HYPOTHESES CONFIRMED:
Ben Dugger used his experiment to pick up women—young blondes. Relinquished1 his catch when Dad asserted a preference.
Snaring2 women but acting3 the "perfect gentleman." Asexual—at least in the beginning. Something off sexually—Monique Lindquist's laughing aside about his not wanting to talk about sex rang in my ears.
So did Cheryl Duke's remark about not wanting to be judged neglectful: definitely worried about losing her kids. The accidental gas leak. Living at the estate as the Duke family called the shots.
Black Suit also bunking5 down there. Playing tennis. More than just hired help.
Threads of suspicion—a net. But nothing that told me why Lauren and the others had died. Nothing to tell Milo.
As I drove back home I wondered how I'd recount the day to Robin6.
Hey, hon, I played frogman and spent most of the afternoon flirting7 with a much younger woman. Cheryl's private number was wedged in my wallet. There was no reason for her aroma9 to linger in my nose, but I kept catching10 whiffs of suntan lotion11 and good perfume.
I arrived just before five. Spike12 greeted me at the door with a dismissive snort, but no sign of Robin. He led me into the kitchen and groused13 until I fed him some leftover14 brisket, and that's where I found the note: "Taking a nap, alarm set for six-thirty." I checked the answering machine. Four messages, none from Milo. Booting up the computer, I plugged in "Anita Duke," came across the personal website of another woman with the same name—a computer programmer in Nashville—offering the universe a peek17 into her private life. Why do people do that?
The Anita I was looking for merited a dozen hits, almost all of them citations19 I'd already pulled up—the transfer of executive power from father to daughter. But down at the bottom of the list, a two-year-old citation18 from Entertainment News caught my eye:
Duke Magazine Exec Weds20: Magazine heavy Anita Duke ties the knot with boyfriend in Malibu ceremony . . .
I downloaded and printed.
In a star-studded, ocean-view ceremony this past weekend, the only daughter of magazine tycoon21 Marc Anthony Duke was married to her companion of several years. Anita Catherine Duke, 33, a graduate of Wellesley College and Columbia University Business School and newly appointed CEO of Duke Enterprises, was given away this past Saturday by her father and stepmother, Sylvana, as she tied the knot with Kent Irving, 31, former president of M'Lady's Couture, an LA. garment manufacturer, and now Projects Manager for Duke Enterprises. The nuptials22 took place under a veil of secrecy23 at the posh Shadowridge Lodge24 in the hills of Malibu, but sources cite the attendance of several showbiz heavies including
The rest was all famous names and catering25 details. No mention of a honeymoon26. Or of Brother Ben's presence at the happy event.
M'Lady's Couture.
The rag trade. Lauren's turf before Kent Irving had married himself into the Duke family.
Now I did need to talk to my friend the detective.
I got hold of him at the robbery-homicide room.
"Oh, happy days," he said. "Despite my express instructions, Andy Salander has split. I was trying to reach him to see if he knew more than he originally told us about Lauren's schmatte connections—I've spent the bulk of the past two days downtown, dead-ending on that. No one at the Fashion Mart remembers her doing runway work, and none of the modeling agencies ever signed her up. Which probably means another lie—her real gig was hooking, and who's going to admit being involved with that? I did find a couple shirts at discount, but that's about it for productivity."
"Funny thing you should mention the rag trade. Ben Dugger's brother-in-law used to be involved in that. Outfit27 called M'Lady's Couture."
"Oh," he said. "Well, how about you just borrow my badge and give me a few days off in Palm Springs?"
"You hate the desert."
"I hate this case more. . . . M'Lady's Couture . . . I've got the Mart directory right here, hold on. ... Nope, no listing, let's try the phone book. . . . Uh-uh—zilch."
"No surprise," I said "The story said 'former president.' Irving's moved on to brighter prospects28."
"How'd you find this out?"
I thought about telling him of my day at the beach. Said, "Hurtling through cyberspace29. The M'Lady connection was cited in Anita Duke's wedding story. It makes me wonder. Irving married Anita two years ago, but they probably dated for a while before that—let's say six months to a year. That's part of the time period Lauren claimed to be working the Mart. I agree, modeling was a cover, she was hooking. But the garment-biz part of it might have been true. If Irving was one of her clients—a big-time regular, throwing around big money—his marrying megamillions would make that an embarrassing bit of biography. What if Lauren tried to profit from that—told Michelle, et cetera, et cetera, and Michelle did the same. Or someone thought she was going to. As in Gretchen Stengel. Who also knew Irving from the good old days and told him. And he had the problem taken care of."
Long silence. "So now you've got a new bad guy."
"Big bucks31 at stake—an executive type—would fit with the professional hit scenario32. As well as leaving the bodies to be found. Warning off others. It would also explain the theft of Lauren's computer records. In addition to Anita's money, Irving's got a top job at Duke Enterprises, and he's part of a group that's developing Paradise Cove30. Lots at stake. Any way to find out if his name comes up in Gretchen's case file?"
"And Dr. Dugger? No more sexy secrets?"
"I'm not abandoning him," I said. "Just suggesting an alternative. And even if Dugger wasn't directly involved in the murders, he could've set everything into motion, without intending to. By trying to get something going with Lauren—bringing her to the Duke estate. She and Irving came face-to-face—talk about a blast from the past—and she started leaning on Irving. That could explain Dugger's strong reaction when we told him about Lauren's death. He was surprised. But he's also aware of his role in it—however unintentional. Suspects Irving. He can't say a thing, because he doesn't want to expose his family. So he claims innocence33, cooperates up to a point, starts sweating when you get too close to his personal life."
"All this from cyberspace. . . . And where does Shawna Yeager figure into this grand production?"
"That I don't know. Unless Irving had something going with her too."
"This guy gets around."
"Maybe I'm totally off base," I said, "but wouldn't a look at the Gretchen files be a place to start?"
"The Gretchen files," he said, "are a problem. The feds took over from the locals, they're the ones who prosecuted34 her, they orchestrated the plea bargain. Throughout the whole thing, no customers' names were ever exposed and, believe me, the papers tried to get hold of Gretchen's files. That was the whole point of the deal. Protecting Johns in high places. Gretchen kept her mouth shut in return for a short sentence. I'll call the U.S. attorney, but don't get your hopes up. First, though, I need to find Andy Salander. His rabbit really bugs35 me. . . ."
"When did he leave?"
"Middle of the night, no notice, a month's rent due, packed all his clothes, left the furniture behind. The landlord is not pleased and neither am I. Salander was the last person to see Lauren alive. With all due respect to your creative mind, wouldn't it be a peach if this comes down to a stinking36 little roommate thing?"
"You really see Salander overpowering, trussing, and shooting Lauren in the head, then dumping her in the trash?" I said. "Doing the same to Michelle and Lance and burning their bodies?"
"Alex, I've been doing this too long to be surprised by anything. For all we know Michelle and Lance were shot because of something totally unrelated to Lauren."
"And Jane?"
"Mel Abbot shot Jane, friend. That's the way it's going down, and I have nothing to say it shouldn't. What I do have is Salander cutting out after he gave his word that he wouldn't. I was just by The Cloisters37. The manager said Salander didn't show up for work yesterday or today, didn't phone, which is a switch—he's always been reliable. Something's definitely not right."
"Maybe he's scared," I said. "Knows something he shouldn't. Jane Abbot's death just hit the news. Maybe Salander figured he could find himself in the same situation and panicked. Because he knows what Jane knew."
"What—Lauren has this big valuable secret and she tells everyone?"
"Lauren was a loner. And lonely. Salander made a point of telling me what a good listener he was. And perhaps Lauren didn't tell him everything, merely hinted around, or gave him a partial story. Now that people are dying, he's worried that's enough."
"Fine," he said. "Maybe. But if he knows something, that's all the more reason for me to go after him ASAP. The manager at the bar says he had an on-again, off-again boyfriend, and that's the lead I'm chasing."
"Could be on-again," I said. "The first time I met Salander, he was waiting for someone to show up, implied it was a former flame, some sort of reconciliation38. Who's the boyfriend?"
"Some film agent who works for one of the big outfits39. Manager thinks Andy said William Morris. He dropped in at The Cloisters infrequently, drank Singapore slings40, schmoozed with Andy, not too friendly with anyone else. Last time was months ago, but I've got a description—forties, dark hair, slim, tiny little eyeglasses, Armani suits—and maybe a name. Manager thinks he heard Andy call this guy Jason or Justin. I'm heading over to Morris right now. Maybe they'll buy my screenplay."
"Didn't know you had one."
"Throw cash at me and I can write one in a couple of days, win an Oscar—have you seen the crap that gets on-screen?"
"What, cop against the odds41?"
"Charming genius cop as sensitive soul and savior of the world."
I laughed. "If you dead-end in Beverly Hills, you might try Salander's parents. He had a snapshot of them in his room, taken in—"
"Yeah—Bloomington, Indiana. Called this morning. Salander's mother hasn't spoken with him in nearly a year. Seems Andy Senior has troubles with his only child's lifestyle, Junior left home a year shy of high school graduation, never returned to the Old Homestead. He sends Mommy a Christmas card and she mails him money that she saves from the grocery stash42. When I hung up she was crying—I love my job. Anyway, thanks for the Irving info. Feel free to call with additional inspiration."
"Actually ..."
"What?"
"Try to stay calm," I said.
"If I could get calm, I could stay calm. What?"
"I've been traveling through more than cyberspace." I told him about my day at Paradise Cove, the time with Cheryl Duke, meeting Anita and Irving, catching sight of Black Suit in tennis garb43.
"So you actually met the guy."
"Just for a few minutes."
Long silence.
"Kayaking?"
"It's good exercise."
"Alex," he said. Then he trailed off. More dead air. Finally: "Mr. Schmatte wears linen44 and the goombah plays tennis. Summer fun in the winter—maybe Joe Mafioso's another kind of pro16. Brought in to improve the old guy's backhand."
"He's built more like a power lifter."
"Fine, fine, but lobbing balls across the net makes him even less likely to be some hoodoo hit man. If he was, they wouldn't put him up on home turf. Alex, I can't believe you actually took out a goddamn boat and did marine45 surveillance."
"No law against enjoying the great outdoors," I said. "Lucky I was there. The boy might've drowned."
An exaggerated sigh hissed46 through the receiver. "Myyyy heeero—so now Mommy's bonded47 with you. You going to date her?"
"Very funny."
"You took her number."
"What was my choice?"
"How about self-righteous indignation? You might've told me at the outset that you knew Irving from more than the Internet—"
"I was waiting for the right moment."
He laughed. "What's the use? Okay, so is there a reason, other than the garment link, that Irving twangs your antenna48? What's he like in person?"
"He kowtows to his wife but likes to come across in charge. Styled hair, dresses like reruns of Miami Vice49, tough-guy swagger—he impressed me as someone who wants to be seen as a player."
"If bad taste and phoniness were felonies, L.A. would be one big penitentiary," he said. "Okay, he's got poor fashion sense, that's why he bombed in the garment game. Give me something else—something ominous50 that I can work with before I go chasing around town."
"Can't," I admitted. "I'm just trying to connect the dots. There is one other issue that might or might not be relevant. Cheryl's pretty nervous about being judged a neglectful mother. And Irving suggested to me—a perfect stranger—that she was. I think he wants that information out there. I've done enough custody51 consults to develop a nose for impending52 conflict, and this one reeks53 of it. Rich families are the worst—enough funds to pay lawyers for too long, and it's never about the kids, it's about control. And money. In this case, big money. Cheryl said she and Duke split amicably54, but that could be wishful thinking, or just a lie. Or taking the kids from her might not even be Duke's intent. The feeling I'm getting is that he's receded55 into the background. Hasn't thrown a party in nearly two years, Cheryl implied there wouldn't be any more. Duke's handing the corporate56 reins57 to Anita and, by extension, to Kent Irving. So maybe it's all part of Anita and Irving's power grab. Those two kids are heirs, two more slices of the pie. If Anita and Kent can gain custody of Baxter and Sage15, they consolidate58 their grip on the empire. A power grab also fits the need to get rid of nuisances—like blackmailers who push too hard. I can see Irving hiring a hit man, maybe even being arrogant59 enough to put the hit man up at the estate. Because mobbing up is glamorous60."
"Forget what I said about screenplays," he said. "You write it, I'll sell it."
"The other thing," I said, "is I was right about Dugger using his experiment to pick up women." I told him about Cheryl being a confederate in the intimacy61 study. Dugger wining and dining her, only to pass her along to Tony Duke.
"The experiment," he said. "Applied62 science. Dutiful son."
"Young blondes," I said. "Both father and son like young blondes. So, despite what Dugger claims, I'm not eliminating Shawna from whatever scenario turns out to be true."
"Sex, money—take your pick, huh? Quite an amalgam63."
"I'm an equal opportunity theorizer. Lauren bought a weapon for self-protection, might've been carrying it the night she was murdered, but never used it. That would fit with her knowing the killer64. Underestimating the threat. Lauren loved the money she got from hooking, but what really turned her on was the power. Dominance. If the killer was a John, or posing as one, she might have been deluded65 into thinking she was in charge. The killer dispatched her, dumped her, took her gun for future use. Setting up Jane's death. Using Lauren's gun on Jane, then planting it on Mel Abbot. A family gun, an obvious accident."
"Creative," he said. "Terrifyingly creative."
"Any major flaws to the logic66?"
No answer.
I said, "It would sure be good to get a look at Jane's papers, see if she left behind anything provocative67. What about Lyle Teague? He show up yet?"
"Suspect number one trillion?" he said. "No, I called the Castaic sheriffs and they promised to look for his truck. They haven't called me yet, so I assume he's still out there, hunting. Which is what I should be doing."
"I've still got those photos of Dugger and Black Suit."
"Oh yeah, those. Let me see how the time shakes out. I'll have my people call your people."
Forty minutes later he called. "Visited the Morris agency. Andy Salander's on-again is probably a guy named Justin LeMoyne. Fits the description, and he called in sick yesterday, canceled all his appointments. And guess what: He's your neighbor—lives right on Beverly Glen, maybe half a mile down. I'm on my way there now. Want to meet me and give me those photos? If Andy's there, you can observe my masterful interrogation, psych the lad out."
Robin would be sleeping for another half hour. I said, "Sure."
Justin LeMoyne's home was a petite, beautifully maintained white bungalow68 that had obviously once been the guesthouse of the Spanish colonial mansion69 on the neighboring property. A pair of Canary Island pines sentried the door, and wisteria vines twisted above the hand-painted tile address numerals. The front yard was planted with drought-tolerant specimens70, obviously new. A single garage abutted71 the house. No car in the driveway.
Traffic on the Glen was a slow choke. I got there before Milo, parked and waited. No movement in or around the bungalow, but the same could be said for every house in the neighborhood. The only signs of life were the pained looks of the motorists caught in the crush, as they filed past miles of inanimate real estate. As if everyone were leaving L.A., in anticipation—or the wake—of the latest disaster.
Milo's unmarked finally appeared, spewing exhaust, bumping over the grass parkway bordering LeMoyne's driveway, and bounding over the curb73. He drove up behind the Seville, exited while yanking the knot of his tie, and headed straight for the door. By the time I got there he was jabbing the bell. No answer. A hard knock elicited74 the same result.
"Hey," he said, eyeing the traffic. "Let's hear it for quality of life." His skin was gray around the edges, and his eyes seemed to be fighting to stay open.
I offered the envelope containing the Black Suit snaps. He stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Another bell jab. Nothing. "Let's try the neighbors."
At the mansion a black-uniformed, fair-haired maid with a lumpy face answered, and Milo asked her about Justin LeMoyne.
"Oh, heem," she said in a Slavic accent. The look of disdain75 was unmistakable.
"Problem neighbor, ma'am?"
"He ees, you know . . ." She proffered76 a limp wrist. "Flit-flit."
"Gay."
"Yah, homo."
"Does that create problems, Ms. . . ."
"Ovensky, Irina. You here, so dere must be problems." Big smile, gold incisor. "Vat8 did he do, awfficer? Something wit a keed?"
"Does he bring kids here?"
"Naw, but you knaw dem."
"Did Mr. LeMoyne create any specific problems for you, Ms. Ovensky?"
"Yah, wit de dogs. Missus Ellis has dogs—de Pekes—and dey bark a leetle, vy not, dere dogs, no? But keem"—she hooked a thumb toward LeMoyne's house—"is de beeg baby, always coplain, always wit dee-bark dem, dee-bark dem."
Irina Ovensky drew a finger along her throat.
"He wants you to debark77 the dogs."
"Yah. Crrooo-el, no?"
"Not an animal lover," said Milo.
"A boy lover," she said.
"He brings boys here?"
"How old?"
Irina Ovensky shrugged78. "Twenny, twenny-two."
"A young man."
"Yah, but leetle, like a boy. Skeeny, wit de yellow hair up here"— patting her head—"and de tattoo79, here." Her hand lowered to her shoulder.
"What does the tattoo say?" said Milo.
"I don' know, I don' get dat close." Ovensky stuck out her tongue.
"When's the last time you saw Mr. LeMoyne and this person?" said Milo.
"Las' night. Dey get in de car and go." Flick80 of the hand.
"Mr. LeMoyne's car."
"Mertzedes. Red."
"What time was this, ma'am?"
The sight of Milo's notepad set off sparks in Ovensky's brown eyes.
"Eleven, eleven-tirty," she said. "I hear dem tawkin', so I look tru de vindow."
"Eleven, eleven-thirty," echoed Milo.
"Yah. Is important?"
"Could be, ma'am. Any idea where they went?"
"Who know? Wherever dey types go."
"Were they carrying luggage—suitcases?"
"Yah, two big suitcases. Maybe dey stay away and we don' get no dee-bark dem, dee-bark dem. De dogs have a right to sing, no?"
"Two suitcases," said Milo, back at the unmarked. "Not a yearlong cruise, but enough for a while."
He glanced back at the mansion. Irina Ovensky remained in the door, and she smiled and waved.
"A saint," I said.
"The type you take home to Mom." He waved back, smiling. His jaw-line knotted as he opened the car door, got in, took out the envelope. "Okay, let's have a look at these." Flipping81 through the photos quickly, he paused at a close-up of the stocky man's face. "He does have that mechanic look. . . . Still, what I said holds. If he was doing wet work for the Dukes, why would they keep him close? If I have time, I'll run this by the Organized Crime Task Force."
"Didn't know there was one," I said.
"Since the fifties. Not much mafia in L.A., so for years the task force guys enjoyed long lunches. Now they're tied up with Asian and Latin drug gangs, but who knows—maybe this mug'll show up in their files. The Morris office is closed, but I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning, see if I can learn anything about Justin LeMoyne's travel habits before they kick my butt72 out to South Rodeo— Think I should wear a designer suit?"
"You own one?"
"Yeah, fashion by Sir Kay of the Mart. I put a call in to a guy at the D.A.'s office who worked on Gretchen's case—let's see if Kent Irving's name shows up, for what that's worth. I also placed my third call to Leo Riley, still no answer."
"So much for professional courtesy," I said.
"More likely he's got nothing to tell me. We law-enforcement types don't like to dwell on our failures. Meanwhile, I'm packing it in for the evening. Rick has informed me that we're going to eat at a genuine restaurant tonight, where we will pretend to be persons deserving of fine cuisine82 and impeccable service. And then, maybe a movie. He says if I bring the phone, he will dismantle83 it with surgical84 precision."
"Frustrated85."
"I tend to do that to people."
收听单词发音 |
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relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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snaring
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的现在分词 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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bunking
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| v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的现在分词 )；空话，废话 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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vat
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| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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lotion
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| n.洗剂 | |
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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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groused
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| v.抱怨，发牢骚( grouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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leftover
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| n.剩货，残留物，剩饭；adj.残余的 | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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peek
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| vi.偷看，窥视；n.偷偷的一看，一瞥 | |
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citation
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| n.引用，引证，引用文；传票 | |
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citations
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| n.引用( citation的名词复数 )；引证；引文；表扬 | |
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weds
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| v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tycoon
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| n.有钱有势的企业家，大亨 | |
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nuptials
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| n.婚礼；婚礼( nuptial的名词复数 ) | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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catering
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honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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cyberspace
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| n.虚拟信息空间，网络空间，计算机化世界 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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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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scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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bugs
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| 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 | |
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stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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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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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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outfits
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| 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 ) | |
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slings
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| 抛( sling的第三人称单数 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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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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stash
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| v.藏或贮存于一秘密处所；n.隐藏处 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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bonded
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| n.有担保的，保税的，粘合的 | |
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antenna
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| n.触角，触须；天线 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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reeks
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| n.恶臭( reek的名词复数 )v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的第三人称单数 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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corporate
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| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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consolidate
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| v.使加固，使加强；(把...)联为一体，合并 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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amalgam
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| n.混合物；汞合金 | |
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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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deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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abutted
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| v.（与…）邻接( abut的过去式和过去分词 )；（与…）毗连；接触；倚靠 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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debark
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| v.卸载；下船，下飞机，下车 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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flipping
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| 讨厌之极的 | |
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cuisine
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| n.烹调，烹饪法 | |
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83
dismantle
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| vt.拆开，拆卸；废除，取消 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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