[Aberline sits down at a table in the pub and opens a newspaper. Mrs. Kirk walks up to him]
Det. Aberline:
A pint of bitter, please.
[She only stares at him. He looks up from his paper, stares back, and tips his hat towards her]
Det. Aberline:
Mrs. Kirk.
Mrs. Kirk:
Why aren't you out with MacQueen, trying to catch that thing what killed my husband?
Det. Aberline:
As I don't know where the lunatic will strike, it seems the practical thing to do is to stay as near as possible to the potential victims.
[a man nearby spits out his drink and begins coughing]
Det. Aberline:
And seeing that 214 of the 309 residents of Blackmoor and its environs live within, what, 500 yards of this tavern, I was planning to spend the evening here.
Mrs. Kirk:
Not Talbot Hall?
Det. Aberline:
Why would you say that?
Mrs. Kirk:
They're cursed. All of them.
Det. Aberline:
Unfortunately, "cursed" does not give me a warrant to wander about Sir John's estate at night. Rules, Mrs. Kirk. They're all that keep us from a dog-eat-dog world, you know. Pint of bitter. please.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:25
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