raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第31章

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　 I　went　after　her　along　the　hall　and　reached　the　door。　She　was　sobbing　behind　it。　I　stood　there　and　listened　to　the　sobbing。
　 There　was　nothing　I　could　do　about　it。　I　wondered　if　there　was　anything　anybody　could　do　about　it。
　 I　went　back　to　the　glass　porch　and　knocked　on　the　door　and　opened　it　and　put　my　head　in。　Mrs。　Murdock　sat　just　as　I　had　left　her。　She　didn't　seem　to　have　moved　at　all。
　 〃Who's　scaring　the　life　out　of　that　little　girl？〃　I　asked　her。　
　 〃Get　out　of　my　house；〃　she　said　between　her　fat　lips。　I　didn't　move。　Then　she　laughed　at　me　hoarsely。　〃Do　you　regard　yourself　as　a　clever　man；　Mr。　Marlowe？〃
　 〃Well；　I'm　not　dripping　with　it；〃　I　said。　
　 〃Suppose　you　find　out　for　yourself。〃
　 〃At　your　expense？〃
　 She　shrugged　her　heavy　shoulders。　〃Possibly。　It　depends。　Who　knows？〃
　 〃You　haven't　bought　a　thing；〃　I　said。　〃I'm　still　going　to　have　to　talk　to　the　police。〃
　 〃I　haven't　bought　anything；〃　she　said；　〃and　I　haven't　paid　for　anything。　Except　the　return　of　the　coin。　I'm　satisfied　to　accept　that　for　the　money　I　have　already　given　you。　Now　go　away。　You　bore　me。　Unspeakably。〃
　 I　shut　the　door　and　went　back。　No　sobbing　behind　the　door。　Very　still。　I　went　on。
　 I　let　myself　out　of　the　house。　I　stood　there；　listening　to　the　sunshine　burn　the　grass。　A　car　started　up　in　back　and　a　gray　Mercury　came　drifting　along　the　drive　at　the　side　of　the　house。　Mr。　Leslie　Murdock　was　driving　it。　When　he　saw　me　he　stopped。
　 He　got　out　of　the　car　and　walked　quickly　over　to　me。　He　was　nicely　dressed；　cream　colored　gabardine　now；　all　fresh　clothes；　slacks；　black　and　white　shoes；　with　polished　black　toes；　a　sport　coat　of　very　small　black　and　white　check；　black　and　white　handkerchief；　cream　shirt；　no　tie。　He　had　a　pair　of　green　sun　glasses　on　his　nose。
　 He　stood　close　to　me　and　said　in　a　low　timid　sort　of　voice：　〃I　guess　you　think　I'm　an　awful　heel。〃
　 〃On　account　of　that　story　you　told　about　the　doubloon？〃
　 〃Yes。〃
　 〃That　didn't　affect　my　way　of　thinking　about　you　in　the　least；〃　I　said。
　 〃Well〃
　 〃Just　what　do　you　want　me　to　say？〃
　 He　moved　his　smoothly　tailored　shoulders　in　a　deprecatory　shrug。　His　silly　little　reddish　brown　mustache　glittered　in　the　sun。
　 〃I　suppose　I　like　to　be　liked；〃　he　said。
　 〃I'm　sorry；　Murdock。　I　like　your　being　that　devoted　to　your　wife。　If　that's　what　it　is。〃
　 〃Oh。　Didn't　you　think　I　was　telling　the　truth？　I　mean；　did　you　think　I　was　saying　all　that　just　to　protect　her？〃
　 〃There　was　that　possibility。〃
　 〃I　see。〃　He　put　a　cigarette　into　the　long　black　holder；　which　he　took　from　behind　his　display　handkerchief。　〃WellI　guess　I　can　take　it　that　you　don't　like　me。〃　The　dim　movement　of　his　eyes　was　visible　behind　the　green　lenses；　fish　moving　in　a　deep　pool。
　 〃It's　a　silly　subject；〃　I　said。　〃And　damned　unimportant。　To　both　of　us。〃
　 He　put　a　match　to　the　cigarette　and　inhaled。　〃I　see；〃　he　said　quietly。　〃Pardon　me　for　being　crude　enough　to　bring　it　up。〃
　 He　turned　on　his　heel　and　walked　back　to　his　car　and　got　in。　I　watched　him　drive　away　before　I　moved。　Then　I　went　over　and　patted　the　little　painted　Negro　boy　on　the　head　a　couple　of　times　before　I　left。
　 〃Son；〃　I　said　to　him；　〃you're　the　only　person　around　this　house　that's　not　nuts。〃
　
　
　23
　
　 The　police　loudspeaker　box　on　the　wall　grunted　and　a　voice　said：　〃KGPL。　Testing。〃　A　click　and　it　went　dead。
　 Detective…Lieutenant　Jesse　Breeze　stretched　his　arms　high　in　the　air　and　yawned　and　said：　〃Couple　of　hours　late；　ain't　you？〃
　 I　said：　〃Yes。　But　I　left　a　message　for　you　that　I　would　be。　I　had　to　go　to　the　dentist。〃
　 〃Sit　down。〃
　 He　had　a　small　littered　desk　across　one　corner　of　the　room。　He　sat　in　the　angle　behind　it；　with　a　tall　bare　window　to　his　left　and　a　wall　with　a　large　calendar　about　eye　height　to　his　right。　The　days　that　had　gone　down　to　dust　were　crossed　off　carefully　in　soft　black　pencil；　so　that　Breeze　glancing　at　the　calendar　always　knew　exactly　what　day　it　was。
　 Spangler　was　sitting　sideways　at　a　smaller　and　much　neater　desk。　It　had　a　green　blotter　and　an　onyx　pen　set　and　a　small　brass　calendar　and　an　abalone　shell　full　of　ashes　and　matches　and　cigarette　stubs。　Spangler　was　flipping　a　handful　of　bank　pens　at　the　felt　back　of　a　seat　cushion　on　end　against　the　wall；　like　a　Mexican　knife　thrower　flipping　knives　at　a　target。　He　wasn't　getting　anywhere　with　it。　The　pens　refused　to　stick。
　 The　room　had　that　remote；　heartless；　not　quite　dirty；　not　quite　clean；　not　quite　human　smell　that　such　rooms　always　have。　Give　a　police　department　a　brand　new　building　and　in　three　months　all　its　rooms　will　smell　like　that。　There　must　be　something　symbolic　in　it。
　 A　New　York　police　reporter　wrote　once　that　when　you　pass　in　beyond　the　green　lights　of　a　precinct　station　you　pass　clear　out　of　this　world；　into　a　place　beyond　the　law。
　 I　sat　down。　Breeze　got　a　cellophane…wrapped　cigar　out　of　his　pocket　and　the　routine　with　it　started。　I　watched　it　detail　by　detail；　unvarying；　precise。　He　drew　in　smoke；　shook　his　match　out；　laid　it　gently　in　the　black　glass　ashtray；　and　said：　〃Hi；　Spangler。〃
　 Spangler　turned　his　head　and　Breeze　turned　his　head。　They　grinned　at　each　other。　Breeze　poked　the　cigar　at　me。
　 〃Watch　him　sweat；〃　he　said。
　 Spangler　had　to　move　his　feet　to　turn　far　enough　around　to　watch　me　sweat。　If　I　was　sweating；　I　didn't　know　it。
　 〃You　boys　are　as　cute　as　a　couple　of　lost　golf　balls；〃　I　said。　〃How　in　the　world　do　you　do　it？〃
　 〃Skip　the　wisecracks；〃　Breeze　said。　〃Had　a　busy　little　morning？〃
　 〃Fair；〃　I　said。
　 He　was　still　grinning。　Spangler　was　still　grinning。　Whatever　it　was　Breeze　was　tasting　he　hated　to　swallow　it。　Finally　he　cleared　his　throat；　straightened　his　big　freckled　face　out；　turned　his　head　enough　so　that　he　was　not　looking　at　me　but　could　still　see　me　and　said　in　a　vague　empty　sort　of　voice：
　 〃Hench　confessed。〃
　 Spangler　swung　clear　around　to　look　at　me。　He　leaned　forward　on　the　edge　of　his　chair　and　his　lips　were　parted　in　an　ecstatic　half　smile　that　was　almost　indecent。
　 I　said：　〃What　did　you　use　on　hima　pickax？〃
　 〃Nope。〃
　 They　were　both　silent；　staring　at　me。
　 〃A　wop；〃　Breeze　said。
　 〃A　what？〃
　 〃Boy；　are　you　glad？〃　Breeze　said。
　 〃You　are　going　to　tell　me　or　are　you　just　going　to　sit　there　looking　fat　and　placent　and　watch　me　being　glad？〃
　 〃We　like　to　watch　a　guy　being　glad；〃　Breeze　said。　〃We　don't　often　get　a　chance。〃
　 I　put　a　cigarette　in　my　mouth　and　jiggled　it　up　and　down。　〃We　used　a　wop　on　him；〃　Breeze　said。　〃A　wop　named　Palermo。〃
　 〃Oh。　You　know　something？〃
　 〃What？〃　Breeze　asked。
　 〃I　just　thought　of　what　is　the　matter　with　policemen's　dialogue。〃
　 〃What？〃
　 〃They　think　every　line　is　a　punch　line。〃
　 〃And　every　pinch　is　a　good　pinch；〃　Breeze　said　calmly。　〃You　want　to　knowor　you　want　to　just　crack　wise？〃
　 〃I　want　to　know。〃
　 〃Was　like　this；　then。　Hench　was　drunk。　I　mean　he　was　drunk　deep　inside；　not　just　on　the　surface。　Screwy　drunk。　He'd　been　living　on　it　for　weeks。　He'd　practically　quit　eating　and　sleeping。　Just　liquor。　He'd　got　to　the　point　where　liquor　wasn't　making　him　drunk；　it　was　keeping　him　sober。　It　was　the　last　hold　he　had　on　the　real　world。　When　a　guy　gets　like　that　and　you　take　his　liquor　away　and　don't　give　him　anything　to　hold　him　down；　he's　a　lost　cuckoo。〃
　 I　didn't　say　anything。　Spangler　still　had　the　same　erotic　leer　on　his　young　face。　Breeze　tapped　the　side　of　his　cigar　and　no　ash　fell　off　and　he　put　it　back　in　his　mouth　and　went　on。
　 〃He's　a　psycho　case；　but　we　don't　want　any　psycho　case　made　out　of　our　pinch。　We　make　that　clear。　We　want　a　guy　that　don't　have　any　psycho　record。〃
　 〃I　thought　you　were　sure　Hench　was　innocent。〃
　 Breeze　nodded　vaguely。　〃That　was　last　night。　Or　maybe　I　was　kidding　a　little。　Anyway　in　the　night；　bang；　Hench　is　bugs。　So　they　drag　him　over　to　the　hospital　ward　and　shoot　him　full　of　hop。　The　jail　doc　does。　That's　between　you　and　me。　No　hop　in　the　record。　Get　the　idea？〃
　 〃All　too　clearly；〃　I　said。
　 〃Yeah。〃　He　looked　vaguely　suspicious　of　the　remark；　but　he　was　too　full　of　his　subject　to　waste　time　on　it。　〃Well；　this　a。m。　he　is　fine。　Hop　still　working；　the　guy　is　pale　but　peaceful。　We　go　see　him。　How　you　doing；　kid？　Anything　you