"Remember me?" I said. "Doghouse Reilly, the man that grew too tall. Remember?" She nodded and a quick jerky smile played across her face. "Let's go in," I said. "I've got a key. Swell11, huh?" "Wha--wha--?" I pushed her to one side and put the key in the door and opened it and pushed her in through it. I shut the door again and stood there sniffing12. The place was horrible by daylight. The Chinese junk on the walls, the rug, the fussy13 lamps, the teakwood stuff, the sticky riot of colors, the totem pole, the flagon of ether and laudanum-all this in the daytime had a stealthy nastiness, like a fag party. The girl and I stood looking at each other. She tried to keep a cute little smile on her face but her face was too tired to be bothered. It kept going blank on her. The smile would wash off like water off sand and her pale skin had a harsh granular texture14 under the stunned15 and stupid blankness of her eyes. A whitish tongue licked at the corners of her mouth. A pretty, spoiled and not very bright little girl who had gone very, very wrong, and nobody was doing anything about it. To hell with the rich. They made me sick. I rolled a cigarette in my fingers and pushed some books out of the way and sat on the end of the black desk. I lit my cigarette, puffed16 a plume17 of smoke and watched the thumb and tooth act for a while in silence. Carmen stood in front of me, like a bad girl in the principal's office. "What are you doing here?" I asked her finally. She picked at the cloth of her coat and didn't answer. "How much do you remember of last night?" She answered that--with a foxy glitter rising at the back of her eyes. "Remember what? I was sick last night. I was home." Her voice was a cautious throaty sound that just reached my ears. "Like hell you were." Her eyes flicked18 up and down very swiftly. "Before you went home," I said. "Before I took you home. Here. In that chair--" I pointed19 to it--"on that orange shawl. You remember all right." A slow flush crept up her throat. That was something. She could blush. A glint of white showed under the clogged20 gray irises21. She chewed hard on her thumb. "You--were the one?" she breathed. "Me. How much of it stays with you?" She said vaguely22: "Are you the police?" "No. I'm a friend of your father's." "You're not the police?" "No." She let out a thin sigh. "Wha--what do you want?" "Who killed him?" Her shoulders jerked, but nothing more moved in her face. "Who else--knows?" "About Geiger? I don't know. Not the police, or they'd be camping here. Maybe Joe Brody." It was a stab in the dark but it got a yelp23 out of her. "Joe Brody! Him!" Then we were both silent. I dragged at my cigarette and she ate her thumb. "Don't get clever, for God's sake," I urged her. "This is a spot for a little old-fashioned simplicity24. Did Brody kill him?" "Kill who?" "Oh, Christ," I said. She looked hurt. Her chin came down an inch. "Yes," she said solemnly. "Joe did it.""Why?" "I don't know." She shook her head, persuading herself that she didn't know. "Seen much of him lately?" Her hands went down and made small white knots. "Just once or twice. I hate him." "Then you know where he lives." "Yes." "And you don't like him any more?" "I hate him!" "Then you'd like him for the spot." A little blank again. I was going too fast for her. It was hard not to. "Are you willing to tell the police it was Joe Brody?" I probed. Sudden panic flamed all over her face. "If I can kill the nude-photo angle, of course," I added soothingly25. She giggled26. That gave me a nasty feeling. If she had screeched27 or wept or even nosedived to the floor in a dead faint, that would have been all right. She just giggled. It was suddenly a lot of fun. She had had her photo taken as Isis and somebody had swiped it and somebody had bumped Geiger off in front of her and she was drunker than a Legion convention, and it was suddenly a lot of nice clean fun. So she giggled. Very cute. The giggles28 got louder and ran around the corners of the room like rats behind the wainscoting. She started to go hysterical29. I slid off the desk and stepped up close to her and gave her a smack30 on the side of the face. "Just like last night," I said. "We're a scream together. Reilly and Sternwood, two stooges in search of a comedian31." The giggles stopped dead, but she didn't mind the slap any more than last night. Probably all her boy friends got around to slapping her sooner or later. I could understand how they might. I sat down on the end of the black desk again. "Your name isn't Reilly," she said seriously. "It's Philip Marlowe. You're a private detective. Viv told me. She showed me your card." She smoothed the cheek I had slapped. She smiled at me, as if I was nice to be with. "Well, you do remember," I said. "And you came back to look for that photo and you couldn't get into the house. Didn't you?" Her chin ducked down and up. She worked the smile. I was having the eye put on me. I was being brought into camp. I was going to yell "Yippee!" in a minute and ask her to go to Yuma. "The photo's gone," I said. "I looked last night, before I took you home. Probably Brody took it with him. You're not kidding me about Brody?" She shook her head earnestly. "It's a pushover," I said. "You don't have to give it another thought. Don't tell a soul you were here, last night or today. Not even Vivian. Just forget you were here. Leave it to Reilly." "Your name isn't--" she began, and then stopped and shook her head vigorously in agreement with what I had said or with what she had just thought of. Her eyes became narrow and almost black and as shallow as enamel32 on a cafeteria tray. She had had an idea. "I have to go home now," she said, as if we had been having a cup of tea. "Sure." I didn't move. She gave me another cute glance and went on towards the front door. She had her hand on the knob when we both heard a car coming. She looked at me with questions in her eyes. I shrugged33. The car stopped, right in front of the house. Terror twisted her face. There were steps and the bell rang. Carmen stared back at me over her shoulder, her hand clutching the door knob, almost drooling with fear. The bell kept on ringing. Then the ringing stopped. A key tickled34 at the door and Carmen jumped away from it and stood frozen.
The door swung open. A man stepped through it briskly and stopped dead, staring at us quietly, with complete composure.
点击收听单词发音
1 killer | |
n.杀人者,杀人犯,杀手,屠杀者 | |
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2 shingles | |
n.带状疱疹;(布满海边的)小圆石( shingle的名词复数 );屋顶板;木瓦(板);墙面板 | |
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3 gnawing | |
a.痛苦的,折磨人的 | |
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4 canyons | |
n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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5 sector | |
n.部门,部分;防御地段,防区;扇形 | |
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6 maze | |
n.迷宫,八阵图,混乱,迷惑 | |
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7 dodged | |
v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 );回避 | |
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8 smears | |
污迹( smear的名词复数 ); 污斑; (显微镜的)涂片; 诽谤 | |
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9 gnawed | |
咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 ); (长时间) 折磨某人; (使)苦恼; (长时间)危害某事物 | |
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10 brittle | |
adj.易碎的;脆弱的;冷淡的;(声音)尖利的 | |
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11 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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12 sniffing | |
n.探查法v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的现在分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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13 fussy | |
adj.为琐事担忧的,过分装饰的,爱挑剔的 | |
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14 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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15 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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16 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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17 plume | |
n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
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18 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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19 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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20 clogged | |
(使)阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 ); 淤滞 | |
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21 irises | |
n.虹( iris的名词复数 );虹膜;虹彩;鸢尾(花) | |
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22 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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23 yelp | |
vi.狗吠 | |
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24 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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25 soothingly | |
adv.抚慰地,安慰地;镇痛地 | |
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26 giggled | |
v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27 screeched | |
v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 );发出粗而刺耳的声音;高叫 | |
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28 giggles | |
n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 );傻笑;玩笑;the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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29 hysterical | |
adj.情绪异常激动的,歇斯底里般的 | |
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30 smack | |
vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍 | |
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31 comedian | |
n.喜剧演员;滑稽演员 | |
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32 enamel | |
n.珐琅,搪瓷,瓷釉;(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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33 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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34 tickled | |
(使)发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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