raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第31部分

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　I　said　yes。　I　got　over　there　quickly。　She　told　me　she　had　shot　Vannier。〃
　 Her　breath　was　a　faint　swift　whisper　in　the　stillness　of　the　room。
　 〃She　had　a　gun　in　her　bag；　God　knows　why。　Some　idea　of　protecting　herself　against　men；　I　suppose。　But　somebodyLeslie；　I　should　guesshad　fixed　it　to　be　harmless　by　jamming　a　wrong　size　cartridge　in　the　breech。　She　told　me　she　had　killed　Vannier　and　fainted。　I　got　a　doctor　friend　of　mine。　I　went　over　to　Vannier's　house。　There　was　a　key　in　the　door。　He　was　dead　in　a　chair；　long　dead；　cold；　stiff。　Dead　long　before　Merle　went　there。　She　didn't　shoot　him。　Her　telling　me　that　was　just　drama。　The　doctor　explained　it　after　a　fashion；　but　I　won't　bore　you　with　it。　I　guess　you　understand　all　right。〃
　 She　said：　〃Yes。　I　think　I　understand。　And　now？〃
　 〃She's　in　bed；　in　my　apartment。　There's　a　nurse　there。　I　phoned　Merle's　father　long　distance。　He　wants　her　to　e　home。　That　all　right　with　you？〃
　 She　just　stared。
　 〃He　doesn't　know　anything；〃　I　said　quickly。　〃Not　this　or　the　other　time。　I'm　sure　of　that。　He　just　wants　her　to　e　home。　I　thought　I'd　take　her。　It　seems　to　be　my　responsibility　now。　I'll　need　that　last　five　hundred　that　Vannier　didn't　get　for　expenses。〃
　 〃And　how　much　more？〃　she　asked　brutally。
　 〃Don't　say　that。　You　know　better。〃
　 〃Who　killed　Vannier？〃
　 〃Looks　like　he　mitted　suicide。　A　gun　at　his　right　hand。　Temple　contact　wound。　Morny　and　his　wife　were　there　while　I　was。　I　hid。　Morny's　trying　to　pin　it　on　his　wife。　She　was　playing　games　with　Vannier。　So　she　probably　thinks　he　did　it；　or　had　it　done。　But　it　shapes　up　like　suicide。　The　cops　will　be　there　by　now。　I　don't　know　what　they　will　make　of　it。　We　just　have　to　sit　tight　and　wait　it　out。〃
　 〃Men　like　Vannier；〃　she　said　grimly；　〃don't　mit　suicide。〃
　 〃That's　like　saying　girls　like　Merle　don't　push　people　out　of　windows。　It　doesn't　mean　anything。〃
　 We　stared　at　each　other；　with　that　inner　hostility　that　had　been　there　from　the　first。　After　a　moment　I　pushed　my　chair　back　and　went　over　to　the　french　windows。　I　opened　the　screen　and　stepped　out　on　to　the　porch。　The　night　was　all　around；　soft　and　quiet。　The　white　moonlight　was　cold　and　clear；　like　the　justice　we　dream　of　but　don't　find。
　 The　trees　down　below　cast　heavy　shadows　under　the　moon。　In　the　middle　of　the　garden　there　was　a　sort　of　garden　within　a　garden。　I　caught　the　glint　of　an　ornamental　pool。　A　lawn　swing　beside　it。　Somebody　was　lying　in　the　lawn　swing　and　a　cigarette　tip　glowed　as　I　looked　down。
　 I　went　back　into　the　room。　Mrs。　Murdock　was　playing　solitaire　again。　I　went　over　to　the　table　and　looked　down。
　 〃You　got　the　ace　of　clubs　out；〃　I　said。
　 〃I　cheated；〃　she　said　without　looking　up。
　 〃There　was　one　thing　I　wanted　to　ask　you；〃　I　said。　〃This　doubloon　business　is　still　cloudy；　on　account　of　a　couple　of　murders　which　don't　seem　to　make　sense　now　that　you　have　the　coin　back。　What　I　wondered　was　if　there　was　anything　about　the　Murdock　Brasher　that　might　identify　it　to　an　expertto　a　man　like　old　Morningstar。〃
　 She　thought；　sitting　still；　not　looking　up。　〃Yes。　There　might　be。　The　coinmaker's　initials；　E。　B。；　are　on　the　left　wing　of　the　eagle。　Usually；　I'm　told；　they　are　on　the　right　wing。　That's　the　only　thing　I　can　think　of。〃
　 I　said：　〃I　think　that　might　be　enough。　You　did　actually　get　the　coin　back；　didn't　you？　I　mean　that　wasn't　just　something　said　to　stop　my　ferreting　around？〃
　 She　looked　up　swiftly　and　then　down。　〃It's　in　the　strong　room　at　this　moment。　If　you　can　find　my　son；　he　will　show　it　to　you。〃
　 〃Well；　I'll　say　good　night。　Please　have　Merle's　clothes　packed　and　sent　to　my　apartment　in　the　morning。〃
　 Her　head　snapped　up　again　and　her　eyes　glared。　〃You're　pretty　highhanded　about　all　this；　young　man。〃
　 〃Have　them　packed；〃　I　said。　〃And　send　them。　You　don't　need　Merle　any　morenow　that　Vannier　is　dead。〃
　 Our　eyes　locked　hard　and　held　locked　for　a　long　moment。　A　queer　stiff　smile　moved　the　corners　of　her　lips。　Then　her　head　went　down　and　her　right　hand　took　the　top　card　off　the　pack　held　in　her　left　hand　and　turned　it　and　her　eyes　looked　at　it　and　she　added　it　to　the　pile　of　unplayed　cards　below　the　layout；　and　then　turned　the　next　card；　quietly；　calmly；　in　a　hand　as　steady　as　a　stone　pier　in　a　light　breeze。
　 I　went　across　the　room　and　out；　closed　the　door　softly；　went　along　the　hall；　down　the　stairs；　along　the　lower　hall　past　the　sun　room　and　Merle's　little　office；　and　out　into　the　cheerless　stuffy　unused　living　room　that　made　me　feel　like　an　embalmed　corpse　just　to　be　in　it。
　 The　french　doors　at　the　back　opened　and　Leslie　Murdock　stepped　in　and　stopped；　staring　at　me。
　
　
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　 His　slack　suit　was　rumpled　and　also　his　hair。　His　little　reddish　mustache　looked　just　as　ineffectual　as　ever。　The　shadows　under　his　eyes　were　almost　pits。
　 He　was　carrying　his　long　black　cigarette　holder；　empty；　and　tapping　it　against　the　heel　of　his　left　hand　as　he　stood　not　liking　me；　not　wanting　to　meet　me；　not　wanting　to　talk　to　me。
　 〃Good　evening；〃　he　said　stiffly。　〃Leaving？〃
　 〃Not　quite　yet。　I　want　to　talk　to　you。〃
　 〃I　don't　think　we　have　anything　to　talk　about。　And　I'm　tired　of　talking。〃
　 〃Oh　yes　we　have。　A　man　named　Vannier。〃
　 〃Vannier？　I　hardly　know　the　man。　I've　seen　him　around。　What　I　know　I　don't　like。〃
　 〃You　know　him　a　little　better　than　that；〃　I　said。
　 He　came　forward　into　the　room　and　sat　down　in　one　of　the　I…dare…you…to…sit…in…me　chairs　and　leaned　forward　to　cup　his　chin　in　his　left　hand　and　look　at　the　floor。
　 〃All　right；〃　he　said　wearily。　〃Get　on　with　it。　I　have　a　feeling　you　are　going　to　be　very　brilliant。　Remorseless　flow　of　logic　and　intuition　and　all　that　rot。　Just　like　a　detective　in　a　book。〃
　 〃Sure。　Taking　the　evidence　piece　by　piece；　putting　it　all　together　in　a　neat　pattern；　sneaking　in　an　odd　bit　I　had　on　my　hip　here　and　there；　analyzing　the　motives　and　characters　and　making　them　out　to　be　quite　different　from　what　anybodyor　I　myself　for　that　matterthought　them　to　be　up　to　this　golden　momentand　finally　making　a　sort　of　world…weary　pounce　on　the　least　promising　suspect。〃
　 He　lifted　his　eyes　and　almost　smiled。　〃Who　thereupon　turns　as　pale　as　paper；　froths　at　the　mouth；　and　pulls　a　gun　out　of　his　right　ear。〃
　 I　sat　down　near　him　and　got　a　cigarette　out。　〃That's　right。　We　ought　to　play　it　together　sometime。　You　got　a　gun？〃
　 〃Not　with　me。　I　have　one。　You　know　that。〃
　 〃Have　it　with　you　last　night　when　you　called　on　Vannier？〃　
　 He　shrugged　and　bared　his　teeth。　〃Oh。　Did　I　call　on　Vannier　last　night？〃
　 〃I　think　so。　Deduction。　You　smoke　Benson　and　Hedges　Virginia　cigarettes。　They　leave　a　firm　ash　that　keeps　its　shape。　An　ashtray　at　his　house　had　enough　of　those　little　gray　rolls　to　account　for　at　least　two　cigarettes。　But　no　stubs　in　the　tray。　Because　you　smoke　them　in　a　holder　and　a　stub　from　a　holder　looks　different。　So　you　removed　the　stubs。　Like　it？〃
　 〃No。〃　His　voice　was　quiet。　He　looked　down　at　the　floor　again。
　 〃That's　an　example　of　deduction。　A　bad　one。　For　there　might　not　have　been　any　stubs；　but　if　there　had　been　and　they　had　been　removed；　it　might　have　been　because　they　had　lipstick　on　them。　Of　a　certain　shade　that　would　at　least　indicate　the　coloring　of　the　smoker。　And　your　wife　has　a　quaint　habit　of　throwing　her　stubs　into　the　waste　basket。〃
　 〃Leave　Linda　out　of　this；〃　he　said　coldly。
　 〃Your　mother　still　thinks　Linda　took　the　doubloon　and　that　your　story　about　taking　it　to　give　to　Alex　Morny　was　just　a　cover…up　to　protect　her。〃
　 〃I　said　leave　Linda　out　of　it。〃　The　tapping　of　the　black　holder　against　his　teeth　had　a　sharp　quick　sound；　like　a　telegraph　key。
　 〃I'm　willing　to；〃　I　said。　〃But　I　didn't　believe　your　story　for　a　different　reason。　This。〃　I　took　the　doubloon　out　and　held　it　on　my　hand　under　his　eyes。
　 He　stared　at　it　tightly。　His　mouth　set。
　 〃This　morning　when　you　were　telling　your　story　this　was　hocked　on　Santa　Monica　Boulevard　for　safekeeping。　It　was　sent　to　me　by　a　would…be　detective　named　George　Phillips。　A　simple　sort　of　fellow　who　allowed　himself　to　get　into　a　bad　spot　through　poor　judgment　and　over…eagerness　for　a　job。　A　thickset　blond　fellow　in　a　brown　suit；　wearing　dark　glasses　and　a　rather　gay　hat。　Driving　a　sand…colored　Pontiac；　almost　new。　You　might　have　seen　him　hanging　about　in　the　hall　outside　my　office　yesterday　morning。　He　had　been　following　me　around　and　before　that　he　might　have　been　following　you　around。〃
　 He　looked　genuinely　surprised。　〃Why　would　he　do　that？〃　I　lit　my　cigarette　and　dropped　the　match　in　a　jade　ashtray　that　looked　as　if　it　had　never　been　used　as　an　ashtray。
　 〃I　said　he　might　have。　I'm　not　sure　he　did。　He　might　have　just　been　watching　this　house。　He　picked　me　up　here　and　I　don't　think　he　followed　me　here。〃　I　still　had　the　coin　on　my　hand；　looked　down　at　it；　turned　it　over　by　tossing　it；　looked　at　the　initials　E。　B。　stamped　into　the　left　wing；　and　put　it　away。　〃He　might　have　been　watching　the　house　because　he　had　been　hired　to　peddle　a　rare　coin　to　an　old　coin　dealer　named　Morningstar。　And　the　old　coin　dealer　somehow　suspected　where　the　coin　came　from；　and　told　Phillips；　or　hinted　to　him；　and　that　the　coin　was　stolen。　Incidentally；　he　was　wrong　about　that。　If　your　Brasher　Doubloon　is　really　at　this　moment　upstairs；　then　the　coin　Phillips　was　hired　to　peddle　was　not　a　stolen　coin。　It　was　a　counterfeit。〃
　 His　shoulders　gave　a　quick　little　jerk；　as　if　he　was　cold　Otherwise　he　didn't　move　or　change　position。
　 〃I'm　afraid　it's　getting　to　be　one　of　those　long　stories　after　all；〃　I　said；　rather　gently。　〃I'm　sorry。　I'd　better　organize　it　a　little　better。　It's　not　a　pretty　story；　because　it　has　two　murders　in　it；　maybe　three。　A　man　named　Vannier　and　a　man　named　Teager　had　an　idea。　Teager　is　a　dental　technician　in　the　Belfont　Building；　old　Morningstar's　building。　The　idea　was　to　counterfeit　a　rare　and　valuable　gold　coin；　not　too　rare　to　be　marketable；　but　rare　enough　to　be　worth　a　lot　of　money。　The　method　they　thought　of　was　about　what　a　dental　technician　uses　to　make　a　gold　inlay。　Requiring　the　same　materials；　the　same　apparatus；　the　same　skills。　That　is；　to　reproduce　a　model　exactly；　in　gold；　by　making　a　matrix　in　a　hard　white　fine　cement　called　albastone；　then　making　a　replica　of　the　model　in　that　matrix　in　molding　wax；　plete　in　the　finest　detail；　then　investing　the　wax；　as　they　call　it；　in　another　kind　of　cement　called　crystobolite；　which　has　the　property　of　standing　great　heat　without　distortion。　A　small　opening　is　left　from　the　wax　to　outside　by　attaching　a　steel　pin　which　is　withdrawn　when　the　cement　sets。　Then　the　crystobolite　casting　is　cooked　over　a　flame　until　the　wax　boils　out　through　this　small　opening；　leaving　a　hollow　mold　of　the　original　model。　This　is　clamped　against　a　crucible　on　a　centrifuge　and　molten　gold　is　shot　into　it　by　centrifugal　force　from　the　crucible。　Then　the　crystobolite；　still　hot；　is　held　under　cold　water　and　it　disintegrates；　leaving　the　gold　core　with　a　gold　pin　attached；　representing　the　small　opening。　That　is　trimmed　off；　the　casting　is　cleaned　in　acid　and　polished　and　you　have；　in　this　case；　a　brand　new　Brasher　Doubloon；　made　of　solid　gold　and　exactly　the　same　as　the　original。　You　get　the　idea？〃
　 He　nodded　and　moved　a　hand　wearily　across　his　head。