raymondchandler.farewellmylovely-第31部分

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　A　flat　click　and　the　announcer　went　off　the　air　and　another　one　came　on　and　started　to　read　a　hot　car　list；　in　a　slow　monotonous　voice　that　repeated　everything　twice。
　The　door　opened　and　Randall　came　in　with　a　sheaf　of　letter　size　typewritten　sheets。　He　walked　briskly　across　the　room　and　sat　down　across　the　desk　from　me　and　pushed　some　papers　at　me。
〃Sign　four　copies；〃　he　said。
I　signed　four　copies。
　The　pink　bug　reached　a　corner　of　the　room　and　put　feelers　out　for　a　good　spot　to　take　off　from。　It　seemed　a　little　discouraged。　It　went　along　the　baseboard　towards　another　corner。　I　lit　a　cigarette　and　the　dick　at　the　hushaphone　abruptly　got　up　and　went　out　of　the　office。
　Randall　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　looking　just　the　same　as　ever；　just　as　cool；　just　as　smooth；　just　as　ready　to　be　nasty　or　nice　as　the　occasion　required。
　〃I'm　telling　you　a　few　things；〃　he　said；　〃just　so　you　won't　go　having　any　more　brainstorms。　Just　so　you　won't　go　master…minding　all　over　the　landscape　any　more。　Just　so　maybe　for　Christ's　sake　you　will　let　this　one　lay。〃
　I　waited。
　〃No　prints　in　the　dump；〃　he　said。　〃You　know　which　dump　I　mean。　The　cord　was　jerked　to　turn　the　radio　off；　but　she　turned　it　up　herself　probably。　That's　pretty　obvious。　Drunks　like　loud　radios。　If　you　have　gloves　on　to　do　a　killing　and　you　turn　up　the　radio　to　drown　shots　or　something；　you　can　turn　it　off　the　same　way。　But　that　wasn't　the　way　it　was　done。　And　that　woman's　neck　is　broken。　She　was　dead　before　the　guy　started　to　smack　her　head　around。　Now　why　did　he　start　to　smack　her　head　around？〃
　〃I'm　just　listening。〃
　Randall　frowned。　〃He　probably　didn't　know　he'd　broken　her　neck。　He　was　sore　at　her；〃　he　said。　〃Deduction。〃　He　smiled　sourly。
　I　blew　some　smoke　and　waved　it　away　from　my　face。
　〃Well；　why　was　he　sore　at　her？　There　was　a　grand　reward　paid　the　time　he　was　picked　up　at　Florian's　for　the　bank　job　in　Oregon。　It　was　paid　to　a　shyster　who　is　dead　since；　but　the　Florians　likely　got　some　of　it。　Malloy　may　have　suspected　that。　Maybe　he　actually　knew　it。　And　maybe　he　was　just　trying　to　shake　it　out　of　her。〃
　I　nodded。　It　sounded　worth　a　nod。　Randall　went　on：
　〃He　took　hold　of　her　neck　just　once　and　his　fingers　didn't　slip。　If　we　get　him；　we　might　be　able　to　prove　by　the　spacing　of　the　marks　that　his　hands　did　it。　Maybe　not。　The　doc　figures　it　happened　last　night；　fairly　early。　Motion　picture　time；　anyway。　So　far　we　don't　tie　Malloy　to　the　house　last　night；　not　by　any　neighbors。　But　it　certainly　looks　like　Malloy。〃
　〃Yeah；〃　I　said。　〃Malloy　all　right。　He　probably　didn't　mean　to　kill　her；　though。　He's　just　too　strong。〃
　〃That　won't　help　him　any；〃　Randall　said　grimly。
　〃I　suppose　not。　I　just　make　the　point　that　Malloy　does　not　appear　to　me　to　be　a　killer　type。　Kill　if　cornered…but　not　for　pleasure　or　money…and　not　women。〃
　〃Is　that　an　important　point？〃　he　asked　dryly。
　〃Maybe　you　know　enough　to　know　what's　important。　And　what　isn't。　I　don't。〃
　He　stared　at　me　long　enough　for　a　police　announcer　to　have　time　to　put　out　another　bulletin　about　the　holdup　of　the　Greek　restaurant　on　South　San　Pedro。　The　suspect　was　now　in　custody。　It　turned　out　later　that　he　was　a　fourteen…year…old　Mexican　armed　with　a　water…pistol。　So　much　for　eye…witnesses。
　Randall　waited　until　the　announcer　stopped　and　went　on：
　〃We　got　friendly　this　morning。　Let's　stay　that　way。　Go　home　and　lie　down　and　have　a　good　rest。　You　look　pretty　peaked。　Just　let　me　and　the　police　department　handle　the　Marriott　killing　and　find　Moose　Malloy　and　so　on。〃
　〃I　got　paid　on　the　Marriott　business；〃　I　said。　〃I　fell　down　on　the　job。　Mrs。　Grayle　has　hired　me。　What　do　you　want　me　to　do…retire　and　live　on　my　fat？〃
　He　stared　at　me　again。　〃I　know。　I'm　human。　They　give　you　guys　licenses；　which　must　mean　they　expect　you　to　do　something　with　them　besides　hang　them　on　the　wall　in　your　office。　On　the　other　hand　any　acting…captain　with　a　grouch　can　break　you。〃
　〃Not　with　the　Grayles　behind　me。〃
　He　studied　it。　He　hated　to　admit　I　could　be　even　half　right。　So　he　frowned　and　tapped　his　desk。
　〃Just　so　we　understand　each　other；〃　he　said　after　a　pause。　〃If　you　crab　this　case；　you'll　be　in　a　jam。　It　may　be　a　jam　you　can　wriggle　out　of　this　time。　I　don't　know。　But　little　by　little　you　will　build　up　a　body　of　hostility　in　this　department　that　will　make　it　damn　hard　for　you　to　do　any　work。〃
　〃Every　private　dick　faces　that　every　day　of　his　life…unless　he's　just　a　divorce　man。〃
　〃You　can't　work　on　murders。〃
　〃You've　said　your　piece。　I　heard　you　say　it。　I　don't　expect　to　go　out　and　acplish　things　a　big　police　department　can't　acplish。　If　I　have　any　small　private　notions；　they　are　just　that…small　and　private。〃
　He　leaned　slowly　across　the　desk。　His　thin　restless　fingers　tap…tapped；　like　the　poinsettia　shoots　tapping　against　Mrs。　Jessie　Florian's　front　wail。　His　creamy　gray　hair　shone。　His　cool　steady　eyes　were　on　mine。
　〃Let's　go　on；〃　he　said。　〃With　what　there　is　to　tell。　Amthor's　away　on　a　trip。　His　wife…and　secretary…doesn't　know　or　won't　say　where。　The　Indian　has　also　disappeared。　Will　you　sign　a　plaint　against　these　people？〃
　〃No。　I　couldn't　make　it　stick。〃
　He　looked　relieved。　〃The　wife　says　she　never　heard　of　you。　As　to　these　two　Bay　City　cops；　if　that's　what　they　were…that's　out　of　my　hands。　I'd　rather　not　have　the　thing　any　more　plicated　than　it　is。　One　thing　I　feel　pretty　sure　of…Amthor　had　nothing　to　do　with　Marriott's　death。　The　cigarettes　with　his　card　in　them　were　just　a　plant。〃
　〃Doc　Sonderborg？〃
　He　spread　his　hands。　〃The　whole　shebang　skipped。　Men　from　the　D。A。's　office　went　down　there　on　the　quiet。　No　contact　with　Bay　City　at　all。　The　house　is　locked　up　and　empty。　They　got　in；　of　course。　Some　hasty　attempt　had　been　made　to　clean　up；　but　there　are　prints…plenty　of　them。　It　will　take　a　week　to　work　out　what　we　have。　There's　a　wall　safe　they're　working　on　now。　Probably　had　dope　in　it…and　other　things。　My　guess　is　that　Sonderborg　will　have　a　record；　not　local；　somewhere　else；　for　abortion；　or　treating　gunshot　wounds　or　altering　finger　tips　or　for　illegal　use　of　dope。　If　it　es　under　Federal　statutes；　we'll　get　a　lot　of　help。〃
　〃He　said　he　was　a　medical　doctor；〃　I　said。
　Randall　shrugged。　〃May　have　been　once。　May　never　have　been　convicted。　There's　a　guy　practicing　medicine　near　Palm　Springs　right　now　who　was　indicted　as　a　dope　peddler　in　Hollywood　five　years　ago。　He　was　as　guilty　as　hell…but　the　protection　worked。　He　got　off。　Anything　else　worrying　you？〃
〃What　do　you　know　about　Brunette…for　telling？〃
〃Brunette's　a　gambler。　He's　making　plenty。　He's　making　it　an　easy　way。〃
　〃All　right；〃　I　said；　and　started　to　get　up。　〃That　sounds　reasonable。　But　it　doesn't　bring　us　any　nearer　to　this　jewel　heist　gang　that　killed　Marriott。〃
　〃I　can't　tell　you　everything；　Marlowe。〃
　〃I　don't　expect　it；〃　I　said。　〃By　the　way；　Jessie　Florian　told　me…the　second　time　I　saw　her…that　she　had　been　a　servant　in　Marriott's　family　once。　That　was　why　he　was　sending　her　money。　Anything　to　support　that？〃
　〃Yes。　Letters　in　his　safety…deposit　box　from　her　thanking　him　and　saying　the　same　thing。〃　He　looked　as　if　he　was　going　to　lose　his　temper。　〃Now　will　you　for　God's　sake　go　home　and　mind　your　own　business？〃
　〃Nice　of　him　to　take　such　care　of　the　letters；　wasn't　it？〃
　He　lifted　his　eyes　until　their　glance　rested　on　the　top　of　my　head。　Then　he　lowered　the　lids　until　half　the　iris　was　covered。　He　looked　at　me　like　that　for　a　long　ten　seconds。　Then　he　smiled。　He　was　doing　an　awful　lot　of　smiling　that　day。　Using　up　a　whole　week's　supply。
　〃I　have　a　theory　about　that；〃　he　said。　〃It's　crazy；　but　it's　human　nature。　Marriott　was　by　the　circumstances　of　his　life　a　threatened　man。　All　crooks　are　gamblers；　more　or　less；　and　all　gamblers　are　superstitious…more　or　less。　I　think　Jessie　Florian　was　Marriott's　lucky　piece。　As　long　as　he　took　care　of　her；　nothing　would　happen　to　him。〃
　I　turned　my　head　and　looked　for　the　pink…headed　bug。　He　had　tried　two　corners　of　the　room　now　and　was　moving　off　disconsolately　towards　a　third。　I　went　over　and　picked　him　up　in　my　handkerchief　and　carried　him　back　to　the　desk。
　〃Look；〃　I　said。　〃This　room　is　eighteen　floors　above　ground。　And　this　little　bug　climbs　all　the　way　up　here　just　to　make　a　friend。　Me。　My　luck　piece。〃　I　folded　the　bug　carefully　into　the　soft　part　of　the　handkerchief　and　tucked　the　handkerchief　into　my　pocket。　Randall　was　pie…eyed。　His　mouth　moved；　but　nothing　came　out　of　it。
〃I　wonder　whose　lucky　piece　Marriott　was；〃　I　said。
〃Not　yours；　pal。〃　His　voice　was　acid…cold　acid。
〃Perhaps　not　yours　either。〃　My　voice　was　just　a　voice。　I　went　out　of　the　room　and　shut　the　door。
　I　rode　the　express　elevator　down　to　the　Spring　Street　entrance　and　walked　out　on　the　front　porch　of　City　Hall　and　down　some　steps　and　over　to　the　flower　beds。　I　put　the　pink　bug　down　carefully　behind　a　bush。
　I　wondered；　in　the　taxi　going　home；　how　long　it　would　take　him　to　make　the　Homicide　Bureau　again。
　I　got　my　car　out　of　the　garage　at　the　back　of　the　apartment　house　and　ate　some　lunch　in　Hollywood　before　I　started　down　to　Bay　City。　It　was　a　beautiful　cool　sunny　afternoon　down　at　the　beach。　I　left　Arguello　Boulevard　at　Third　Street　and　drove　over　to　the　City　Hall。
　
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　It　was　a　cheap　looking　building　for　so　prosperous　a　town。　It　looked　more　like　something　out　of　the　Bible　belt。　Bums　sat　unmolested　in　a　long　row　on　the　retaining　wall　that　kept　the　front　lawn…now　mostly　Bermuda　grass…from　falling　into　the　street。　The　building　was　of　three　stories　and　had　an　old　belfry　at　the　top；　and　the　bell　still　hanging　in　the　belfry。　They　had　probably　rung　it　for　the　volunteer　fire　brigade　back　in　the　good　old　chaw…and…spit　days。
　The　cracked　walk　and　the　front　steps　let　to　open　double　doors　in　which　a　knot　of　obvious　city　hall　fixers　hung　around　waiting　for　something　to　happen　so　they　could　make　something　else　out　of　it。　They　all　had　the　well…fed　stomachs；　the　careful　eyes；　the　nice　clothes　and　the　reach…me…down　manners。　They　gave　me　about　four　inches　to　get　in。
　Inside　was　a　long　dark　hallway　that　had　been　mopped　the　day　McKinley　was　inaugurated。　A　wooden　sign　pointed　out　the　police　department　Information　Desk。　A　uniformed　man　dozed　behind　a　pint…sized　PBX　set　into　the　end　of　a　scarred　w