Saturday cont.
After Jessie had been escorted back to her arrest cell, the
newly born nice-to-everyone Gary decided to get Mrs Riddle to Middlethumpton
Headquarters, not – it should be emphasized – to offer her devoted service, but
because he was thinking again about her role
in the whole of the Marble case.
“Thanks. Ham with artichokes and double cheese, please,”
said Nigel, relieved that he was not going to have to accompany the little
group to the restaurant.
“Will do, Nigel!” said Gary. “Can you write up the notes
from this morning so that Miss Coppins can sign a statement?”
“At your service!”
“Before we leave, can I just ask you if you think the
religious person was the vicar, Gary?” said Dorothy. “It would explain why he
is slowly going off his rocker.”
“I’m sure Gary and I were both thinking that,” said Cleo. “A
DNA test will decide, but that can only happen safely when the baby is born.”
“I don’t want Frederick Parsnip to be convicted of rape, but
if he did it, he should be punished,” said Dorothy.
“He will be, Dorothy. I have no intention of letting him get
away with it.”
***
After eating pasta at Romano’s, Dorothy took her leave. She
needed some shopping in town, she insisted.
“She knows,” said Cleo.
“What does she know?”
“That thinks we…”
“Don’t be naive, Cleo. Dorothy knows that we sleep together
and I wouldn’t put it past her to believe that that baby bump is mine. I think
I made it pretty clear to everyone in my office, even though I was playing up
to Jessie.”
“I want it to be, Gary, but what can I do about Robert if it
looks exactly like you?”
“How about telling the truth for a change?”
“You know the truth, Gary.”
“I don’t know the whole truth any more than I know if the
vicar has been on a sex rampage or poor Jessie’s other baby has been stolen.”
“But we will find out, won’t we?” said Cleo.
“Before and after our trysts, but not during,” said Gary.
“Have I told you how much I love you for being so nice to
Jessie?” said Cleo.
“It seemed the right thing to do, Cleo. My dealings have lacked
compassion up to now, but you are a good teacher.”
“That forecast of Jessie’s about Peggy’s arrival was
probably pretty accurate,” said Cleo.
“We’d better get you to the hospital then,” said Gary.
“Not before lunch, Gary. And we must end our affair for a
few months.”
“I don’t want to do that.”
“But it’s the only chance I have of getting my life straightened
out for the kid.”
“But you will still love me, won’t you, Cleo?”
“I will always love you, Gary.”
***
“I don’t think that
Jessie has Asperger’s, Gary,” Cleo told him.
As if on cue, a text Gary received from the psychiatrist
confirmed her opinion.
“But the doctor thinks Jessie might have clinical depression,”
added Gary.
“That would not surprise me in the least,” said Cleo. “She’s
had a pretty ghastly life up to now.”
Cleo was considering Mrs Riddle’s reaction to Jessie when
another thought occurred to her. Was it possible that Jessie had attacked Mrs
Riddle on that fateful day?
When she had to solve a conundrum of that kind, Cleo usually
tried to visualize the order of events. Now, with Gary looking on between
nibbles of pasta, she opened her paper napkin, smoothed it flat and started to
draw.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to explain, would you?” Gary
said.
“Not just yet, Gary. Let’s talk to Kelly again first. I
suppose Mrs Riddle will be held overnight, won’t she?”
“What about the baby?”
“False alarm. No twinges, so I’m OK for a bit.”
“What Jessie said sounded feasible,” said Gary.
“It bothers me that Mrs Riddle said the housekeeping money
had been stolen if she had taken it herself,” said Cleo.
“But Harry said he’s taken some of it,” said Gary.
“When you consider that only a tiny percentage of the
workings of the brain have really been researched, it isn’t hard to imagine a
dark cavity containing criminal energy,” said Cleo.
“That’s a great way of putting it,” said Gary.
“Since Mrs Riddle has a motive, she’s also a suspect,
especially as she had a good reason for getting rid of Mr Marble, however much
she was emotionally involved. He had disregarded her feelings for many years.”
“But she had hung on, Cleo,” said Gary, as Dorothy reappeared.
“Somehow, I thought you’d still be here, you two,” she said.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Have you finished your shopping, Dorothy?” Gary asked.
“Have you finished … well …oops sorry, I did not mean to
ask,” said Dorothy.
“That’s OK, Dorothy,” said Gary. “You know how it is between
Cleo and me. I’m mesmerized. It’s incurable, but this time we only talked. We
are going to take a short break while Cleo has her baby.”
“Despite having have that incurable love bug?” said Dorothy.
“I’m unlikely to catch it, especially after Cooper’s downfall.”
“I could fall for you quite easily, Dorothy,” said Gary.
“I could say the same, Gary, but I think Cleo’s more
suitable age-wise. We’ll have to find someone else for Robert, then you can get
together on a permanent basis.”
“I hope that’s not just wishful thinking,” said Gary.
“I used to go by the saying that it’s better to have loved
and lost than not to have loved at all,” said Dorothy. “But I’ve learnt a lot.
Losing is very painful.”
“It wasn’t the losing that was painful for you, Dorothy,”
said Cleo, “it was the hanging on.”
“Isn’t the baby coming after all?”
“False alarm. Fake labour pains when a baby starts to get in
position for the birth.”
“Are you going to go through all that?” said Gary.
“I hope so,” said Cleo.
***
“So now, let’s get down to business, shall we,” said Dorothy.
Gary planted a kiss solemnly on Dorothy’s right hand and
exchanged glances with Cleo.
“I think we should move to your office, Gary,” said Cleo.
“Not the hospital, Cleo?”
“I’m pacing it, or rather, Peggy is.”
“Who’s Peggy,” Dorothy asked.
“In here,” said Cleo. “Maybe the office would be better. Then
Nigel can take notes.”
“OK. Let’s go” said Gary.
***
Romano could not resist wishing Cleo luck and winking at her
broadly. He thought he knew a woman about to give birth when he saw one. There
was something angelic and mysterious about her smile.
“I’ll let you know when it happens,” said Cleo.
***
A brisk walk saw the trio back in Gary’s office seated
around his small conference table.
”To continue,“ said Cleo, “we don’t know if Dr Marble is
Jessie’s father.”
“Why would she make that up, Cleo?” said Dorothy. “For all
we know Mrs Coppins might have told Jessie, or she heard something and decided
that was the case.”
“Sylvie is not much older than Jessie,” said Cleo. “Our
friend Dr Marble must have been a very busy ladies’ man in those days.”
“It appears so,” said Gary. “I expect he paid Mrs Coppins
extra for erotic extravagances. She seems to have charmed the whole neighbourhood
with them.”
“Don’t be cynical, Gary. Millions of men pay for sex,” said
Dorothy.
“And millions of women offer it in exchange for respectability,”
said Gary.
“Cool it, you two!” said Cleo. “To sum up, we know that Mrs
Marble was in a mental hospital after killing her newly born child; we also
have a housekeeper on hand who actually gave her child away in order to keep
her job and other privileges in Marble’s household. We also have at least one
charlady who hopped into bed with him when opportunity knocked. WE might also
have to ad Dr Marble’s sister to that list.”
“I wonder who else should be on it,” said Gary.
“Mrs Coppins needed the money and she was a good-looking woman,”
said Cleo. “I don’t suppose she told anyone that Marble could be the father.
She just let people believe Kelly was and Kelly paid up, too.”
“It was considerate of her to leave Dr Marble’s
respectability intact,” sniped Dorothy. “But on the other hand, she was getting
money from him and Kelly and married to someone who was prepared to accept the
child as his own, so disgracing Dr Marble would not have served any good
purpose and might have led to Mr Coppins throwing her out. I doubt whether Dr
Marble or Mrs Riddle would have made her welcome if she had arrived back on his
doorstep homeless.”
“He will have paid generously for her silence,” said Cleo.
Quite apart from being impressed by the summing up of Mrs
Coppins’ probable situation, Gary admired the speed at which Dorothy reached viable
conclusions.
“But how does that all fit from a criminal point of view,
Dorothy?” he asked her now.
“Once Dr Marble was dead, he could not say if he was
Jessie’s father and Sylvie’s inheritance would be safe, wouldn’t it? So that
was Mrs Riddle’s way of defending Sylvie’s and her own legacies.”
“Assuming that Mrs Riddle did not know about modern
identification methods, Ladies, or the parentage of that waif named Jessie.”
“It’s unlikely that there would be anything in writing to
confirm Sylvie’s parentage,” said Cleo, “Or any other of Dr Marble’s erotic
exploits.”
“Or she got rid of any evidence,” said Dorothy.
“Jessie suspected Dr Marble of being her father,” said Gary.
“So why didn’t she say anything?”
“Her mother would have denied it and probably no one would
have believed her anyway,” said Cleo.
“She could have challenged Dr Marble,” said Gary.
“Mrs Riddle would never have allowed her in,” said Dorothy.
“Anyway, he wouldn’t necessarily know. Mrs Coppins herself probably didn’t know
for sure, either, seeing as she slept around.”
“But Joe Collins must have known his wife was unfaithful,”
said Cleo. “It doesn’t take math to work out that if you go away and return 15
months later, any child conceived and born during that time can’t be yours.”
“Joe Collins will have decided to keep quiet and cash in,”
said Dorothy. “Cash, of course. Dr Marble won’t have installed direct debits
for payments to blackmailers.
“Quite apart from any financial gain, I can understand Coppins
being the sort of man who likes to keep his pride intact,” said Cleo.
“Most men do,” commented Dorothy.
Gary decided not to rise to the bait. After all, Robert was
probably in that position and he was too…sometimes.
“So how would you choreograph the death scene now, Ladies?”
he asked instead.
“Mapping it all out is helpful,” said Cleo unfolding her
paper napkin. “So here goes. Let’s suppose that Jessie told Mrs Riddle that Dr
Marble was her father from the days her mother had cleaned his house for him.”
“If that dialogue happened, the rest of your account is probably
accurate,” said Gary.
“OK,” said Cleo. “Let’s assume that Harry visited Dr Marble
and had an argument with him, threatened him and left. Mrs Riddle heard the row
and went into the study, ostensibly to collect some housekeeping money. Dr
Marble got up from his desk, maybe to walk towards Mrs Riddle. He walked into
the centre of the room and turned away from her for a moment. On impulse, Mrs
Riddle grabbed the statuette, hit him over the head and then went to his desk and
took the rest of the housekeeping. That is what Jessie must have seen through
the window. What had Riddle heard that made her attack Dr Marble, for instance,
that Jessie’s parentage would make her a
beneficiary in Dr Marble’s will? That would explain why she wanted him dead.
After all, he had never acknowledged her other than as a housekeeper, and his original will was still valid, in
which she got a fair share.”
“But that would make the murder premeditated,” said Gary.
“Not all murder on the spur of the moment can later be
described as premeditated simply because the logical explanation suggests it,”
said Dorothy.
“To continue,” said Cleo. “Mrs Riddle then went back into
the kitchen. Harry came back, saw what had happened to his uncle, went into the
kitchen and hit Mrs Riddle over the head. That way she wouldn’t know he had
been there again. Of course, he didn’t know she had dealt Dr Marble that blow.
He was afraid the housekeeper would blame him, so he decided to fake her
suicide, only he did not know enough about that gas oven to turn the gas up high
and she survived.”
“Great,” said Gary. “But there are one or two problems,
Cleo. For one, Harry Marble’s fingerprints were on that desk drawer.”
“That only means he opened it. It does not mean that he took
anything out of it, especially if it was in fact already empty or he thought
better of it,” said Cleo. “We only have Mrs Riddle’s word on that.”
“What else, Gary?” Dorothy asked.
“But what about Harry Marble’s confession?” said Gary “Harry
said he had taken some money out of the desk. Why would he admit to theft if he
had not committed any?”
“Why don’t we talk to Kelly first,” said Cleo. “We need to
find out if he challenged Dr Marble about Jessie.”
“I don’t really want to be here for that,” said Dorothy. “I’ll
go and collect the sandals I ordered at Milton’s.”
“I’ll phone Robert and tell him I’m busy,” said Cleo.
***
Dorothy was rather glad that she had an excuse not to
experience Kelly, who was extremely angry that he was still incarcerated and
made a lot of noise while being escorted to Gary’s office.
“It’s your own fault, Mr Kelly,” said Gary. “But if you are
straight with us this time, we can get the Coppins tragedy cleared up.”
“What really happened to Mrs Coppins, Mr Kelly,” Cleo asked.
“We know you put her into the pond, but she was already dead then, wasn’t she?”
Kelly did not answer.
“The autopsy report states that she was poisoned not drowned,
Mr Kelly,” said Gary. “Did you poison her?”
“No.”
“Did Mrs Coppins complain of feeling unwell?”
“Yes.”
“So you gave her something to calm her down, did you?”
“I gave her aspirin pills and a drop of brandy,” said Kelly.
“She said she had already taken some pills for her migraine at home, but they
had made her feel worse.”
“Did she say where she got the pills, Mr Kelly,” said Cleo.
“From Jessie.”
“But Jessie wasn’t at home.”
“I mean that she took them from Jessie’s drawer in the
dressing table. They were labelled ‘Wellness pills’. The packet must still be in the house somewhere.”
“Good God,” said Gary.
***
Cleo’s hunch had been justified. Dorothy, who was back from
her shopping tour having decided that Kelly’s statements were more important,
was now watching the questioning from the office next door She would have liked
to join in, but thought better of it.
“Those pills contained poison, Mr Kelly,” said Cleo. “They
must have been left over after that terrible business with the cook at
Huddlecourt Manner School.”
“But surely…”
No, Mr Kelly. They weren’t labelled as poisonous,” said
Cleo.
Had there been negligence on the part of the forensic team
if the pills had not been removed? Surely not. There was always a chance that
Mrs Coppins had pinched some and kept them for a rainy day, not knowing that
they were poisonous after being prepared by Mrs Baines and designed for that
school cook.
“So Mrs Coppins lay down and went to sleep, did she?” said
Gary.
“She said she would feel better if she could have a sleep.
She lay down on the settee and I put a blanket over her. Then I went out of the
room to do some jobs and when I came back she was dead,” Kelly said.
“Mrs Coppins died of a heart attack brought on by the arsenic
in those wellness pills,” said Gary.
“Arsenic?”
“Jessie didn’t know that was in them, Mr Kelly,” said Cleo.
“The housekeeper at the school had prepared them and given them to Jessie to
give the cook as wellness pills. It’s sheer luck that she didn’t swallow any of
them”
“But you did dispose of the body illegally, Mr Kelly,” said
Gary. “Throwing a corpse into a pond is not the usual method of burial. Why
didn’t you ring the police?”
“In my situation? After that business with Magda?”
“You got away with that, Mr Kelly,” said Gary.
“I didn’t get away with it,” said Kelly. “I swear I had
nothing to do with her death.”
“And what about your parents, Mr Kelly?” said Cleo. “Was
their death from natural causes, or had you tweaked the heater in their room?”
Kelly paled. “What do you mean?” he said.
“You know exactly what Miss Hartley means, Mr Kelly,” said
Gary.
“OK. I was there a week earlier than I said,” said Kelly,
“but they didn’t use the heater until that night. It was an old one and the one
they usually had on was not working.”
“Why were you there, Mr Kelly?” Cleo asked.
“I wanted to make it up with them,” he explained. “They came
into that farm after leaving Ireland and never went back. I tried to get in
touch, but they said they no longer had a son and would I leave them alone.”
“That would explain why there was no mention of you
anywhere,” said Cleo. The parents’ behaviour was extraordinary, but not that
unusual. “But why, Mr Kelly, would they do that?”
“You’d have to ask them,” said Kelly. Whatever the
explanation was, he was not going to divulge it.
“Then you came to the farm and tried to negotiate with
them.”
“My ma was happy, but my pa wasn’t,” said Kelly. “He was not
my real father and he hated me, but I was born after he married my ma, so he
was legally my pa, wasn’t he?”
Cleo had dealt with many such cases as a social worker in
Chicago.
“Who was your real father,” Cleo asked.
“I never found out,” said Kelly.
“But you kept on trying to make it up with your parents,
didn’t you, Mr Kelly?”
“Until I found them dead and called the police,” he said.
“You took a faked will to the solicitor’s, didn’t you?”
“I had to do something. The farm was to be sold for charity
if I didn’t.”
“Was there no legal way you could prove you were entitled to
the farm? A birth certificate, perhaps?” said Cleo.
“No,” said Kelly.
“All these years you’ve carried that burden around, Mr
Kelly,” said Gary.
“One person knew.”
“Betty Coppins?” said Cleo.
Kelly nodded.
“She blackmailed you, didn’t she, Mr Kelly?”
“It wasn’t blackmail, Miss Hartley. I didn’t mind paying for
that kid.”
“Even if it wasn’t yours?”
“She said it was.”
“As far as Jessie is
concerned, DNA tests will settle the parentage once and for all,” said Gary. “I’ll
arrange for your release, Mr Kelly, but stay in the district. We’ll need to
talk to you again and you will be charged with disposing illegally of Mrs
Coppins’ earthly remains and forging a will.”
“I think my mother would have seen to it that I inherited
the farm, but she died before she could do anything, didn’t she?” said Kelly.
***
Kelly’s emotions were confused. He was genuinely sad about
Betty Coppins’ death, but relieved that he was not to be charged with her
murder. What he had told them fitted in with the general picture that had formed
in Gary’s mind. And it was the truth, wasn’t it?
Kelly would not abscond. He had no reason to. His story was
out in the open. He could go home and look after the farm that was legally his,
though he had forced the issue by forging a will. Gary would get a search made
for some sort of birth certificate that would prove he was related to the woman
he said was his mother.
Kelly was led away and Gary phoned and gave instructions
that he was to be released following an official confirmation thereof, which
Nigel would deliver after writing it.
***
After Kelly had left the office, Dorothy came in and
exclaimed that it had been the most extraordinary scene. “Like out of a movie,”
she said.
“Crime movies are often based on fact,” said Gary. “So you
changed your mind about being in on the questioning, I see.”
“The sandals can wait. Kelly couldn’t,” said Dorothy. “It’s
awful to think that Jessie actually did kill her mother in a roundabout way.”
“We can’t get her on that, Dorothy,” said Gary. “We don’t
know if Betty Coppins stole those pills.”
“But it’s fair to assume that,” said Cleo, “unless the
forensic team was negligent.”
“I prefer the hidey-hole variation,” said Gary. “So let’s
stay with it, shall we?”
“Who’s next on the menu, Gary?” Cleo asked.
“I think we should get Harry Marble’s statement before we
tackle Mrs Riddle,” said Gary. “I believe Jessie. Now we have to get
confirmation of what really happened.”
“Do you mind if I stay?”
“I want you to stay, Dorothy,” said Gary.
***
Harry was led in from the cells. He was resigned to his
fate. He would be convicted on circumstantial evidence and there was nothing he
could do about it.
“What is it now?” he wanted to know.
“We want to improve your situation,” said Gary.
“Then let me go. I’m innocent,” Harry said.
“All in good time, Mr Marble,” Gary replied. “Take a seat.”
“What are you going to charge me with?” persisted Harry.
“Why don’t you just listen,” said Dorothy.
“We know you were at your uncle’s villa,” said Gary.
“Prove it,” said Harry.
“We think you found your uncle dead, Mr Marble.”
After a pause during which Harry presumably considered
whether telling the truth would be better for him than refusing to answer, he
said
“I did.”
“So you admit that you were at the villa,” said Gary, quick
to jump on that gravy train. “But someone else was also there, lurking outside,
and saw the murderer immediately after Dr Marble had been struck and fallen to
the ground, before you got there.”
“It wasn’t you, Mr Marble. She didn’t see you,” said Cleo.
“You arrived after our witness had run off,” said Gary.
“Are you laying a trap for me?” said Harry.
“No, Mr Marble. We think we know what happened. It isn’t
pretty, but it wasn’t you,” said Cleo.
“Go on!” said Harry.
“You wanted to talk to your uncle and probably challenge him
to tell you that he was in reality your father and had raped your mother, his
sister. But you were too late. You found him dead,” said Cleo. “Mrs Riddle was
in the kitchen. You went there and knocked her out. Then you put her head in
the gas oven, but the gas was not turned on far enough, so she recovered
quickly after being rescued.”
“That was grievous bodily harm, but fortunately it wasn’t
murder, Mr Marble,” said Gary. “You did not knock out Mrs Riddle for any other
reason than you wanted to get away, Mr Marble. If you stick to that story, you
will get off lightly.”
“Are you trying to bargain with me?” said Marble.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Dorothy. “Mr Hurley is making up for
any unpleasantness you experienced over and above what you caused yourself.”
“The alternative is to charge you with murder and theft and
leave it to the judge,” said Gary. “It’s up to you.”
“You would have been up for murder if you had had a better
understanding of how gas ovens work,” added Cleo. “You wanted to fake Riddle’s
suicide, didn’t you?”
“Was that because you thought she had murdered your father?”
Dorothy asked. "Surely you weren't out to avenge him."
“One problem was that only your fingerprints were found on
the murder weapon, Mr Marble,” said Gary.
“I picked it up,” said Harry.
Surely no killer was that guileless, thought Cleo.
“The housekeeper was wearing rubber gloves I suppose,” said
Dorothy, who had just thought of it. Cleo and Gary could have kicked themselves
for not thinking of that.
“Did
you remove the gloves before you put Riddle's head in the oven?” she asked, deliberately
choosing a macabre form of phrasing.
“I picked up the statuette in the study,” said Harry. “It
was smattered with blood. Then I saw that my uncle had a huge gash on the side
of his head and was probably dead. I wanted to get away fast, but the
housekeeper woman saw me opening the front door to get away and called out, so
I had to deal with her.”
Harry’s confession was gratifying to Cleo because it
confirmed the solution she had worked out. Gary had to accept that Cleo had
found most of the answers before he did. Those women again, he cursed inwardly,
though he admired them and loved them both, he had to admit.
“I arrest you for attempted murder,” Gary said to Marble in
a rather officious tone of voice. “You will remain in custody. We do not want
you disappearing into thin air, do we?”
“I thought you said you’d get me off the hook,” said Harry.
“I said I would try to make sure you were not accused of
murder, Mr Marble,” said Gary.
“You could tell us why you went to the villa that morning,”
said Dorothy.
“Would you believe me if I told you that my father was ready
to discuss his will?”
“I’d try,” said Dorothy.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Because it proves you did not go to the villa to kill him,”
said Dorothy. “It might even go towards proving that you suspected Mrs Riddle
and dealt with her to stop her killing you, Mr Marble,” Dorothy added.
Cleo and Gary were astonished. Dorothy was talking like a
defence lawyer. Harry smiled.
“Thanks. I’ll remember that,” he said as he was led out.
***
“You missed your calling, Dorothy. You should have been a
lawyer,” said Gary.
“No thanks. I couldn’t have dealt with all those shady
characters,” she replied.
“That’s what you’ve just being doing, Dorothy,” said Gary.
“Coffee anyone?” said Cleo.
“Why not?” said Gary. “I don’t think we can deal with Mrs Riddle
today, so let’s drink to crime instead!”
“Or the solving thereof,” added Dorothy, looking at her
watch. “Shooting practice at five, so I’ll cut along, Cleo. I’ll get the bus
home.”
“Is your gun in your handbag, Dorothy?” Gary asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because you should have been searched and the weapon
confiscated,” he said.
“Now why would anyone suspect me of carrying a gun, Gary?”
Dorothy laughed. “I’ve been popping in and out of HQ for years and no one has
bothered me.”
“It’s time we improved security in this place,” said Gary.
When Dorothy had left Gary asked Cleo if she had to get home
immediately.
“That rather depends on what you have in mind, Gary.”
“You know what I have in mind, Cleo.”
“We must stop meeting outside business hours.”
“This is inside business hours, Cleo. Let’s go to my flat
and see if we are still of the same mind.”
“I guess we are. Was that an invitation?”
“Just a proposal. I just want us to be together,” he said. “We
have to think of your baby.”
“I can’t think of a better reason,” said Cleo, going against
everything she had promised herself. “I think Peggy has settled down for the
night.”
“If I can get you out of your mess of a life with Robert and
me out of my marriage, will you marry me?”
“Under those circumstances, I suppose I would say yes,” said
Cleo.
“That’s all I wanted to hear. My car or yours, Cleo?”
“Yours, Gary. If for any reason Robert is checking up on me
he will think I’m still at HQ.”
“Did you hear that, Nigel? Cleo is in a meeting and can’t be
disturbed.”
“You will invite me, won’t you?” said Nigel.
“To what?”
“The nuptials.”
“I didn’t know you were listening in, Nigel,” said Gary.
“I’ll make you my best man.”
“No one has ever said that to me before,” said Nigel.
“Shut up Gary,” said Cleo, winking broadly at Nigel before
Gary could think of a suitable reply. “We are wasting precious time here.”
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