raymondchandler.farewellmylovely-第34部分

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　〃What's　Sonderborg's　racket？〃
　〃Okey；　I　was　just　telling　you。　Maybe　I'm　wrong。　I　had　you　figured　for　a　guy　that　could　be　sold　a　nice　idea。〃
　〃You　don't　know　what　his　racket　is；〃　I　said。
　Hemingway　took　his　handkerchief　out　and　wiped　his　with　it。　〃Buddy；　I　hate　to　admit　it；〃　he　said。　〃But　you　ought　to　know　damn　well　that　if　I　knew　or　Blane　knew　Sonderborg　had　a　racket；　either　we　wouldn't　of　dumped　you　in　there　or　you　wouldn't　ever　have　e　out；　not　walking。　I'm　talking　about　a　real　bad　racket；　naturally。　Not　fluff　stuff　like　telling　old　women's　fortunes　out　of　a　crystal　ball。〃
　〃I　don't　think　I　was　meant　to　e　out　walking；〃　I　said。　〃There's　a　drug　called　scopolamine；　truth　serum；　that　sometimes　makes　people　talk　without　their　knowing　it。　It's　not　sure　fire；　any　more　than　hypnotism　is。　But　it　sometimes　works。　I　think　I　was　being　milked　in　there　to　find　out　what　I　knew。　But　there　are　only　three　ways　Sonderborg　could　have　known　that　there　was　anything　for　me　to　know　that　might　hurt　him。　Amthor　might　have　told　him；　or　Moose　Malloy　might　have　mentioned　to　him　that　I　went　to　see　Jessie　Florian；　or　he　might　have　thought　putting　me　in　there　was　a　police　gag。〃
　Hemingway　stared　at　me　sadly。　〃I　can't　even　see　your　dust；〃　he　said。　〃Who　the　hell　is　Moose　Malloy？〃
　〃A　big　hunk　that　killed　a　man　over　on　Central　Avenue　a　few　days　ago。　He's　on　your　teletype；　if　you　ever　read　it。　And　you　probably　have　a　reader　of　him　by　now。〃
〃So　what？〃
〃So　Sonderborg　was　hiding　him。　I　saw　him　there；　on　a　bed　reading　newspapers；　the　night　I　snuck　out。〃
〃How'd　you　get　out？　Wasn't　you　locked　in？〃　
〃I　crocked　the　orderly　with　a　bed　spring。　I　was　lucky。〃　
〃This　big　guy　see　you？〃
〃No。〃
　Hemingway　kicked　the　car　away　from　the　curb　and　a　solid　grin　settled　on　his　face。　〃Let's　go　collect；〃　he　said。　〃It　figures。　It　figures　swell。　Sonderborg　was　hiding　hot　boys。　If　they　had　dough；　that　is。　His　set…up　was　perfect　for　it。　Good　money；　too。〃
　He　kicked　the　car　into　motion　and　whirled　around　a　corner。
　〃Hell；　I　thought　he　sold　reefers；〃　he　said　disgustedly。　〃With　the　right　protection　behind　him。　But　hell；　that's　a　small　time　racket。　A　peanut　grift。〃
　〃Ever　hear　of　the　numbers　racket？　That's　a　small　time　racket　too…if　you're　just　looking　at　one　piece　of　it。〃
　Hemingway　turned　another　corner　sharply　and　shook　his　heavy　head。　〃Right。　And　pin　ball　games　and　bingo　houses　and　horse　parlors。　But　add　them　all　up　and　give　one　guy　control　and　it　makes　sense。〃
　〃What　guy？〃
　He　went　wooden　on　me　again。　His　mouth　shut　hard　and　I　could　see　his　teeth　were　biting　at　each　other　inside　it。　We　were　on　Descanso　Street　and　going　east。　It　was　a　quiet　street　even　in　late　afternoon。　As　we　got　towards　Twenty…third；　it　became　in　some　vague　manner　less　quiet。　Two　men　were　studying　a　palm　tree　as　if　figuring　out　how　to　move　it。　A　car　was　parked　near　Dr。　Sondeborg's　place；　but　nothing　showed　in　it。　Halfway　down　the　block　a　man　was　reading　water　meters。
　The　house　was　a　cheerful　spot　by　daylight。　Tea　rose　begonias　made　a　solid　pale　mass　under　the　front　windows　and　pansies　a　blur　of　color　around　the　base　of　a　white　acacia　in　bloom。　A　scarlet　climbing　rose　was　just　opening　its　buds　on　a　fan…shaped　trellis。　There　was　a　bed　of　winter　sweet　peas　and　a　bronze…green　humming　bird　prodding　in　them　delicately。　The　house　looked　like　the　home　of　a　well…to…do　elderly　couple　who　like　to　garden。　The　late　afternoon　sun　on　it　had　a　hushed　and　menacing　stillness。
　Hemingway　slid　slowly　past　the　house　and　a　tight　little　smile　tugged　at　the　corners　of　his　mouth。　His　nose　sniffed。　He　turned　the　next　corner；　and　looked　in　his　rear　view　mirror　and　stepped　up　the　speed　of　the　car。
　After　three　blocks　he　braked　at　the　side　of　the　street　again　and　turned　to　give　me　a　hard　level　stare。
　〃L。A。　law；〃　he　said。　〃One　of　the　guys　by　the　palm　tree　is　called　Donnelly。　I　know　him。　They　got　the　house　covered。　So　you　didn't　tell　your　pal　downtown；　huh？〃
〃I　said　I　didn't。〃
〃The　Chief'll　love　this；〃　Hemingway　snarled。　〃They　e　down　here　and　raid　a　joint　and　don't　even　stop　to　say　hello。〃
I　said　nothing。
〃They　catch　this　Moose　Malloy？〃
I　shook　my　head。　〃Not　so　far　as　I　know。〃
〃How　the　hell　far　do　you　know；　buddy？〃　he　asked　very　softly。
〃Not　far　enough。　Is　there　any　connection　between　Amthor　and　Sonderborg？〃
〃Not　that　I　know　of。〃
〃Who　runs　this　town？〃　Silence。
　〃I　heard　a　gambler　named　Laird　Brunette　put　up　thirty　grand　to　elect　the　mayor。　I　heard　he　owns　the　Belvedere　Club　and　both　the　gambling　ships　out　on　the　water。〃
〃Might　be；〃　Hemingway　said　politely。
〃Where　can　Brunette　be　found？〃
〃Why　ask　me；　baby？〃
〃Where　would　you　make　for　if　you　lost　your　hideout　in　this　town？〃
〃Mexico。〃
I　laughed。　〃Okey；　will　you　do　me　a　big　favor？〃
〃Glad　to。〃
〃Drive　me　back　downtown。〃
　He　started　the　car　away　from　the　curb　and　tooled　it　neatly　along　a　shadowed　street　towards　the　ocean。　The　car　reached　the　City　Hall　and　slid　around　into　the　police　parking　zone　and　I　got　out。
〃e　round　and　see　me　some　time；〃　Hemingway　said。　〃I'll　likely　be　cleaning　spittoons。〃
He　put　his　big　hand　out。　〃No　hard　feelings？〃　
〃M。R。A。〃　I　said　and　shook　the　hand。
　He　grinned　all　over。　He　called　me　back　when　I　started　to　walk　away。　He　looked　carefully　in　all　directions　and　leaned　his　mouth　close　to　my　ear。
　〃Them　gambling　ships　are　supposed　to　be　out　beyond　city　and　state　jurisdiction；〃　he　said。　〃Panama　registry。　If　it　was　me　that　was…〃　he　stopped　dead；　and　his　bleak　eyes　began　to　worry。
　〃I　get　it；〃　I　said。　〃I　had　the　same　sort　of　idea。　I　don't　know　why　I　bothered　so　much　to　get　you　to　have　it　with　me。　But　it　wouldn't　work…not　for　just　one　man。〃
　He　nodded；　and　then　he　smiled。　〃M。R。A。〃　he　said。
　
　34
　I　lay　on　my　back　on　a　bed　in　a　waterfront　hotel　and　waited　for　it　to　get　dark。　It　was　a　small　front　room　with　a　hard　bed　and　a　mattress　slightly　thicker　than　the　cotton　blanket　that　covered　it。　A　spring　underneath　me　was　broken　and　stuck　into　the　left　side　of　my　back。　I　lay　there　and　let　it　prod　me。
　The　reflection　of　a　red　neon　light　glared　on　the　ceiling。　When　it　made　the　whole　room　red　it　would　be　dark　enough　to　go　out。　Outside　cars　honked　along　the　alley　they　called　the　Speedway。　Feet　slithered　on　the　sidewalks　below　my　window。　There　was　a　murmur　and　mutter　of　ing　and　going　in　the　air。　The　air　that　seeped　in　through　the　rusted　screens　smelled　of　stale　frying　fat。　Far　off　a　voice　of　the　kind　that　could　be　heard　far　off　was　shouting：　〃Get　hungry；　foks。　Get　hungry。　Nice　hot　doggies　here。　Get　hungry。〃
　It　got　darker。　I　thought；　and　thought　in　my　mind　moved　with　a　kind　of　sluggish　stealthiness；　as　if　it　was　being　watched　by　bitter　and　sadistic　eyes。　I　thought　of　dead　eyes　looking　at　a　moonless　sky；　with　black　blood　at　the　corners　of　the　mouths　beneath　them。　I　thought　of　nasty　old　women　beaten　to　death　against　the　posts　of　their　dirty　beds。　I　thought　of　a　man　with　bright　blond　hair　who　was　afraid　and　didn't　quite　know　what　he　was　afraid　of；　who　was　sensitive　enough　to　know　that　something　was　wrong；　and　too　vain　or　too　dull　to　guess　what　it　was　that　was　wrong。　I　thought　of　beautiful　rich　women　who　could　be　had。　I　thought　of　nice　slim　curious　girls　who　lived　alone　and　could　be　had　too；　in　a　different　way。　I　thought　of　cops；　tough　cops　that　could　be　greased　and　yet　were　not　by　any　means　all　bad；　like　Hemingway。　Fat　prosperous　cops　with　Chamber　of　merce　voices；　like　Chief　Wax。　Slim；　smart　and　deadly　cops　like　Randall；　who　for　all　their　smartness　and　deadliness　were　not　free　to　do　a　clean　job　in　a　clean　way。　I　thought　of　sour　old　goats　like　Nulty　who　had　given　up　trying。　I　though　of　Indians　and　psychics　and　dope　doctors。
　I　thought　of　lots　of　things。　It　got　darker。　The　glare　of　the　red　neon　sign　spread　farther　and　farther　across　the　ceiling。　I　sat　up　on　the　bed　and　put　my　feet　on　the　floor　and　rubbed　the　back　of　my　neck。
　I　got　up　on　my　feet　and　went　over　to　the　bowl　in　the　corner　and　threw　cold　water　on　my　face。　After　a　little　while　I　felt　a　little　better；　but　very　little。　I　needed　a　drink；　I　needed　a　lot　of　life　insurance；　I　needed　a　vacation；　I　needed　a　home　in　the　country。　What　I　had　was　a　coat；　a　hat　and　a　gun。　I　put　them　on　and　went　out　of　the　room。
　There　was　no　elevator。　The　hallways　smelled　and　the　stairs　had　grimed　rails。　I　went　down　them；　threw　the　key　on　the　desk　and　said　I　was　through。　A　clerk　with　a　wart　on　his　left　eyelid　nodded　and　a　Mexican　bellhop　in　a　frayed　uniform　coat　came　forward　from　behind　the　dustiest　rubber　plant　in　California　to　take　my　bags。　I　didn't　have　any　bags；　so　being　a　Mexican；　he　opened　the　door　for　me　and　smiled　politely　just　the　same。
　Outside　the　narrow　street　fumed；　the　sidewalks　swarmed　with　fat　stomachs。　Across　the　street　a　bingo　parlor　was　going　full　blast　and　beside　it　a　couple　of　sailors　with　girls　were　ing　out　of　a　photographer's　shop　where　they　had　probably　been　having　their　photos　taken　riding　on　camels。　The　voice　of　the　hot　dog　merchant　split　the　dusk　like　an　axe。　A　big　blue　bus　blared　down　the　street　to　the　little　circle　where　the　street　car　used　to　turn　on　a　turntable。　I　walked　that　way。
　After　a　while　there　was　a　faint　smell　of　ocean。　Not　very　much；　but　as　if　they　had　kept　this　much　just　to　remind　people　this　had　once　been　a　clean　open　beach　where　the　waves　came　in　and　creamed　and　the　wind　blew　and　you　could　smell　something　besides　hot　fat　and　cold　sweat。
　The　little　sidewalk　car　came　trundling　along　the　wide　concrete　walk。　I　got　on　it　and　rode　to　the　end　of　the　line　and　got　off　and　sat　on　a　bench　where　it　was　quiet　and　cold　and　there　was　a　big　brown　heap　of　kelp　almost　at　my　feet。　Out　to　sea　they　had　turned　the　lights　on　in　the　gambling　boats。　I　got　back　on　the　sidewalk　car　the　next　time　it　came　and　rode　back　almost　to　where　I　had　left　the　hotel。　If　anybody　was　tailing　me；　he　was　doing　it　without　moving。　I　didn't　think　there　was。　In　that　clean　little　city　there　wouldn't　be　enough　crime　for　the　dicks　to　be　very　good　shadows。
　The　black　piers　glittered　their　length　and　then　disappeared　into　the　dark　background　of　night　and　water。　You　could　still　smell　hot　fat；　but　you　could　smell　the　ocean　too。　The　hot　dog　man　droned　on：
　〃Get　hungry；　folks；　get　hungry。　Nice　hot　doggies。　Get　hungry。〃
　I　spotted　him　in　a　white　barbecue　stand　tickling　wienies　with　a　long　fork。　He　was　doing