MILO CAME BACK shaking his head. "Nothing—maybe she kept her pills in her purse."
I said, "Here's something," showed him the inscription1, told him about the ad that had run before Shawna Yeager's disappearance2.
"Ads probably run all the time."
"Not really," I said. "From what I saw, they tend to come and go."
"Did you find any ads before Lauren went missing?"
"No, but she could've seen it elsewhere." It sounded feeble, and both of us knew it. He was enough of a friend not to dismiss me, but his silence was eloquent4.
"I know," I said. "Two girls, a year apart, no striking links. But maybe there were other girls in between."
"Blondes disappearing on the Westside? I'd know if there were. At this point I'm not eliminating anything, but I've got a full plate right now: get hold of Lauren's phone records, find out if she had a computer, look for possible witnesses to a pickup5. Maybe find some known associates too. There's got to be someone other than Salander and her mom who knew her. If all that dead-ends, I'll take a closer look at Shawna." He returned the textbook to me. "'Dr. D.' You're sure that's you?"
"Theoretically it could be one of her professors—Gene6 Dalby or another one named de Maartens. Neither of them remembers her. Big lecture classes."
"Well," he said, "I can't exactly interrogate7 them because of this—hell if it means anything at all. The main thing's still the money. Her job and the way she was killed—cold, professional, the body left out there, maybe as a warning—smacks to me of her getting in someone's way. That's why I'm not jumping on the Yeager girl's case—Leo Riley felt that one was sexual. If Lauren deposited fifty a year, who knows how much she was taking in. And that makes me wonder if some of her income came from supplemental sources. Like blackmail8. Who better than a call girl to hoard9 nasty secrets and try to profit from them."
"That would also be reason to make off with her computer."
"Precisimoso. Big bucks10 at stake. College profs don't exactly fit the bill."
"Some college profs are independently wealthy. Actually, Gene Dalby is."
"You keep mentioning him. Something about him bug11 you?"
"Not at all," I said. "Old classmate, tried to be helpful."
"Okay, then—onward."
"So we just let the intimacy12 project lie? This might be a current number."
He took the book back, produced his cell phone, muttered, "Probably gonna get ear cancer," and punched in the number. Nothing in his eyes told me he'd connected, but as he listened he groped in his pocket for his pad, wrote something down, hung up.
"'Motivational Associates of Newport Beach,'" he said. "Friendly female voice: 'Our hours are ten A.M. to blah blah blah.' Sounds like one of those marketing13 outfits14."
"Intimacy and marketing," I said.
"Why not? Intimacy sells product. Lauren sure would've known that. So this was a moonlight for her. She liked money, took another part-time gig. Make sense?"
"Perfect sense."
"Look," he said, "feel free to follow up on it. Call the other professor too—de whatever-his-name-is. Something bugs15 you, let me know. Right now what bugs me is no computer. I need a ride back to the station to pick up my car, see if any messages came in, then I'm packing it in. You up for chauffeur16 duty, or should I lean on one of the boys in blue?"
"I'll drive you," I said.
"What a guy," he said airily as he strode out of the room. As we left the apartment he said, "I'm really sorry the way this turned out."
Nine o'clock the next morning, I phoned Dr. Simon de Maartens at home, and he picked up, sounding distracted. When I introduced myself his voice chilled.
"I already returned your call."
"Thanks for that, but there are still a few questions—"
"Questions?" he said. "I told you I don't remember the girl."
"So you have no memory of her talking to you about doing some research."
"Research? Of course not. She was an undergrad, only grad students are permitted into my lab. Now—"
"The perception course Lauren took from you," I said. "Did the class subdivide17 into smaller discussion groups?"
"Yes, yes—that's typical."
"Would it be possible to get a list of the students in Lauren's section?"
"No," he said. "It would not be possible— You claim to be faculty18 and you are asking for something like that? That is appalling— What is your involvement in all this?"
"I knew Lauren. Her mother's going through hell, and she asked me to be involved."
"Well . . . I'm sorry about that, but it's a confidentiality20 issue."
"Being enrolled21 in a study section is confidential19?" I said. "Not the last time I checked the APA ethics22 code."
"Everything about academic freedom is confidential, Dr. Delaware."
"Fine," I said. "Thanks for your time. The police will probably be getting in touch with you."
"Then I will tell them exactly the same thing."
Click.
Something bugs you, let me know.
I called Milo. No answers at home, in the car, or at his desk. I told his voice mail: "De Maartens was not helpful. He bears attention."
A live woman answered at Motivational Associates of Newport Beach, informing me in a bored-to-death singsong that the office was closed.
"Is this the answering service?"
"Yes, sir."
"When does the office open?"
"They're in and out."
"Is there another office?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where?"
"L.A."
"Do you have the number?"
"One moment, I have to take another call."
She put me on hold long enough for me to wonder if the line had gone dead. Finally, she came back on with a 310 phone number. I called it and got her partner in ennui23.
"The office is closed."
"When will it be open?"
"I don't know, sir—this is the service."
"What's the office's address, please?"
"One moment, I have to take another call."
I hung up and looked it up in the phone book.
The twelve thousand block of Wilshire Boulevard put Motivational Associates' L.A. branch in Brentwood, just east of Santa Monica. A couple of miles from the U and even closer to the Sepulveda alley24 where Lauren's body had been found.
But no sense dropping by and confronting a bolted door. I booted up the computer and plugged in "Motivational Associates."
Three hits, the first a four-year-old article from the Chicago Tribune about a South Side shelter for battered25 women and the services it offered. Residential26 care, medical consultation27, individual counseling, group therapy "provided by Motivational Associates, a private consulting group that offers pro3 bono services, particularly in the area of human relations." The gist28 of the article was human-interest coverage29 of several abused women who'd gained emotional strength, and the firm's participation30 earned no further mention.
The second reference was a shortened version of the Trib piece, picked up by the wire services and distributed nationally. Number three was an Eastern Psychological Association abstract of a paper presented two years ago at a regional convention in Cambridge. "Buffington, Sandra, Lindquist, Monique, and Dugger, B. J. The Multidimensional Assessment32 of Intimacy: Factor Analysis of the Personal Space Grid33 Index (PSGI) and Self-Report Measures of Locus34 of Control, Trait Anxiety, Personal Attractiveness, Self-Concept and Extroversion35."
So much for racy research.
The authors' affiliations36 were University of Chicago for Buffington and Lindquist and Motivational Associates, Inc. for B. J. Dugger.
Dr. D.
I pulled out my American Psychological Association directory and looked up Dugger, betting on a woman. Barbara Jean, Barbara Jo—
Benjamin John. Not the day for me to play the ponies37.
Dugger's birth date made him thirty-seven. He'd earned a B.A. in psychology38 from Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts, at the age of twenty-one and a Ph.D. in social psychology from the U of Chicago ten years later. Postdoctoral fellowship at UC, San Diego, then a two-year lapse39 until his first—and only—job: Director, Motivational Associates of Newport Beach, California. Areas of specialty40: quantitative41 measurement of social distance and applied42 motivational research. The address he'd listed was on Balboa Boulevard, in Newport, and the number was the 714 I'd just called.
Not a clinician, so no need for a state license43. That made checking with the Board of Psychology for disciplinary actions a waste of time. I called anyway. Zero.
I tried a pocketful of area codes for residential listings for Dr. Benjamin J. Dugger. Nothing. Scanning his name on the Internet pulled up only the same abstract of the Cambridge paper, which I reread.
Jargon44 and numbers and high-powered statistics, the arcane45 nutrients46 of tenure47. Nothing remotely sexy.
Still, it had been Dugger's number listed in Lauren's book, and as much as I disliked de Maartens, that made Dugger the prime candidate for "Dr. D." And he'd been running his ad during the time Shawna Yea-ger disappeared. Milo was probably right about there being no link between the cases, but still . . .
I thought about it some more. Dugger's bio was about as provocative48 as the owner's manual for a plow49.
Weaker than weak. I reread the bio and something shot out at me.
Two time lapses50: ten years between his bachelor's degree and his doctorate51, another two between finishing school and taking his first job.
Nice first job. Most new Ph.D.'s enter the job market burdened by debt and are forced to accept temporary lectureships and entry-level slots. Benjamin J. Dugger had disappeared for two years, only to return in an executive position.
Offices in Newport Beach and Brentwood. A company sufficiently52 capitalized to offer free services. And what did personal-space research have to do with battered women?
It added up to money.
Some college profs are independently wealthy.
Simon de Maartens's hostility53 made me wonder about his financial situation. Time to learn more about both Dr. D's.
The Ovid files at the U's research library spit out forty-five publications for de Maartens, all on the psychophysics of vision in primates54. He was thirty-three, and there were no lapses in his professional life: B.A. at twenty from Leiden University in the Netherlands, Oxford55 doctorate in experimental psychology at twenty-five, two-year postdoc at Harvard, where he served a three-year lectureship, then assistant professorship at the U and fast-track promotion56 two years later to associate. The usual society memberships and more than a handful of academic honors, including a grant and a service award from the Braille Institute—perhaps his chimp57 research offered human possibilities.
Benjamin J. Dugger had been less prolific58: five articles, none more recent than two years ago, all in the same dry vein59. The last three had been coauthored with Barbara Buffington and Monique Lindquist, the first two had been solos—summaries of Dugger's first-year graduate research study and dissertation60: measuring personal space in hooded61 rats subjected to varying degrees of social deprivation62. The dates allowed me to fix his graduate studies as beginning four years prior to receiving his Ph.D. That still left a six-year question mark between Clark University and Chicago.
Having nowhere else to go, I phoned both institutions and verified his degrees with the alumni associations. So far, nothing suspicious. Why should there be? I was groping.
Thinking about Lauren's body tumbling out of the dumpster, I calledChicago again and asked for Professor Buffington or Lindquist. The former was on sabbatical in Hawaii, but a woman answered Lindquist's extension with a high, bright "This is Monique."
"Professor, this is Mr. Lew Holmes from Western News Service. We've come across an article about some work you and your colleagues did on personal space and were wondering if one of you could talk to us about a piece we're putting together on dating in the nineties."
"I don't think so," she said, laughing. "That research was pretty esoteric—lots of math, nothing about dating. Where'd you come across it?"
"It came up on our database," I said. "So you don't think you can help?"
"I think if you wrote about our research your readers would fall asleep."
"Oh. Too bad. Sorry for bothering you, and I guess I won't follow up on Professor Dugger."
"Professor— Oh, Ben. No, I doubt he could help you either."
"Double too-bad," I said. "We're a California-based news service, and our clients are always looking for local sources to quote. With Professor Dugger being out here, it would've worked out great."
"I don't want to speak for Ben, but I doubt he could illuminate63 you either."
"Well, let me ask you this, Professor, are you doing any other research that might be of interest to our clients?"
"No, sorry. But I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone wanting the attention. Especially out in California. Bye—"
"What about Professor Dugger? Would he be doing anything else that might be interesting?"
"As in sex? Is that what you're getting at?"
"Well," I said, "you know how it is."
"I sure do. In terms of Ben Dugger's recent work, I have no idea what he's been up to. It's been a while since we worked together."
"Maybe I'll give him a shot," I said. "I've got him in Newport Beach and Brentwood." I read off the addresses. "This firm he's got— Motivational Associates. What are they into, advertising65?"
"Market research." She laughed again. "Something funny, Professor?"
"You're out for the sex angle—like every other reporter. If that's what you want from Ben Dugger, don't count on it." "Why's that, Professor?" "That's ... all I have to say. Bye, now."
"Some kind of hang-up?" said Milo. "Sounds more like he's a prude."
"There's something there," I said.
"She didn't imply anything nasty."
"No," I admitted. "She was lighthearted. Like it was some kind of in-joke."
"So maybe the guy's a Catholic priest or something."
"That wasn't in his bio."
He grunted66 over the phone. It was nearly noon. He'd taken two hours to return my call. Andrew Salander had verified that Lauren had owned a Toshiba laptop. After that Milo'd been tied up at the morgue, watching Lauren's autopsy67. The coroner had found no evidence of sexual assault— of any recent intercourse68. No illness, surgery, scarring, or drug use. The preliminary finding was that the first bullet fired into Lauren's brain stem—a 9 mm—had shut off her life functions nearly instantly. Until that second, a healthy girl.
"So she probably didn't suffer," he said. "I called her mom and told her she definitely didn't. Woman sounds as if she's been hollowed out and left to dry. . . . So de Maartens is an uppity putz and Dugger doesn't like to talk about sex."
"Dugger may also have money." I gave him the logic31 on that.
"If I had to choose, I'd say press the Dutch guy 'cause he got hostile. If you're up to that, fine."
"If I show up at his door, he'll slam it. I told him the police would probably be stopping by."
"Promises, promises. I'll try to get to it eventually. So far, no record of any cab or limo making a pickup in the vicinity of Lauren's apartment. Her broker69 in Seattle knows her only as a voice over the phone. She cold-called him a few years ago, said she had money to invest. Which is a switch, usually it's the salesmen who call, so needless to say he didn't argue. He said Lauren did her homework about the market, knew whatshe wanted but was willing to listen to advice. Overall impression: smart. He was surprised to learn she was only twenty-five, figured her for a good ten years older."
"What did he say she wanted?"
"Blue-chip funds, and she was patient enough to hold. He figured her for a high-income lawyer or some other executive type. I put two uniforms on the door-to-door, a couple of people think they remember her vaguely70 from the neighborhood—jogging, driving around in her convertible—but no one saw her getting picked up. Not the day she disappeared or any other time. I got hold of six months' worth of phone records. She actually used the horn very little. Talked to her mom every couple of weeks—the last call was two days before she disappeared. Nothing to Lyle—no surprise. The only things that did look interesting were five calls over the last two months to the same number in Malibu. Turns out to be a pay phone in Point Dume."
"Lauren told Salander she went to Malibu for rest and recreation. Is the phone near a motel?"
"No. Shopping center at Kanan-Dume Road."
"Have you found any cell phone account for her, or an answering service?"
"Not so far."
"Don't you find that surprising, if she was making dates?"
Pause. "A bit."
"Unless," I said, "she didn't need a service because she wasn't casting her net. Had one client who paid all the bills. Maybe someone who lives in Malibu, doesn't want wifey-poo to hear Lauren's call, so he uses the pay phone."
"Fifty grand plus from one John? One helluva habit."
"Lots of passion," I said. "When those kinds of things go bad, they go very bad."
"I'll drive there today, see what kinds of shops are nearby—maybe someone noticed something. Maybe I'll drop in on de Maartens on the way back. Where's he live?"
"Don't know, but his number's a 310."
"I'll get it. Thanks for all the work, Alex."
"However useless."
"Hey," he said, "you can never tell what'll pan out." Lying through his teeth. What else are friends for?
Just after one P.M. I got in the Seville and drove to Motivational Associates' Brentwood office.
The building was one of a group of towers that had sprouted71 on Wilshire during one of the booms. Four stories for parking, eight for offices, zebra-striped walls of white aluminum72 and black glass. The packing carton a serious building came in.
I walked past an empty guard desk to the directory. No pattern to the tenant73 mix: computer consultants74, insurance agents, lawyers, an occupational therapy brokerage, a few psychotherapists. Motivational Associates was Suite75 717, a third of the way down a gray-walled, plum-carpeted hallway. Black doors with tiny chrome signage. Bugger's was set between
E-WISDOM and THE LAW OFFICES OF NORMAN AND REBBIRQUE
No mail at or under the door, and when I peeked76 through the slot I saw an unlit waiting room, still no pile of letters. Either someone had collected or the post went to another location. I didn't knock—the last thing I wanted was to have to explain myself.
I'd returned to the elevator, was waiting for it to ascend77 from the lobby when the door to 717 swung open and a man came out carrying a scuffed78 brown leather briefcase79. Locking the dead bolt, he made his way in my direction, swinging his keys.
Thirty-five to forty, five-ten, one sixty. Dark hair trimmed close to the sides, thinning on top, freckled80 bald spot at the crown. He wore a shapeless oatmeal herringbone sport coat with brown-leather elbow patches, an open-necked white button-down shirt with blue stripes, faded beige cords that would've suited Milo had they been five waist sizes larger, and brown loafers with toes worn to gray gristle. A wadded selection from the morning's Times was stuffed into a pocket of the jacket, weighing the garment down on one side and making him appear lopsided. Three black plastic pens were clipped to his handkerchief pocket. Tortoiseshell eyeglasses dangled81 from a chain around his neck.
He arrived at the lift just as the door opened, waited for me to step in, then followed and stood near the door. Placing the briefcase on the floor, he punched in P3 and said, "How about you?" in a pleasant voice.
Straight nose, straight mouth, smallish ears, firm chin. Nothing out of proportion, but something—a blurring82 of contours—kept it just shy of handsome. The lapel of his sportcoat was fuzzed where it met his shirt. Two white threads had come loose from his shirt collar.
I said, "Same, thanks."
He turned, offering a view of his bald spot. I noticed a worn gold monogram83 above the clasp of the case. BJD. As we descended84 he began whistling, and his hands grew active—fingers drumming, tapping, stretching, curling. A shaving nick bottomed his right earlobe. Another cut flecked his jawline. He gave off the smell of soap and water.
He stopped whistling. Said, "Sorry."
"No problem."
"They used to play Muzak. Someone must've complained."
"People tend to do that."
"They do, indeed."
No further exchange until we reached P3 and I hung back as he stepped out into the parking area. As he headed briskly toward a nearby aisle85, I was watching from behind a concrete pillar.
His car was a white Volvo sedan, plain-wrap model, several years old. No alarm click, and he'd left the door unlocked. Tossing the briefcase across the seat, he slid in, started up, backed out blowing chalky smoke. I ran up the three flights to the lobby, was heading for the Seville when I saw him pull onto Wilshire, going west.
Toward the beach? Malibu?
He was ten blocks ahead of me, and it took several traffic violations86 for me to catch up. I stayed two car lengths behind in the neighboring lane and tried to watch him. He kept both hands on the wheel; his lips were moving and his head was bobbing. Either a hands-off cell phone or singing to himself. My guess was the latter: he looked utterly87 at peace.
He drove to Long's Drugstore in Santa Monica, stayed inside for ten minutes, emerged with a big bag of something, got back on Wilshire and drove to Broadway and Seventh, where he pulled up in front of a narrow, white-clapboard Victorian, once a three-story house, now THE PACIFIC FAITH APOSTOLIC CHURCH. One of the few old ones that had survived the Northridge quake. The white boards were freshly painted, and a crisp picket88 fence boxed off the church's yard. Sandboxes and swings and slides and monkey bars. Three dozen munchkins, mostly brown-skinned and dark-haired, scooted and jumped and shouted and squatted89 in the sand. Three young women wearing braided hair and long, pale dresses watched from the sidelines. A rainbow-lettered banner across the fence announced FAITH PRESCHOOL, SPRING REGISTRATION90 STILL OPEN.
Dr. Benjamin Dugger parked at the curb91, walked through the picket gate, and entered the church. If he was burdened with sin, the bounce in his stride didn't say so. He remained inside for fifteen minutes, emerged minus the bag from the drugstore.
Back to Wilshire. His next stop was a fish-and-chips place near Fourteenth Street, where he came out with another bag, smaller and grease-spotted. Lunch was enjoyed on a bench at Christine Reed Park, behind the tennis courts, where I watched from the Seville as he shoved french fries and something breaded into his mouth, drank from a can of Coke, and shared leftovers92 with the pigeons. A quarter of an hour later he was back on Wilshire, heading east this time, staying in one lane, sticking to the speed limit.
He entered Westwood Village, parked in a pay lot on Gayley, and entered a multiplex theater. Two comedies, a spy thriller93, a historical romance. Showtimes said he'd chosen either one of the comedies or the romance.
I drove home.
At three, deciding I should stick to what I knew, I phoned the Abbot house. The robot voice answered and, feeling grateful when neither Jane's nor Mel's broke in, I hung up.
At 4:43, Milo called. "The pay phone's in a gas station. Nearby are a gym, an insurance agency, and a cafe. No one remembers Lauren. The owner of the station doesn't recall any frequent callers. It's a busy place, lots of traffic, for him to notice someone they would Ve had to set up office in the booth. I also dropped in on a bunch of motels and showed Lauren's picture around. Zero. I'm back at my desk, figured I'd check out snippy Professor de Maartens. Who, as it turns out, lives in Venice. Want to tag along?"I debated whether to tell him I'd followed Benjamin Dugger. By now, the tail seemed ludicrous. No reason to share.
"Sure," I said. "The charm of my company?"
"Just the opposite. You pissed him off once—maybe that can be harnessed."
收听单词发音 |
1
inscription
|
|
| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
pro
|
|
| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
pickup
|
|
| n.拾起，获得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
gene
|
|
| n.遗传因子，基因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
interrogate
|
|
| vt.讯问，审问，盘问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
blackmail
|
|
| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
hoard
|
|
| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
bucks
|
|
| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
bug
|
|
| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
marketing
|
|
| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
outfits
|
|
| n.全套装备( outfit的名词复数 )；一套服装；集体；组织v.装备，配置设备，供给服装( outfit的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bugs
|
|
| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
chauffeur
|
|
| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
subdivide
|
|
| vt.细分（细区分，再划分，重分，叠分，分小类） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
confidential
|
|
| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
confidentiality
|
|
| n.秘而不宣，保密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
enrolled
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
ethics
|
|
| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
ennui
|
|
| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
residential
|
|
| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
gist
|
|
| n.要旨；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
coverage
|
|
| n.报导，保险范围，保险额，范围，覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
participation
|
|
| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
assessment
|
|
| n.评价；评估；对财产的估价，被估定的金额 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
grid
|
|
| n.高压输电线路网；地图坐标方格；格栅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
locus
|
|
| n.中心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
extroversion
|
|
| n. [心理]外向，[医]外翻 =extraversion | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
affiliations
|
|
| n.联系( affiliation的名词复数 )；附属机构；亲和性；接纳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
ponies
|
|
| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
psychology
|
|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
specialty
|
|
| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
quantitative
|
|
| adj.数量的，定量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
jargon
|
|
| n.术语，行话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
arcane
|
|
| adj.神秘的，秘密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
nutrients
|
|
| n.（食品或化学品）营养物，营养品( nutrient的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
tenure
|
|
| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
provocative
|
|
| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
plow
|
|
| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
lapses
|
|
| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
doctorate
|
|
| n.(大学授予的)博士学位 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
primates
|
|
| primate的复数 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
promotion
|
|
| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
chimp
|
|
| n.黑猩猩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
prolific
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的；多产的，富有创造力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
dissertation
|
|
| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
hooded
|
|
| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
deprivation
|
|
| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
illuminate
|
|
| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
rancor
|
|
| n.深仇，积怨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
advertising
|
|
| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
grunted
|
|
| （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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
autopsy
|
|
| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
broker
|
|
| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
sprouted
|
|
| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
aluminum
|
|
| n.(aluminium)铝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
consultants
|
|
| 顾问( consultant的名词复数 )； 高级顾问医生，会诊医生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
suite
|
|
| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
peeked
|
|
| v.很快地看( peek的过去式和过去分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
ascend
|
|
| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
scuffed
|
|
| v.使磨损( scuff的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
briefcase
|
|
| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
freckled
|
|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
dangled
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
blurring
|
|
| n.模糊，斑点甚多，（图像的）混乱v.（使）变模糊( blur的现在分词 )；（使）难以区分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
monogram
|
|
| n.字母组合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
aisle
|
|
| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
violations
|
|
| 违反( violation的名词复数 )； 冒犯； 违反（行为、事例）； 强奸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
picket
|
|
| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
squatted
|
|
| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
registration
|
|
| n.登记，注册，挂号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
curb
|
|
| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
leftovers
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物，剩菜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
thriller
|
|
| n.惊险片，恐怖片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |