I STARED IN SHOCK and disbelief at the large 8½ by 11 paperback1, tomato-red with thin white stripes running crosswise beneath the title: National Guide for Fire and Explosion Investigation2.
I started screaming, “That’s evidence. That’s evidence.”
Captain Walker was worn out and he was also out of the loop. He said, “The arson3 investigator4 will be back in the morning, Sarge. I’m boarding up your place so it’ll be perfectly5 safe, you understand?”
“NO,” I shouted. “I want a cop. I want this thing locked up in the evidence room tonight!”
I ignored Walker’s sigh and Joe’s hand on the small of my back. I dialed Jacobi’s number on my cell, already decided6 that if he didn’t pick up, I would call Clapper and then I would call Tracchio. And if I didn’t get Jacobi or CSI or the chief, I would call the mayor. I was hysterical7 and I knew it, but no one could stop me or tell me I was wrong.
“Boxer, that you?” Jacobi said. His voice crackled from a poor connection.
“I found a book in my apartment,” I shouted into the phone. “It’s clean. It didn’t burn. There could be prints. I want it bagged and tagged, and I don’t want to do it myself in case there’s any question down the road.”
“I’m five minutes away,” Jacobi said.
I stood in the hallway with Joe and Martha, Joe telling me that Martha and I were moving in with him. I held tightly to his hand, but my mind was running a slide show of all the fire-razed houses I’d walked through in the last month, and I was feeling the searing shame of having been so professional and so removed. I’d seen the bodies. I’d seen the destruction. But I hadn’t felt the terrible power of fire until now.
I heard Jacobi’s voice and that of the building manager downstairs, then Jacobi’s ponderous8 footsteps as he huffed and wheezed9 up the stairs. I’d ridden thousands of miles in a squad10 car with Jacobi. I’d been shot with him, and our blood had pooled together in an alley11 in the Tenderloin. I knew him better than anyone in the world, and he knew me that way, too. That’s why when he arrived at the top landing, all I had to do was point to the book.
Jacobi stretched latex gloves over his large hands, gingerly opened the red cover. I was panting with fear, sure that I’d see an inscription12 inside, another mocking Latin saying. But there was only a name printed inside the front page.
The name was Chuck Hanni.
1 paperback | |
n.平装本,简装本 | |
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2 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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3 arson | |
n.纵火,放火 | |
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4 investigator | |
n.研究者,调查者,审查者 | |
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5 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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6 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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7 hysterical | |
adj.情绪异常激动的,歇斯底里般的 | |
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8 ponderous | |
adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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9 wheezed | |
v.喘息,发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 squad | |
n.班,小队,小团体;vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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11 alley | |
n.小巷,胡同;小径,小路 | |
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12 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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