I HUNG UP, tried to figure out what had just happened.
Robin1 knocked on the doorjamb and said, "Ready." She'd put on a tiny little charcoal2 sweater over a long, gray tweed skirt and glossed3 her lips. Her smile made putting the call aside a little easier.
We ended up at a Japanese place on Sawtelle south of Olympic, the only business open at night in an obscure little strip mall. We were the only non-Asians in the room, but no heads turned. A gaunt chef chopped something eelish behind the sushi bar. A tiny woman showed us to a corner booth, where we drank sake, laced fingers, and talked very little, then not at all. The service was formal but perfect as another diminutive4 woman brought us boxes of warm sake and pinches of exquisite5 food. The quiet and the dimness took hold, and when we stepped out into the night ninety minutes later, my lungs and brain were clear.
When we got back Spike6 was baying miserably7, and we took him for a short walk up the glen. Then Robin ran a bath and I stood around doing nothing. Finally, I gave in and checked my messages, thinking again about Jane Abbot's husband.
Callbacks from Professors Hall and de Maartens. In Hall's case by proxy—a young man identifying himself as "Craig, the Halls' house sitter," informed me cheerfully that "Stephen and Beverly are in the Loire Valley with their children and won't be back for another week. I'll pass the message along."De Maartens spoke9 for himself, in a mellow10, accented, puzzled voice. "This is Simon de Maartens. I have checked my records, and Lauren Teague was indeed enrolled11 in my class. Unfortunately, I have no personal recollection of her. Sorry not to have been more helpful."
Robin called out, "Join me," from the bathroom, and I was out of my clothes when the phone jangled. I let it ring and had a good soak, took my time washing her hair, then just lying back in the womb-warmth of the tub. Scrubbing and sponging led to caressing12 and nibbling13, then giggling14 aquatic15 contortions16 that flooded the floor. We tripped to bed, made love till we were breathless, left the covers soaked and foaming18 with soap bubbles.
I was still gasping19 when Robin got up, wrapped herself in one of my ratty robes, danced into the kitchen, and returned with two glasses of orange juice. She poured juice down my gullet, spilled a good deal of the liquid, thought that was hilarious20. My revenge was sloppy21, and we changed the sheets. When she went to dry her hair, I put on a T-shirt and shorts, stepped onto the rear terrace, propped22 my elbows on the redwood railing, stared out at looming23 black shapes—the pines and cedars24 and blue gums that coat the hills behind our property.
Feeling like a California guy.
I was somewhere on the way to torpor25 when Robin's voice stirred me: "Honey? Milo's on the phone. He says he called half an hour ago."
The ring I'd ignored.
She said, "You can take it in here. I'm going down to the pond— there's a spotlight26 out."
I went inside, picked up the bedroom extension. "What's up?"
"Your girl," said Milo. "The Teague girl. She's my business now."
Nine P.M., Sepulveda Boulevard. The commercial strip south of Wilshire and north of Olympic. Discount outlets27, animal emergency rooms, ironworks, furniture wholesalers. Except for the veterinarians, everything shut down for the night. A cat screeched29.
West side of the street, Milo had said. The alley8.
Not far from the restaurant where I'd stuffed my face three hours before. Now the thought of eating churned my stomach.
A patrol car blocked the alley, ruby-sapphire lights flashing, the crown jewels of trouble. The uniform with his foot propped on the front bumper30 was young and pumped up and distrustful, and his palm shot out reflexively as I edged the Seville near. I stuck my head out, called out my name. He wasn't hearing it, scowled31 at the Seville's grille, ordered me to move it. I shouted louder, and he sauntered over, uni-browed angrily, hand on his holster. My face was hot, but I forced myself to talk slowly and politely. Finally, he made the call that cleared me, and when I got out he said, "Over there," as if imparting something profound.
Pointing south down the alley, but there was no need for direction. The knot of vehicles was a huge chrome tumor32 under the sizzle of power lines. As I ran toward the crime scene, the stench of rotted upholstery and gasoline and putrefying vegetables nearly gagged me.
I spotted33 Milo next to the coroner's van, hunched34 and scrawling36 furiously. One of his legs was bent37, and the roll of his belly38 protruded39 far beyond his lapels. He licked his pencil, then jockeyed for comfort the way big, heavy men often do.
The high-intensity spots the techs had set up turned his face white and powdery, as if dusted with flour, showcasing pouches40 and pits, the saggy41 smudges under his eyes. I continued toward him, feeling numb42 and sick and out of place.
When I was ten feet away, he looked up. Now his face was strangely diffuse43, as if my eyes had suddenly lost acuity44. Except for his eyes: They gleamed, sharp, too bright, jumpy as a coyote's, emerald green bleached45 by the spots to sea foam17. He had on a flesh-colored, poly-wool sport coat, baggy46 brown cords, white wash-and-wear shirt with a skimpy, curling collar, and a skinny green tie that glistened47 like a strip of tooth gel. His hair needed cutting; the top, ink black, left longish, as usual, shot off in all directions, and the spiky48 forelock that shaded his brow arched over his high-bridged nose. His temples, clipped to bristle49, were snow white from ear top to the bottom of Elvisoid sideburns. The contrast was unnatural50; recently, he'd taken to calling himself El Skunko, was making more and more cracks about senility and mortality. He was less than a year older than I, seemed to have aged51 a lot during the last year or so. Robin told me I looked young when she thought I needed to hear that. I wondered what Rick told Milo.
He closed his notepad, rubbed his face, shook his head."Where is she?" I said.
"Already in the van," he said, tilting52 his head toward the coroner's transport. The doors were closed. A driver sat behind the wheel.
I started toward the van. He held my arm. "You don't want to see her."
"I can handle it."
"Don't put yourself through it. What's the point?"
I continued to the van, and he opened the door, slid out the gur-ney, unzipped the first two feet of the body bag. I caught a nose-full of rotten-meat stench and a glimpse of misshapen green-gray face, purplish, swollen53 eyes, protuberant54 tongue, long blond strands55, before he resealed the bag and led me away.
As the van drove off he sighed, rubbed his face again, as if washing without water. "She's been dead for a while, Alex. Four, five days, maybe more, at the bottom of one of the dumpsters, under a load of trash." He pointed56. "That one, behind the patio57 furniture outlet28. Someone wrapped her in heavy-duty plastic—industrial sheeting. Nights have been cool, but still . . ."
"Who found her?" I said.
"The outlet uses a private trash service. They pick up once a week, at night, showed up a couple of hours ago. When they latched58 the dumpster onto their truck and upended it, she fell out— Do you really want to hear this?"
"Go on."
"Part of her rolled out. A leg. The driver heard her hit the ground, went over to check, and uncovered the rest of her. She was bound, hands and feet—hog-tied. Shot in the back of the head. Two shots, close range, both in the brain stem. Coroner says one bullet would've done the trick. Someone was being careful. Or angry. Or both. Or just liked to play with his firestick."
"Large enough to blacken her eyes and do that to her face. Alex, why are you—"
"Sounds like an execution," I said. It came out calm and flat. My eyes filled with water, and I swiped at them.
He didn't answer.
"Four or five days or more," I went on. "So it happened soon after she disappeared."
"Looks like it."
"How'd you identify her?"
"Moment I saw her, I knew exactly who she was. When I spoke to Missing Persons for you, they sent me her sheet and I'd seen her booking photo."
"Well," I said. "Now you've got a relief from your cold cases."
"I'm sorry about this, Alex."
"I just left a message for her mother. Told her I was still working on finding Lauren. Nothing like success, huh?" My eyes brimmed, and a hand-wipe didn't do the trick. As I reached for my handkerchief, Milo turned away.
I stood there and let the tears gush60. What the hell was this all about? I was no stranger to tragedy, had trained myself to maintain distance.
Lauren was dead at twenty-five, but my memories were dominated by a fifteen-year-old face. Too much makeup61, useless little black purse. Ridiculous shoes.
I've changed.
You've grown up.
Have I?
My gorge62 rose, and this time I didn't think I could hold back.
Milo's voice was far away, fuzzed and funneled63 by distance. "You all right?"
I tried to mouth the word "Fine." Turned and sprinted64 up the alley, found a spot away from the crime scene, and vomited65 convulsively.
The burn of rice wine, the fishy66 aftertaste of a fine Japanese dinner.
I waited in Milo's unmarked as he did what he needed to do. My throat was raw, and my body was sheathed67 in clammy sweat. Yet I felt strangely serene68. Milo'd left his cell phone on the front seat, and I called Robin.
She picked up right away—waiting.
"Sorry to ruin another evening," I said.
"What happened?"
"Someone got killed. The case I mentioned today—what I couldn't talk about. A girl I once treated. You'll probably read about it in the paper tomorrow. They just found her body."
"Oh, God—a child?"
"A young woman. She was a child when I met her. She'd gone missing,her mother asked me to help— I may end up going with Milo to notify her. I'm not sure when I'll be back."
"Alex, I'm so sorry."
A laugh slipped out from between my lips. Inappropriate. Inexplicable69.
"Love you," I said.
"I know you do."
Milo got behind the wheel, and I told him about Shawna Yeager.
He said, "I remember that one—the beauty queen. Guy named Leo Riley ended up with it, thank God."
"Tough one?"
"Impossible from the get-go, not a shred70 of physical evidence and no witnesses. Leo used to gripe about it—his last case before retiring and he had to end it open. His hunch35 was some warpo got hold of the girl, did his thing, put her where she'll never be found." He eyed the dumpster. "Whoever did this didn't care about that."
"True," I said.
"Why'd you tell me about the Yeager girl?"
I repeated my conversation with Gene71 Dalby.
He said, "Two students, blond, good-looking, a year apart. If I'm right about the Yeager girl being a sex thing, that's a long time between victims. Nothing you've said screams pattern."
"Just thought I'd mention it."
"I'll keep it in mind if nothing else turns up on Lauren. Meanwhile, I've got uniforms headed over to her apartment to secure the premises72 and keep an eye on the roommate. Got a name on her?"
"Him. Andrew Salander. Mid-twenties. Tends bar at The Cloisters73."
"The Cloisters," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Short, skinny, pale kid with tattoos74?"
"That's him."
"Andy." His smile was uneasy. "Claims to fix a mean martini."
"He doesn't?"
"Hell if I know—I hate martinis." He frowned. "So she roomed with Andy. Any idea how long?"
"He told me about six months. Said he'd been living downstairs in the same building, couldn't make the rent and Lauren invited him to share."
"Interesting." Turning the green eyes on me. "What do you think of that? Her living with him."
"Maybe she considered him safe."
"Maybe he was."
"You know something about him that makes you doubt it?"
"No," he said. "A little too chatty for my taste, but he always seemed like a nice kid. Then again, his roomie got killed. We'll just have to see." He shifted in the seat. "Meanwhile, the fun part of the job: notifying Mom."
"I'll go with you."
"I know you will," he said. "I wasn't even thinking of talking you out of it."
"Sherman Oaks," he said from the passenger seat.
We'd swapped75 the unmarked for the Seville, and I was driving north on Sepulveda. I jumped onto the 405 north on-ramp, veered77 to the fast lane, pushed the car up to eighty-five.
Years ago the freeway would've been a clear sail at this hour. Tonight I had plenty of company, mostly big trucks lumbering78 and small cars rushing. . . . The nerve to get in my way. I had big plans—Jane Abbot's life to ruin.
I wondered if she was home yet. Or would we find the addled79 husband, alone? From mean old Lyle to that. Marital80 luck didn't seem to be her specialty81.
If she was home, what would I say—how would I tell her?
"Devana Terrace," said Milo, reciting the address he'd gotten from Motor Vehicles. "South of Ventura Boulevard."
I knew the neighborhood. Nice. Whatever his mental state, Jane Abbot's second husband had provided well. Remembering his feeble voice, I wondered what she'd settled for.
"The Valley," I said. "Lauren's father took her to a miniature golf course in the Valley the day he terminated therapy." I told him about Lyle Teague's deception82.
"Nice man," he said. "You trying to tell me something about him?"
"No. Lauren denied abuse."
"But you were concerned enough to ask her."
"There was a seductive quality to his behavior. Lauren alluded83 to it herself—the time she came back to see me. She said it sounded as if he'd been jealous of her time with me. But she was very clear about there being no molestation84."
"Protesting too much?" he said.
"Who knows? I didn't have time to find out."
He grunted85, stretched his long legs. "So after Daddy killed therapy, you saw her only that once?"
"I'm still not sure why she originally made the appointment, but she ended up unloading on me. Maybe that's all she wanted."
He was quiet for a while. I put on more speed and he laughed nervously86 and I slowed to eighty. He said, "From acting-out teenybopper to stripping and doing tricks. Lots of girls in the skin trade have abuse in their backgrounds." Another laugh. "Who the hell am I lecturing to?"
"If her father did abuse her, he's sure not going to admit it now."
"Let's see how he reacts to all this—and sooner, rather than later. He may be a shmuck, but as her parent he also merits notification."
"If you can find him."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"He walked out on Lauren and her mother years ago, remarried. Sometimes men who run, run far."
He whipped out the cell phone. "Lyle Teague?"
"He'd be about fifty."
He began punching numbers. The fast lane was clear for a mile or so, and I sped up once more. Milo said, "Have mercy on my colon87, Dr. Day-tona," and again I eased up on the gas pedal.
A moment later he had Lyle Teague's address. "Reseda. Looks like everyone's in the Valley."
"Lauren lived in the city."
"Yeah," he said. "Maybe no coincidence. Distancing herself from Mom and Dad."
"Or she wanted to be closer to the U."
"Then why didn't she live on the Westside?"
"More bang for her rental88 buck," I said.
"Speaking of which," he said, "any idea how she made the rent?"
"She told Salander investments, never got specific."
"A student with investments," he said. "Tell me everything you know about her, Alex. Right from the beginning. The long version."Death ends confidentiality89. Freed from that hurdle90, I spilled. Not much confidentiality to honor anyway. Therapy with Lauren had amounted to so little, and the retelling drove home how little I'd accomplished91. When I got to Phil Harnsberger's party, my voice grew louder, faster. Milo kept his eyes on his pad, looked up only when the Ventura Freeway appeared and I forgot to veer76 to the right. Realizing my error, I asserted myself across three lanes as he sat up and gripped the armrest. Managing to bounce onto the eastbound off-ramp, I tortured my shock absorbers, drove for another couple of miles, exited at Van Nuys, found the south end of the Valley comfortingly quiet.
He said, "Well, that got my heart rate up. No need for the treadmill92."
"When's the last time you saw the inside of a gym?"
"Sometime in the Pleistocene era. Me and all the other Neanderthals, pumping chunks93 of granite94."
I stayed on Van Nuys, reached Valley Vista95, turned left, found Devana Terrace, and cruised slowly, looking for Jane Abbot's address.
Dark street. Pretty street. I finished the account of Lauren's strip, the recognition that had passed between us like a virus.
Milo wanted nothing to do with the confessor role, waved his pen, said, "Remember the other girl's name?"
"Michelle."
"Michelle what?"
"Lauren never said."
"Same age as Lauren?"
"Approximately. Around the same height, too. Dark-haired, maybe Latin."
"Blonde and brunette," he said, and I knew what he was thinking: Someone ordering a matched pair for the evening.
After I'd left, how far had Lauren and Michelle taken things?
He said, "Anyone mention the name of the company they worked for?"
"No. And even if you find the guys who organized the party, I doubt they'll admit to anything. We're talking medical school professors and financial types, and this was four years ago."
"Four years ago would be right around the time Lauren was working for Gretchen Stengel. So maybe Gretchen had a party-rental sideline."
"Where is Gretchen?"
"Don't know. She served a couple of years for money laundering96 and tax evasion97, but your guess is as good as mine." He closed his pad. "Investments ... So maybe Lauren stayed in the game. Be interesting if she and Michelle maintained a relationship."
"Andrew Salander said Lauren didn't have any friends."
"Maybe there were things Lauren didn't tell Andrew. Or he didn't tell you."
"That could very well be," I said. Thinking: Lauren lied about the research job, so she'd probably erected98 other barriers. Constructing her own confidentiality.
Now all her secrets were trash.
收听单词发音 |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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glossed
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| v.注解( gloss的过去式和过去分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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spike
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| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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alley
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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giggling
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aquatic
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contortions
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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sloppy
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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spotlight
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| n.公众注意的中心，聚光灯，探照灯，视听，注意，醒目 | |
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outlets
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| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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screeched
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| 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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bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tumor
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| n.（肿）瘤，肿块(英)tumour | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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hunch
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scrawling
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bent
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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protruded
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pouches
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| n.（放在衣袋里或连在腰带上的）小袋( pouch的名词复数 )；（袋鼠等的）育儿袋；邮袋；（某些动物贮存食物的）颊袋 | |
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saggy
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| 松懈的，下垂的 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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acuity
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| n.敏锐，（疾病的）剧烈 | |
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bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spiky
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| adj.长而尖的，大钉似的 | |
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bristle
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| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
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50
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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51
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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52
tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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53
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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protuberant
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| adj.突出的，隆起的 | |
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55
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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56
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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57
patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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58
latched
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| v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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59
caliber
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| n.能力；水准 | |
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60
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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61
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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62
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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63
funneled
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| 漏斗状的 | |
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sprinted
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| v.短距离疾跑( sprint的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vomited
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fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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gene
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| n.遗传因子，基因 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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73
cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tattoos
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| n.文身( tattoo的名词复数 )；归营鼓；军队夜间表演操；连续有节奏的敲击声v.刺青，文身( tattoo的第三人称单数 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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swapped
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| 交换（工作）( swap的过去式和过去分词 )； 用…替换，把…换成，掉换（过来） | |
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veer
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| vt.转向，顺时针转，改变；n.转向 | |
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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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addled
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| adj.（头脑）糊涂的，愚蠢的；（指蛋类）变坏v.使糊涂( addle的过去式和过去分词 )；使混乱；使腐臭；使变质 | |
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marital
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| adj.婚姻的，夫妻的 | |
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specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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molestation
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| n.骚扰，干扰，调戏；折磨 | |
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85
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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colon
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| n.冒号，结肠，直肠 | |
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rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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confidentiality
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| n.秘而不宣，保密 | |
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hurdle
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| n.跳栏，栏架；障碍，困难；vi.进行跨栏赛 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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92
treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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93
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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96
laundering
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| n.洗涤（衣等），洗烫（衣等）；洗（钱）v.洗（衣服等），洗烫（衣服等）( launder的现在分词 )；洗（黑钱）（把非法收入改头换面，变为貌似合法的收入） | |
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97
evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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98
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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