raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第14部分

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An　old　Jew　in　a　tall　black　skull　cap　came　along　behind　the　counter；　smiling　at　me　over　cut　out　glasses。
　 I　got　my　tobacco　pouch　out；　got　the　Brasher　Doubloon　out　of　that　and　laid　it　on　the　counter。　The　window　in　front　was　clear　glass　and　I　felt　naked。　No　paneled　cubicles　with　handcarved　spittoons　and　doors　that　locked　themselves　as　you　closed　them。
　 The　Jew　took　the　coin　and　lifted　it　on　his　hand。　〃Gold；　is　it？　A　gold　hoarder　you　are　maybe；〃　he　said；　twinkling。
　 〃Twenty…five　dollars；〃　I　said。　〃The　wife　and　the　kiddies　are　hungry。〃
　 〃Oi；　that　is　terrible。　Gold；　it　feels；　by　the　weight。　Only　gold　and　maybe　platinum　it　could　be。〃　He　weighed　it　casually　on　a　pair　of　small　scales。　〃Gold　it　is；〃　he　said。　〃So　ten　dollars　you　are　wanting？〃　
　 〃Twenty…five　dollars。〃
　 〃For　twenty…five　dollars　what　would　I　do　with　it？　Sell　it；　maybe？　For　fifteen　dollars　worth　of　gold　is　maybe　in　it。　Okay。　Fifteen　dollars。〃
　 〃You　got　a　good　safe？〃
　 〃Mister；　in　this　business　are　the　best　safes　money　can　buy。　Nothing　to　worry　about　here。　It　is　fifteen　dollars；　is　it？〃
　 〃Make　out　the　ticket。〃
　 He　wrote　it　out　partly　with　his　pen　and　partly　with　his　tongue。　I　gave　my　true　name　and　address。　Bristol　Apartments；　1634　North　Bristol　Avenue；　Hollywood。
　 〃You　are　living　in　that　district　and　you　are　borrowing　fifteen　dollars；〃　the　Jew　said　sadly；　and　tore　off　my　half　of　the　ticket　and　counted　out　the　money。
　 I　walked　down　to　the　corner　drugstore　and　bought　an　envelope　and　borrowed　a　pen　and　mailed　the　pawnticket　to　myself。
　 I　was　hungry　and　hollow　inside。　I　went　over　to　Vine　to　eat；　and　after　that　I　drove　downtown　again。　The　wind　was　still　rising　and　it　was　drier　than　ever。　The　steering　wheel　had　a　gritty　feeling　under　my　fingers　and　the　inside　of　my　nostrils　felt　tight　and　drawn。
　 The　lights　were　on　here　and　there　in　the　tall　buildings。　The　green　and　chromium　clothier's　store　on　the　corner　of　Ninth　and　Hill　was　a　blaze　of　it。　In　the　Belfont　Building　a　few　windows　glowed　here　and　there；　but　not　many。　The　same　old　plowhorse　sat　in　the　elevator　on　his　piece　of　folded　burlap；　looking　straight　in　front　of　him；　blank…eyed；　almost　gathered　to　history。
　 I　said：　〃I　don't　suppose　you　know　where　I　can　get　in　touch　with　the　building　superintendent？〃
　 He　turned　his　head　slowly　and　looked　past　my　shoulder。　〃I　hear　how　in　Noo　York　they　got　elevators　that　just　whiz。　Go　thirty　floors　at　a　time。　High　speed。　That's　in　Noo　York。〃
　 〃The　hell　with　New　York；〃　I　said。　〃I　like　it　here。〃
　 〃Must　take　a　good　man　to　run　them　fast　babies。〃
　 〃Don't　kid　yourself；　dad。　All　those　cuties　do　is　push　buttons；　say　'Good　Morning；　Mr。　Whoosis；'　and　look　at　their　beauty　spots　in　the　car　mirror。　Now　you　take　a　Model　T　job　like　thisit　takes　a　man　to　run　it。　Satisfied？〃
　 〃I　work　twelve　hours　a　day；〃　he　said。　〃And　glad　to　get　it。〃
　 〃Don't　let　the　union　hear　you。〃
　 〃You　know　what　the　union　can　do？〃　I　shook　my　head。　He　told　me。　Then　he　lowered　his　eyes　until　they　almost　looked　at　me。　〃Didn't　I　see　you　before　somewhere？〃
　 〃About　the　building　super；〃　I　said　gently。
　 〃Year　ago　he　broke　his　glasses；〃　the　old　man　said。　〃I　could　of　laughed。　Almost　did。〃
　 〃Yes。　Where　could　I　get　in　touch　with　him　this　time　of　the　evening？〃
　 He　looked　at　me　a　little　more　directly。
　 〃Oh；　the　building　super？　He's　home；　ain't　he？〃
　 〃Sure。　Probably。　Or　gone　to　the　pictures。　But　where　is　home？　What's　his　name？〃
　 〃You　want　something？〃
　 〃Yes。〃　I　squeezed　a　fist　in　my　pocket　and　tried　to　keep　from　yelling。　〃I　want　the　address　of　one　of　the　tenants。　The　tenant　I　want　the　address　of　isn't　in　the　phone　bookat　his　home。　I　mean　where　he　lives　when　he's　not　in　his　office。　You　know；　home。〃　I　took　my　hands　out　and　made　a　shape　in　the　air；　writing　the　letters　slowly；　h　o　m　e。
　 The　old　man　said：　〃Which　one？〃　It　was　so　direct　that　it　jarred　me。
　 〃Mr。　Morningstar。〃
　 〃He　ain't　home。　Still　in　his　office。〃
　 〃Are　you　sure？〃
　 〃Sure　I'm　sure。　I　don't　notice　people　much。　But　he's　old　like　me　and　I　notice　him。　He　ain't　been　down　yet。〃
　 I　got　into　the　car　and　said：　〃Eight。〃
　 He　wrestled　the　doors　shut　and　we　ground　our　way　up。　He　didn't　look　at　me　anymore。　When　the　car　stopped　and　I　got　out　he　didn't　speak　or　look　at　me　again。　He　just　sat　there　blank…eyed；　hunched　on　the　burlap　and　the　wooden　stool。　As　I　turned　the　angle　of　the　corridor　he　was　still　sitting　there。　And　the　vague　expression　was　back　on　his　face。
　 At　the　end　of　the　corridor　two　doors　were　alight。　They　were　the　only　two　in　sight　that　were。　I　stopped　outside　to　light　a　cigarette　and　listen；　but　I　didn't　hear　any　sound　of　activity。　I　opened　the　door　marked　Entrance　and　stepped　into　the　narrow　office　with　the　small　closed　typewriter　desk。　The　wooden　door　was　still　ajar。　I　walked　along　to　it　and　knocked　on　the　wood　and　said：　〃Mr。　Morningstar。〃
　 No　answer。　Silence。　Not　even　a　sound　of　breathing。　The　hairs　moved　on　the　back　of　my　neck。　I　stepped　around　the　door。　The　ceiling　light　glowed　down　on　the　glass　cover　of　the　jeweller's　scales；　on　the　old　polished　wood　around　the　leather　desk　top；　down　the　side　of　the　desk；　on　a　squaretoed；　elastic…sided　black　shoe；　with　a　white　cotton　sock　above　it。
　 The　shoe　was　at　the　wrong　angle；　pointing　to　the　corner　of　the　ceiling。　The　rest　of　the　leg　was　behind　the　corner　of　the　big　safe。　I　seemed　to　be　wading　through　mud　as　I　went　on　into　the　room。
　 He　lay　crumpled　on　his　back。　Very　lonely；　very　dead。
　 The　safe　door　was　wide　open　and　keys　hung　in　the　lock　of　the　inner　partment。　A　metal　drawer　was　pulled　out。　It　was　empty　now。　There　may　have　been　money　in　it　once。
　 Nothing　else　in　the　room　seemed　to　be　different。
　 The　old　man's　pockets　had　been　pulled　out；　but　I　didn't　touch　him　except　to　bend　over　and　put　the　back　of　my　hand　against　his　livid；　violet…colored　face。　It　was　like　touching　a　frog's　belly。　Blood　had　oozed　from　the　side　of　his　forehead　where　he　had　been　hit。　But　there　was　no　powder　smell　on　the　air　this　time；　and　the　violet　color　of　his　skin　showed　that　he　had　died　of　a　heart　stoppage；　due　to　shock　and　fear；　probably。　That　didn't　make　it　any　less　murder。
　 I　left　the　lights　burning；　wiped　the　doorknobs；　and　walked　down　the　fire　stairs　to　the　sixth　floor。　I　read　the　names　on　the　doors　going　along；　for　no　reason　at　all。　H。　R。　Teager　Dental　Laboratories；　L。　Pridview；　Public　Accountant；　Dalton　and　Rees　Typewriting　Service；　Dr。　E。　J。　Blaskowitz；　and　underneath　the　name　in　small　letters：　Chiropractic　Physician。
　 The　elevator　came　growling　up　and　the　old　man　didn't　look　at　me。　His　face　was　as　empty　as　my　brain。
　 I　called　the　Receiving　Hospital　from　the　corner；　giving　no　name。
　
　
　
　
　15
　
　 The　chessmen；　red　and　white　bone；　were　lined　up　ready　to　go　and　had　that　sharp；　petent　and　plicated　look　they　always　have　at　the　beginning　of　a　game。　It　was　ten　o'clock　in　the　evening；　I　was　home　at　the　apartment；　I　had　a　pipe　in　my　mouth；　a　drink　at　my　elbow　and　nothing　on　my　mind　except　two　murders　and　the　mystery　of　how　Mrs。　Elizabeth　Bright　Murdock　had　got　her　Brasher　Doubloon　back　while　I　still　had　it　in　my　pocket。
　 I　opened　a　little　paper…bound　book　of　tournament　games　published　in　Leipzig；　picked　out　a　dashing…looking　Queen's　Gambit；　moved　the　white　pawn　to　Queen's　four；　and　the　bell　rang　at　the　door。
　 I　stepped　around　the　table　and　picked　the　Colt　。38　off　the　drop　leaf　of　the　oak　desk　and　went　over　to　the　door　holding　it　down　beside　my　right　leg。
　 〃Who　is　it？〃
　 〃Breeze。〃
　 I　went　back　to　the　desk　to　lay　the　gun　down　again　before　I　opened　the　door。　Breeze　stood　there　looking　just　as　big　and　sloppy　as　ever；　but　a　little　more　tired。　The　young；　freshfaced　dick　named　Spangler　was　with　him。
　 They　rode　me　back　into　the　room　without　seeming　to　and　Spangler　shut　the　door。　His　bright　young　eyes　flicked　this　way　and　that　while　Breeze　let　his　older　and　harder　ones　stay　on　my　face　for　a　long　moment；　then　he　walked　around　me　to　the　davenport。
　 〃Look　around；〃　he　said　out　of　the　corner　of　his　mouth。
　 Spangler　left　the　door　and　crossed　the　room　to　the　dinette；　looked　in　there；　recrossed　and　went　into　the　hall。　The　bathroom　door　squeaked；　his　steps　went　farther　along。
　 Breeze　took　his　hat　off　and　mopped　his　semi…bald　dome。　Doors　opened　and　closed　distantly。　Closets。　Spangler　came　hack。
　 〃Nobody　here；〃　he　said。
　 Breeze　nodded　and　sat　down；　placing　his　panama　beside　him。
　 Spangler　saw　the　gun　lying　on　the　desk。　He　said：　〃Mind　if　I　look？〃
　 I　said：　〃Phooey　on　both　of　you。〃
　 Spangler　walked　to　the　gun　and　held　the　muzzle　to　his　nose；　sniffing。　He　broke　the　magazine　out；　ejected　the　shell　in　the　chamber；　picked　it　up　and　pressed　it　into　the　magazine。　He　laid　the　magazine　on　the　desk　and　held　the　gun　so　that　light　went　into　the　open　bottom　of　the　breech。　Holding　it　that　way　he　squinted　down　the　barrel。
　 〃A　little　dust；〃　he　said。　〃Not　much。〃
　 〃What　did　you　expect？〃　I　said。　〃Rubies？〃
　 He　ignored　me；　looked　at　Breeze　and　added：　〃I'd　say　this　gun　has　not　been　fired　within　twenty…four　hours。　I'm　sure　of　it。〃
　 Breeze　nodded　and　chewed　his　lip　and　explored　my　face　with　his　eyes。　Spangler　put　the　gun　together　neatly　and　laid　it　aside　and　went　and　sat　down。　He　put　a　cigarette　between　his　lips　and　lit　it　and　blew　smoke　contentedly。
　 〃We　know　damn　well　it　wasn't　a　long　。38　anyway；〃　he　said。　〃One　of　those　things　will　shoot　through　a　wall。　No　chance　of　the　slug　staying　inside　a　man's　head。〃
　 〃Just　what　are　you　guys　talking　about？〃　I　asked。
　 Breeze　said：　〃The　usual　thing　in　our　business。　Murder。　Have　a　chair。　Relax。　I　thought　I　heard　voices　in　here。　Maybe　it　was　the　next　apartment。〃
　 〃Maybe；〃　I　said。
　 〃You　always　have　a　gun　lying　around　on　your　desk？〃
　 〃Except　when　it's　under　my　pillow；〃　I　said。　〃Or　under　my　arm。　Or　in　the　drawer　of　the　desk。　Or　somewhere　I　can't　just　remember　where　I　happened　to　put　it。　That　help　you　any？〃
　 〃We　didn't　e　here　to　get　tough；　Marlowe。〃
　 〃That's　fine；〃　I　said。　〃So　you　prowl　my　apartment　and　handle　my　property　without　asking　my　permission。　What　do　you　do　when　you　get　toughknock　me　down　and　kick　me　in　the　face？〃
　 〃Aw　hell；〃　he　said　and　grinned。　I　grinned　back。　We　all　grinned。　Then　Breeze　said：　〃Use　your　phone？〃
　 I　pointed　to　it。　He　dialed　a　number　and　talked　to　someone　named　Morrison；　saying：　〃Breeze　at〃　He　looked　down　at　the　base　of　the　phone　and　read　the　number　off　〃Anytime　now。　Marlowe　is　the　name　that　goes　with　it。　Sure。　Five　or　ten　minutes　is　okay。〃　
　 He　hung　up　and　went　back　to　the　davenport。　〃I　bet　you　can't　guess　why　we're　here。〃
　 〃I'm　always　expecting　the　brothers　to　drop　in；〃　I　said。
　 〃Murder　ain't　funny；　Marlowe。〃
　 〃Who　said　it　was？〃
　 〃Don't　you　kind　of　act　as　if　it　was？〃
　 〃I　wasn't　aware　of　it。〃
　 He　looked　at　Spangler　and　shrugged。　Then　he　looked　at　the　floor。　Then　he　lifted　his　eyes　slowly；　as　if　they　were　heavy；　and　looked　at　me　again。　I　was　sitting　down　by　the　chess　table　now。
　 〃You　play　a　lot　of　chess？〃　he　asked；　looking　at　the　chessmen。
　 〃Not　a　lot。　Once　in　a　while　I　fool　around　with　a　game　here；　thinking　things　out。〃
　 〃Don't　it　take　two　guys　to　play　chess？〃
　 〃I　play　over　tournament　games　that　have　been　recorded　and　published。　There's　a　whole　literature　about　chess。　Once　in　a　while　I　work　out　problems。　They're　not　chess；　prope