"Huh?" The pipe almost dropped from Yamamura's hand. "What the hell! Why, for God's sake?"
"Bruce got too much information about Clayton's rackets."
"What rackets? Clayton's straight! I never heard a hint—"
"Oh, yes. He's straight enough on this side of the Atlantic."
"It fits the facts. Bruce was corresponding with his uncle Luigi, the secret service man. Some discussion of highly organized postwar crime syndicates in the Mediterranean2 countries came up. Now Clayton was a go-getter type who'd lost everything he had three times in a row: the Depression, his first wife's death, divorce from his second wife. It must have embittered3 him, so that he determined4 he would never again be poor and defenseless. He came to Italy as a Quartermaster officer in the war. Perfect chance for black marketing5, if a man didn't mind taking a few risks. The miracle is not that a few QM people went bad but that most stayed honest. Clayton probably started in a very small way with cigarettes and K rations6. But by the end of the war he was in touch with some pretty big figures in the Italian underworld, and saw the opportunities. He came right back after his discharge and went to work at it full time.
"Obviously, he's a hell of a good organizer. He got in on the postwar reconstruction7 of crime, along lines borrowed from gangland and Communism. He probably set out as a currency black marketeer, working through Switzerland. He soon expanded into other things, smuggling8, dope, prostitution, gambling9, the works. He became rich."
"Have you any proof of all this?" interrupted Yamamura.
"Chiefly, that it and only it will fit the facts. Let me go on, I'll fill in evidence as I proceed. The trouble with Clayton's riches was, they were mostly in lire, French francs, and other soft valuta. Also, governments all get nosy10 about resident aliens; he couldn't hope to avoid suspicion forever, without a good cover. He solved both his problems by becoming an importer. He bought European goods with his European money, shipped them over here, and sold them for dollars. On this side he's lily white, and familiar with prominent Americans of unquestionable integrity. Knowing this, Europeans don't think he might be something else on their continent. You can imagine the details."
"Yes," said Yamamura. "I can."
"Now for some facts as well as theories. Let's go back to Uncle Luigi. He's trying to break these syndicates, one of which is headed by the eminent11 Signor Clayton. Of course, because of its cell organization, Luigi and his colleagues don't know that. If they did, they could crack a lot of rackets open. All they have against Clayton is that a few of his business associates have bad associates of their own, notably12 some of the deported13 Italian-American gangsters14. But what of it? Everybody outside a monastery15 must know some dubious16 characters.
"Well, because Clayton came here to work at opening a San Francisco branch, and because he brought the Liber Veneficarum along, he got to know Bruce. In fact, they came to be on very friendly terms. Clayton is genial17 enough, if you don't get in his way. Uncle Luigi, being somewhat anti-American, insisted that Signor Clayton had an unfair advantage, having started as a wealthy man with lots of dollars. That didn't fit with Clayton's own rags-to-riches story. Bruce got indignant, checked up, and established that Clayton had indeed been almost penniless when he came to Italy. And Luigi, as I mentioned before, had also happened to give Bruce some facts regarding crime, corruption18, and the syndicates.
"I don't know just when Clayton learned about all this discussion. Perhaps a week ago last Sunday, when he saw Bruce over in the City and refused to give Guido a job. Clayton admits Bruce got mad; perhaps he said things then. Clayton smoothed his feathers and agreed to interview Guido next day. Maybe Clayton was already spinning a plan.
"Or it may have been amicable19. Bruce had no reason to suspect Clayton of anything. We'd have known it otherwise; Bruce was constitutionally incapable20 of keeping a secret. Maybe in the love feast following his explosion, he blurted21 out how he had triumphantly22 refuted Uncle Luigi's sneers23 at the Horatio Alger rise of Gerald Clayton, and planned to send Uncle Luigi all the facts and demand an apology. At the same time, Bruce could have spoken about the syndicates. He was just na?ve enough to have warned Clayton, who spent half his time overseas, to look out for the mobs! Well, one way or another, Clayton drew him out, doubtless in that conference they had after Guido was dismissed. Clayton was alerted."
It was peculiar24, thought Kintyre, that he could talk so coolly while the horror was on him. But he had the horror locked away for this short time, he heard it speaking but did not really feel it.
"He could have pumped both brothers on Monday," nodded Yamamura. "Bruce in particular, but he would have seen how Guido might be made into a decoy—uh-huh. So he called a Chicago mob. But—"
"But why? Isn't it obvious, Trig? Bruce and Luigi were corresponding on two subjects which would explode if they were ever fitted together: Clayton and the Old World rackets. When Bruce revealed that Clayton had not, after all, started by depositing American dollars in Swiss banks, Luigi would begin to wonder. Bruce had even casually25 agreed that Clayton might have picked up a little loose change originally on the black bourse, which did not strike him as very heinous26. Luigi might see deeper possibilities along those lines. Or things Luigi wrote could even make Bruce wonder, who knows? It wouldn't necessarily happen either way, but it was too big a risk to take. The American government itself, if it gets interested, has ways to check on its citizens abroad. So Bruce had to be eliminated. And he had to be questioned first, in detail, to learn precisely27 what he did know and who else knew. For instance, was Luigi already so well informed as to be dangerous? This was a job for professionals."
"And there's where your theory creaks," said Yamamura. "If Clayton is so law-abiding on American soil, where could he dig up his butcher boys on such short notice?"
"That hint was in Bruce's files," said Kintyre. "Your information about Clayton's telephoning adds detail. He must have called one of his not-very-respectable Italian associates. I seem to remember the name Dolce, you can try that on the switchboard girl for recognitionor. Does the phone office keep records of such things? I don't know. Let's assume he called Dolce, to give the man a name. He ordered him: 'Get hold of a recent deportee from America'—you can guess who better than I, Trig—'and ask him how I can get in touch with a professional killer28 in this country.' He may have phrased it more euphemistically, but that was the sense of it. Next day Dolce or whoever called back. (Why else should a busy man like Clayton hang around home? Why not take the call in his office? Because his office deals directly with Italy, the switchboard girl there probably speaks the language and might eavesdrop29.) Thus Clayton got the number of Silenio, and any passwords or the like that were needed. He went out to a pay booth and called him. O'Hearn has told us the rest."
Yamamura nodded. "Could be," he said.
"Tell me what else will explain the facts. And let me continue. Clayton came over here last Thursday on business, and threw a party in his suite30 for historians and literary scholars, including Bruce and me. I rather imagine he was looking for another red herring. Owens must have been promising31. Not that Owens seems to have been jockeyed into anything, as Guido was, but Clayton dropped hints detrimental32 to him later on.
"Clayton made sure of being alibied the whole weekend. Of course, it was simple enough to make the call which lured34 Bruce to his death. He could have phoned from a pay booth right in sight of the world. I don't know what he told Bruce, probably that he might have something for Guido after all but it was confidential35. Make your own lie.
"Monday he returned to the City. Silenio reported to him, got paid off, and was told to wait. Clayton had a problem: Bruce's files were still in Margery's apartment. Silenio would have learned that. Clayton had to choke off this last source of information. He came back here Tuesday and invited me to lunch with him. I gave him some idea of how well his tracks really were covered—and when I told him Margery's place had already been raided, it was a shock. He questioned me, found that the papers he was after were still unread, and deftly36 turned suspicion back on Owens: where for once it actually belonged. However, he must have felt the need to act fast. So he stayed in Berkeley, though he'd told me at lunch he planned to go back to San Francisco. (Will any hypothesis of yours explain why he changed his mind and spent more than twenty-four unproductive hours on this side? He, the animated37 cash register?) I met him again on Wednesday, when we had our run-in with Owens."
Kintyre sighed. "That's the damnable part of it. I sat there drinking coffee with the true, ultimate murderer. He urged me to take Margery out. I told him I had another engagement. If I had gone out with her, she'd be alive. God, if she'd dated him she might be! He was going to ask her. She told me, when I mentioned it, that she would refuse his invitation. He wanted to get her out of the way. But when she stayed—
"I helped her read those letters!"
"Slow down there," said Yamamura.
It was still later when the detective went back outdoors. An officer was watching Guido, who was laying out a solitaire hand on the stoop. The policeman said: "Inspector38 Harries39 would like to get a formal statement from you at headquarters, sir."
Yamamura nodded. Guido raised his brows and slanted40 his head at the cottage. "Could be worse," said Yamamura. "Suppose you leave him alone for an hour or so and then go in and make him some lunch."
"Sure," said Guido.
The policeman followed Yamamura out the drive. At the station, he was shown directly into Harries' office. The inspector was just laying down the phone. "San Francisco," he said. "They raided that address. Traces of occupancy, but nobody home."
"Any other news?" Yamamura sat down and folded his long legs.
"They let the Michaelises go. Gene41 broke down when they did—reaction, I guess—and admitted where he'd been Saturday night and Sunday. Shacked42 up."
"This time he had two metal legs and he paid. Not much, he hasn't got much, but he paid, for the first time in his life."
"Well," said Harries, "what does Kintyre think?"
Yamamura told him.
Harries whistled. "That wouldn't even get past a grand jury," he said.
"It's a line worth further investigation45, though," said Yamamura mildly. "I wonder where Clayton is right now?"
Harries snatched up the phone. Yamamura waited.
The inspector hung up with a bang. "Not at the Fairhill. I'll try his place in the City, and the office. Know the numbers?"
Presently: "Not there, either. Well, it's no crime. But I'll put a man on it."
"About releasing information to the press," said Yamamura. "Could you withhold46 any mention of Kintyre? He's in no shape to see reporters, or even tell them to go away."
"Glad to," said Harries. "We're going to sit on the facts as much as possible. We'll get the papers to cooperate. Why let the killers47 know what we know? They can guess we hold O'Hearn, but not that O'Hearn squealed48."
"Good. Now let me make that statement so I can get back to my own office. Maybe a client has shown up, for a change."
None had. Yamamura polished his new sword. A thought nagged49 the back of his being. If Clayton was guilty, why should Clayton disappear? Harries was right, Kintyre's reasoning was skeletal. Without further evidence, it wouldn't be enough to arrest a dog for flea50 scratching. Clayton would do best to sit tight and be wronged righteousness.
But did he know that? O'Hearn had been sent after Guido merely because Larkin had gotten in a fight at the Alley51 Cat. If Larkin had not remembered the name "Kintyre" and reported it through Silenio, Clayton could still have made a shrewd guess at it. Yamamura picked up his own phone and dialed.
"Hi, Bob. How goes it?"
"I'm breathing," said Kintyre listlessly.
"Nobody at the murder house. Clayton has dropped from sight, too. You and Guido could be the next targets. Want a police guard?"
"No. He wouldn't be stupid enough to try for us just now," said Kintyre, without great interest. "Especially when he doesn't know how much I know. He would establish that first—yes, that would need his personal attention. Let's reconstruct it."
He voiced his thoughts as they ran, in flat metallic52 words. "Larkin and Silenio got back from their—their mission—and didn't find O'Hearn at the house. They waited till they got alarmed, then bolted and called Clayton in Berkeley. That would have been in the small hours, before sunrise. Clayton could have called the old Lombardis, pretending to be an anxious friend, and found Guido had not come home. The same pretense53 might have worked with the San Francisco police—nope, they had no word of any Guido Lombardi—no O'Hearn. He would also have drawn54 a blank in Berkeley. So. Somebody picked them both up. In view of the Alley Cat episode, he would suspect me. I remember now my phone rang, early in the morning. I didn't answer. Was that him, trying to check if I was at home? If he drove by, he'd have seen my shades pulled. He had no way of knowing O'Hearn was right here. He would have concluded: either I had nothing to do with it, or I had taken O'Hearn somewhere for private investigation.
"If he rubbed me out and I was innocent of meddling55, well, too bad. He dared not assume anything except that Guido and I had O'Hearn—where? If he could track us down and dispose of us—of anyone who might finger him—yes, then later on he could bribe56 someone, a call girl perhaps, to give him a perjured57 alibi33 for the time involved, if any alibi was ever needed. Then nothing could ever be proved about his misdeeds on this side of the water. Of course, the Italian police and American foreign agents might be clued to his overseas work—but at worst he could stay home, or retire to some South American country that won't extradite him. But all this, avoiding arrest long enough to regain58 his balance, it all hinges on finding me—"
Kintyre's voice trailed off. Yamamura heard the receiver crash down.
Somewhat later his phone rang again. Kintyre said like a machine: "Trig, you can get the official ear quicker than I. Last night Corinna said she'd wait home till I called. I just did. There's no answer."
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收听单词发音
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1
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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7
reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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nosy
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| adj.鼻子大的，好管闲事的，爱追问的；n.大鼻者 | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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deported
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| v.将…驱逐出境( deport的过去式和过去分词 )；举止 | |
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gangsters
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| 匪徒，歹徒( gangster的名词复数 ) | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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eavesdrop
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| v.偷听，倾听 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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harries
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| n.使苦恼( harry的名词复数 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰v.使苦恼( harry的第三人称单数 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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40
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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gene
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| n.遗传因子，基因 | |
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42
shacked
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| vi.未婚而同居（shack的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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46
withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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killers
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| 凶手( killer的名词复数 )； 消灭…者； 致命物； 极难的事 | |
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48
squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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50
flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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51
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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52
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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53
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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54
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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55
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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56
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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57
perjured
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| adj.伪证的，犯伪证罪的v.发假誓，作伪证( perjure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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