raymondchandler.farewellmylovely-第27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！


　Anne　Riordan　sat　opposite　me；　leaning　forward；　her　neat　chin　cupped　in　her　neat　hand；　her　eyes　dark　and　shadowy　under　the　fluffed　out　reddish…brown　hair。　There　was　a　pencil　stuck　through　her　hair。　She　looked　worried。　I　had　told　her　some　of　it；　but　not　all。　Especially　about　Moose　Malloy　I　had　not　told　her。
　〃I　thought　you　were　drunk；〃　she　said。　〃I　thought　you　had　to　be　drunk　before　you　came　to　see　me。　I　thought　you　had　been　out　with　that　blonde。　I　thought…I　don't　know　what　I　thought。〃
〃I　bet　you　didn't　get　all　this　writing；〃　I　said；　looking　around。　〃Not　even　if　you　got　paid　for　what　you　thought　you　thought。〃
〃And　my　dad　didn't　get　it　grafting　on　the　cops　either；〃　she　said。　〃Like　that　fat　slob　they　have　for　chief　of　police　nowadays。〃
〃It's　none　of　my　business；〃　I　said。
She　said：　〃We　had　some　lots　at　Del　Rey。　Just　sand　lots　they　suckered　him　for。　And　they　turned　out　to　be　oil　lots。〃
I　nodded　and　drank　out　of　the　nice　crystal　glass　I　was　holding。　What　was　in　it　had　a　nice　warm　taste。
〃A　fellow　could　settle　down　here；〃　I　said。　〃Move　right　in。　Everything　set　for　him。〃
〃If　he　was　that　kind　of　fellow。　And　anybody　wanted　him　to；〃　she　said。
〃No　butler；〃　I　said。　〃That　makes　it　tough。〃
　She　flushed。　〃But　you…you'd　rather　get　your　head　beaten　to　a　pulp　and　your　arm　riddled　with　dope　needles　and　your　chin　used　for　a　backboard　in　a　basketball　game。　God　knows　there's　enough　of　it。〃
　I　didn't　say　anything。　I　was　too　tired。
　〃At　least；〃　she　said；　〃you　had　the　brains　to　look　in　those　mouthpieces。　The　way　you　talked　over　on　Aster　Drive　I　thought　you　had　missed　the　whole　thing。〃
　〃Those　cards　don't　mean　anything。〃
　Her　eyes　snapped　at　me。　〃You　sit　there　and　tell　me　that　after　the　man　had　you　beaten　up　by　a　couple　of　crooked　policemen　and　thrown　in　a　two…day　liquor　cure　to　teach　you　to　mind　your　own　business？　Why　the　thing　stands　out　so　far　you　could　break　off　a　yard　of　it　and　still　have　enough　left　for　a　baseball　bat。〃
　〃I　ought　to　have　said　that　one；〃　I　said。　〃Just　my　style。　Crude。　What　sticks　out？〃
　〃That　this　elegant　psychic　person　is　nothing　but　a　high…class　mobster。　He　picks　the　prospects　and　milks　the　minds　and　then　tells　the　rough　boys　to　go　out　and　get　the　jewels。〃
〃You　really　think　that？〃
She　stared　at　me。　I　finished　my　glass　and　got　my　weak　look　on　my　face　again。　She　ignored　it。
〃Of　course　I　think　it；〃　she　said。　〃And　so　do　you。〃
〃I　think　it's　a　little　more　plicated　than　that。〃
　Her　smile　was　cozy　and　acid　at　the　same　time。　〃I　beg　your　pardon。　I　forgot　for　the　moment　you　were　a　detective。　It　would　have　to　be　plicated；　wouldn't　it？　I　suppose　there's　a　sort　of　indecency　about　a　simple　case。〃
〃It's　more　plicated　than　that；〃　I　said。
〃All　right。　I'm　listening。〃
〃I　don't　know。　I　just　think　so。　Can　I　have　one　more　drink？〃
　She　stood　up。　〃You　know；　you'll　have　to　taste　water　sometime；　just　for　the　hell　of　it。〃　She　came　over　and　took　my　glass。　〃This　is　going　to　be　the　last。〃　She　went　out　of　the　room　and　somewhere　ice　cubes　tinkled　and　I　closed　my　eyes　and　listened　to　the　small　unimportant　sounds。　I　had　no　business　ing　here。　If　they　knew　as　much　about　me　as　I　suspected；　they　might　e　here　looking。　That　would　be　a　mess。
　She　came　back　with　the　glass　and　her　fingers　cold　from　holding　the　cold　glass　touched　mine　and　I　held　them　for　a　moment　and　then　let　them　go　slowly　as　you　let　go　of　a　dream　when　you　wake　with　the　sun　in　your　face　and　have　been　in　an　enchanted　valley。
　She　flushed　and　went　back　to　her　chair　and　sat　down　and　made　a　lot　of　business　of　arranging　herself　in　it。
　She　lit　a　cigarette；　watching　me　drink。
　〃Amthor's　a　pretty　ruthless　sort　of　lad；〃　I　said。　〃But　I　don't　somehow　see　him　as　the　brain　guy　of　a　jewel　mob。　Perhaps　I'm　wrong。　If　he　was　and　he　thought　I　had　something　on　him；　I　don't　think　I'd　have　got　out　of　that　dope　hospital　alive。　But　he's　a　man　who　has　things　to　fear。　He　didn't　get　really　tough　until　I　began　to　babble　about　invisible　writing。〃
She　looked　at　me　evenly。　〃Was　there　some？〃
I　grinned。　〃If　there　was；　I　didn't　read　it。〃
　〃That's　a　funny　way　to　hide　nasty　remarks　about　a　person；　don't　you　think？　In　the　mouthpieces　of　cigarettes。　Suppose　they　were　never　found。〃
　〃I　think　the　point　is　that　Marriott　feared　something　and　that　if　anything　happened　to　him；　the　cards　would　be　found。　The　police　would　go　over　anything　in　his　pockets　with　a　fine…tooth　b。　That's　what　bothers　me。　If　Amthor's　a　crook；　nothing　would　have　been　left　to　find。〃
　〃You　mean　if　Amthor　murdered　him…or　had　him　murdered？　But　what　Marriott　knew　about　Amthor　may　not　have　had　any　direct　connection　with　the　murder。〃
　I　leaned　back　and　pressed　my　back　into　the　chair　and　finished　my　drink　and　made　believe　I　was　thinking　that　over。　I　nodded。
　〃But　the　jewel　robbery　had　a　connection　with　the　murder。　And　we're　assuming　Amthor　had　a　connection　with　the　jewel　robbery。〃
　Her　eyes　were　a　little　sly；　〃I　bet　you　feel　awful；〃　she　said。　〃Wouldn't　you　like　to　go　to　bed？〃
　〃Here？〃
　She　flushed　to　the　roots　of　her　hair。　Her　chin　stuck　out。　〃That　was　the　idea。　I'm　not　a　child。　Who　the　devil　cares　what　I　do　or　when　or　how？〃
　I　put　my　glass　aside　and　stood　up。　〃One　of　my　rare　moments　of　delicacy　is　ing　over　me；〃　I　said。　〃Will　you　drive　me　to　a　taxi　stand；　if　you're　not　too　tired？〃
　〃You　damned　sap；〃　she　said　angrily。　〃You've　been　beaten　to　a　pulp　and　shot　full　of　God　knows　how　many　kinds　of　narcotics　and　I　suppose　all　you　need　is　a　night's　sleep　to　get　up　bright　and　early　and　start　out　being　a　detective　again。〃
〃I　thought　I'd　sleep　a　little　late。〃
〃You　ought　to　be　in　a　hospital；　you　damn　fool！〃
　I　shuddered。　〃Listen；〃　I　said。　〃I'm　not　very　clear…headed　tonight　and　I　don't　think　I　ought　to　linger　around　here　too　long。　I　haven't　a　thing　on　any　of　these　people　that　I　could　prove；　but　they　seem　to　dislike　me。　Whatever　I　might　say　would　be　my　word　against　the　law；　and　the　law　in　this　town　seems　to　be　pretty　rotten。〃
　〃It's　a　nice　town；〃　she　said　sharply；　a　little　breathlessly。　〃You　can't　judge…〃
　〃Okey；　it's　a　nice　town。　So　is　Chicago。　You　could　live　there　a　long　time　and　not　see　a　Tommygun。　Sure；　it's　a　nice　town。　It's　probably　no　crookeder　than　Los　Angeles。　But　you　can　only　buy　a　piece　of　a　big　city。　You　can　buy　a　town　this　size　all　plete；　with　the　original　box　and　tissue　paper。　That's　the　difference。　And　that　makes　me　want　out。〃
　She　stood　up　and　pushed　her　chin　at　me。　〃You'll　go　bed　now　and　right　here。　I　have　a　spare　bedroom　and　you　can　turn　right　in　and…〃
　〃Promise　to　lock　your　door？〃
　She　flushed　and　bit　her　lip　〃Sometimes　I　think　you're　a　world…beater；〃　she　said；　〃and　sometimes　I　think　you're　worst　heel　I　ever　met。〃
〃On　either　count　would　you　run　me　over　to　where　I　can　get　a　taxi？〃
〃You'll　stay　here；〃　she　snapped。　〃You're　not　fit。　You're　a　sick　man。〃
〃I'm　not　too　sick　to　have　my　brain　picked；〃　I　said　nastily。
　She　ran　out　of　the　room　so　fast　she　almost　tripped　over　the　two　steps　from　the　living　room　up　to　the　hall。　She　came　back　in　nothing　flat　with　a　long　flannel　coat　on　over　her　slack　suit　and　no　hat　and　her　reddish　hair　looking　as　mad　as　her　face。　She　opened　a　side　door　and　threw　it　away　from　her；　bounced　through　it　and　her　steps　clattered　on　the　driveway。　A　garage　door　made　a　faint　sound　lifting。　A　car　door　opened　and　slammed　shut　again。　The　starter　ground　and　the　motor　caught　and　the　lights　flared　past　the　open　French　door　of　the　living　room。
　I　picked　my　hat　out　of　a　chair　and　switched　off　a　couple　of　lamps　and　saw　that　the　French　door　had　a　Yale　lock。　I　looked　back　a　moment　before　I　closed　the　door。　It　was　a　nice　room。　It　would　be　a　nice　room　to　wear　slippers　in。
　I　shut　the　door　and　the　little　car　slid　up　beside　me　and　I　went　around　behind　it　to　get　in。
　She　drove　me　all　the　way　home；　tight…lipped；　angry。　She　drove　like　a　fury。　When　I　got　out　in　front　of　my　apartment　house　she　said　goodnight　in　a　frosty　voice　and　swirled　the　little　car　in　the　middle　of　the　street　and　was　gone　before　I　could　get　my　keys　out　of　my　pocket。
　They　locked　the　lobby　door　at　eleven。　I　unlocked　it　and　passed　into　the　always　musty　lobby　and　along　to　the　stairs　and　the　elevator。　I　rode　up　to　my　floor。　Bleak　light　shone　along　it。　Milk　bottles　stood　in　front　of　service　doors。　The　red　fire　door　loomed　at　the　back。　It　had　an　open　screen　that　let　in　a　lazy　trickle　of　air　that　never　quite　swept　the　cooking　smell　out。　I　was　home　in　a　sleeping　world；　a　world　as　harmless　as　a　sleeping　cat。
　I　unlocked　the　door　of　my　apartment　and　went　in　and　sniffed　the　smell　of　it；　just　standing　there；　against　the　door　for　a　little　while　before　I　put　the　light　on。　A　homely　smell；　a　smell　of　dust　and　tobacco　smoke；　the　smell　of　a　world　where　men　live；　and　keep　on　living。
　I　undressed　and　went　to　bed。　I　had　nightmares　and　woke　out　of　them　sweating。　But　in　the　morning　I　was　a　well　man　again。
　
　29
　I　was　sitting　on　the　side　of　my　bed　in　my　pajamas；　thinking　about　getting　up；　but　not　yet　mitted。　I　didn't　feel　very　well；　but　I　didn't　feel　as　sick　as　I　ought　to；　not　as　sick　as　I　would　feel　if　I　had　a　salaried　job。　My　head　hurt　and　felt　large　and　hot　and　my　tongue　was　dry　and　had　gravel　on　it　and　my　throat　was　stiff　and　my　jaw　was　not　untender。　But　I　had　had　worse　mornings。
　It　was　a　gray　morning　with　high　fog；　not　yet　warm　but　likely　to　be。　I　heaved　up　off　the　bed　and　rubbed　the　pit　of　my　stomach　where　it　was　sore　from　vomiting。　My　left　foot　felt　fine。　It　didn't　have　an　ache　in　it。　So　I　had　to　kick　the　corner　of　the　bed　with　it。
　I　was　still　swearing　when　there　was　a　sharp　tap　at　the　door；　the　kind　of　bossy　knock　that　makes　you　want　to　open　the　door　two　inches；　emit　the　succulent　raspberry　and　slam　it　again。
　I　opened　it　a　little　wider　than　two　inches。　Detective…Lieutenant　Randall　stood　there；　in　a　brown　gabardine　suit；　with　a　pork　pie　lightweight　felt　on　his　head；　very　neat　and　clean　and　solemn　and　with　a　nasty　look　in　his　eye。
　He　pushed　the　door　slightly　and　I　stepped　away　from　it。　He　came　in　and　closed　it　and　looked　around。　〃I've　been　looking　for　you　for　two　days；〃　he　said。　He　didn't　look　at　me。　His　eyes　measured　the　room。
　〃I've　been　sick。〃
　He　walked　around　with　a　light　springy　step；　his　creamy　gray　hair　shining；　his　hat　under　his　arm　now；　his　hands　in　his　pockets。　He　wasn't　a　very　big　man　for　a　cop。　He　took　one　hand　out　of　his