th.red dragon-第3部分

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　reconsider。
　The　killer's　exact　movements　in　the　rooms　were　not　yet　deterrnined。
　Now；　with　the　advantage　of　the　autopsy　and　lab　reports；　Will　Graham　began　to　see　how　it　had　happened。
　The　intruder　cut　Charles　Leeds's　throat　as　he　lay　asleep　beside　his　wife；　went　back　to　the　wall　switch　and　turned　on　the　light　…　hairs　and　oil　from　Mr。　Leeds's　head　were　left　on　the　switchplate　by　a　smooth　glove。　He　shot　Mrs。　Leeds　as　she　was　rising；　then　went　toward　the　children's　rooms。
　Leeds　rose　with　his　cut　throat　and　tried　to　protect　the　children；　losing　great　gouts　of　blood　and　an　unmistakable　arterial　spray　as　he　tried　to　fight。　He　was　shoved　away；　fell　and　died　with　his　daughter　in　her　room。
　One　of　the　two　boys　was　shot　in　bed。　The　other　boy　was　also　found　in　bed；　but　he　had　dust　balls　in　his　hair。　Police　believed　he　was　dragged　out　from　under　his　bed　to　be　shot。
　When　all　of　them　were　dead；　except　possibly　Mrs。　Leeds；　the　smashing　of　mirrors　began；　the　selection　of　shards；　the　further　attention　to　Mrs。　Leeds。
　Graham　had　full　copies　of　all　the　autopsy　protocols　in　his　box。　Here　was　the　one　on　Mrs。　Leeds。　The　bullet　entered　to　the　right　of　her　navel　and　lodged　ii＇　her　lumbar　spine；　but　she　died　of　strangulation。
　The　increase　in　serotonin　and　free　histamine　levels　in　the　gunshot　wound　indicated　she　had　lived　at　least　five　minutes　after　she　was　shot。　The　histamine　was　much　higher　than　the　serotonin；　so　she　had　not　lived　more　than　fifteen　minutes。　Most　of　her　other　injuries　were　probably；　but　not　conclusively；　postmortem。
　If　the　other　injuries　were　postmortem；　what　was　the　killer　doing　in　the　interval　while　Mrs。　Leeds　waited　to　die？　Graham　wondered。　Struggling　with　Leeds　and　killing　the　others；　yes；　but　that　would　have　taken　less　than　a　minute。　Smashing　the　mirrors。　But　what　else？
　The　Atlanta　detectives　were　thorough。　They　had　measured　and　photographed　exhaustively；　had　vacuumed　and　grid…searched　and　taken　the　traps　from　the　drains。　Still；　Graham　looked　for　himself。
　From　the　police　photographs　and　taped　outlines　on　the　mattresses；　Graham　could　see　where　the　bodies　had　been　found。　The　evidence　…　nitrate　traces　on　bedclothes　in　the　case　of　the　gunshot　wounds　…　indicated　that　they　were　found　in　positions　approximating　those　in　which　they　died。
　But　the　profusion　of　bloodstains　and　matted　sliding　marks　on　the　hall　carpet　remained　unexplained。　One　detective　had　theorized　that　some　of　the　victims　tried　to　crawl　away　from　the　killer。　Graham　did　not　believe　it　…　clearly　the　killer　moved　them　after　they　were　dead　and　then　put　them　back　the　way　they　were　when　he　killed　them。
　What　he　did　with　Mrs。　Leeds　was　obvious。　But　what　about　the　others？　He　had　not　disfigured　them　further；　as　he　did　Mrs。　Leeds。　The　children　each　suffered　a　single　gunshot　wound　in　the　head。　Charles　Leeds　bled　to　death；　with　aspirated　blood　contributing。　The　only　additional　mark　on　him　was　a　superficial　ligature　mark　around　his　chest；　believed　to　be　postmortem。　What　did　the　killer　do　with　them　after　they　were　dead？
　From　his　box　Graham　took　the　police　photographs；　lab　reports　on　the　individual　blood　and　organic　stains　in　the　room　and　standard　parison　plates　of　blood…drop　trajectories。
　He　went　over　the　upstairs　rooms　minutely；　trying　to　match　injuries　to　stains；　trying　to　work　backward。　He　plotted　each　splash　on　a　measured　field　sketch　of　the　master　bedroom；　using　the　standard　parison　plates　to　estimate　the　direction　and　velocity　of　the　bloodfall。　In　this　way　he　hoped　to　learn　the　positions　the　bodies　were　in　at　different　times。
　Here　was　a　row　of　three　bloodstains　slanting　up　and　around　a　corner　of　the　bedroom　wall。　Here　were　three　faint　stains　on　the　carpet　beneath　them。　The　wall　above　the　headboard　on　Charles　Leeds's　side　of　the　bed　was　bloodstained；　and　there　were　swipes　along　the　baseboards。　Graham's　field　sketch　began　to　look　like　a　join…the…'lots　puzzle　with　no　numbers。　He　stared　at　it；　looked　up　at　the　room　and　back　to　the　sketch　until　his　head　ached。
　He　went　into　the　bathroom　and　took　his　last　two　Bufferin；　scooping　up　water　in　his　hand　from　the　faucet　in　the　sink。　He　splashed　water　on　his　face　and　dried　it　with　his　shirttail。　Water　spilled　on　the　floor。　He　had　forgotten　that　the　trap　was　gone　from　the　drain。　Otherwise　the　bathroom　was　undisturbed；　except　for　the　broken　mirror　and　traces　of　the　red　fingerprint　powder　called　Dragon's　Blood。　Toothbrushes；　facial　cream；　razor；　were　all　in　place。
　The　bathroom　looked　as　though　a　family　still　used　it。　Mrs。　Leeds's　panty　hose　hung　on　the　towel　racks　where　she　had　left　them　to　dry。　He　saw　that　she　cut　the　leg　off　a　pair　when　it　had　a　runner　so　she　could　match　two　one…legged　pairs；　wear　them　at　the　same　time；　and　save　money。　Mrs。　Leeds's　small；　homey　economy　pierced　him；　Molly　did　the　same　thing。
　Graham　climbed　out　a　window　onto　the　porch　roof　and　sat　on　the　gritty　shingles。　He　hugged　his　knees；　his　damp　shirt　pressed　cold　across　his　back；　and　snorted　the　smell　of　slaughter　out　of　his　nose。
　The　lights　of　Atlanta　rusted　the　night　sky　and　the　stars　were　hard　to　see。　The　night　would　be　clear　in　the　Keys。　He　could　be　watching　shooting　stars　with　Molly　and　Willy；　listening　for　the　whoosh　they　solemnly　agreed　a　shooting　star　must　make。　The　Delta　Aquarid　meteor　shower　was　at　its　maximum；　and　Willy　was　up　for　it。
　He　shivered　and　snorted　again。　He　did　not　want　to　think　of　Molly　now。　To　do　so　was　tasteless　as　well　as　distracting。
　Graham　had　a　lot　of　trouble　with　taste。　Often　his　thoughts　were　not　tasty。　There　were　no　effective　partitions　in　his　mind。　What　he　saw　and　learned　touched　everything　else　he　knew。　Some　of　the　binations　were　hard　to　live　with。　But　he　could　not　anticipate　them；　could　not　block　and　repress。　His　learned　values　of　decency　and　propriety　tagged　along；　shocked　at　his　associations；　appalled　at　his　dreams；　sorry　that　in　the　bone　arena　of　his　skull　there　were　no　forts　for　what　he　loved。　His　associations　came　at　the　speed　of　light。　His　value　judgments　were　at　the　pace　of　a　responsive　reading。　They　could　never　keep　up　and　direct　his　thinking。
　He　viewed　his　own　mentality　as　grotesque　but　useful；　like　a　chair　made　of　antlers。　There　was　nothing　he　could　do　about　it。
　Graham　turned　off　the　lights　in　the　Leeds　house　and　went　out　through　the　kitchen。　At　the　far　end　of　the　hack　porch；　his　flashlight　revealed　a　bicycle　and　a　wicker　dog　bed。　There　was　a　doghouse　in　the　backyard；　a　dog　bowl　by　the　steps。
　The　evidence　indicated　the　Leedses　were　surprised　in　their　sleep。　Holding　the　flashlight　between　his　chin　and　chest；　he　wrote　a　memo：　Jack　…　where　was　the　dog？
　Graham　drove　hack　to　his　hotel。　He　had　to　concentrate　on　his　driving；　though　there　was　little　traffic　at　four…thirty　A。M。　His　head　still　ached　and　he　watched　for　an　all…night　pharmacy。
　He　found　one　on　Peachtree。　A　slovenly　rent…a…cop　dozed　near　the　door。　A　pharmacist　in　a　jacket　dingy　enough　to　highlight　his　dandruff　sold　Graham　Bufferin。　The　glare　in　the　place　was　painful。　Graham　disliked　young　pharmacists。　They　had　a　middle…of…the…litter　look　about　them。　They　were　often　smug　and　he　suspected　that　they　were　unpleasant　at　home。
　〃What　else？〃　the　pharmacist　said；　his　fingers　poised　above　the　cash　register　keys。　〃What　else？〃
　The　Atlanta　FBI　office　had　booked　him　into　an　absurd　hotel　near　the　city's　new　Peachtree　Center。　It　had　glass　elevators　shaped　like　milkweed　pods　to　let　him　know　he　was　really　in　town　now。
　Graham　rode　up　to　his　room　with　two　conventioneers　wearing　name　tags　with　the　printed　greeting　〃Hi！〃　They　held　to　the　rail　and　looked　over　the　lobby　as　they　ascended。
　〃Looka　yonder　by　the　desk　…　that's　Wilma　and　them　just　now　ing　in；〃　the　larger　one　said。　〃God　damn；　I'd　love　to　tear　off　a　piece　of　that。〃
　〃Fuck　her　till　her　nose　bleeds；〃　the　other　one　said。
　Fear　and　rut；　and　anger　at　the　fear。
　〃Say；　you　know　why　a　woman　has　legs？〃
　〃Why？〃　
　〃So　she　won't　leave　a　trail　like　a　snail。〃
　The　elevator　doors　opened。
　〃Is　this　it？　This　is　it；〃　the　larger　one　said。　He　lurched　against　the　facing　as　he　got　off。
　〃This　is　the　blind　leading　the　blind；〃　the　other　one　said。
　Graham　put　his　cardboard　box　on　the　dresser　in　his　room。　Then　he　put　it　in　a　drawer　where　he　could　not　see　it。　He　had　had　enough　of　the　wide…eyed　dead。　He　wanted　to　call　Molly；　but　it　was　too　early。
　A　meeting　was　scheduled　for　eight　A。M。　at　the　Atlanta　police　headquarters。　He'd　have　little　enough　to　tell　them。
　He　would　try　to　sleep。　His　mind　was　a　busy　rooming　house　with　arguments　all　around　him；　and　they　were　fighting　somewhere　down　the　hall。　He　was　numb　and　empty　and　he　drank　two　fingers　of　whiskey　from　his　bathroom　glass　before　he　lay　down。　The　darkness　pressed　too　closely　on　him。　He　turned　on　the　bathroom　light　and　went　back　to　bed。　He　pretended　Molly　was　in　the　bathroom　brushing　her　hair。
　Lines　from　the　autopsy　protocols　sounded　in　his　own　voice；　though　he　had　never　read　them　aloud：　〃。　。　。　the　feces　was　formed　。　。　。　a　trace　of　talcum　on　the　lower　right　leg。　Fracture　of　the　medial　orbit　wall　owing　to　insertion　of　mirror　shard　。　。　。〃
　Graham　tried　to　think　about　the　beach　at　Sugarloaf　Key；　he　tried　to　hear　the　waves。　He　pictured　his　workbench　in　his　mind　and　thought　about　the　escapement　for　the　water　clock　he　and　Willy　were　building。　He　sang　〃Whiskey　River〃　under　his　breath　and　tried　to　run　〃Black　Mountain　Rag〃　through　his　head　from　one　end　to　the　other。　Molly's　music。　Doe　Watson's　guitar　part　was　all　right；　but　he　always　lost　it　in　the　fiddle　break。　Molly　had　tried　to　teach　him　clog　dancing　in　the　backyard　and　she　was　bouncing　。　。　。　and　finally　he　dozed。
　He　woke　in　an　hour；　rigid　and　sweating；　seeing　the　other　pillow　silhouetted　against　the　bathroom　light　and　it　was　Mrs。　Leeds　lying　beside　him　bitten　and　torn；　mirrored　eyes　and　blood　like　the　legs　of　spectacles　over　her　temples　and　ears。　He　could　not　turn　his　head　to　face　her。　Brain　screaming　like　a　smoke　alarm；　he　put　his　hand　over　there　and　touched　dry　cloth。
　Having　acted；　he　felt　some　immediate　relief。　He　rose；　his　heart　pounding；　and　put　on　a　dry　T…shirt。　He　threw　the　wet　one　into　the　bathtub。　He　could　not　move　over　to　the　dry　side　of　the　bed。　Instead　he　put　a　towel　on　the　side　where　he　had　sweated　and　lay　down　on　it；　propped　against　the　headboard　with　a　stiff