raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第4部分

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nd　and　looked　up　at　me　with　tear…stained　eyes。　I　shut　the　door　and　went　over　beside　her　and　put　an　arm　around　her　thin　shoulders。
　 〃Cheer　up；〃　I　said。　〃You　ought　to　feel　sorry　for　her。　She　thinks　she's　tough　and　she's　breaking　her　back　trying　to　live　up　to　it。〃
　 The　little　girl　jumped　erect；　away　from　my　arm。　〃Don't　touch　me；〃　she　said　breathlessly。　〃Please。　I　never　let　men　touch　me。　And　don't　say　such　awful　things　about　Mrs。　Murdock。〃
　 Her　face　was　all　pink　and　wet　from　tears。　Without　her　glasses　her　eyes　were　very　lovely。
　 I　stuck　my　long…waiting　cigarette　into　my　mouth　and　lit　it。
　 〃II　didn't　mean　to　be　rude；〃　she　snuffled。　〃But　she　does　humiliate　me　so。　And　I　only　want　to　do　my　best　for　her。〃　She　snuffled　some　more　and　got　a　man's　handkerchief　out　of　her　desk　and　shook　it　out　and　wiped　her　eyes　with　it。　I　saw　on　the　hanging　down　corner　the　initials　L。M。　embroidered　in　purple。　I　stared　at　it　and　blew　cigarette　smoke　towards　the　corner　of　the　room；　away　from　her　hair。　〃Is　there　something　you　want？〃　she　asked。
　 〃I　want　the　license　number　of　Mrs。　Leslie　Murdock's　car。〃
　 〃It's　2X1111；　a　gray　Mercury　convertible；　1940　model。〃
　 〃She　told　me　it　was　a　coupé。〃
　 〃That's　Mr。　Leslie's　car。　They're　the　same　make　and　year　and　color。　Linda　didn't　take　the　car。〃
　 〃Oh。　What　do　you　know　about　a　Miss　Lois　Magic？〃
　 〃I　only　saw　her　once。　She　used　to　share　an　apartment　with　Linda。　She　came　here　with　a　Mr。a　Mr。　Vannier。〃
　 〃Who's　he？〃
　 She　looked　down　at　her　desk。　〃Ishe　just　came　with　him。　I　don't　know　him。〃
　 〃Okay；　what　does　Miss　Lois　Magic　look　like？〃
　 〃She's　a　tall　handsome　blond。　Veryvery　appealing。〃
　 〃You　mean　sexy？〃
　 〃Well〃　she　blushed　furiously；　〃in　a　nice　well…bred　sort　of　way；　if　you　know　what　I　mean。〃
　 〃I　know　what　you　mean；〃　I　said；　〃but　I　never　got　anywhere　with　it。〃
　 〃I　can　believe　that；〃　she　said　tartly。
　 〃Know　where　Miss　Magic　lives？〃
　 She　shook　her　head；　no。　She　folded　the　big　handkerchief　very　carefully　and　put　it　in　the　drawer　of　her　desk；　the　one　where　the　gun　was。
　 〃You　can　swipe　another　one　when　that's　dirty；〃　I　said。　She　leaned　back　in　her　chair　and　put　her　small　neat　hands　on　her　desk　and　looked　at　me　levelly。
　 〃I　wouldn't　carry　that　tough…guy　manner　too　far；　if　I　were　you；　Mr。　Marlowe。　Not　with　me；　at　any　rate。〃
　 〃No？〃
　 〃No。　And　I　can't　answer　any　more　questions　without　specific　instructions。　My　position　here　is　very　confidential。〃
　 〃I'm　not　tough；〃　I　said。　〃Just　virile。〃
　 She　picked　up　a　pencil　and　made　a　mark　on　a　pad。　She　smiled　faintly　up　at　me；　all　posure　again。
　 〃Perhaps　I　don't　like　virile　men；〃　she　said。　
　 〃You're　a　screwball；〃　I　said；　〃if　ever　I　met　one。　Good…by。〃　
　 I　went　out　of　her　office；　shut　the　door　firmly；　and　walked　back　along　the　empty　halls　through　the　big　silent　sunken　funereal　living　room　and　out　of　the　front　door。
　 The　sun　danced　on　the　warm　lawn　outside。　I　put　my　dark　glasses　on　and　went　over　and　patted　the　little　Negro　on　the　head　again。
　 〃Brother；　it's　even　worse　than　I　expected；〃　I　told　him。　The　stumble…stones　were　hot　through　the　soles　of　my　shoes。　I　got　into　the　car　and　started　it　and　pulled　away　from　the　curb。
　 A　small　sand…colored　coupé　pulled　away　from　the　curb　behind　me。　I　didn't　think　anything　of　it。　The　man　driving　it　wore　a　dark　porkpie　type　straw　hat　with　a　gay　print　band　and　dark　glasses　were　over　his　eyes；　as　over　mine。
　 I　drove　back　towards　the　city。　A　dozen　blocks　later　at　a　traffic　stop；　the　sand…colored　coupé　was　still　behind　me。　I　shrugged　and　just　for　the　fun　of　it　circled　a　few　blocks。　The　coupé　held　its　position。　I　swung　into　a　street　lined　with　immense　pepper　trees；　dragged　my　heap　around　in　a　fast　U…turn　and　stopped　against　the　curbing。
　 The　coupé　came　carefully　around　the　corner。　The　blond　head　under　the　cocoa　straw　hat　with　the　tropical　print　band　didn't　even　turn　my　way。　The　coupé　sailed　on　and　I　drove　back　to　the　Arroyo　Seco　and　on　towards　Hollywood。　I　looked　carefully　several　times；　but　I　didn't　spot　the　coupé　again。
　
　
　3
　
　 I　had　an　office　in　the　Cahuenga　Building；　sixth　floor；　two　small　rooms　at　the　back。　One　I　left　open　for　a　patient　client　to　sit　in；　if　I　had　a　patient　client。　There　was　a　buzzer　on　the　door　which　I　could　switch　on　and　off　from　my　private　thinking　parlor。
　 I　looked　into　the　reception　room。　It　was　empty　of　everything　but　the　smell　of　dust。　I　threw　up　another　window；　unlocked　the　municating　door　and　went　into　the　room　beyond。　Three　hard　chairs　and　a　swivel　chair；　flat　desk　with　a　glass　top；　five　green　filing　cases；　three　of　them　full　of　nothing；　a　calendar　and　a　framed　license　bond　on　the　wall；　a　phone；　a　washbowl　in　a　stained　wood　cupboard；　a　hatrack；　a　carpet　that　was　just　something　on　the　floor；　and　two　open　windows　with　net　curtains　that　puckered　in　and　out　like　the　lips　of　a　toothless　old　man　sleeping。
　 The　same　stuff　I　had　had　last　year；　and　the　year　before　that。　Not　beautiful；　not　gay；　but　better　than　a　tent　on　the　beach。
　 I　hung　my　hat　and　coat　on　the　hatrack；　washed　my　face　and　hands　in　cold　water；　lit　a　cigarette　and　hoisted　the　phone　book　onto　the　desk。　Elisha　Morningstar　was　listed　at　824　Belfont　Building；　422　West　Ninth　Street。　I　wrote　that　down　and　the　phone　number　that　went　with　it　and　had　my　hand　on　the　instrument　when　I　remembered　that　I　hadn't　switched　on　the　buzzer　for　the　reception　room。　I　reached　over　the　side　of　the　desk　and　clicked　it　on　and　caught　it　right　in　stride。　Somebody　had　just　opened　the　door　of　the　outer　office。
　 I　turned　my　pad　face　down　on　the　desk　and　went　over　to　see　who　it　was。　It　was　a　slim　tall　self…satisfied　looking　number　in　a　tropical　worsted　suit　of　slate　blue；　black　and　white　shoes；　a　dull　ivory…colored　shirt　and　a　tie　and　display　handkerchief　the　color　of　jacaranda　bloom。　He　was　holding　a　long　black　cigarette…holder　in　a　peeled　back　white　pigskin　glove　and　he　was　wrinkling　his　nose　at　the　dead　magazines　on　the　library　table　and　the　chairs　and　the　rusty　floor　covering　and　the　general　air　of　not　much　money　being　made。
　 As　I　opened　the　municating　door　he　made　a　quarter　turn　and　stared　at　me　out　of　a　pair　of　rather　dreamy　pale　eyes　set　close　to　a　narrow　nose。　His　skin　was　sun…flushed；　his　reddish　hair　was　brushed　back　hard　over　a　narrow　skull；　and　the　thin　line　of　his　mustache　was　much　redder　than　his　hair。
　 He　looked　me　over　without　haste　and　without　much　pleasure。　He　blew　some　smoke　delicately　and　spoke　through　it　with　a　faint　sneer。
　 〃You're　Marlowe？〃
　 I　nodded。
　 〃I'm　a　little　disappointed；〃　he　said。　〃I　rather　expected　something　with　dirty　fingernails。〃
　 〃e　inside；〃　I　said；　〃and　you　can　be　witty　sitting　down。〃
　 I　held　the　door　for　him　and　he　strolled　past　me　flicking　cigarette　ash　on　the　floor　with　the　middle　nail　of　his　free　hand。　He　sat　down　on　the　customer's　side　of　the　desk；　took　off　the　glove　from　his　right　hand　and　folded　this　with　the　other　already　off　and　laid　them　on　the　desk。　He　tapped　the　cigarette　end　out　of　the　long　black　holder；　prodded　the　coal　with　a　match　until　it　stopped　smoking；　fitted　another　cigarette　and　lit　it　with　a　broad　mahogany…colored　match。　He　leaned　back　in　his　chair　with　the　smile　of　a　bored　aristocrat。
　 〃All　set？〃　I　enquired。　〃Pulse　and　respiration　normal？　You　wouldn't　like　a　cold　towel　on　your　head　or　anything？〃
　 He　didn't　curl　his　lip　because　it　had　been　curled　when　he　came　in。　〃A　private　detective；〃　he　said。　〃I　never　met　one。　A　shifty　business；　one　gathers。　Keyhole　peeping；　raking　up　scandal；　that　sort　of　thing。〃
　 〃You　here　on　business；〃　I　asked　him；　〃or　just　slumming？〃
　 His　smile　was　as　faint　as　a　fat　lady　at　a　fireman's　ball。
　 〃The　name　is　Murdock。　That　probably　means　a　little　something　to　you。〃
　 〃You　certainly　made　nice　time　over　here；〃　I　said；　and　started　to　fill　a　pipe。
　 He　watched　me　fill　the　pipe。　He　said　slowly：　〃I　understand　my　mother　has　employed　you　on　a　job　of　some　sort。　She　has　given　you　a　check。〃
　 I　finished　filling　the　pipe；　put　a　match　to　it；　got　it　drawing　and　leaned　back　to　blow　smoke　over　my　right　shoulder　towards　the　open　window。　I　didn't　say　anything。
　 He　leaned　forward　a　little　more　and　said　earnestly：　〃I　know　being　cagey　is　all　part　of　your　trade；　but　I　am　not　guessing。　A　little　worm　told　me；　a　simple　garaen　worm；　often　trodden　on；　but　still　somehow　survivinglike　myself。　I　happened　to　be　not　far　behind　you。　Does　that　help　to　clear　things　up？〃
　 〃Yeah；〃　I　said。　〃Supposing　it　made　any　difference　to　me。〃
　 〃You　are　hired　to　find　my　wife；　I　gather。〃
　 I　made　a　snorting　sound　and　grinned　at　him　over　the　pipe　bowl。
　 〃Marlowe；〃　he　said；　even　more　earnestly；　〃I'll　try　hard；　but　I　don't　think　I　am　going　to　like　you。〃
　 〃I'm　screaming；〃　I　said。　〃With　rage　and　pain。〃
　 〃And　if　you　will　pardon　a　homely　phrase；　your　tough　guy　act　stinks。〃
　 〃ing　from　you；　that's　bitter。〃
　 He　leaned　back　again　and　brooded　at　me　with　pale　eyes。　He　fussed　around　in　the　chair；　trying　to　get　fortable。　A　lot　of　people　had　tried　to　get　fortable　in　that　chair。　I　ought　to　try　it　myself　sometime。　Maybe　it　was　losing　business　for　me。
　 〃Why　should　my　mother　want　Linda　found？〃　he　asked　slowly。　〃She　hated　her　guts。　I　mean　my　mother　hated　Linda's　guts。　Linda　was　quite　decent　to　my　mother。　What　do　you　think