars, and found that the
number which was now

on Cagles car belonged to a vehicle reported stolen

two weeks before. But Dolan thought that even if we found the man, he

might not be connected with the shooting. I didn’t believe him. I had to find

that young man with the dark hair and the dark eyes.

I looked through the list of witnesses and called everydiv on the list.

Most tried to be helpful, but there was nothing new to add. I drove back to

the university area to look for Judy Layton. She must know something more.

The apartment was locked, and looking through the window I saw that

all the furniture was gone. I spoke to the manager of the apartments and got

the address of her parents’ house in Colgate, the area to the north of town.

It was a pleasant house in a nice street. I rang the bell and waited. I rang

the bell again. It appeared that no one was at home. As I was returning to my

car, I noticed the three-car garage at the side of the house. In the detective

business, sometimes you get a feeling ... a little voice inside you, telling you
there’s something wrong. I looked through the garage window. Inside I saw a
car, with all the paint taken off it.

The side door of the garage was unlocked, and I went in. Yes, the Car

was a Toyota, and its numberplates were missing. This must be the same car
— and the driver must be someone in the Layton family. But why hadn’t he
driven it away somewhere and left it? Perhaps he thought it was too


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24

dangerous? I did a quick search of the inside of the car. Under the front seat I

saw a handgun, a .45.1 left it where it was, and ran back to my car. I had to

find a telephone and call the police.

As I was getting into my car, I saw a dark green Ford coming towards

the Layton entrance. The driver was the man I’d seen at the accident. Judy’s
brother? He looked rather like her. Of course she hadn’t wanted to talk about
him!

Suddenly he noticed me, and I saw the terror in his face as he recognized

me. The Ford sped past me, and I chased after it. I guessed he was going

towards the freeway.

He wasn’t far in front of me when he turned onto the freeway, heading

south, and soon I was right behind him.

He turned off the road onto the rough ground beside it, to pass the slow-

moving traffic. I followed him. He was watching me in his driving mirror.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t see

the workmen and their heavy vehicle

right in front of him — not until it was

too late.

He ran straight into the vehicle,

with crash that made my blood turn

cold, as I brought the Volkswagen to a

safe stop. It was like the first accident

all over again, with police and

ambulance men everywhere. Now I

realized where I was. The workmen in

their orange coats were putting up a new green freeway sign in place of the
one that Caroline’s car had broken. Terry Layton died at the exact spot where
he had killed her.

But why did he do it? I guess the restaurant manager was right, and

jealousy had made him crazy. Not too crazy, though, to carry out that careful

plan with the stolen car and numberplates. And now he was dead.


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25

Activities 3

Were you right?

Look back at your answers to Activity 2.4. Finish these sentences below

with information from each box.

1. Kinsey Millhone and

2. Caroline Spurrier and

3. Dolan and

4. Judy Layton and

5. Ron Cagle and

6. Terry Layton and

What more did you learn?

There are ten mistakes in Lieutenant Dolan's report on the death of

Caroline Spurrier. Circle the mistakes and say the correct sentences.

Report on the Death of Caroline Spurrier

Personal Details: first-year student at the University of Colorado.

Friendly, popular. Worked in a restaurant.

She was killed by a gunshot while driving her car on the freeway behind

Private Detective Kinsey Millhone’s Volkswagen. Caroline’s car moved into
the fast lane and was hit by a red Porsche. The murderer was Benny Deco.

His sister worked in a restaurant with Caroline Spurrier, who he fell in love

A

drives a white car

В

is a history student

С

is a policeman

D

is a private detective

E

owns a car with no wheels

F

uses a false name

G

his numberplates have been stolen

H

he dies in an accident

I

she drives an old Volkswagen

J

her brother is a murderer

К

she is murdered

L

he doesn’t like private detectives

D

I


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26

with. He decided to kill her because she refused to go out with him. He stole

a car from a man called Ron Cagle and shot Caroline on the freeway. I

recognized the car in a photograph of the accident. The murderer died before

we could catch him. He crashed his car into a new freeway sign while I was

chasing him.

Lieutenant Dolan

Language in use

Look at the sentence in the box. Then answer

the questions. What did Kinsey Millhone

ask these people?

1. Did Caroline have a job?

Kinsey asked Mrs. Spurrier

if Caroline had a job.

2. Why was she on the freeway?

Mrs. Spurner asked Kinsey
…………………………………………………….....
3. Did anydiv see where the shot was fired from?'

Kinsey asked Emerald
…………………………...................................................
4. Can I talk to the other witnesses?

Kinsey asked Lieutenant Dolan

………………….

………………………………

5. What else can you tell me?

Kinsey asked the restaurant manager
……………………………………………..
6. How long did you know Caroline?

Kinsey asked Judy Layton
…………………………………………………………


What’s next?

Look at the pictures in the next story and the words in

italics

on page 22.

I asked why she didn't

live at home.


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27

What do we learn about Humphrey Partridge? Does he live in a village

or a city? What do others think of him? What do you think his secret is?

Make notes.

Notes:




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28

Story 3

How’s Your Mother?

Humphrey Partridge stood by the open door of the second bedroom. There

was a smile on his lips as he looked at the empty bed.

“It’s all right, Mother. Just the post, Humphrey Partridge called from the

bottom of the stairs, as he opened the door to the village postman.

‘There’s a package for you, Mr. Partridge,” said Reg Carter, putting his

hand on the door. ‘From a garden centre, it says on it. Roses, I think.’

‘Yes,’ said Partridge, trying to close the door.
‘It’s the right time of year for planting roses, is it? November?’
‘Yes.’
‘How’s your mother?’ Reg went on. He was in no hurry to leave.
‘Not so bad.’
‘She never seems to get any letters, does she?’
‘No. Well, when you reach that age, most of your friends are dead.’
‘How old is she now?’
‘She was eighty six last July.’
‘That’s a good age. She doesn’t go out much, does she?’
‘No, not at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave to catch my

train to work.’

Partridge closed the door and called up the stairs, ‘Goodbye, Mother.

I’m off to work.’

On his way to the station he stopped at the village shop to get his

newspaper.

‘Good morning,’ said Mr. Denton, the shopkeeper. ‘How’s the old

lady?’

‘Oh, not too bad, thank you — for her age, that is.’
‘Oh, Mr. Partridge,’ said Mrs. Denton, ‘there’s going to be a meeting in

the village hall on Sunday, about-’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Denton, I don’t like to leave my mother at weekends.

I’m at work all week, you see.’ He hurried away.


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29

‘He lives for his old mother,’ said Mr. Denton.
‘Well,’ said his wife, ‘she probably won’t live much longer. She

s been

in bed ever since they moved here. And how long ago was that? Three
years?’

‘Three or four.’
‘I don’t know what he’ll do when she dies.’

‘Someone told me that he was

talking about going to live in Canada.’

‘Well, I expect she’ll leave him some

money,’

When

Mrs.

Denton

expected

something, everyone in the village soon

heard about it.

In his office that afternoon. Partridge

was getting ready to go home when the

telephone rang. Mr. Brownlow wanted to

see him. He hurried to his employer’s office.

‘Humphrey! Come in and sit down.’
Partridge sat on the edge of a chair. He was going to miss his train.

Mr. Brownlow said, ‘You know I intended to go to Antwerp next week,

for the meeting?’

‘Yes.’
‘Well, I’ve just heard that I must go to Rome tomorrow. Parsons is ill

and I’m taking his place. So I’d like you to go to Antwerp on Monday,’

‘Me? But what about Mr. Potter? He has a more responsible position in

the company...’

‘He’s too busy. It will be good experience for you. So I’ll ask my

secretary to change the tickets.’

‘No, Mr. Brownlow. You see, it’s rather difficult.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘It’s my mother. She’s very old and I look after her.’
‘Oh, it’s only for three days, Humphrey And this is important.’
‘I’m sorry, it’s not possible. My mother ...’


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30

There was a pause. Mr. Brownlow was looking annoyed.
‘All right, then. You can go now, or you’ll be late for your train.’
Partridge looked at his watch. ‘I think I can just catch it if I hurry.’
‘Oh, that’s great!’ His employer gave a Cold smile.
‘Mother, I’m home. It’s exactly 6,35.1 had to run for the train, but I

caught it.’

Humphrey Partridge hurried up the stairs, went past his own bedroom

and stood by the open door of the second bedroom. There was a smile on his

lips as he looked at the empty bed.

It was Monday morning, and Partridge was making his breakfast. He

turned on his cooker and prepared to boil an egg. It was an old cooker, but it

still worked well.

He looked out of the kitchen window

with satisfaction. During the weekend he had

dug the garden and planted all the roses.

The doorbell rang. It was Reg Carter, the

postman, with a big package in his hand.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t get this through the

letterbox.’

Partridge could see that it contained more

information about Canada. He would enjoy

reading that on the train.

‘Oh, and there’s this letter, too. But nothing for the old lady. Is she all

right

today?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ Partridge managed to shut the door behind the

postman. He opened the letter.

When he saw what was in it, he sat

down at the bottom of the stairs, feeling

weak with shock. He had won a large sum of

money in a competition.

‘You wanted to see me, Partridge?’
‘Yes, Mr. Brownlow.’


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31

‘Well, be quick, then. I’ve just flown back from Rome.’
‘I’ve come to tell you I’m leaving.’
‘You mean you want to leave the company? This is sudden.’
‘Yes, I’m going abroad. To Canada, with my mother.’
‘Well, you can go in a month: I need a month’s notice.’
‘Is it possible for me to go sooner?’
Mr. Brownlow suddenly lost his temper. ‘Yes! Go today!’

Partridge got home before lunch, feeling pleased. He had telephoned a

man who had agreed to sell the house for him; arid he had completed the

forms necessary for living in Canada. He opened his front door and called
out, ‘Hello, Mother. I’m home.’

He stopped suddenly as he saw Reg Carter coming out of his kitchen.

‘Good God, what are you doing here?’

‘I was passing the house, and I saw the smoke.’
‘How did you get in?’
‘I had to break a window. I’ve called the police. I explained it all to

Sergeant

9

Wallace.’

Partridges face was white. ‘Explained what?’
‘About the fire. There was a fire, in your kitchen. You left the cooker on,

and the curtains were on fire. I was thinking of your mother upstairs, not able
to move. So I put the fire out.’

‘Oh thank you, that was very good of you.’
‘Then I wanted to see if she was all right. I went upstairs. All the doors

were closed. I opened one — your room, I think. Then I opened another.
There was a bed there. But there was no one in it.’

‘No.’
‘There was no one anywhere. The house was empty.’
‘Yes.’
The postman stood there, looking at him. ‘I thought that was rather

strange, Mr. Partridge. You told us your mother lived here.

9

sergeant

['sɑːʤ(ə)nt]

(n)

a title for a police officer


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32

‘She does - I mean she did. She died.

‘Died? When? You said this morning

when I asked-’

‘She died two days ago.’ His face was

red now. ‘I’m sorry, I cant think straight.
It’s the shock, you know.’

‘I see,’ Reg Carter said quietly. ‘Well,

I must go now.’

It was about a week after the fire. Of

course, Reg Carter had talked to Mr and

Mrs Denton, and they had talked to almost everyone who came into the shop.

Sergeant Wallace, the village policeman, had heard a lot of strange

stories about Humphrey Partridge. So now he had decided to go and talk to

him himself.

Partridge opened the door slowly, and the sergeant went straight into the

sitting room. It was full of boxes.

‘You’re packing your books, I see, Mr. Partridge. When are you going to

Canada?’

‘In about a month.’
‘And you’re going to buy a house there, I hear?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re going alone? Your mother’s not with you now?’
‘No. She ... she died.’
‘Yes. That’s what I want to discuss. As you know, this is a small place,

and most people take an interest in other people’s business. I’ve been hearing
some strange things about you ... People are saying you killed your mother,

to get her money.’

‘That’s stupid! It’s not true!’
‘Perhaps. Let me ask you a few

questions. First, when did your mother die?’
‘Ten days ago. The 11th.’

‘Are you sure? The 11th was the day

you had the fire.’


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33

‘Sorry. Two days before that. It was such a shock ...’
‘Of course. And so the funeral was on the 10th?’
‘Some time about then, yes.’
‘It’s strange that none of the local funeral directors know anything about

it.’

‘I ... I used someone from town.’
‘I see. And was it a doctor from town who signed the document saying

that she was dead?’

‘Yes.’
‘Do you perhaps have a copy of the document?’
Partridge looked unhappy. ‘You know I don’t.’
‘I’m afraid,’ the sergeant said, ‘that that suggests there may be

something unusual about your mother’s death. Now, if a crime has taken
place …’

‘No crime has taken place!’ Partridge cried. ‘I haven’t got a mother. I

never saw my mother. She left me when I was six months old, and I grew up
in a children’s home.’

‘Then who was living upstairs?’
‘Nodiv. I live alone. 1 always have lived alone. I hate people. People

are always asking you questions. They want to come into your house, take
you out for drinks. I can’t stand it. I just want to be alone!’

Sergeant Wallace tried to stop him, but now Partridge couldn’t stop.

‘But people don’t allow you to be alone! You have to have a reason. So I
invented my mother. I couldn’t do things, I couldn’t see people, because I
had to get back to my mother.

I even began to believe in her and talk to her. She never asked questions,

she just loved me, and was kind and beautiful. Now you’ve all killed her!’

Sergeant Wallace took a moment to organize this new information. ‘So

you’re telling me, there never was any mother. You didn’t kill her, because
she wasn’t here. And how do you explain that you suddenly have enough
money to go to Canada and buy property?’

‘I won a competition. I got the letter on the morning of the fire. That’s

why I forgot to turn the cooker off. I was so excited.’


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34

‘I see.’ Sergeant Wallace got up and moved across to the window.

‘You’ve been digging the garden, I notice.’

‘Yes, I put those roses in.’
‘You plant roses, when you’re going away? Hmm!’
A few days later, there was exciting news in the village: Partridge had

been put in prison. And the police had dug up his garden, and taken up part of
the floor in his house ... But they hadn’t found a div. Then the news came
that he had been freed.

It seemed that his strange story to Sergeant Wallace was true. There had

been no one else living in the house. He had won a large amount of money.
And Partridge’s mother was living in Liverpool, and had been in trouble with
the police on several occasions.

Partridge came back to his house and continued preparing for his move

to Canada.

Two days before he was going to leave, in the early evening, someone

rang his doorbell. It was December, dark and cold. All the villagers were

inside their houses.

He did not recognize the woman standing on the doorstep. She was

dressed in the clothes of a young woman, but her face was old.

‘Hello, Humphrey,’ she said.
‘Who are you?’ He held the door, ready to close it.
The woman laughed. ‘No, I don’t expect you to recognize me. You were

very young when we last met.’

‘You’re not... ?’
‘Yes, I am. Don’t you want to give your mother a kiss?’
She pushed her painted face towards him, and Partridge stepped back

into thj hall. The woman followed him in.

She looked at the packing cases. ‘Of course, you’re going away. Canada,

is it? I read about it in the paper. I read about the money, too.’

‘What do you want?’ said Partridge.
‘I’ve just come to see my little boy. I was thinking, perhaps you should

help your poor old mother now.’

‘You never did anything for me. You left me.’


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35

‘That was a long time ago. Now I want you to look after me in my old

age. Why don’t you take your old mother to Canada with you?’

‘But you aren’t my mother.’ He spoke quietly.
‘Oh yes, I am, Humphrey.’
‘My mother is beautiful and kind. She is nothing like you. You are not

my mother!’ His hands were on her shoulders, shaking her.

‘I’m your mother, Humphrey!’ She was laughing at him.
His hands moved to her neck to stop her words. They became tighter and

tighter as he shook her.

He opened his hands, and the woman’s div fell to the floor. Her mouth

opened and her false teeth dropped out.

Next morning Humphrey Partridge went to the police station to see

Sergeant Wallace.
‘Good morning, Mr. Partridge. What can I do for you?’

‘Sergeant, about my mother ... I just

wanted to tell you ... that I did kill her.’ ‘Oh
yes, and then you buried

her in the garden?’

‘Yes, I did.’
‘Fine.’
‘I’m telling you I murdered someone,’

Partridge said.

‘Listen, Mr. Partridge,’ said the sergeant.

‘I’m very sorry about what happened, and you

can have a little joke if you like. But now I have other things to do, so ...’
‘You mean I can just go?’

‘Do. Please.’
‘To Canada?’
‘Anywhere you like.’
‘All right, then, I’ll go.’ He left the police station.
Outside, Humphrey Partridge took a deep breath of air, and smiled.
‘Right, Mother. We’re going to Canada,’ he said.


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36

Activities 4

Were you right?

Look back at your notes for Activity 3.4. Which words (

or X

)

describe Humphrey Partridge, at any time in the story? Give a reason

for each answer.

popular

X

shocked

strange

lucky

embarrassed

angry

sad

What more did you learn?

What are these people thinking? Choose words from the box and write

the numbers.

1. All the rooms

are empty.

empty. 3. He's lazy.

2. He can help me

now.

. 4. I’ll have to let him go.

He has no friends.

…………………………………

…………………………………

…………………………………

…………………………………

…………………………………


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37

Language in use

Look at the sentence in the box.

1. How did Partridge feel?

2. Complete these sentences using a different form of the word in

italics

.

a.

Partridge hurried to his

employer's

office.

Partridge hurried to the office of the man who

employed

him.

b.

Everyone in the village soon knew what Mrs. Denton

expected.

Everyone in the village soon knew about Mrs. Denton's ………….

с.

Mr. Potter had a more

responsible

position in the company.

Mr. Potter had more ………………. in the company.

d.

Mr. Brownlow looked

annoyed.

Mr. Brownlow looked at Partridge with ………………..

e.

Partridge won money in a

competition.

Partridge ……………. for some money and won.

f.

He said that a doctor from town had

signed

the death certificate.

He said that the

……….. on the death certificate belonged to a doctor

in town.

He looked out of his kitchen

window with satisfaction.


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38

What’s next?

Look at the pictures in the next story and the words in italics on page 34.

What (

) is going to happen?

1. The woman in all the pictures is a criminal.

2. A swimmer is going to be murdered.

3. More than one person is going to die.

4. The police and the private detective are going to work well together.


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39

Story 4

At the Old Swimming Hole

The woman in lane two seemed to be having problems.

What was wrong? The water around her was turning red.

was sitting on a wooden seat at the University of Illinois indoor

swimming pool, and I was not enjoying myself. The air was hot and wet, the

seats were hard and the noise was terrible — shouts from the swimmers, the

officials and the public were making my head ache.

I had come to watch a swimming competition organized by Chicago

businesses, to collect money for sick people. A number of companies had

sent teams. My old school friend Alicia Dauphine was in the Berman

Airplanes team, and she had asked me to come and watch her swim. I came,

because she was an old friend though we didn’t often meet now, as we had

different interests.

At school Alicia was interested in only two things: swimming and

engines.

She studied engineering at university, and then she joined Berman

Airplanes Company and worked on the design of planes. And me? I’m a

private detective. My business is crime.

Six competitors were standing at the end of the pool, ready to start the

first women’s event. From where I sat it wasn’t easy to recognize Alicia. I
knew she was wearing a red swimsuit, but there were three swimmers in red.

The pool was divided into seven lanes. My programme said that Alicia was in

lane two.

The woman in the first lane was complaining about something. The

organized changed the swimmers’ positions, leaving the first lane empty.
Now one red suit was in lane two, one in lane three and one in lane six. I
didn’t know which one was Alicia.

The starting gun was fired, and six bodies threw themselves into the

water. There was a perfect start in lane six — that must be Alicia.

I


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40

The woman in lane two seemed to be having problems. What was

wrong? The water around her was turning red. I pushed through the crowd to

the side of the pool, kicked off my shoes and jumped in.

I swam under the water to the second lane and pulled the woman to the

edge, where someone lifted her out. No, it wasn’t Alicia. I shouted to an

official i to telephone for an ambulance, and knelt down beside the woman.

The blood seemed to be coming from her back, below her left shoulder. She

was breathing but then the breathing changed to coughing. By the time the

ambulance men I arrived to take her to hospital, her breathing had stopped.

It was two hours later, and I was still in my wet clothes. Sergeant

McGonnigal had come from the city police to question the witnesses to the

murder. He had already talked to the officials, who had the best view of the

pool, and now he was talking to me, Victoria (V. I.) Warshawski. He knew

me already, of course.

I told him about my part in the events. Before leaving him, I asked what

he had learnt about the dead woman. Her name was Louise Carmody, he

said; she was twenty-four, and she worked for the Dearborn Bank. Nodiv

knew of any enemies.

Alicia was waiting for me in the hall. She looked worried. ‘Can we

talk?’ she said.

‘After I put on some dry clothes.’
We went back together to my

apartment, and I had a hot bath. When I

joined her in the living room, she was

watching television.

‘No news yet,’ she said. ‘Who was the

dead girl?’

‘Louise Carmody, from Dearborn

Bank. Did you know her?’

‘No, I didn’t. Do the police know why she was shot?’
‘Not yet. What do you know about it?’
‘Nothing. Will they put her name on the news?’


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41

‘Probably, if her family has been informed. Why is this important to

you, Alicia?’

‘Oh, no special reason.’ She looked very anxious.
I didn’t believe her. She was hiding something.
‘Alicia, do you know who did the shooting? At first you were in lane

two. Then they changed the swimmers’ positions, and nodiv knew who was
in which lane. I think they were shooting at you, not Louise. Who wants to
kill you?’

‘No one!’ she shouted. She was silent for a minute. Then she said,

‘Sorry. It was just such a shock. I’ll try to control myself.’

‘Good. I’ll get some supper.’
I came back with some food, but Alicia didn’t want any. She was

watching the local news, and her face was white. The swimming-pool murder

was the top story, and the name of the dead woman was given.

After that Alicia didn’t say much. She asked if she could spend the night

with me — she lived an hour’s drive out of town. I left her in the sitting room
and went to bed. I was still angry that she didn’t want to talk to me.

The telephone woke me at 2.30 a.m. A male voice asked for Alicia. ‘1

don’t know who you’re talking about,’ I said.

‘If you don’t want to wake her, give her this message. She was lucky

yesterday. We want the money by twelve o’clock, or she won’t be so lucky a
second time.’

I heard the sound of the telephone being put down. Then I heard another

similar sound — the telephone in my living room. I got there just as the

apartment door was shutting. Alicia had heard the message, and now she was

running away. I could hear her feet on the stairs.

I woke up at eight with a bad cold, the result of sitting around in wet

clothes. And I was anxious about Alicia. She had clearly borrowed a very

large sum of money from someone, if he was ready to kill her. But who?

I telephoned her office; the secretary said she was sick and was staying

at home. I tried her home telephone. No answer. Alicia had one brother, Tom,

who worked for an insurance company. When I spoke to him he said he


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42

hadn’t heard from Alicia for weeks. Their father in Florida hadn’t heard from
her either.

In Chicago there are some big criminal groups. Two years before, I had

given some help to Don Pasquale, the leader of one of them. Now he might

be able to help me. 1 telephoned Ernesto, who works for him.

‘Did you hear about the murder of Louise Carmody at the university

swimming pool last night? She was probably shot by mistake. They wanted

to kill Alicia Dauphine, who is an old friend of mine. She has borrowed a lot

of money from someone. I thought you might know something about it,
Ernesto.’

‘I don’t know her name, Warshawski. I’ll ask around, and let you know.’
I couldn’t think where Alicia was hiding. Perhaps she was in her own

house, but not answering the telephone? 1 decided to go and have a look.

Her house in Warrenville is near the local school. I left my car outside

the school, and walked to the house, past a field where some boys were

playing football.

Her car was in the garage, but I couldn’t see any sign of life in the house.

A cat came out of the trees towards me; it seemed to be hungry. I went round

to the back, and there I found that someone had broken in through the kitchen

window.

Oh, why hadn’t I brought my gun with me? My cold had affected my

brain. Feeling nervous, I climbed through the window, and the cat followed

me.

In the kitchen and the living room everything was tidy. And in Alicia’s

study, her computers and electronic equipment were all in place. Clearly, the

person who broke in had not come to steal things. Had he come to attack

Alicia? I went upstairs, followed by the cat. There was no one in any of the

rooms.

As I began to go down the stairs again, I heard a strange sound. Where

was it coming from? I realized it was above me. In the ceiling there was a

square hole with a wooden cover, leading to the space under the roof.

Someone was pushing back the cover. An arm came down, and the arm was

holding a gun. I ran down the stairs two at a time.


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43

A heavy noise — someone jumping down to the floor. The sound of the

gun being fired and a pain in my left shoulder. I fell the last few steps to the

bottom, but managed to stand up and get to the door. Then I heard the angry

cry of the cat, the shout of a man, and a loud crash that sounded like someone

falling downstairs. As I opened the door, the cat rushed past me. She had

saved my life.

I walked with difficulty to the road, where the boys playing football saw

me and came to help. The man with the gun escaped, but they got me to a

hospital.

There a young doctor took the bullet out of my shoulder; my thick

winter coat had saved me from serious damage. They put me to bed, and I

was happy to stay there.

When I woke there was a man in a suit sitting beside the bed.
‘Miss Warshawski? I’m Peter Carlton, FBI*.’ He showed me his card. ‘I

know you’re not feeling well, but I must talk to you about Alicia Dauphine.’

‘Where is she?’
‘We don’t know. She went home with you after the swimming

competition yesterday. Is that correct?’

‘So the FBI were following her! Why are you interested in her?’
He didn’t want to tell me. He only wanted to know exactly what Alicia

had said to me.

Finally, I said, ‘Mr. Carlton, you tell me why you’re interested in Alicia,

and I’ll tell you if I know anything connected with that interest.’

He spoke slowly. ‘We believe she has been selling Defence Department

secrets to the Chinese.’

‘No!’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t do that.’
‘Some of her designs for plane parts

are missing. She’s missing. And a Chinese
businessman is missing.’

‘The designs may be in her home.

They could be on a computer disk — she
does all her work on computer.’


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44

He told me they had looked through all her computer material at home

and at work, and had found nothing.

I told him everything Alicia had said. And I told him about the attack on

me - perhaps the man hiding in her house had stolen the disks. He didn’t

believe me. I was getting tired, and asked him to leave.

Next morning both my cold and my shoulder were much better. The

doctors agreed that I could leave hospital.

When I

got home I

telephoned Ernesto about Alicia. He told me she had

borrowed seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars from Art Smollensk. Art

Smollensk, the king of gambling. I

didn’t think Alicia was a

gambler

10

,

but I

didn’t know her well these days.

The telephone rang. It was Alicia, talking against a background of noise.

‘I saw the news - thank God you’re safe, Vic! Don’t worry about me. I’m all
right.’ She put the telephone down before I could ask her anything. Where
was she? 1 thought about the noises in the background. They seemed familiar

... from a long time ago ... Suddenly 1 remembered. It was the sports hall of

our old high school. And the swimming teacher, Miss Finley, was a close

friend of Alicia’s.

The school is in a poor part of South Chicago. There was a guard at the

entrance; I showed her my detective’s card and said I needed to see the girls’

swimming teacher. She let me in, and 1 found my way to the sports hall,

where a lot of girls in orange shirts were doing exercises.

Then 1 walked through the changing rooms to the swimming pool -

when I was at school, we called it ‘The Old Swimming Hole’. A few
students, boys and girls, were swimming up and down. Alicia was sitting on a

chair by the wall, looking at the floor. I joined her.

10

gambler

['gæmblə]

(n)

is someone who gambles regularly, for example in card games or horse

racing


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45

‘Vic!’ She looked frightened. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes, I’m alone. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m helping Miss Finley with the swimming. She teaches Spanish too,

and she’s very busy. Is something wrong, Vic?’

‘You are in deep trouble. Smollensk is looking for you, and so is the

FBI. You can’t hide here for ever.’

‘The FBI?’ She really seemed shocked. ‘What do they want?’
‘Your designs. They’re missing, and the FBI think you sold them to the

Chinese.’

‘I took the disks home on Saturday evening ... oh my God! I must get out

of here before someone finds me!’

‘Where can you go? The FBI and Smollensk are watching all your

friends and relations.’

‘Tom, too?’ She was starting to cry.
‘Especially Tom. Alicia, tell me everything. I need to know. I’ve already

been shot once.’

She told me. Tom was the gambler. He had lost everything he owned,

but he still couldn’t stop. Two weeks ago he had gone to his sister for help. ‘I
have to help him. You see, our mother died when I was thirteen and he was
six. I looked after him, and got him out of trouble. I still do.’

‘But how does Smollensk have your name?’
‘Is that the man Tom borrowed money from? Tom uses my name

sometimes ...’

‘And the designs?’


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46

‘Tom came to dinner on Saturday, and he went into the study. 1 guess he

took the disks I had been using, thinking they might be valuable. He knows

that my company does a lot of work for the government. It was a gamble —
and a gamble that he could sell them before I found out.’

‘Alicia, you can’t be responsible for Tom for ever. I think we should call

the FBI.’ At this point Miss Finley came in. She was surprised to see me.
‘Have you come to help Alicia?’ she said. I found she knew most of the
story. She thought it would be wrong for Alicia to tell the FBI about her own

brother.

They went off together. After some time 1 went to look for them, and

found Alicia alone in an office.

‘Miss Finley’s teaching a Spanish class,’ she said. ‘Listen. The

important thing is to get those disks back. I called Tom, and he agreed to
bring them here. I told him I would help him with the money.’

She didn’t understand. She didn’t see that if the Chinese businessman

had left the country, he would have the disks with him. Tom had sold her

disks. He no longer had the material.

‘Where is he meeting you?’
‘At the pool.’
‘Now please — you go to Miss Finley’s class and I’ll meet him at the

pool.’

She agreed in the end, but she refused to let me call the FBI. ‘I must talk

to Tom first. It may all be a mistake.’

I sent the students out of the pool area, and put a notice on the door

saying it; was closed. I turned out the lights and sat down in a dark corner,

my gun in my hand.

At last Tom came in through the boys’ changing room. ‘Allie! Allie!’ he

called.

A minute later another man joined him. He looked like one of

Smollensk’s group. He spoke softly to Tom. Then they went to look in the
girls’ changing room. When they returned I had moved towards the doors to
the main part of the school.


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47

‘Tom!’ I called. ‘It’s V. I. Warshawski. I know the whole story. Give me

the disks.’

His friend moved his arm. I shot at him and jumped into the water. His

bullet hit the place where I had been standing. Another bullet hit the water by

my head. I went under the water again. As I came up I heard Alicia’s voice.

‘Tom, why are you shooting at Vic? Stop it!’
There were some more shots, but not at me. I got to the side of the pool

and I climbed out. Alicia lay on the floor. Tom stood there silently, while his

friend pushed more bullets into his gun.

I ran to him, caught his arm, and stepped as hard as I could on his foot.

But I Tom - Tom was taking the gun from him. Tom was going to shoot me.

‘Drop that gun, Tom Dauphine!’ It was Miss Finley, who taught difficult

boys] in a rough school. Tom dropped the gun.

Alicia lived long enough to talk to the FBI. Tom told his story to the

police. He had wanted Smollensk to kill his sister before she said anything

about him. Then the world would think she had sold her country’s secrets.

The FBI arrived five minutes after the shooting stopped. They had been

watching Tom, but not closely enough. They were angry that Alicia had been

killed while they were on the case. So they said her death was my fault — I
hadn’t told them where Alicia was. I spent several days in prison. It seemed
like a suitable punishment, just not long enough.


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48

Activities 5

Were you right?

Look back at your answers to Activity 4.4. Then circle the correct

answer.

1.

Louise Carmody is killed ...

a

by Alicia's brother.

b

by mistake.

с

by one of Don Pasquale's criminal group.

2.

Victoria is shot ...

a

in Alicia's house.

b

at the swimming pool.

с

by mistake.

3.

Alicia ...

a

has sold secrets to a Chinese businessman.

b

has borrowed a lot of money to help her brother.


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49

с

has a criminal brother.

4.

Victoria ...

a

does not understand why she is sent to prison.

b

accepts her punishment.

с

is sent to prison for another person's crime.

What more did you learn?

How are these people or things important in the story?

1.

Louise and Alicia were both wearing red swimsuits.

2.

………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………..

….……………………………………………………….

3.

……………………………………………………….......

……………………………………………………………

…………………………………………….………………

4.

...........................................................................................

……………………………………………………………

……………………………………………………………

Language in use

Look at the sentence in the box. Then rewrite these sentences using

passive verb forms. Include the “doer” if that information is important.

1.

A number of companies had sent teams.

Teams

had been sent by a number of companies.

2.

The telephone woke Victoria at 2.30 a.m.

Victoria ………………………………………..


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50

3.

Nodiv had stolen anything from Alicia's house.

Nothing ………………………………………..

4.

Boys playing football saw Victoria.

Victoria ………………………………………..

5.

Someone is selling Defence Department secrets to the Chinese.

Defence Department secrets ………………….

6.

You mustn't tell the FBI about your brother.

The FBI ……………………………………….

What's next?

Look at the pictures in the next story and the words in

italics

on page 46.

What do we learn about Skip (the man in all the pictures)? Where does he

live? What sort of man is he? How does he feel in the pictures? Why? What

is the crime going to be? Make notes.

Notes:





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51

Story 5

Slowly, Slowly in the Wind

At that moment Skip realized how much he hated Frosby.

His blood boiled with anger.

dward (Skip) Skipperton spent most of his life feeling angry. It was his

nature. When he was a boy he had a bad temper; now, as a man, he was

impatient with people who were slow or stupid. He often met such people in

his work, which was to give advice on managing companies. He was good at

his I job: he could see when people were doing something the wrong way,

and he told them in a loud, clear voice how to do it better. The company

directors always followed his advice.

Now Skipperton was fifty-two. His wife had left him two years ago,

because I she couldn’t live with his bad temper. She had met a quiet
university teacher in I Boston, ended her marriage with Skip and married the

teacher. Skip wanted very much to keep their daughter, Maggie, who was

then fifteen. With the help of clever lawyers he succeeded.

A few months after he separated from his wife, Skip had a heart attack.

He was better again in six months, but his doctor gave him some strong

advice.

‘Stop smoking and drinking now or you’re a dead man, Skip! And I

think you should leave the world of business, too - you’ve got enough

money. Why don’t I you buy a small farm and live quietly in the country?’

So Skip looked around, and bought a small farm in Maine with a

comfortable farmhouse. A little river, the Coldstream, ran along the bottom

of the garden, and the house was called Coldstream Heights. He found a local

man, Andy Humbert, to live on the farm and work for him.

Maggie was moved from her private school in New York to one in

Switzerland; she would come home for the holidays. Skip did stop smoking

and I drinking: when he decided to do something, he always did it

immediately. There was work for him on the farm. He helped Andy to plant

E


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52

corn

11

in the field behind the house; he bought two sheep to keep the grass

short, and a pig which soon gave birth to twelve more.

There was only one thing that annoyed him: his neighbour. Peter Frosby

owned the land next to his, including the

banks of the Coldstream and the right! to

catch fish in it. Skip wanted to be able to

fish a little. He also wanted to feel that the

part of the river which he could see from

the house belonged to him. But when he

offered to buy the fishing rights, he was

told that Frosby refused to sell. Skip did not

give up easily. The next week he

telephoned Frosby, inviting him to his

house for a drink. Frosby arrived in a new Cadillac, driven by a young man.

He introduced the young man as his son, also called Peter. Frosby was a

rather small, thin man with cold grey eyes.

‘The Frosbys don’t sell their land,’ he said. ‘We’ve had the same land

for nearly 300 years, and the river’s always been ours. I can’t understand why
you want it.’

‘I’d just like to do a little fishing in the summer,’ said Skip. ‘And I think

you’ll agree that the price I offer isn’t bad — twenty thousand dollars for
about 200 metres of fishing rights. You won’t get such a good offer again in
your lifetime.’

‘I’m not interested in

my

lifetime,’ Frosby said with a little smile. ‘I’ve

got a son here.’

The son was a good-looking boy with dark hair and strong shoulders,

taller than his father. He sat there with his arms across his chest, and
appeared to share his father’s negative attitude. Still, he smiled as they were
leaving and said, ‘You’ve made this house look very nice, Mr. Skipperton.’
Skip was pleased. He had tried hard to choose the most suitable furniture for

the sitting room.

11

corn

[kɔːn]

(n)

a tall plant with large yellow seeds that you can eat as a vegetable


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53

‘I see you like old-fashioned things,’ said Frosby. ‘That

scarecrow

12

in

your field - we haven’t seen one of those around here for many years.’

‘I’m trying to grow corn out there,’ Skip said. ‘I think you need a

scarecrow in a cornfield.’

Young Peter was looking at a photograph of Maggie, which stood on the

hall table. ‘Pretty girl,’ he said.

Skip said nothing. The meeting had failed. Skip wasn’t used to failing.

He looked into Frosby’s cold grey eyes and said: ‘I’ve one more idea. I could
rent the land by the river for the rest of my life, and then it goes to you - or
your son. I’ll give you five thousand dollars a year.’

‘I don’t think so, Mr. Skipperton. Thank you for the drink, and —

goodbye.’

‘Stupid man,’ said Skip to Andy, as the Cadillac moved off. But he

smiled. Life was a game, after all. You won sometimes, you lost sometimes.

It was early May. The corn which they had planted was beginning to

come up through the earth. Skip and Andy had made a scarecrow from sticks

joined together — one stick for the div and head, another for the arms and

two more for the legs. They had dressed it in an old coat and trousers that

Andy had found and had put an old hat of Skip’s on its head.

The weeks passed and the corn grew high. Skip tried to think of ways to

annoy Frosby, to force him to rent part of the river to him.

But he forgot about Frosby when Maggie came home for the summer

holidays,

Skip met her at the airport in New York, and they drove up to Maine.

Skip thought she looked taller; she was certainly more beautiful!

‘I’ve got a surprise for you at home,’ Skip said.
‘Oh - a horse, perhaps?’
Skip had forgotten she was learning to ride. ‘No, not a horse.’ The

surprise was a red Toyota. He had remembered, at least, that Maggies school

12

scarecrow

['skeəkrəu]

(n)

a figure in a field that looks like a person and is used to

frighten away birds


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54

had taught her to drive. She was very excited, and threw her arms round
Skip’s neck. ‘Oh, Father, you’re so sweet! And you're looking

very

well!’

Skip and Maggie went for a drive in the new car the next morning. In the

afternoon Maggie asked her father if she could go fishing in the stream. He

had to tell her that she couldn’t, and he explained the reason.

‘Well, never mind, there are a lot of

other things to do.’ Maggie enjoyed going

for walks, reading and doing little jobs in

the house.

Skip was surprised one evening when

Maggie arrived home in her Toyota carrying

three fish. He was afraid she had been

fishing

in

the

stream,

against

his

instructions.

‘Where did you get those?’
‘I met the boy who lives there. We were both buying petrol, and he

introduced himself - he said he’d seen my photograph in your house. Then

we had coffee together’

‘The Frosby boy?’
‘Yes, He’s very nice. Perhaps it’s only the father who’s not nice. Well,

Pete said, “Come and fish with me this afternoon”, so I did. It was fun.’

‘I don’t - please, Maggie, I don’t want you to mix with the Frosbys.’
Maggie was surprised, but said nothing.

The next day, Maggie said she wanted to go to the village to buy some

shoes. She was away for nearly three hours. With a great effort, Skip didn’t
question het

Then on Saturday morning, Maggie said, there was a dance in the

nearest town, and she was going.

‘I can guess who you’re going with/ Skip said angrily.
‘I’m going alone, I promise you. Girls don’t need a boy to take them to

dances now.’


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55

Skip realized that he couldn’t order her not to go to a dance. But he

knew the Frosby boy would be there. And he knew what was going to

happen. His daughter was falling in love with Pete Frosby.

Maggie got home very late that night, after Skip had gone to bed. At

breakfast, she looked fresh and happy.

‘I expect the Frosby boy was at the dance?’ said Skip.
‘I don’t know what you’ve got against him, Father.’
‘I don’t want you to fall in love with an uneducated country boy. I sent

you tea a good school.’

‘Pete had three years at Harvard University.’ Maggie stood up. Tm

almost eighteen, Father. I don’t want to be told who I can and can’t see.’

Skip shouted at her: ‘They’re not our kind of people!

Maggie left the room.

During the next week Skip was in a terrible state. In his business life he

had I always been able to force people to do what he wanted - but he couldn’t

think of a way to do that with his daughter.

The following Saturday evening, Maggie said she was going to a party.

It was at the house of a boy called Wilmers, who she had met at the

dance. By Sunday morning, Maggie hadn’t come home. Skip telephoned the
Wilmers’ house.

A boys voice said that Maggie had left the party early.
‘Was she alone?’
‘No, she was with Pete Frosby. She left her car here.’
Skip felt the blood rush to his face. His hand was shaking as he picked

up the telephone to call the Frosby house. Old Frosby answered. He said

Maggie was not there. And his son was out at the moment.

‘What do you mean? Do you mean he was there earlier and he went

out?’

‘Mr. Skipperton, my son has his own ways, his own room, his own key -

his own life. I’m not going to-’

Skip put the telephone down.


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56

Maggie was not home by Sunday evening or Monday morning. Skip

didn’t want to inform the police. On Tuesday there was a letter from Maggie,
written from Boston. It said that she and Pete had run away to be married.

...

You may think this is sudden, but we do love each other, and we know what we’re

doing. I didn't really want to go back to school. Please don’t try to find me - you’ll hear from
me next week. I was sorry to leave my nice new car.

Love always,

Maggie


For two days Skip didn’t go out of the house, and he ate almost nothing.

He felt three-quarters dead. Andy was very worried about him. When he

needed to go to the village to buy some food, he asked Skip to go with him.

While Andy did the shopping, Skip satin the car, looking at nothing. But

then a figure coming down the street caught his eye. Old Frosby!

He hoped Frosby wouldn’t see him in the car, but Frosby did. He didn’t

pause, but he smiled his unpleasant little smile as he went past. At that

moment Skip realized how much he hated Frosby. His blood boiled with

anger, and he felt much better: he was himself again. Frosby must be

punished! He began to make a plan.

That evening, Skip suggested to Andy that he should go away for the

weekend and enjoy himself. ‘You’ve earned a holiday!’ he said, and gave
him three hundred dollars.

Andy left on Saturday evening, in the car. Skip then telephoned old

Frosby, and said it was time they became friends. He asked Frosby to come

to Coldsteam Heights again. Frosby was surprised, but he agreed to come on

Sunday morning at about eleven for a talk. He arrived in the Cadillac, alone.

Skip acted quickly. He had his heavy gun ready, and as soon as Frosby

was inside the door he hit him on the head several times with the end of the

gun until Frosby was dead. He then took off his clothes and tied an old cloth
round the div. He burned Frosby’s clothes in the fireplace, and hid his
watch and rings I in a drawer.


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57

Then Skip put one arm around Frosby’s div and pulled him out of the

house and up the field to the scarecrow. The corn had already been cut. He

pulled down the old scarecrow and took the clothes off the sticks. He dressed

Frosby in the old coat and trousers, tied a small cloth round his face and

pushed the hat onto his head.

When he stood the scarecrow up again it looked almost the same as

before. As; Skip went back to the house, he turned round many times to

admire his work.

He had solved the problem of what to do with the div.

Next he buried Frosby’s watch and rings under a big plant in the garden.

It was now half past twelve, and he had to do something with the Cadillac.

He drove it to some woods a few kilometres away and left it there, after
cleaning off all his fingerprints. He hadn’t seen anydiv.

Soon after he got home a woman telephoned from Frosby’s house (his

housekeeper, Skip guessed) to ask if Frosby was with him. He told her that
Frosby had left his house at about twelve, and he hadn’t said where he was
going. He said the same thing to the policeman who came to see him in the

evening, and to Maggie when she telephoned from Boston. He found it easy

to lie about Frosby.

Andy arrived back the next morning, Monday. He had already heard the

story in the village, and also knew that the police had found Frosby’s car not
far away in the woods. He didn’t ask any questions.


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58

In the next week Skip spent a lot of time watching the scarecrow from

his upstairs bedroom window; He thought with pleasure of old Frosby’s div
there, drying — slowly, slowly in the wind.

After ten days the policeman came back, with a detective. They looked

over Skip’s house and land, and they looked at his two guns. They didn’t find
anything.

That evening, Maggie came to see him; she and Pete were at the Frosby

house. It was hard for Skip to believe she was married.

It had all happened so fast.
‘Pete’s very worried and upset,’ she said. ‘Was Mr. Frosby unhappy

when he visited you?’

Skip laughed. ‘No, very cheerful! And pleased with the marriage. Are

you going to live at the Frosby house?’

‘Yes. I’ll take some things back with me.’
She seemed cold and sad, which made Skip unhappy.
‘I know what’s in that scarecrow,’ said Andy one day.
‘Do you? What are you going to do about it?’ Skip asked.
‘Nothing. Nothing,’ Andy answered with a smile.
‘Perhaps you would like some money, Andy? A little present - for

keeping quiet?’

‘No sir,’ Andy said quietly. I’m not that kind of man.’
Skip didn’t understand. He was used to men who liked money, more and

more of it. Andy was different. He was a good man.

The leaves were falling from the trees and winter was coming. The

children in the area were getting ready to celebrate the evening of 31st

October, when people wore special clothes and had special things to eat, and

lit great fires outside and danced around them, singing songs.

No one came to Skip’s house that evening. There was a party at the

Frosbys’ house — he could hear the music in the distance. He thought of his
daughter dancing, having a good time. Skip was lonely, for the first time in

his life. Lonely. He very much wanted a drink, but he decided to keep his

promise to himself.


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59

At that moment he saw a spot of light moving outside the window. He

looked out. There was a line of figures crossing his field, carrying lights.

Anger and fear rushed through him. They were on his land! They had no

right! And they were children, he realized. The figures were small.

He ran downstairs and out into the field. ‘What do you think you’re

doing?’ he shouted. ‘Get off my property!’

The children didn’t hear him. They were singing a song. ‘Were going to

burn the scarecrow ...’

‘Get off my land!’ Skip fell and hurt his knee. Now the children had

heard him, he was sure, but they weren’t stopping. They were going to reach
the scarecrow before him. He heard a cry. They had got there.

There were more cries, of terror mixed with pleasure.

Perhaps their hands had touched the div.

Skip made his way back to his house. It was worse than the police.

Every child was going to tell his parents what he had found. Skip knew he

had reached the end. He had seen a lot of men in business reach the end. He

had known men who had jumped out of windows.

Skip went straight to his gun. He put the end in his mouth, and fired.

When the children came running back across the field to the road, Skip was

dead.

Andy heard the shot from his room over the garage. He had also seen the

children crossing the field, and heard Skip shouting. He understood what had

happened.

He began walking towards the house. He would have to call the police.

Andy decided to say that he didn’t know anything about the div in the
scarecrow’s clothes. He had been away that weekend, after all.


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60

Activities 6

Were you right?

Look at your notes for Activity 5.4. Who is Skip angry with (

)?

Why?

1.

His wife

Because she left Skip and married a teacher.

..……………………………………………..

2.

Andy ………………………………………………
………………………………………………

3.

Maggie ………………………………………………
………………………………………………

4.

Frosby ………………………………………………
………………………………………………

5.

Frosby’s son ………………………………………….
……………………………………………….

6.

The children …………………………………………..
……………………………………………….

What more did you learn?

What is wrong with these pictures? Write your answers below.


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61

1.

……………………………………………………………………………….

2.

……………………………………………………………………………….

3.

……………………………………………………………………………….

Language in use

Look at the words in the box.

Then write sentences about
Skip’s past using these words
and

used to.

1.

Skip used to be married. ………………………………………………………………

2.

………………………………………………………………………..

3.

………………………………………………………………………..

4.

………………………………………………………………………..

5.

………………………………………………………………………...

6.

…………………………………………………………………………

7.

…………………………………………………………………………

married

smoke and drink

good at his job

the city

advice

a lot of money

a small farm


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62

What’s next?
Look at the pictures in the next two stories and the words in

italics

on pages 58 and 66. Which story - 'Woodrow Wilson’s Tie' (WWT) or
'The Absence of Emily’ (AOE) - do you think will include:

1.

models of famous people?

2.

a crazy boy?

3.

a worried sister?

4.

a frightening ending?

5.

a happy ending?


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63

Story 6

Woodrow Wilsons Tie

Suddenly a woman cried out in terror, and at the same time

a man shouted, ‘My God, it’s real!’

adame Thibault’s Hall of

Waxwork

s

13

attracted a lot of visitors. The

front of the building was bright with red and yellow lights, even during the

day. Inside the hall were scenes of murders, and other famous historical

events, with lifelike figures made out of

wax

14

.

Clive Wilkes loved the place, both the outside and the inside. He was a

delivery boy for a small supermarket, so he was often able to find some free

time during the day to stop and visit the Waxworks. At the entrance to the

hall there was a man sitting at a desk selling tickets. Then, after passing

through a dark area, you came to the main hall. There in front of you was a

bloody murder scene: a girl with long fair hair was pushing a knife into the

neck of an old man, who sat at a table eating his dinner. His dinner was a

plate of wax meat and wax potatoes.

Next there was the eighteenth-century Frenchman, Marat, who was

killed as he sat in his bath; then the murder of President Kennedy, and then a

scene in a

Nazi prison camp

15

. Clive loved every scene, and he never got

tired of looking at them. But they didn’t frighten him as they frightened other

people - they made him smile, or even laugh. They were funny. Why not

laugh?

One thing which Clive wanted to do very much was to spend a night in

the Hall. It wouldn’t be too difficult. Clive knew that three people worked
there, as well as the ticket seller at the door. There was a rather fat woman

with brown hair and glasses, who took the tickets as you went in. There was a

man who gave little talks about the different scenes, though not more than

half the people listened to him. And there was another man, small, with black

13

waxwork

['wækswɜːk]

(n)

the figure of a famous person, made of wax

14

wax

[wæks]

(n)

something used to make figures of famous people (and to make a table shine)

15

Nazi prison camp:

a camp run by the German political party which was led by Adolf Hitler

and which held power between 1933 and 1945.

M


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64

hair, who walked around watching people, to make sure they didn’t damage
anything.

So one night in November, Clive went in half an hour before the Hall

closed, with a cheese sandwich in his pocket. He hid himself in the shadows

and listened to the three people as they

got ready to leave. The woman, whose

name was Mildred, got the moneybox

from Fred, the ticket seller, and took it

into a room at the back of the hall.

Fred left by the front door, the others

by the back - first Mildred, then the

taller man, then the small one. When

Clive heard the door shut and the key

turn in the lock, he waited for a moment in the beautiful silence. Then he

went to look at the room at the back where they kept their coats, because he

had never seen it. They seemed to use it as an office: there was an old desk

there. Next to the room was a toilet. In a drawer in the desk was the wooden
moneybox, but he wasn’t interested in the money.

Clive started to enjoy himself. He found the lights and put them on, so

that the scenes were all lit up. Now he was alone, so he could touch things as

well as look at them. He stood next to the figures and touched their faces. He

ate his sandwich, and sang a few songs.

By two in the morning he was bored, and tried to get out. But both the

front door and the back door were locked, and there were no keys anywhere.

He used the toilet, and went to sleep on the floor.

He woke up early, and had another look around. He wanted to find

something to take home with him. He stopped by a waxwork of President

Woodrow Wilson signing a document in 1918, at the end of the First World
War. Yes, he would have Woodrow Wilson’s tie!

When the hall opened at 9.30, Clive was hiding behind a screen.

Members of the public began to come in, but Clive waited until ten o’clock
before he felt it was safe to join them. He left, with Woodrow Wilson’s tie in
his pocket.


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65

He was half an hour late for work. There was a job waiting for him, so

he went off on his bicycle.

Clive lived alone with his mother, who worked in a dress shop. She had

no other children, and her husband had left her when Clive was five. He was

eighteen now; he had left school early, without completing his education.

Then he had spent a year doing nothing much. His mother worried about him

and so she was pleased when he got the job at the supermarket.

When Clive came home that evening, he had a story ready for his

mother. Last night, he said, he had met a friend and gone back to his house,

and his parents had invited him to spend the night there. She accepted this

story.

Clive put Woodrow Wilson’s tie in the cupboard with his own. It was a

beautiful tie, pale grey and expensive. He imagined someone - Mildred,

perhaps - looking at the figure of the President and saying, ‘Just a minute!
What happened to Woodrow Wilson’s tie?’

He felt very proud of his adventure, and wanted to tell someone about it,

but he had no close friends who he could talk to. By the next day it didn’t
seem exciting any more.

One afternoon the following week, Clive had another idea. It was a

really amusing idea - one that would certainly make the public take notice.

When should he do it? Tonight? No, he needed time to plan it.

Two nights later Clive went to the Hall at nine o’clock and bought a

ticket. Lucidly the ticket seller didn’t really look at people; he was too busy.

Clive went straight to Woodrow Wilson, and saw that he was still

without a tie. The murder scenes didn’t interest him as much as usual. Some
real murder scenes would be so much better. He laughed. He would kill the

woman first.

As the visitors went out, Clive hid in a dark corner near the office. When

Mildred walked past him, in her hat and coat, he stepped forward and put his

arm around her neck.

She made only a small ‘Ur-rk’ sound.
Clive pressed her neck with his hands until her div fell to the floor.

Then he pulled her to the dark corner.


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66

'Has Mildred gone?’ said one of the men.
‘Yes, she’s not in the office. Well, I’m going, too.’
Clive jumped on him as he passed, and attacked him in the same way.

The job was more difficult, because the man fought hard, but Clive managed

to knock his head against the wall. It was the taller man, who gave the talks.

What’s happening?’ The small, dark man appeared.

This time Clive tried to hit him on the chin. He missed, and hit him in

the neck. The man was unconscious now, so Clive was able to knock his head

against the wall, too.

They all seemed to be dead. Blood was pouring from the heads of the

two men, and the woman was bleeding a little from the mouth. Clive found
the keys in the second man’s pocket. There was a pocketknife there, which he
took, too.

Then the taller man moved a little. Clive opened the pocketknife and

pushed ir into his neck four times. They were all dead now, and that was

certainly real blood coming out, not the red paint of the wax figures.

Clive turned on the lights which lit up the scenes and began the

interesting job of choosing the right places to put the bodies.

The woman should certainly go in

Marat s bath. Clive thought of taking off

her clothes, but decided against it,

because she would look much funnier

sitting in a bath with a coat and hat on.

He took the figure of Marat out of the

bath, carried it into the office and placed

it on the desk.

Then he carried Mildred to the bath

and put her in. God, she looked funny!

Now for the men. He decided that the man whose neck was cut would

look good in the place of the old man who was having dinner. After all, the

girl with the long fair hair was pushing a knife into his neck. The figure of

the old man was in a sitting position, so Clive put him on the toilet. He


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67

looked so funny there, with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other,

waiting for something to eat. Clive laughed and laughed.

Last, the little man. Clive looked around and noticed the Woodrow

Wilson scene. The figure of the President was sitting at a large desk, signing

a paper; that was an excellent place, Clive thought, for a man whose head

was cut open and bleeding. He managed to take the wax pen out of Wilson’s

fingers, carry him into the office and put him on the chair at the desk. His

arms were in a position for writing, so Clive found a pen on the desk to put

into his right hand.

Now he could put the little man in Woodrow Wilsons place. He lifted

him up onto the chair, but his head fell forward onto the desk, and Clive

could not make his hand hold the pen.

At last it was done. Clive smiled. Then he realized that every part of his

div was tired. Now that he had the keys he could get out, go home, and

sleep well in his own bed. He wanted to be ready to enjoy tomorrow.

There was some blood on his coat, so he must throw it away somewhere.

But he needed a coat. He took one off a wax figure which was about his size,

and put that on. Then he used the inside of his own coat to clean off any

possible fingerprints from places he had touched. He turned off the lights,

and found his way to the back door. He locked it behind him, and dropped

the keys on the ground. In the street was a box with some old newspapers,

empty cans and plastic bags in it, where he hid the coat.

Clive slept very well that night. The next morning, he was standing

across the street from the Hall when the ticket seller arrived just before 9.30.

By 9.35 only three people had gone in, but Clive could not wait any longer,

so he crossed the street and bought a ticket.

The ticket seller was telling people, ‘Just go in. Everydiv is late this

morning.’ He went inside to put on the lights, and Clive followed him.

There were four other customers now. They looked at Mildred in her hat

and coat sitting in Marat’s bath without noticing anything strange about her.
Two more people came in.

At last, by the Woodrow Wilson scene, a woman said to the man with

her: ‘Was someone shot when they signed that document at the end of the


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68

war?’ There was blood, real blood, on the papers on the desk. By now they
were dark red.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so,’ the man answered.
Clive wanted very much to laugh, but he managed not to.

Suddenly a woman cried out in terror and at the same time a man

shouted, ‘My God, it’s real!’

Another man was examining the div with its face in the meat and

potatoes. ‘The blood’s real! It’s a dead man!’

The ticket seller, Fred, came in. ‘What’s the trouble?’
‘There are two dead bodies here! Real ones?
Now Fred looked at Marat’s bath, ‘Good God! Good God! Mildred!
‘And this one! And this one here!’
‘I must call the police!’ said Fred. ‘Could you all, please — just leave?’
He ran into the office, where the telephone was and Clive heard him cry

out. He had seen Woodrow Wilson at the desk, of course, and Marat.

Clive thought it was time to leave, so he did. No one looked at him as he

made his way out.

That was all right, he thought. That was good.

He decided to go to work and to ask for the day off. He told his employer

he felt ill, and put his hand on his stomach. Old Mr. Simmons had to let him

go.

Clive wanted to take a long bus ride somewhere. He didn’t know why he

wanted to do this, but the need was very strong. He had brought all his cash

with him, about twenty-three dollars and now he bought a ticket for a bus

going west — for seven dollars, one way. This took him, by the evening, to a

town in Indiana.

There was a

cafe

here where the bus stopped. As he went in, he saw

newspapers on sale. There it was, in big letters:

MYSTERY KILLER: THREE DEAD IN WAXWORKS HALL

He bought a paper and read it at the bar, drinking beer.


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69

This morning at 9.30 ticket man Fred Keating and several visitors to Madame

Thibault’s Waxworks discovered three real dead bodies. They were the bodies of Mrs.
Mildred Veery, aged 41, George Hartley, 43, and Richard MacFadden, 37, all employed at

the Hall. Police believe the murders happened at about ten yesterday evening. Because the

bodies were put in place of wax figures, police are looking for a killer with a sick mind.


Clive laughed over that. ‘Sick mind!’ But he was sorry that there were

no details about the really amusing things: the old man sitting on the toilet,

the man signing the document with his head broken and bleeding.

Two men were standing at the bar beside him.
‘Did you read about the murders at the Waxworks?’ he asked one of

them,

‘Not really.’ He didn’t seem interested.
‘You see, I did them,’ said Clive. He pointed to a picture of the bodies.

‘That’s my work.’

‘Listen, boy,’ said the man. ‘We’re not troubling you, and don’t you

trouble us.’ They moved away from Clive.

Clive slept in the street that night. On the road the next day he waved at

a passing car, which took him to another town, nearer his hometown. That
day’s newspapers did not have any more news about the murders. In another
cafe that evening he had a similar conversation, this time with two young
men. They didn’t believe him, either.

Next day he stopped a few more cars, and finally reached his hometown.

He went straight to the police station.

‘I have something important to say about a murder,’ he told the

policeman sitting at a desk. He was sent to the office of a police officer who

had grey hair and a fat face. Clive told his story.

‘Where do you go to school, Clive?’
‘I don’t. I’m eighteen.’ He told him about his job.
‘Clive, you’ve got troubles, but they’re not the ones you’re talking

about,’ said the officer.

Clive had to wait in a small room in the police station, and nearly an

hour later a doctor was brought in. Then his mother.


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70

They didn’t believe him. They said he was just telling this story to attract

attention to himself.

‘Clive needs a man around the house,’ his mother told them; ‘someone

who can teach him to behave like a man. Since he was fourteen he’s been
asking me questions like “Who am I?” and “Am I a person?”

9


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71

Story 7

The Absence of Emily

I had worked for nearly five minutes when I heard a shout,

and suddenly there were people all around me.

hen I married my second wife, Emily, I went to live in her house in

northern California. It’s a big house with a lot of land around it, just outside a

small town. The next house is almost exactly the same, and that belongs to
Emily’s sister Millicent.

Millicent and Emily. Sisters. But completely different in looks and in

character. Millicent is tall and rather thin. She is very strong-minded and
likes to control everyone around her, including Emily. She wasn’t at all
pleased when I came and took Emily away from her influence.

Emily is rather short, and — well, fat. As she says, she weighs eleven or

twelve kilos too much. She doesn’t claim to be very clever, and usually she
does what other people want. Not always, though.

For three weeks now, Emily had been away. But Millicent had been

watching me closely. She was with me now, drinking coffee in our sitting

room.

The telephone rang, and I answered it. ‘Yes?’
‘Hello, dear, this is Emily.’
‘Emily — er — what is your surname?’
‘Oh, really, dear. Emily, your wife.’
‘I’m sorry, you must have a wrong number.’ I put the telephone down.

Millicent was watching me. ‘You look as white as a sheet. You seem
frightened. Shocked. Who telephoned?’

‘It was a wrong number.’
Millicent drank some coffee. ‘Oh, Albert, I thought I saw Emily in town

yesterday. But that’s not possible.’

‘Of course it’s not. Emily is in San Francisco.’
‘Yes, but where in San Francisco?’

W


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72

‘She didn’t say. She’s visiting friends.’
‘Emily doesn’t have any friends in San Francisco! I know all her friends.

When will she be back?

‘She wasn’t sure when it would be.’
‘I’ve heard, Albert, that your first wife died in a boating accident? She

fell out of the boat and died in the water?’

‘I’m afraid so. She couldn’t swim.’
‘And you were the only witness to the accident.’
1 believe so. No one else ever came forward.’
‘Did she leave you any money, Albert?’
‘That’s nothing to do with you, Millicent.’
In fact, Cynthia had fifty thousand dollars of life insurance and one

sailing boat. Poor Cynthia. She had taken her boat out alone that day. I had

seen the accident from the boat club, and rushed out in another boat, but it

was too late to save her.

Millicent finished her coffee and left.

When she had gone, I went for a walk through the woods behind the

house. I walked to an open space between the trees, which had a little stream

running through it. How peaceful it was here. Quiet. A place to rest. I had

been coming here often in the last few days.

I sat down on a fallen tree near

the stream and thought about Emily

and

Millicent. Their houses and

land were very similar, so you

would expect them to be equally

rich. But this was not the situation,

as I discovered after my marriage.

Emily owned her house and the

land around it, but she could not

afford to employ people to look

after them.


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73

Millicent, on the other hand, employed a lot of people in her house, and

even a lawyer to look after her money. She must have a million dollars, at

least.

On Tuesday afternoons 1 usually go to the supermarket in town. Today,

in the car park, I saw a small, rather fat woman across the street walking

away from me. She wore a purple dress and a brown hat. It was the fourth
time I’d seen her in

the last ten days. I hurried across the street. She turned

the corner and I started to run. When I reached the corner she was nowhere in

sight.

I was standing there when a car stopped beside me.
It was Millicent. ‘What are you doing, Albert? I saw you running — I’ve

never seen you run before.’

‘Oh, I was just taking a little exercise.’ I was still breathing hard as I

walked back to the supermarket.

The next morning, when I returned from my walk to the stream, I found

Millicent in the sitting room, pouring some coffee for herself.

‘I’ve been in the bedroom looking at Emily’s clothes,’ Millicent said. ‘I

didn’t see anything missing.’

‘Why should anything be missing? Has there been a thief in the house?’
‘Don’t tell me that Emily went off to stay with friends in San Francisco

without any luggage!’

‘She had luggage. Though not very much.’
‘What was she wearing when she left?’
‘I don’t remember,’ I said.
That evening, as I prepared for bed, I looked inside Emily’s cupboard.

What could be done with her clothes? Perhaps I should give some away?

I woke up at two in the morning — bright moonlight was shining on my

face.

I dressed, and went out to the hut in the garden. I needed something for

digging a hole.

I chose a

spade

16

with a long handle, put it on my shoulder and began

walking towards the stream.

16

spade

[speɪd]

(n)

a square, flat tool with a handle, used to dig holes


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74

I was nearly there when I stopped. I shook my head slowly and returned

to the hut. I put the spade away and went to bed.

The next morning Millicent came to see me while I was having

breakfast. She

brought in the morning post, which had just come. It included

one small blue envelope addressed to me. The writing seemed familiar. The

postmark was our local town.

I opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Dear Albert,

I miss you so very much. I shall return home soon, Albert. Soon.

Emily

I put the letter and the envelope into my pocket.
‘Well?’ Millicent asked. ‘I thought I recognized Emily’s writing on the

envelope. Did she say when she’ll be back?’

‘That is not Emily’s writing. It’s a letter from my aunt in Chicago.’
‘I didn’t know you had an aunt in Chicago.’
‘Don’t worry, Millicent, 1 do have an aunt in Chicago.’
That night I was in bed, but awake, when the telephone beside my bed

rang. ‘Hello, my sweet. This is Emily.’

‘You are not Emily. You are someone else.’
‘Don’t be silly, Albert! Of course this is me, Emily.’
‘You can’t be Emily. I know where she is, and she couldn’t telephone at

this time of night.’

‘You think you know where I am? No, I’m not there now. It was too

uncomfortable. So I left, Albert.’

I got out of bed and dressed. I went downstairs to the study and made

myself a drink. I drank it slowly.

It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when I went to the garden hut

again, and took out the spade.

This time I went all the way to the space between the trees. I stopped

beside the highest tree of all.


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75

I began taking big steps, counting at the same time. ‘One, two, three,

four ...’

I stopped at sixteen.

Then I began digging.

I had been digging for nearly five minutes when I heard a shout, and

suddenly there were people all around me, shining lights in my face. I

recognized some of the people who worked for Millicent, including her

lawyer.

Now Millicent herself stepped forward. ‘So you wanted to be sure she

was really dead, Albert! And the only way to do that was to return to the
place where you buried her.’

‘I am looking for old Indian knives,’ I said. ‘There’s a belief that if you

find one in the light of the moon, it will bring you good luck.’

Millicent took no notice of this. She pointed to some people I didn’t

know. ‘These are private detectives,’ she said. ‘They have been watching you
twenty- four hours a day, ever since I guessed what really happened to
Emily.’ She pointed at a small, rather fat woman. ‘That’s Mrs. Macmillan.
She was the woman in the purple dress, and she copied Emily’s writing. And
this is Miss Peters. She is good at copying voices, and she was the voice of
Emily you heard on the telephone.’ There were also two detectives, who had
brought their own spades. Now they began digging in the hole which I had

started.

‘We knew you were getting worried, Albert,’ said Millicent. ‘You

almost dug her up last night, didn’t you? But then you changed your mind.
That was lucky, because last night I didn’t have so many people to watch
you. Tonight we were ready and waiting.’

The detectives dug for about fifteen minutes and then paused for a rest.
‘This ground is very hard!’ said one.
They went on digging until the hole was two metres deep.
‘Nothing has been buried here!’ said the other. ‘The only thing we found

was an old Indian knife.’

I smiled at Millicent. ‘What makes you think I buried Emily?’

I left them and returned to the house.


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76

I had guessed from the beginning that Millicent was responsible for the

false ‘Emily’ that had appeared to me in different forms. It was all part of her
plan. What had been her aim? Well, she believed that I had killed her sister.
So she wanted to frighten me until I broke down and said, ‘Yes, yes, I killed
her!’

I had been playing a game, too: I wanted her to think I was frightened.

And, of course, I wanted her to think 1 had buried the div in that place in

the woods.

Now I was in a strong position. She had called me a murderer in front of

all those witnesses — I could take the matter to a court of law, and demand a
large sum of money from her. But she wouldn’t want to let that happen: she
wouldn’t want the world to know she had been stupid. She would prefer to
pay those people to keep silent. Would that be possible? Well, it would help

if I supported her story, and said that nothing had happened at all.

And I would do that for Millicent. If she gave me some money — a large

amount of money.

At the end of the week, my telephone rang.
‘This is Emily. I’m coming home now, dear.’
‘Oh, great.’
‘Did anyone miss me?’
‘They certainly did!’
‘You haven’t told anyone where I’ve been these last four weeks, have

you, Albert? Especially not Millicent?’

‘I told her you were visiting friends in San Francisco.’
‘Oh dear, I don’t know anydiv in San Francisco. Did she believe you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well, I couldn’t tell her I was going

to a health farm, to lose weight! I would be
ashamed! And I wasn’t sure that I would
manage it. But I have, Albert, I have! I’ve
lost fourteen kilos! My figure must be as
good as Cynthia’s now!’

‘Well done, Emily! That’s great!’


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77

Why is Emily jealous of my first wife? They each have their place in my

heart. ‘Yes ... but now none of my clothes will fit me. I’ll have to get a lot of
new clothes. Do you think we can afford it, Albert?’

Ah, we can now. With some help from Millicent.

Talk about it

1. Work with another student and complete the form below.

Name

Crime

Reason for

crime

Danger to

society

Ronald Torbay

murder

money

Terry Layton

Judy Layton

Humphrey

Portridge

Tom Dauphine

Edward

Skipperton

Clive Wilkes


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78

Albert

2. Discuss these questions in small groups. Which criminal in these

stories:

is the cleverest?

deserves the worst punishment?

is the unluckiest?

is the luckiest?

3.

Choose one of these magazine headlines and write short story.


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79

Crime and punishment

1. In these stories the main crime is murder, but there are many other

more ordinary crimes. Find seven crimes in this picture. Use a

dictionary to help you find the word for the crime, the criminal

and the verb that describes what the criminal is doing.

Crime

Criminal

Verb

1.

mugging

mugger

to mug

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.


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80

2. Discuss these questions with another student. Which of the

criminals on the opposite page should:

- go to prison? - pay money as a punishment? - be punished in another

way?

3. In the past, criminals were punished in different ways. Look at

these pictures.

A

. What do they show? Use the internet to find out what crimes they

punished.

B.

Think of three other punishments that are not used today. Do you

think they should still be used? Why (not)?

4. Discuss crime in your country.

A.

How was crime different when your grandparents were children?

What acts used to be crimes in the past, but are not now? What new crimes

are there today that did not exist in the past? How has punishment changed?

Make notes.

Notes:

Past

Present





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81

B.

Compare your notes with another student. Is life safer today than in

your grandparents’ time? Why (not)?

5.

What can we do to make our lives safer from crime? Write a full-

page advertisement for safety in the home and on the streets for your

local newspaper. Give advice in two parts:

How to protect your home from burglars:

Close and lock all doors and windows when you go out.
……………………………………………………………………..
……………………………………………………………………..
……………………………………………………………………..
……………………………………………………………………..
……………………………………………………………………..

How to be safe on the streets:

Don’t carry money in your back pocket.
……………………………………………………………………...
……………………………………………………………………...
……………………………………………………………………...
……………………………………………………………………...
……………………………………………………………………...

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