Chapter 6 chapter Five

Two days later, I came home from get off work and took the crooked bike off the hitch for a closer inspection.My bike was horrible, the front wheel was so deformed it couldn't even turn, the fork was bent and the chain was hanging around the pedals.But the problem probably ends there.I immediately removed the damaged splitter, put it in a plastic shopping bag, and cycled to Essex Road to meet my friend Jerry who runs a bicycle shop.He wanted to sell me a carbon fiber replacement, but it was expensive, more than a whole bike. Didn't you say that others will compensate you?He said. That's what she said.I said.

Well, that's it.He said. I have trouble even asking her for money now. He looked bewildered, and even more sad when I picked a springy bifurcated pole off the shelf.But when I bought a brand new wheel, a chain and a hard hat, he was all smiles again.He was kind enough to help me assemble it, but I just believed in myself and didn't want other people to touch my bike, so I put the wheels and split bars on the handlebars of the bike that Campbell lent me, and I just rode like this go home. The weather is still warm and the sun is still shining, so I keep my bike, new parts and my tools out in the backyard.I pulled the chain from the pedals to remove it from the cogs.I plan to have fun assembling it.Then, I heard a voice: Need help?

It turned out to be Miles.He came out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer in hand and sat down on the rickety bench that Dalio promised he would fix.In several episodes, Miles tells a bad joke about how bad he is at mechanics or electronics.That's not really an expression of humility: since he works downtown as a stock analyst, it's more or less pretentious, and he compares himself to living on a superior plane while the rest of us flush toilets , The second-best work of changing fuses. I can remove the gears for you, he grinned, they need recalibration.I can adjust the sprockets.Your crank is a bit of a concern.

I eyed him impatiently.Are you going to chant all night? Sorry, he said, I just like watching you work.You look good. He paused and looked at me intently.Very capable.Want a beer? When I'm done assembling, I'll drink a bottle as a reward. I installed the split rod and reluctantly asked Miles to help prop it up so I could replace the handle, top cap, compression bolt, and faucet cap. How can you remember where the parts should go?he ask me. Because I am interested.I said. I only care about being able to get from A to B.And preferably by car. How much time do we have?I asked as I inserted the new wheels.

What time? Before you kick us out of the house. I didn't throw you out of the house. Well, before you dispose of us. do you knowMiles spoke softly, as if talking to himself, and sometimes I wondered if there might be another parallel universe. For a moment I thought he was philosophizing, discussing quantum physics or something, and I frowned at him. He leaned closer, and I could see my own face reflected in his dark brown eyes.I became tense, and it took a while to resist the urge to look away from him or to look away.Estelle, have you ever felt this way? what do you feel? you know.Obsessed with what could and could have happened.

No. things that should happen. I'm going to pack the bike now. I used to imagine these things when we first moved here.We were in financial difficulties at the time, but we didn't think it was hard.Do you remember that anti-war march?We returned triumphantly, ate charcoal grills together, and then lay in a daze on the grass because of the drugs. Apparently our efforts to stop the war were in vain. Do you remember when we first started dating?We have known each other for many years, and then suddenly the sky thundered and the earth became a fire, and we became a couple.Estelle and Miles.Miles and Estelle.I didn't have to turn my head to know you were in the house.I can feel your presence.do you knowI still have this ability now.It was a great time, wasn't it?I still can't forget it, and I still don't understand why we had to score.I have always believed that one day there will be only you and me here, enjoying the world of two people to the fullest.

I put down the screwdriver in my hand and stared at him.In an instant, several emotions flashed through my mind.The first is confusion. I can't believe that we can have such diametrically opposed interpretations of the same past events.In Myers' version, we have a passionate love affair, the only hindrances being my inconsistencies and immature desires misguided by independence.But in my version, the relationship was a mistake from the start.When we first met, he was an environmental crusader and my first political friend.He presented me with a whole new world, and at first he left me with a fascinating but mysterious impression.He fell for me because he thought I was carefree and happy, and then he went out of his way to try and turn me into a very different woman, one who was responsible, who loved home life, and was ready to settle down.It was as if he was trying to lead me into a future he had planned: however, I didn't want to be there.I'm happy with where I am.

The second emotion was anxiety, because Miles was my friend: he had been a straight-talking friend before we became a couple.He was my complicated friend after we broke up, and now I finally understand what I've been trying to ignore for months: that I let him fall in love and he still suffers for me.When the relationship came to an end, I offered to move out, but he insisted that as long as we let things take their course, it would be fine to continue living together, and I believed that.My third emotion is pure anger.This is the best emotion to deal with, so I naturally exploded.Is that why you're driving us away?I asked him aggressively because we broke up?

We didn't break up.It was you who insisted on yelling to stop.But sometimes I feel like the relationship is not over.Not really over.There is nothing left between us.You must have felt it too.I know you feel it. No, Miles, I say urgently, you don't want this. I thought time would turn everything around and bring things back to normal, but I haven't changed a bit.Deep down, I am still the original me. I'm very sorry. Don't close your heart. The door of my heart was closed long ago, and I said in the strongest tone, if I didn't make my words clear, it would be my fault.Listen, I put my hand on his arm for a moment, then quickly moved away.You also know that I am not suitable for you.You are much better than me.

I don't want to be better than you. No wonder.You look at the two of us.We live in different worlds.You get a job you love, and the future is bright and limitless.You're a grown man, Miles, and you know what you want to do.I'm not like you.I don't know the future direction at all.I'm just a bike courier delivering parcels around London, still figuring out who I am. So the crux of the problem is just this?Our external conditions? No, more than that.I don't understand why you suddenly go crazy.Miles, you are with Leah now.She is ice-snow smart, bright and charming, and you are going to live together.You shouldn't be saying these things to me.It's not fair.

As long as you tell me that there is still a glimmer of hope, even if it is a one in ten thousand chance, I will tell Leah Hello, Lia greeted cheerfully. Wearing a stylish and capable work suit, holding a briefcase in one hand and a newspaper under her arm, she appeared in front of us like a shimmering ghost.hi dear.She took off her jacket, sat beside Miles, bent forward, and planted a kiss on his cheek.Then she smiled at me, her lips were red and her teeth were white, her skin was smooth, and her body smelled of apples, while Miles smelled of beer, and I smelled of sweat and bicycle lubricant.You are so skillful.I can't even fix small holes in the wheels, so I have to take them to the dealership.I used to think that I should learn DIY, but then I thought about it, if time is money, then it is a waste of money to fix things by myself. It depends on how you measure the price of time.As I said this I wound the new chain around the ring.I try not to look at her, but I can't help but wonder, did she hear the conversation? Yes, she said, indeed. So this unfinished conversation was abruptly interrupted.Miles sat watching me work.Leah was reading the newspaper on the surface, but she raised her head from time to time, squinting at our every move.I felt like I was in a cage at a zoo, letting people watch through the fence. If you're not ready, don't rush to move.Myers said; he finally answered the question that sparked the affectionate confession. In three months, didn't we all agree?Leah said she didn't even bother to lift her head from the newspaper. I do not remember.Miles grunted under his breath. I mean, you are no longer students, Leah said, you can't depend on other people's homes like this for the rest of your life.It is incredible that Miles has kept you here for so many years. Although I didn't say a word, I gave Miles a sarcastic look. Technically, Miles said, they paid the rent and helped with the housework. If you're referring to Dalio's DIY, I'm not sure it's a necessary added value. Once the chain was on, I sprayed the moving parts with lube, then lifted the bike so the rear wheel was off the ground, and cranked the pedals so the wheels twirled and glowed hazy silver.This picture is so beautiful.It's time for a beer. What is that girl's name?Leah asked, the one who was killed. Peggy.I said. Farrell, Miles said, Margaret.Farrell. Police have already arrested some suspects. Miles snatched the newspaper to read.No progress, he said. The four teenagers cannot be named due to the principle of legal protection.They were suspected of robbery and murder of Margaret.Farrell was arrested.Well, in fact, it is not difficult to imagine where they came from. Where did you come from?Leah asked him. The evil young man in the villa area.It's great that two weeks of community service will be fine. Then just seek money, I said, why do you need to kill yourself? This is the scary part, Miles said grimly, and they probably recorded the entire murder process on their mobile phones. It's weird to be around a murder, I said, and we don't know anything about it, and probably won't know any more.Those brats should plead guilty in a few months and the case will be closed and we'll never hear anything about it again. There is nothing to hear.Myers said. It turned out that Miles and I were wrong.After three days and three nights of cleaning, shopping, two parties, and watching a movie with Saul, I shared a room with another agent.After meeting me at the counter, Officer Prieber took me into the interrogation room.I sat inside alone and looked around for a while.There's very little to see here, no windows, no pictures.The walls were painted beige, the floor was covered with the kind of spotted linoleum that was easy to clean without getting dirty, and there were two molded plastic chairs next to a table, and two spare chairs against the wall. pile up. Suddenly, the door opened and someone came in.Miss Belle? I am Estelle.Belle. A large, middle-aged man walked in. He wore a gray suit that was too small to make his figure look even bigger.He was nearly bald, and the remaining hair was cut short.I'm Inspector Mitchell, he said, thank you for taking the time. I was surprised.I said. He came over and sat down across from me.How to say? I told the police that I had nothing more to say, and then I heard that someone had been arrested and thought that was probably the end of the homicide. He leaned back, resting his hands on the back of his head, looking thoughtful.We sued four punks this morning Then why bother? The charge was forcibly smelling someone else's property, namely Mrs. Farrell's car. If that was what they did, it must be the same people who killed and silenced. Did someone pour you coffee? have. You may be asked to fill out a questionnaire later, as a reference for the police to improve public services in the future.The form will ask you if you feel comfortable, whether the police provide meals, drinks and other questions. Well, you all greeted me thoughtfully. Nice to hear you say that. You just mentioned the murder. Oh yes.Mitchell said, we are in William.Cameras were set up at different entrances and exits of the Morris apartment.The camera captures the four passing through Dyson Street on their way out of the estate at 11.40pm, and we find them turning back fourteen minutes later, passing each other a bottle they snatched from Mrs. Farrell's car. Blanchardy rum. So they did it. They didn't damage the door to get in, because the door didn't seem to be locked, maybe you hit it, and it broke and wouldn't close.They didn't steal the CD player, but please don't tell anyone about it.But they stole her shopping, two bottles of wine and her cell phone plugged into a car charger. It doesn't sound like it's worth dying for such a small thing. Mitchell shrugged.In my first homicide case, a kid was killed by a classmate because he wouldn't hand over his lunch money.Anyway, the receipt was still in one of the shopping bags.This is proof that Mrs. Farrell did not end her Tesco shopping trip until 7.28pm.When did you see her? It's almost eight o'clock. You'll know right away what the problem is.We were in the basement in front of Mrs. Farrell's house and found her body half hidden behind a trash can.She was strangled to death, and there were signs of robbery at the scene.Her wallet was stolen and, according to her husband, her watch and necklace were also missing.In addition, her car door was unlocked, and the burglar alarm at home was functioning normally.So you understand? not understand well.I said. The door opened and Officer Prieber came in with a plastic mug of coffee.He put the coffee, two small cream balls, two sugar packets, and a plate with two digestive biscuits on the table.Not sure if you need sugar or creamer, he said, or if you're hungry. Black coffee is fine.I took a sip as I spoke.The coffee was lukewarm and bitter from being steeped for too long. Prieber did not leave, he took a chair in the corner and sat down.Mitchell gestured to him and went on: Around eight o'clock, Mrs. Farrell opened the car door, and you ran head-on.She came to visit and apologized, but then your roommate showed up at the scene and took over your care.That's right? Dalio and Davey were sitting on the steps, uh, chatting. They witnessed the accident and came to help me. Mrs. Farrell's purchases are still in the car.She let your roommate help you home.What did she do next? I guess it's time to go home. Bags should be brought home, right?But as far as we know, she never got into the car to take out the shopping bags, and she never opened the door of her house.Her husband slept out that night, but the boys in the villa area did not show up until four hours later. I pondered for a moment.But it is also possible that they attacked her first, hid her body, and then returned in the dark to loot her car. Mitchell had a bright smile on his cold face, and he looked at Prieber who was smiling back at the table.It was an inference, he said, a poor inference.But in the end it's an inference. You invited me here, probably not to ask my opinion on this case. We'd be grateful for any clues, Mitchell said, but what really interests me is what you saw. The problem is, I said, I don't see anything.I also feel very sorry for that. But you were there, Mitchell said, you were there when it happened. A lengthy silence followed. I'm sorry, I said, I really wanted to say: ask me anything but don't ask me what I saw.I have an amazing memory.You can ask me about my first day of elementary school and every vacation I've had since.I'll still remember the color of your tie next week.But the moment I slammed into Mrs. Farrell's car door, I don't remember anything.I didn't even know the owner was her.I slammed the car door, fell to the ground, heard an apology, and was dragged inside.The whole memory is like a facsimile paper with a fuzzy photocopy and later fading.Of course you can read with a magnifying glass, but all you see is confusion and haze. I thought Mitchell would be upset or angry about it.I figured he'd treat me like a bad girl and send me home.But he just smiled.Don't worry, Miss Belle, he said, you've got a better memory than some of the witnesses.I'll bring another officer in, please tell her everything you know and she'll take it down. It shouldn't be long.I said. He smiled again. Oh yes, definitely for a long time. The police have always given me a vague and abstract impression.When I see the blue light of a police car flashing in the dark, or see a policeman walking down the street, I get a little anxious, as if I might have done something wrong and don't know it, and they just glance at me and put it on my face See the furtive expression that the criminal will make.Night after night I saw police stop and search black teenagers passing by on Maitland Road and Hackney, or hustle drunken drunks in pairs with crackling walkie-talkies And the lethargic and poisonous insects entered the police car.Before Paige's murder, I had never been in a police station, the only exception being to report a lost wallet, but even that experience was at most the counter at the police station.I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but to my embarrassment and amazement, the police seemed to be just like normal people, neither rude nor racist nor uneducated nor sinister just a bunch of people Men and women who are a bit bored, distracted, and wondering what to do after the shift. Of the three of us, Dalio was the one who had trouble talking to the police. They don't care if you're on drugs or not, Davy said before our second interrogation, they only care who killed Paige.Are you right, Estelle? I know that, Dalio said, but I have a hunch I'm going to break out in a cold sweat and admit to taking drugs.I once heard of a man who went through customs and, though no one was interested in him, unexpectedly burst into tears and confessed to hiding cocaine in the bottom of the cutlery set he carried with him. Cutlery set?Davy asked. Yes, but that's not the point.The point is, I will definitely recruit something.I have this hunch.All they have to do is look at me and I'm going to break down. The real point is, I said, someone was killed. I don't know anything.I've told them everything I know. Then say it again.Then sign the end of the document and you're done. Take it for granted that things are definitely not that simple.Someone was brutally murdered a few minutes from our house, minutes after speaking to us.It's almost like she was killed before our very eyes, only we didn't realize it.I recognize her face and know her name.Whenever I passed by her house, I would look down at the trash can, that is, the alcove where her body was stuffed, and imagine the scene of her being abandoned.Two days later, the space was filled with flowers and notes; after a week or so, the flowers were rotting in the cellophane, giving off a sweet stench that made me choke and sicken.I watched the passers-by on the street, watched the gang of teenagers wandering around in the balmy evening, and wondered if any of them were murderers, or if they didn't know about it.I've always thought of Maitland Road as a wild, old area, but it's always been my home and I feel safe here.Things that once seemed innocuous are now filled with a sinister atmosphere.Whenever it gets dark and I hear footsteps behind me, my heart beats faster; shadows seem to move, and faces become evil.Rumors spread: Husband arrested and charged; Husband freed; Police know which gang in the villa area did it, but not enough evidence; Drugs involved: Gangsters robbed the wrong guy; It was just an accident .She was shot, stabbed, strangled, raped and hit on the head with a stone.I even heard that one of her hands was chopped off.It's as if everyone is an omniscient detective.Everyone knew Paige very well.People remember conversations they never had with her.People who haven't even greeted her miss her one after another.Someone who hasn't even said hello to me is now doping me because I hit the car door she opened and fell dizzy and swearing so I'm a celebrity sighting Witnesses became big names everyone should know. At the same time, another change is taking shape, invading the home.We become temporary tenants overnight.A few days ago, I still thought of everyone as my other kind of family members who were eccentric, eccentric, and religious.Now they have reverted to individual and irrelevant outsiders. I can't help thinking: Will I still recognize you after a year?Who will I keep in touch with?I'm sure I won't lose touch with Pipa; maybe I'll invite her to share an apartment later.As for Miles, I'm just as sure I wouldn't cut ties even if he was an ex-boyfriend with a fondness for me and the landlord who evicted me; The Co-Newington border has enviable real estate and I'm just a bike courier.But Dalio and David, I'm not so sure.I can imagine growing estranged from them, meeting only for a drink or two between more important dates, and then seeing each other in ever-increasing intervals, reducing what we have in common to a string of interesting shared memories.Maybe they'll end up being the ones I run into at a bar, kiss on the cheek, say hello, and promise to call them soon.It is also hard for me to imagine that I will contact Mike in the future. I live under the same roof with him, and I feel that there is no intersection.As for Owen, I don't even know if I like him, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me.Or maybe he just treats me as invisible and doesn't even bother to look at me.