th.red dragon-第2部分

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　Now　he　straddled　the　drift　log　and　held　both　her　hands。　Her　feet　burrowed　under　his。
　〃All　right；　Molly。　Crawford　thinks　I　have　a　knack　for　the　monsters。　It's　like　a　superstition　with　him。〃
　〃Do　you　believe　it？〃
　Graham　watched　three　pelicans　fly　in　line　across　the　tidal　flats。　〃Molly；　an　intelligent　psychopath　…　particularly　a　sadist　…　is　hard　to　catch　for　several　reasons。　First；　there's　no　traceable　motive。　So　you　can't　go　that　way。　And　most　of　the　time　you　won't　have　any　help　from　informants。　See；　there's　a　lot　more　stooling　than　sleuthing　behind　most　arrests；　but　in　a　case　like　this　there　won't　be　any　informants。　He　may　not　even　know　that　he's　doing　it。　So　you　have　to　take　whatever　evidence　you　have　and　extrapolate。　You　try　to　reconstruct　his　thinking。　You　try　to　find　patterns。〃
　〃And　follow　him　and　find　him；〃　Molly　said。　〃I'm　afraid　if　you　go　after　this　maniac；　or　whatever　he　is　…　I'm　afraid　he'll　do　you　like　the　last　one　did。　That's　it。　That's　what　scares　me。〃
　〃He'll　never　see　me　or　know　my　name；　Molly。　The　police；　they'll　have　to　take　him　down　if　they　can　find　him；　not　me。　Crawford　just　wants　another　point　of　view。〃
　She　watched　the　red　sun　spread　over　the　sea。　High　cirrus　glowed　above　it。
　Graham　loved　the　way　she　turned　her　head；　artlessly　giving　him　her　less　perfect　profile。　He　could　see　the　pulse　in　her　throat；　and　remembered　suddenly　and　pletely　the　taste　of　salt　on　her　skin。　He　swallowed　and　said；　〃What　the　hell　can　I　do？〃
　〃What　you've　already　decided。　If　you　stay　here　and　there's　more　killing；　maybe　it　would　sour　this　place　for　you。　High　Noon　and　all　that　crap。　If　it's　that　way；　you　weren't　really　asking。〃
　〃If　I　were　asking；　what　would　you　say？〃
　〃Stay　here　with　me。　Me。　Me。　Me。　And　Willy；　I'd　drag　him　in　if　it　would　do　any　good。　I'm　supposed　to　dry　my　eyes　and　wave　my　hanky。　If　things　don't　go　so　well；　I'll　have　the　satisfaction　that　you　did　the　right　thing。　That'll　last　about　as　long　as　taps。　Then　I　can　go　home　and　switch　one　side　of　the　blanket　on。〃
　〃I'd　be　at　the　back　of　the　pack。〃
　〃Never　in　your　life。　I'm　selfish；　huh？〃
　〃I　don't　care。〃
　〃Neither　do　I。　It's　keen　and　sweet　here。　All　the　things　that　happen　to　you　before　make　you　know　it。　Value　it；　I　mean。〃
　He　nodded。
　〃Don't　want　to　lose　it　either　way；〃　she　said。
　〃Nope。　We　won't；　either。〃
　Darkness　fell　quickly　and　Jupiter　appeared；　low　in　the　southwest。　
　They　walked　back　to　the　house　beside　the　rising　gibbous　moon。　Far　out　past　the　tidal　flats；　bait　fish　leaped　for　their　lives。
　
　#　#　#
　
　Crawford　came　back　after　dinner。　He　had　taken　off　his　coat　and　tie　and　rolled　up　his　sleeves　for　the　casual　effect。　Molly　thought　Crawford's　thick　pale　forearms　were　repulsive。　To　her　he　looked　like　a　damnably　wise　ape。　She　served　him　coffee　under　the　porch　fan　and　sat　with　him　while　Graham　and　Willy　went　out　to　feed　dogs。　She　said　nothing。　Moths　batted　softly　at　the　screens。
　〃He　looks　good；　Molly；〃　Crawford　said。　〃You　both　do　…　skinny　and　brown。〃
　〃Whatever　I　say；　you'll　take　him　anyway；　won't　you？〃
　〃Yeah。　I　have　to。　I　have　to　do　it。　But　I　swear　to　God；　Molly；　I'll　make　it　as　easy　on　him　as　I　can。　He's　changed。　It's　great　you　got　married。〃
　〃He's　better　and　better。　He　doesn't　dream　so　often　now。　He　was　really　obsessed　with　the　dogs　for　a　while。　Now　he　just　takes　care　of　them；　he　doesn't　talk　about　them　all　the　time。　You're　his　friend；　Jack。　Why　can't　you　leave　him　alone？〃
　〃Because　it's　his　bad　luck　to　be　the　best。　Because　he　doesn't　think　like　other　people。　Somehow　he　never　got　in　a　rut。〃
　〃He　thinks　you　want　him　to　look　at　evidence。〃
　〃I　do　want　him　to　look　at　evidence。　There's　nobody　better　with　evidence。　But　he　has　the　other　thing　too。　Imagination；　projection；　whatever。　He　doesn't　like　that　part　of　it。〃
　〃You　wouldn't　like　it　either　if　you　had　it。　Promise　me　something；　Jack。　Promise　me　you'll　see　to　it　he　doesn't　get　too　close。　I　think　it　would　kill　him　to　have　to　fight。〃
　〃He　won't　have　to　fight。　I　can　promise　you　that。〃
　When　Graham　finished　with　the　dogs；　Molly　helped　him　pack。
　
　
　CHAPTER　2 　　　　　　　　　　
　
　Will　Graham　drove　slowly　past　the　house　where　the　Charles　Leeds　family　had　lived　and　died。　The　windows　were　dark。　One　yard　light　burned。　He　parked　two　blocks　away　and　walked　back　through　the　warm　night；　carrying　the　Atlanta　police　detectives'　report　in　a　card…board　box。
　Graham　had　insisted　on　ing　alone。　Anyone　else　in　the　house　would　distract　him　…that　was　the　reason　he　gave　Crawford。　He　had　another；　private　reason：　he　was　not　sure　how　he　would　act。　He　didn't　want　a　face　aimed　at　him　all　the　time。
　He　had　been　all　right　at　the　morgue。
　The　two…story　brick　home　was　set　back　from　the　street　on　a　wooded　lot。　Graham　stood　under　the　trees　for　a　long　time　looking　at　it。　He　tried　to　be　still　inside。　In　his　mind　a　silver　pendulum　swung　in　darkness。　He　waited　until　the　pendulum　was　still。
　A　few　neighbors　drove　by；　looking　at　the　house　quickly　and　looking　away。　A　murder　house　is　ugly　to　the　neighbors；　like　the　face　of　someone　who　betrayed　them。　Only　outsiders　and　children　stare。
　The　shades　were　up。　Graham　was　glad。　That　meant　no　relatives　had　been　inside。　Relatives　always　lower　the　shades。
　He　walked　around　the　side　of　the　house；　moving　carefully；　not　using　his　flashlight。　He　stopped　twice　to　listen。　The　Atlanta　police　knew　he　was　here；　but　the　neighbors　did　not。　They　would　be　jumpy。　They　might　shoot。
　Looking　in　a　rear　window；　he　could　see　all　the　way　through　to　the　light　in　the　front　yard；　past　silhouettes　of　furniture。　The　scent　of　Cape　jasmine　was　heavy　in　the　air。　A　latticed　porch　ran　across　most　of　the　back。　On　the　porch　door　was　the　seal　of　the　Atlanta　police　department。　Graham　removed　the　seal　and　went　in。
　The　door　from　the　porch　into　the　kitchen　was　patched　with　plywood　where　the　police　had　taken　out　the　glass。　By　flashlight　he　unlocked　it　with　the　key　the　police　had　given　him。　He　wanted　to　turn　on　lights。　He　wanted　to　put　on　his　shiny　badge　and　make　some　official　noises　to　justify　himself　to　the　silent　house　where　five　people　had　died。　He　did　none　of　that。　He　went　into　the　dark　kitchen　and　sat　down　at　the　breakfast　table。
　Two　pilot　lights　on　the　kitchen　range　glowed　blue　in　the　dark。　He　smelled　furniture　polish　and　apples。
　The　thermostat　clicked　and　the　air　conditioning　came　on。　Graham　started　at　the　noise；　felt　a　trickle　of　fear。　He　was　an　old　hand　at　fear。　He　could　manage　this　one。　He　simply　was　afraid；　and　he　could　go　on　anyway。
　He　could　see　and　hear　better　afraid；　he　could　not　speak　as　concisely；　and　fear　sometimes　made　him　rude。　Here；　there　was　nobody　left　to　speak　to；　there　was　nobody　to　offend　anymore。
　Madness　came　into　this　house　through　that　door　into　this　kitchen；　moving　on　size…eleven　feet。　Sitting　in　the　dark；　he　sensed　madness　like　a　bloodhound　sniffs　a　shirt。
　Graham　had　studied　the　detectives'　report　at　Atlanta　Homicide　for　most　of　the　day　and　early　evening。　He　remembered　that　the　light　on　the　vent　hood　over　the　stove　had　been　on　when　the　police　arrived。　He　turned　it　on　now。
　Two　framed　samplers　hung　on　the　wall　beside　the　stove。　One　said　〃Kissin'　don't　last；　cookin'　do。〃　The　other　was　〃It's　always　to　the　kitchen　that　our　friends　best　like　to　e；　to　hear　the　heartbeat　of　the　house；　take　fort　in　its　hum。〃
　Graham　looked　at　his　watch。　Eleven…thirty　P。M。　According　to　the　pathologist；　the　deaths　occurred　between　eleven　P。M。　and　one　AM。
　First　there　was　the　entry。　He　thought　about　that　。　。　。　
　
　The　madman　slipped　the　hook　on　the　outside　screen　door。　Stood　in　the　darkness　of　the　porch　and　took　something　from　his　pocket。　A　suction　cup；　maybe　the　base　of　a　pencil　sharpener　designed　to　stick　to　a　desktop。
　Crouched　against　the　wooden　lower　half　of　the　kitchen　door；　the　madman　raised　his　head　to　peer　through　the　glass。　He　put　out　his　tongue　and　licked　the　cup；　pressed　it　to　the　glass　and　flicked　the　lever　to　make　it　stick。　A　small　glass　cutter　was　attached　to　the　cup　with　string　so　that　he　could　cut　a　circle。
　Tiny　squeal　of　the　glass　cutter　and　one　solid　tap　to　break　the　glass。　One　hand　to　tap；　one　hand　to　hold　the　suction　cup。　The　glass　must　not　fall。　The　loose　piece　of　glass　is　slightly　egg…shaped　because　the　string　wrapped　around　the　shaft　of　the　suction　cup　as　he　cut。　A　little　grating　noise　as　he　pulls　the　piece　of　glass　back　outside。　He　does　not　care　that　he　leaves　AB　saliva　on　the　glass。
　His　hand　in　the　tight　glove　snakes　in　through　the　hole；　finds　the　lock。　The　door　　opens　silently。　He　is　inside。　In　the　light　of　the　vent　hood　he　can　see　his　body　in　this　strange　kitchen。　It　is　pleasantly　cool　in　the　house。
　
　Will　Graham　ate　two　Di…Gels。　The　crackle　of　the　cellophane　irritated　him　as　he　stuffed　it　in　his　pocket。　He　walked　through　the　living　room；　holding　his　flashlight　well　away　from　him　by　habit。　Though　he　had　studied　the　floor　plan；　he　made　one　wrong　turn　before　he　found　the　stairs。　They　did　not　creak。
　Now　he　stood　in　the　doorway　of　the　master　bedroom。　He　could　see　faintly　without　the　flashlight。　A　digital　clock　on　a　nightstand　projected　the　time　on　the　ceiling　and　an　orange　night　light　burned　above　the　baseboard　by　the　bathroom。　The　coppery　smell　of　blood　was　strong。
　Eyes　accustomed　to　the　dark　could　see　well　enough。　The　madman　could　distinguish　Mr。　Leeds　from　his　wife。　There　was　enough　light　for　him　to　cross　the　room；　grab　Leeds's　hair　and　cut　his　throat。　What　then？　Back　to　the　wall　switch；　a　greeting　to　Mrs。　Leeds　and　then　the　gunshot　that　disabled　her？
　Graham　switched　on　the　lights　and　bloodstains　shouted　at　him　from　the　walls；　from　the　mattress　and　the　floor。　The　very　air　had　screams　smeared　on　it。　He　flinched　from　the　noise　in　this　silent　room　full　of　dark　stains　drying。
　Graham　sat　on　the　floor　until　his　head　was　quiet。　Still；　still；　be　still。
　The　number　and　variety　of　the　bloodstains　had　puzzled　Atlanta　detectives　trying　to　reconstruct　the　crime。　All　the　victims　were　found　slain　in　their　beds。　This　was　not　consistent　with　the　locations　of　the　stains。
　At　first　they　believed　Charles　Leeds　was　attacked　in　his　daughter's　room　and　his　body　dragged　to　the　master　bedroom。　Close　examination　of　the　splash　patterns　made　them　reconsider。
　The　killer's　exact　movements　in　the　rooms　were　not　yet　deterr