The Benson Murder Case / Дело Бенсона. Книга для чтения на английском языке - стр. 21
The main facts that transpired from a quarter-of-an-hour’s examination may be summed up as follows:
Mrs. Platz had been Benson’s housekeeper for four years and was the only servant employed. She lived in the house, and her room was on the third, or top, floor in the rear.
On the afternoon of the preceding day Benson had returned from his office at an unusually early hour—around four o’clock—announcing to Mrs. Platz that he would not be home for dinner that evening. He had remained in the living-room, with the hall door closed, until half past six, and had then gone upstairs to dress.
He had left the house about seven o’clock, but had not said where he was going. He had remarked casually that he would return in fairly good season, but had told Mrs. Platz she need not wait up for him—which was her custom whenever he intended bringing guests home. This was the last she had seen him alive. She had not heard him when he returned that night.
She had retired about half past ten, and, because of the heat, had left the door ajar. She had been awakened some time later by a loud detonation. It had startled her, and she had turned on the light by her bed, noting that it was just half past twelve by the small alarm-clock she used for rising. It was, in fact, the early hour which had reassured her. Benson, whenever he went out for the evening, rarely returned home before two; and this fact, coupled with the stillness of the house, had made her conclude that the noise which had aroused her had been merely the backfiring of an automobile in Forty-ninth Street. Consequently, she had dismissed the matter from her mind, and gone back to sleep.
At seven o’clock the next morning she came downstairs as usual to begin her day’s duties, and, on her way to the front door to bring in the milk and cream, had discovered Benson’s body. All the shades in the living-room were down.
At first she thought Benson had fallen asleep in his chair, but when she saw the bullet hole and noticed that the electric lights had been switched off, she knew he was dead. She had gone at once to the telephone in the hall and, asking the operator for the Police Station, had reported the murder. She had then remembered Benson’s brother, Major Anthony Benson, and had telephoned him also. He had arrived at the house almost simultaneously with the detectives from the West Forty-seventh Street station. He had questioned her a little, talked with the plain-clothes men, and gone away before the men from Headquarters arrived.
“And now, Mrs. Platz,” said Markham, glancing at the notes he had been making, “one or two more questions, and we won’t trouble you further… Have you noticed anything in Mr. Benson’s actions lately that might lead you to suspect that he was worried—or, let us say, in fear of anything happening to him?”
“No, sir,” the woman answered readily. “It looked like he was in special good-humor for the last week or so.”
“I notice that most of the windows on this floor are barred. Was he particularly afraid of burglars, or of people breaking in?”
“Well—not exactly,” was the hesitant reply. “But he did use to say as how the police were no good—begging your pardon, sir—and how a man in this city had to look out for himself if he didn’t want to get held up.”