raymondchandler.farewellmylovely-第14部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　rich；　worth　about　twenty　millions。　He　used　to　own　a　radio　station　in　Beverly　Hills；　Station　KFDK；　and　Mrs。　Grayle　used　to　work　there。　He　married　her　five　years　ago。　She's　a　ravishing　blonde。　Mr。　Grayle　is　elderly；　liverish；　stays　home　and　takes　calomel　while　Mrs。　Grayle　goes　places　and　has　a　good　time。〃
　〃This　manager　of　Block's；〃　I　said。　〃He's　a　fellow　that　gets　around。〃
　〃Oh；　I　didn't　get　all　that　from　him；　silly。　Just　about　the　necklace。　The　rest　I　got　from　Giddy　Gertie　Arbogast。〃
　I　reached　into　the　deep　drawer　and　brought　the　office　bottle　up　again。
　〃You're　not　going　to　turn　out　to　be　one　of　those　drunken　detectives；　are　you？〃　she　asked　anxiously。
　〃Why　not？　They　always　solve　their　cases　and　they　never　even　sweat。　Get　on　with　the　story。〃
　〃Giddy　Gertie　is　the　society　editor　of　the　Chronicle。　I've　known　him　for　years。　He　weighs　two　hundred　and　wears　a　Hitler　mustache。　He　got　out　his　morgue　file　on　the　Grayles。　Look。〃
　She　reached　into　her　bag　and　slid　a　photograph　across　the　desk；　a　five…by…three　glazed　still。
　It　was　a　blonde。　A　blonde　to　make　a　bishop　kick　a　hole　in　a　stained　glass　window。　She　was　wearing　street　clothes　that　looked　black　and　white；　and　a　hat　to　match　and　she　was　a　little　haughty；　but　not　too　much。　Whatever　you　needed；　wherever　you　happened　to　be…she　had　it。　About　thirty　years　old。
　I　poured　a　fast　drink　and　burned　my　throat　getting　it　down。　〃Take　it　away；〃　I　said。　〃I'll　start　jumping。〃
　〃Why；　I　got　it　for　you。　You'll　want　to　see　her；　won't　you？〃
　I　looked　at　it　again。　Then　I　slid　it　under　the　blotter。　〃How　about　tonight　at　eleven？〃
　〃Listen；　this　isn't　just　a　bunch　of　gag　lines；　Mr。　Marlowe。　I　called　her　up。　She'll　see　you。　On　business。〃
　〃It　may　start　out　that　way。〃
　She　made　an　impatient　gesture；　so　I　stopped　fooling　around　and　got　my　battle…scarred　frown　back　on　my　face。　〃What　will　she　see　me　about？〃
　〃Her　necklace；　of　course。　It　was　like　this。　I　called　her　up　and　had　a　lot　of　trouble　getting　to　talk　to　her；　of　course；　but　finally　I　did。　Then　I　gave　her　the　song　and　dance　I　had　given　the　nice　man　at　Block's　and　it　didn't　take。　She　sounded　as　if　she　had　a　hangover。　She　said　something　about　talking　to　her　secretary；　but　I　managed　to　keep　her　on　the　phone　and　ask　her　if　it　was　true　she　had　a　Fei　Tsui　jade　necklace。　After　a　while　she　said；　yes。　I　asked　if　I　might　see　it。　She　said；　what　for？　I　said　my　piece　over　again　and　it　didn't　take　any　better　than　the　first　time。　I　could　hear　her　yawning　and　bawling　somebody　outside　the　mouthpiece　for　putting　me　on。　Then　I　said　I　was　working　for　Philip　Marlowe。　She　said　'So　what？'　Just　like　that。〃
　〃Incredible。　But　all　the　society　dames　talk　like　tramps　nowadays。〃
　〃I　wouldn't　know；〃　Miss　Riordan　said　sweetly。　〃Probably　some　of　them　are　tramps。　So　I　asked　her　if　she　had　a　　phone　with　no　extension　and　she　said　what　business　was　it　of　mine。　But　the　funny　thing　was　she　hadn't　hung　up　on　me。〃
　〃She　had　the　jade　on　her　mind　and　she　didn't　know　what　you　were　leading　up　to。　And　she　may　have　heard　from　Randall　already。〃
　Miss　Riordan　shook　her　head。　〃No；　I　called　him　later　and　he　didn't　know　who　owned　the　necklace　until　I　told　　him。　He　was　quite　surprised　that　I　had　found　out。〃
　〃He'll　get　used　to　you；〃　I　said。　〃He'll　probably　have　to。　What　then？〃
　〃So　I　said　to　Mrs。　Grayle：　'You'd　still　like　it　back；　wouldn't　you？'　Just　like　that。　I　didn't　know　any　other　way　to　say。　I　had　to　say　something　that　would　jar　her　a　bit。　It　did。　She　gave　me　another　number　in　a　hurry。　And　I　called　that　and　I　said　I'd　like　to　see　her。　She　seemed　surprised。　So　I　had　to　tell　her　the　story。　She　didn't　like　it。　But　she　had　been　wondering　why　she　hadn't　heard　from　Marriott。　I　guess　she　thought　he　had　gone　south　with　the　money　or　something。　So　I'm　to　see　her　at　two　o'clock。　Then　I'll　tell　her　about　you　and　how　nice　and　discreet　you　are　and　how　you　would　be　a　good　man　to　help　her　get　it　back；　if　there's　any　chance　and　so　on。　She's　already　interested。〃
I　didn't　say　anything。　I　just　stared　at　her。　She　looked　hurt。　〃What's　the　matter？　Did　I　do　right？〃
〃Can't　you　get　it　through　your　head　that　this　is　a　police　case　now　and　that　I've　been　warned　to　stay　off　it？〃
〃Mrs。　Grayle　has　a　perfect　right　to　employ　you；　if　she　wants　to。〃
〃To　do　what？〃
　She　snapped　and　unsnapped　her　bag　impatiently。　〃Oh；　my　goodness…a　woman　like　that…with　her　looks…can't　you　see…〃　She　stopped　and　bit　her　lip。　〃What　kind　of　man　was　Marriott？〃
〃I　hardly　knew　him。　I　thought　he　was　a　bit　of　a　pansy。　I　didn't　like　him　very　well。〃
〃Was　he　a　man　who　would　be　attractive　to　women？〃
〃Some　women。　Others　would　want　to　spit。〃
〃Well；　it　looks　as　if　he　might　have　been　attractive　to　Mrs。　Grayle。　She　went　out　with　him。〃　
〃She　probably　goes　out　with　a　hundred　men。　There's　very　little　chance　to　get　the　necklace　now。〃
〃Why？〃
　I　got　up　and　walked　to　the　end　of　the　office　and　slapped　the　wall　with　the　flat　of　my　hand；　hard。　The　clacking　typewriter　on　the　other　side　stopped　for　a　moment；　and　then　went　on。　I　looked　down　through　the　open　window　into　the　shaft　between　my　building　and　the　Mansion　House　Hotel。　The　coffee　shop　smell　was　strong　enough　to　build　a　garage　on。　I　went　back　to　my　desk；　dropped　the　bottle　of　whiskey　back　into　the　drawer；　shut　the　drawer　and　sat　down　again。　I　lit　my　pipe　for　the　eighth　or　ninth　time　and　looked　carefully　across　the　half…dusted　glass　to　Miss　Riordan's　grave　and　honest　little　face。
　You　could　get　to　like　that　face　a　lot。　Glamoured　up　blondes　were　a　dime　a　dozen；　but　that　was　a　face　that　would　wear。　I　smiled　at　it。
　〃Listen；　Anne。　Killing　Marriott　was　a　dumb　mistake。　The　gang　behind　this　holdup　would　never　pull　anything　like　that。　What　must　have　happened　was　that　some　gowed…up　run　they　took　along　for　a　gun…holder　lost　his　head。　Marriott　made　a　false　move　and　some　punk　beat　him　down　and　it　was　done　so　quickly　nothing　could　be　done　to　prevent　it。　Here　is　an　organized　mob　with　inside　information　on　jewels　and　the　movements　of　the　women　that　wear　them。　They　ask　moderate　returns　and　they　would　play　ball。　But　here　also　is　a　back　alley　murder　that　doesn't　fit　at　all。　My　idea　is　that　whoever　did　it　is　a　dead　man　hours　ago；　with　weights　on　his　ankles；　deep　in　the　Pacific　Ocean。　And　either　the　jade　went　down　with　him　or　else　they　have　some　idea　of　its　real　value　and　they　have　cached　it　away　in　a　place　where　it　will　stay　for　a　long　time…maybe　for　years　before　they　dare　bring　it　out　again。　Or；　if　the　gang　is　big　enough；　it　may　show　up　on　the　other　side　of　the　world。　The　eight　thousand　they　asked　seems　pretty　low　if　they　really　know　the　value　of　the　jade。　But　it　would　be　hard　to　sell。　I'm　sure　of　one　thing。　They　never　meant　to　murder　anybody。〃
　Anne　Riordan　was　listening　to　me　with　her　lips　slightly　parted　and　a　rapt　expression　on　her　face；　as　if　she　was　looking　at　the　Dalai　Lhama。
　She　closed　her　mouth　slowly　and　nodded　once。　〃You're　wonderful；〃　she　said　softly。　〃But　you're　nuts。〃
　She　stood　up　and　gathered　her　bag　to　her。　〃Will　you　go　to　see　her　or　won't　you？〃
　〃Randall　can't　stop　me…if　it　es　from　her。〃
　〃All　right。　I'm　going　to　see　another　society　editor　and　get　some　more　dope　on　the　Grayles　if　I　can。　About　her　love　life。　She　would　have　one；　wouldn't　she？〃
The　face　framed　in　auburn　hair　was　wistful。
〃Who　hasn't？〃　I　sneered。
〃I　never　had。　Not　really。〃
I　reached　up　and　shut　my　mouth　with　my　hand。　She　gave　me　a　sharp　look　and　moved　towards　the　door。
〃You've　forgotten　something；〃　I　said。
She　stopped　and　turned。　〃What？〃　She　looked　all　over　the　top　of　the　desk。
〃You　know　damn　well　what。〃
　She　came　back　to　the　desk　and　leaned　across　it　earnestly。　〃Why　would　they　kill　the　man　that　killed　Marriott；　if　they　don't　go　in　for　murder？〃
　〃Because　he　would　be　the　type　that　would　get　picked　up　sometime　and　would　talk…when　they　took　his　dope　away　from　him。　I　mean　they　wouldn't　kill　a　customer。〃
〃What　makes　you　so　sure　the　killer　took　dope？〃
〃I'm　not　sure。　I　just　said　that。　Most　punks　do。〃
　〃Oh。〃　She　straightened　up　and　nodded　and　smiled。　〃I　guess　you　mean　these；〃　she　said　and　reached　quickly　into　her　bag　and　laid　a　small　tissue　bag　package　on　the　desk。
　I　reached　for　it；　pulled　a　rubber　band　off　it　carefully　and　opened　up　the　paper。　On　it　lay　three　long　thick　Russian　cigarettes　with　paper　mouthpieces。　I　looked　at　her　and　didn't　say　anything。
　〃I　know　I　shouldn't　have　taken　them；〃　she　said　almost　breathlessly。　〃But　I　knew　they　were　jujus。　They　usually　e　in　plain　papers　but　lately　around　Bay　City　they　have　been　putting　them　out　like　this。　I've　seen　several。　I　thought　it　was　kind　of　mean　for　the　poor　man　to　be　found　dead　with　marihuana　cigarettes　in　his　pocket。〃
〃You　ought　to　have　taken　the　case　too；〃　I　said　quietly。　〃There　was　dust　in　it。　And　it　being　empty　was　suspicious。〃
〃I　couldn't…with　you　there。　I…I　almost　went　back　and　did。　But　I　didn't　quite　have　the　courage。　Did　it　get　you　in　wrong？〃
〃No；〃　I　lied。　〃Why　should　it？〃
〃I'm　glad　of　that；〃　she　said　wistfully。
〃Why　didn't　you　throw　them　away？〃
She　thought　about　it；　her　bag　clutched　to　her　side；　her　wide…brimmed　absurd　hat　tilted　so　that　it　hid　one　eye。
　〃I　guess　it　must　be　because　I'm　a　cop's　daughter；〃　she　said　at　last。　〃You　just　don't　throw　away　evidence。〃　Her　smile　was　frail　and　guilty　and　her　cheeks　were　flushed。　I　shrugged。
　〃Well…〃　the　word　hung　in　the　air；　like　smoke　in　a　closed　room。　Her　lips　stayed　parted　after　saying　it。　I　let　it　hang。　The　flush　on　her　face　deepened。
〃I'm　horribly　sorry。　I　shouldn't　have　done　it。〃　
I　passed　that　too。
She　went　very　quickly　to　the　door　and　out。
　
　
　14
　I　poked　at　one　of　the　long　Russian　cigarettes　with　a　finger；　then　laid　them　in　a　neat　row；　side　by　side　and　squeaked　my　chair。　You　just　don't　throw　away　evidence。　So　they　were　evidence。　Evidence　of　what？　That　a　man　occasionally　smoked　a　stick　of　tea；　a　man　who　looked　as　if　any　touch　of　the　exotic　would　appeal　to　him。　On　the　other　hand　lots　of　tough　guys　smoked　marihuana；　also　lots　of　band　musicians　and　high　school　kids；　and　nice　girls　who　had　given　up　trying。　American　hasheesh。　A　weed　that　would　grow　anywhere。　Unlawful　to　cultivate　now。　That　meant　a　lot　in　a　country　as　big　as　the　U。S。A。
　I　sat　there　and　puffed　my　pipe　and　listened　to　the　clacking　typewriter　behind　the　wall　of　my　office　and　the　bong…bong　of　the　traffic　light