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Kryminalny konkurs książkowy po angielsku

Redakcja MM
Redakcja MM
22 maja urodził się Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Gdyby słynny autor przygód detektywa Sherlocka Holmesa nadal żył, miałby 150 lat. Z tej okazji wspólnie z Wydawnictwem Felberg mamy dla Was do wygrania książki kryminalne do nauki języka angielskiego.

Aby wziąć udział w konkursie i powalczyć o jedną z pięciu książek ufundowanych przez Wydawnictwo Felberg, wystarczy potwierdzić swój udział w konkursie w komentarzu, a na adres [email protected] wysłać odpowiedź na poniższą zagadkę oraz link do swojego profilu na MM Trójmiasto. Na odpowiedzi czekamy do 29 maja. Wygrywa pięc pierwszych osób, które poprawnie odpowiedzą. Tutaj znajdziesz szczegółowy regulamin konkursów.

Do wygrania: "Three Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" autorstwa Sir Arthura Conana Doyle'a z serii "Felberg English Readers" oraz 4 książeczki z serii "Angielski z Detektywem" do nauki języka angielskiego.

Zagadka kryminalna

Wyjaśnij kogo i z jakiego powodu podejrzewa porucznik?
A) Martę Mol
B) Marka Kelera
C) Alicję Mol

"Morning Coffee"

“The blood stains indicate that she was stabbed inside, carried out and thrown here onto the lawn,” said the police sergeant, bent over the corpse of a woman with a knife protruding from her back.
The woman was 30-year-old Tamara Mol. Her body had lain in the yard for over a quarter of an hour.
“Do we have any leads yet?” asked the sergeant’s superior, Lieutenant Olech, who was getting up from examining the body.
“Yes, three main suspects,” answered the sergeant.
“Isn’t it strange that they always come in threes,” reflected Olech.
“I don’t know,” smiled the sergeant and opened his notebook. “The first suspect is Tamara’s sister, Marta. She also lives in this house. She and the victim worked together in a restaurant. Number two on the list of suspects is the second sister of the murdered woman, Alicia, who also works at the restaurant. She lives in another part of town. And number three is Mariusz Kelner, their next door neighbor. He was the chef at Tamara’s restaurant. A few days ago Tamara fired him. And now . . . she’s lying her with a kitchen cleaver in her back.”
“Can we question the suspects?” asked the lieutenant.
“Keler and Marta are at home. I’ve sent a uniformed officer to get the other sister,” answered the sergeant.

* * *

Lieutenant Olech had been listening to Keler and Marta’s accounts for some time.
“I was sitting with my back to the house on the terrace, drinking my morning coffee and looking through the classified ads,” said Keler. “I happened to look over here and I saw Tamara as she fell over. I immediately ran through the backyard to help her.”
“Is that what you did, is it!?” asked Marta in disbelief.
“You think otherwise?” Olech turned to Marta with this question.
“I doubt that he came to help,” she responded. “I was getting dressed upstairs when I heard Tamara cry out. I called and asked what had happened and when there was no reply, I ran downstairs. The back door was open and he,” she pointed at Keler, “was kneeling over my sister and smiling.”
“I wasn’t smiling . . .,” Keler began to explain himself.
“Yes, you were!” yelled Marta. Her voice shaking with emotion or perhaps cold. After a moment she pulled her bathrobe more tightly around herself.
Keler turned to Marta:
“You look as if you haven’t finished getting dressed yet.”
“I ran down here, as I said. Then I called the police and I haven’t had a chance to go back upstairs,” this time Marta was the one to explain herself.
“Did you call anyone else, ma’am?” asked the lieutenant.
Keler answered for Marta:
“She called their other sister, Alicia. But no one answered the phone.”
Marta took out a handkerchief, wiped away a tear and turned to Olech, changing the subject:
“Tamara gave him the boot,” she pointed at Keler again. “Did the sergeant tell you about that?”
“Yes.”
“She had no reason to fire me,” said Keler.
“Are you joking!?” snorted Marta. “In just a few weeks you messed up so many dinners that we’ve lost half our customers.”
“You and Alicia mixed up the orders, that’s what it was. Tamara would have figured out in the end whose fault everything was. I didn’t feel like being a scapegoat and walked out myself.”
The lieutenant went to the doors leading out to the terrace and turned to Keler:
“Where is the terrace you were sitting on?”
“Over there. Across from those two trees, behind that hedge.”
“Ah yes. Please wait here a moment,” said Olech and crossed the yard.
The lieutenant jumped over the low hedge and went onto the terrace of Keler’s house. One of the chairs on the terrace was turned in such a way that the terrace of the murder victim was visible from it. The lieutenant sat down in it and looked at the empty table. “Perhaps Keler is telling the truth,” he thought.

* * *

After a moment Lieutenant Olech returned to the murder victim’s terrace. The sergeant reported stiffly:
“Lieutenant, Alicia Mol is here. She is waiting in the living room.”
“Excellent,” responded Olech and went inside.
Alicia Mol was sitting on the couch. She held her hands on her knees. A bandage was visible on her left hand. Without any word of greeting, she turned to the lieutenant.
“She killed her, lieutenant.”
“Who?” asked Olech.
“Marta.”
“And how do you know that?”
Alicia began to explain:
“Marta was jealous. Tamara owned a house and the majority interest in the restaurant. And now that she’s dead . . . Marta will have an easier time of it.”
“As will you,” noted the lieutenant.
“Me?” exclaimed Alicia. “My career plans do not involve the restaurant.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I plan to become a model. Photos in magazines, fashion shows. You know?”
The lieutenant steered the conversation in another direction:
“And what can you tell me about Mr. Keler.
“Not much,” answered Alicia. “Tamara had to get rid of him. He was a lousy chef.”
“What happened to your hand?” asked Olech unexpectedly.
“My hand?” repeated Alicia. “Oh, I cut it when slicing a baguette for breakfast.”
“A knife is a dangerous instrument, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Are you insinuating something?”
The lieutenant ignored Alicia’s comment and continued:
“Where were you this morning?”
“At home. Alone.”
“Then why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“The phone?” Alicia parroted his question again. “Oh yes, of course, it rang. But, as I told you, I had hurt my hand. I was busy putting a bandage on it.”

* * *

The sergeant and the lieutenant sat at the kitchen table, drinking bottles of soda.
“Lieutenant, do you think Alicia did it?” asked the sergeant.
“Possible,” responded Olech. “She could have driven over, done it and fled just as quickly.”
“And what about Marta and Keler?”
“They also could have done it,” said the lieutenant and motioned to the sergeant’s unfinished bottle. “Aren’t you going to finish your soda?”
“No, do you want it?”
“Yes, I do,” said the lieutenant with a smile on his face.
“Do what?”
“I know who is guilty.”
od 7 lat
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