SHORTLY AFTER FIVE P.M. he called me back.
"Official confirmation1 on Michelle and the boyfriend." No triumph in his voice. "His full name's Hartley Lance Flowrig. Bachelor's degree in shoplifting and burglary, mostly real dumb stuff, no violence. Maybe he and Michelle got desperate and tried to break into the wrong house. Neighborhood like theirs, that could be dangerous."
"Maybe," I said. "But guess what?"
He took the news of Ben Bugger's lineage more calmly than I expected.
"So maybe Lauren told Michelle about something Dugger would like kept private—a nasty kink, something at odds2 with his nice-guy image. Something that could damage him as well as his dad. Or expose the link to his dad—he seems to be doing his best to hide his family background. Once Lauren was gone, Michelle and Lance decided3 to profit from the information. Gretchen knew you'd get to them eventually, tipped off someone at the Duke estate."
He let out a long, low whoosh4 of resignation, then laughed. "Tony Duke and Dr. Ben. No way I'd have made that connection."
"That's exactly the point. I picked up some kind of sexual hang-up, and I'll bet I was right. Dugger wears frayed5 shirts, distances himself from his father and everything his father stands for. But maybe it's a case of protesting too much."
"Running from his own quirks6 ... So you're back on Junior. What about Senior?"
"Who knows?" I said. "But at this point that visit to Newport doesn't seem like a bad idea. Not that Dugger won't be prepared—he just about invited you to drop by. But throw out Shawna's name at a strategic moment and see how he reacts. And check out the staff—see if anyone looks antsy."
"Shawna," he said. "Who might've posed for Duke"
"Or someone she believed was working for Duke. What if Dugger only used his connections once in a while—to attract young, gorgeous blondes. Not a bad ploy7 at all, especially when he had a genuine link to back it up, could throw in a visit to the estate. And maybe he scammed Lauren too. Despite her years on the street, she could've been seduced8 by big bucks9. Maybe those calls to Malibu were hooking up with Junior, his not wanting her to call him at either his home or Daddy's. Someone as nondescript as Dugger could've used that phone booth without being noticed."
"A rich kid," he said. "Pretending to be regular folks . . . Okay, let's do Newport tomorrow. I love Orange County—how can you not dig a place that names its airport after John Wayne?"
"Sure you want me along?" I said. "To Dugger I'm the bad cop."
"Exactly."
At nine A.M. Milo rolled onto my property. I had my keys out and headed toward the Seville.
"No," he said, slapping the driver's door of the unmarked, "we'll take the Ferrari. I want this to look official. Hence the tie—excellent choice, by the way. Nice power stripes—Italian?"
I checked the label. "So it says." I regarded the blue polyester ribbon riding his paunch. "Where's yours from?"
"The Planet Vulgaro." He tugged11 at the knot, licked his pinkie, pretended to slick his hair. "Spiffed and ready for action. What a team."
As he drove past the gateposts I said, "You tell Dugger we were com-ing?"
He nodded. "Mr. Cooperative. Sounds a little depressed12, though. I seem to have that effect on people."
When we reached Sunset I said, "Leo Riley."
"What about him?"
"How would you rate him on the ace10 detective scale?"
"Average. Why?"
"Adam Green had the feeling Riley was phoning in the investigation13 on Shawna, just biding14 his time till retirement15. Then again, he's kind of a mouthy kid and had nothing to offer Riley but guesses about an affair with a professor."
"Leo ... I called him a few days ago—he's living out in Coachella. Because I did look up the Yeager file, and there's not much in it. Left a message—he hasn't called me back."
"Not much in the file because there wasn't much to know—or was Green right about Riley?"
"Maybe both," he said. "No, Leo was no workaholic. . . . Still, there wasn't much to go on. She told her roommate she was going to the library and never came back. Like I told you before, Leo figured it for a psycho sex thing, and I can't say I argued with him. He even made some crack about it turning into a serial16 killer17, and by that time he'd be playing golf in the desert and growing skin cancer. Let's see what he says when he does call back. Meanwhile, I've been thinking about Gretchen's trip to Duke's place. What do you think—collecting for services rendered?"
"Gretchen's never been picky about what she sells."
"Something else," he said. "What Salander said—the whole deal about Lauren not wanting to be controlled by her mom. During the notification interview Jane Abbot did all the right things grief-wise. But basically she gave us nothing. Usually the family throws something at you—wild guesses, suspicions, useless stuff, sometimes a real lead. Jane cried a lot, but there was none of that from her. So I called her last night, left a message." His eyes shifted toward me. "She still hasn't gotten back to me. Which leads me to the fact that she hasn't called me once since the notification. That is also not typical, Alex. Your usual middle-class homicide, I get bombarded with messages: what progress has been made, how soon's the autopsy18 gonna be over, when can we claim the body, have a funeral. Generally, my problem is playing shrink and clerk and still trying to do my job. This lady—not only doesn't she get in touch on her own, she doesn't take the time to call back.'"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning is there anything more I should know about her?"
"No," I said. "I barely knew her. Barely knew Lauren."
He gave a cold smile. "And look where that got you."
"The price of fame."
"Yeah— Alex, I guess what I'm saying is there's something about Jane—like maybe she knows something she isn't letting on. The Duke angle's nice and juicy, but what if this all traces back in some way to Lau-ren's family—Jane, that asshole dad, whatever. I did some checking on oP Lyle. Couple of DUI's, but that's it. Still, you know better than anyone, this was not one happy family. Is there anything I should be looking at?"
I thought about that as Sunset sloped upward and the 405 on-ramp appeared. Milo pushed down harder on the accelerator, and the unmarked kicked, shuddered19, and jammed into high gear.
"Maybe Jane hasn't called back because she's gone into seclusion," I said.
"With Mel? Where? They both check into some rest home? So that's my answer, huh? Don't waste my time in the Valley."
"I can't think of anything."
"Fair enough." His hands were white around the wheel as he sped onto the freeway, narrowly passing a Jaguar20 sedan and eliciting21 angry honks22. "Fuck you too," he told the rearview mirror. "Alex, let's say there is no big family issue. But what if Lauren got hold of juicy info on Dug-ger or Duke or whoever and passed it along to Jane? Maybe Jane reacted strongly—told her to keep her mouth shut, whatever, and that was the control thing Lauren talked about to Salander."
"Lauren had been out of the house for years," I said. "Had just reconnected with Jane. Their relationship was still thawing23. That doesn't mesh24 with her confiding25 something explosive, but maybe. When times get rough sometimes the chicks return to roost."
"So maybe Jane hasn't been in touch with me because she's scared. Has an idea what led to Lauren's death and is worried it could be dangerous for her too. That would be enough to get her to hold back on a lead to Lauren's murder— I know, I know, now it's me who's hypothesizing. But when I'm finished with Dugger, I definitely want another try at her."
"Makes sense," I said.
He grinned fiercely. "Makes no sense evidence-wise, but thanks for theemotional validation26. I'm flopping27 around like a fish on the pier— I know you like Dugger, but he just doesn't bother me. I don't pick up any guilt28 vibe. Sure, he reacted strongly to the news of Lauren's death, but my immediate29 impression was it was just that: news. Okay, he was sweating, and maybe he and Lauren were doing the dirty— Let's see if any of those Newport restaurants remember serious smooching. But still, he doesn't give off any of that fear-hormone stink30. He's depressed, not spooked. . . . What the hell, he could be a primary psychopath—hog-tied her, shot her, dumped her, and ate a candy bar afterward31, and I'm being played like a cheap harmonica. Have you seen anything that points to that level of disturbance32? I mean, you should've heard the ex-wife—ready to beatify the guy."
"Psychopaths don't get anxious, but they do get depressed. Let's take a closer look at him today."
Milo frowned, rubbed his face. "Sure. What the hell, at least we'll get another trip to the beach."
Just before LAX the freeway clogged33. We rolled slowly toward El Segundo, and when the clog34 gave way Milo said, "What do you think Tony Duke's worth—couple of hundred million?"
"The magazine's not what it used to be," I said, "but sure, that wouldn't surprise me. Why do you ask?"
"I was just thinking. Big stakes if something Dugger did do placed the old man in jeopardy35. As in sexual violence. 'Cause Duke's image is good, clean licentiousness36, right?"
A few miles later: "Think about it, Alex: John Wayne Airport. . . . The guy spent World War II on the Warner's lot and he's a combat hero. . . . Welcome to the land of illusion."
"Maybe that's why Dugger likes it here."
Newport Beach sits forty miles south of L.A. Milo violated as many traffic laws as he could think of, but the LAX slowdown turned the trip into a full hour. Exiting at the 55 south, he stayed on the highway as it became Newport Boulevard, sped past miles of basic SoCal strip mall and some spanking37 new shopping centers with all the charm of theme parks on Prozac. The first evidence of maritime38 influence—boat brokers—appeared as we switched to Balboa, and soon I was seeing lots of anchor motifs39, restaurants claiming FRESH FISH! and HAPPY HOUR! and people dressed for the beach. A silvery winter sky said the sand would be gray and cool, but there was no shortage of bare skin. I opened the window. Ten degrees warmer than L.A. Salt smell, clean and fresh. Between this and Santa Monica, Ben Dugger's lungs would have to be pink and pretty.
A few blocks later Balboa turned narrow and residential40: beautifully landscaped two-story homes lining41 both sides of the boulevard, beach view to the west, marina vista42 across the street. A turn onto Balboa East took us past more sparkling windows, bougainvillea flowing from railings, Porsches and Lexuses and Range Rovers lolling in cobbled driveways. Then a two-block, low-profile commercial stretch appeared, and Milo said, "Should be right around here."
The shop fronts were shaded by multicolored awnings43. More shade from street trees, immaculate sidewalks, easy parking, bird chirps44, the merest drumbeat of the tide rolling in lazily. Cafes, chiropractors, wine merchants, beachwear boutiques, a dry cleaner. The address Dugger had given for Motivational Associates matched a one-story, seafoam green stucco structure near the corner of Balboa East and A Street. No signage, just a teak door and two draped windows. The immediate neighbors were a dress shop with a window full of chiffon and a storefront eatery labeled simply CHINESE RESTAURANT! Behind the glass front of the cafe, an Asian man played the deep fryers at warp45 speed as the woman next to him chopped with a cleaver46. The aroma47 of egg rolls mingled48 with Pacific brine.
We parked, got out, and Milo knocked on the teak door. The wood was highly varnished49, like a boat's deck; with so many coats laid on the thump50 barely resonated. Ben Dugger opened and said, "You made good time."
He wore a white shirt under a gray crewneck, wide-wale green cords, brown moccasins with rawhide51 laces. The sweater showcased dandruff flecks52. He'd shaved recently, but not precisely53, and dark hairs hyphenated a raw-looking neck. Behind the thick lenses of his glasses, his eyes were bloodshot and resigned, and when they met mine the pupils expanded.
I smiled. He turned away.
Milo said, "Easy ride. Scenic54."
Dugger said, "Come on in," and admitted us into an off-white ante-room set up with cream canvas chairs and tables piled with magazines and hung with photos of the ocean in various color phases. An unmarked door at the back took us into a larger space, empty and silent and lined with a white door on each wall. The entrance to the left had been left open, revealing a very small, baby blue room furnished with a single bed draped by an Amish quilt and a plain pine nightstand. Stacks of books on the stand, along with a cup and saucer and a pair of glasses. Dugger continued toward a door to the right, but Milo paused to look into the blue room.
Dugger stopped and raised an eyebrow55.
Milo pointed56 at the blue room. "You've got a bed in there. Sleep research?"
Dugger smiled. "Nothing that exotic. It's a genuine bedroom. Mine. I sleep here when it's too late to drive back to L.A. Actually, this was my home until I moved."
"The whole building?"
"Just this room."
"You mean small?" said Dugger, still smiling. "I don't need much. It sufficed." He crossed to a closed door and took out a key ring. Double dead bolts, a sign marked PRIVATE. He'd unlatched the first bolt when Milo said, "So how long ago did you move to L.A.?"
The keys lowered. Dugger took a deep breath. "All these questions about me. I thought this was about Lauren's employment."
"Just making conversation, Doctor. Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable."
Dugger's lips curled upward, and his long, grave face managed a low, inaudible laugh. "No, it's fine. I moved a couple of years ago."
"Newport too quiet?"
Dugger glanced at me. Again I smiled, and again his eyes whipped away. "Not at all. I like Newport very much. But things came up, and I needed to be in L.A. more, so I opened the Brentwood office. It's not really in full gear yet. When it is, I may have to close this place down."
"Why's that?"
"Too much overhead. We're a small company."
"Ah," said Milo. "Things came up."
"Yes," said Dugger, releasing the second bolt. "Come, let's meet the staff."
On the other side of the door was a large, bright office pool partitioned into workstations. The usual off-white blandness58, computers and printers and bracket bookshelves, potted plants and cute calendars, stuffed animals on shelves, the smell of lilac air freshener, Sheryl Crow from a cassette player over the watercooler.
Four women stood by the watercooler, all blandly59 attractive, ranging from mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Each wore a variant60 of sweater-and-pants, and it came across as a uniform. Dugger rattled61 off names: Jilda Thornburgh, Sally Patrino, Katie Weissenborn, Ann Buyler. The first three were research assistants. Buyler, the secretary, was already equipped with Lauren's time cards.
Milo flipped62 through them, began questioning the women. Yes, they remembered Lauren. No, they didn't know her well, had no idea who would have wanted to hurt her. The word punctual kept coming up. As they talked to Milo I searched for signs of evasiveness, saw only the discomfiture63 you'd expect from honest people confronted with murder. Ben Dugger had retreated to a cubicle64 dominated by a large, framed zoo association poster—koalas, cute and cuddly—and had turned his back to us.
Occasionally, one or more of the women looked his way, as if for support.
The women.
Surrounding himself with females.
Like father, like son?
Milo said, "Dr. Dugger? If you don't mind, Fd like to see that room— the one where Lauren worked."
Dugger turned. "Certainly."
As he walked toward us Milo said, "Oh yeah, one more thing, gang. Shawna Yeager. Anyone by that name ever work here?"
Four headshakes.
"You're sure?" said Milo. "Not as a subject or a confederate or anything else?"
Dugger said, "Who?" Milo repeated the name.
"No," said Dugger, eyes steady. "Doesn't ring a bell. Ann?"
Buyler said, "I'm sure, but I'll check." She pecked at her computer keyboard, called up a screen, manipulated the mouse. "No. No Shawna Yeager."
"Who is she?" Dugger asked Milo.
"A girl."
"So I gathered, Detective—"
"Let's see that room," said Milo. "Then I don't need to waste any more of your time."
收听单词发音 |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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whoosh
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| v.飞快地移动，呼 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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quirks
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| n.奇事，巧合( quirk的名词复数 )；怪癖 | |
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ploy
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| n.花招，手段 | |
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seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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bucks
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| 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 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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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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autopsy
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| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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jaguar
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| n.美洲虎 | |
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eliciting
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| n. 诱发, 引出 动词elicit的现在分词形式 | |
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honks
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| n.雁叫声( honk的名词复数 )；汽车的喇叭声v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的第三人称单数 ) | |
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thawing
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| n.熔化，融化v.（气候）解冻( thaw的现在分词 )；（态度、感情等）缓和；（冰、雪及冷冻食物）溶化；软化 | |
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mesh
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| n.网孔，网丝，陷阱；vt.以网捕捉，啮合，匹配；vi.适合； [计算机]网络 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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validation
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| n.确认 | |
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flopping
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| n.贬调v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的现在分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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jeopardy
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| n.危险；危难 | |
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licentiousness
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| n.放肆，无法无天 | |
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spanking
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| adj.强烈的，疾行的；n.打屁股 | |
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maritime
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| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
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motifs
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| n. （文艺作品等的）主题( motif的名词复数 )；中心思想；基本模式；基本图案 | |
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residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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awnings
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| 篷帐布 | |
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chirps
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的第三人称单数 )； 啾； 啾啾 | |
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warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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cleaver
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| n.切肉刀 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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rawhide
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| n.生牛皮 | |
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flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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scenic
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| adj.自然景色的，景色优美的 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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blandness
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| n.温柔，爽快 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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60
variant
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| adj.不同的，变异的；n.变体，异体 | |
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61
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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62
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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63
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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64
cubicle
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| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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