The PlayHouse was an old one-story Craftsman1 house on an oversized lot, justnorth of Venice Boulevard, in West L.A. Plank2 siding painted deep green withcream trim, low-set bulk topped by sweeping3 eaves that created a small, dimporch. The garage to the left had old-fashioned barn doors but looked freshlypainted. The landscaping was from another age: a couple of four-story cocoapalms, indifferently pruned4 bird of paradise grown ragged5, agapanthus, andcalla lilies surrounding a flat, brown lawn.
The neighborhood was working-class rental6 residential7, mostly boxymulti-units and boxy houses awaiting demolition8. Nothing denoted the actingschool’s function. The windows were dark.
Milo said, “Guess she doesn’t need toadvertise. Or keep daytime hours.”
I said, “If most of the aspirants10 have day jobs, it’s an evening business.”
“Let’s check it out, anyway.”
We walked up to the porch. Floored with green board, thickly varnished11. Thewindow in the paneled oak door was blocked with opaque12 lace. A hand-hammeredcopper mailbox perched to the right. Miloflipped the lid and peered inside. Empty.
He pushed a button and chimes sounded.
No answer.
Two doors down an old Dodge13 Dart14 backed out toward the street. Hispanic manaround thirty at the wheel, leaving a pale blue bungalow15. Milowalked over, rolled his arm.
No badge, but people tend to obey him. The man lowered his window.
“Morning, sir. Know anything about your neighbor?”
Big shrug16. Nervous smile.” No hablo Ingles.”
Milo pointed17. “The school. La Escuela. ”
Another shrug. “No se.”
Milo looked into his eyes, waved him away.As the Dart sped off, we returned to the porch, where Milojabbed the button several more times. A chime sonata18 went unanswered.
“Okay, I’ll try again tonight.”
As we turned, footsteps sounded from inside the PlayHouse. Lace wiggled inthe window but didn’t part.
Then nothing.
Milo swiveled and rapped the door hard.Scratches, as a bolt turned. The door swung open and a heavy man holding abroom and looking distracted said, “Yeah?” Before the word was out of hismouth, his eyes tightened19 and distraction20 gave way to calculation.
This time Milo had the badge out. The heavyman barely glanced at it. His second “Yeah?” was softer, wary21.
He had a splotchy, pie-tin face, a meaty, off-kilter nose, brambles of curlygraying hair that flew from his temples, muttonchops that petered to acolorless grizzle. The mustache atop parched22 lips was the sole bit ofdisciplined hair: clipped, precise, a gray-brown hyphen. Tight eyes the colorof strong tea managed to be active without moving.
Wrinkled gray work shirt and matching pants, open sandals, thick whitesocks. Dust and sweepings23 flecked white cotton toes. The tattoos24 thatembroidered his fleshy hands promised to snake up under his sleeves. Blue-blackskin art, crude and square-edged. Hard to decipher, but I made out a tinylittle grinning demon’s head, more impish than satanic, leering at a puckeredknuckle.
Milo said, “Is Nora Dowd here?”
“Nope.”
“What about Dylan Meserve?”
“Nope.”
“You know Mr. Meserve?”
“I know who he is.” Low, slurred25 voice, slight delay before formingsyllables. His right hand gripped the broom handle. The left had gathered shirtfabric and stretched it over his substantial belly27.
“What do you know about Mr. Meserve?” said Milo.
The same hesitation28. “One of the students.”
“He doesn’t work here?”
“Never saw that.”
“We were told he’s a creative consultant29.”
No answer.
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
Small yellow teeth made a play at a cracked upper lip. “A while.”
“Days?”
“Yeah.”
“Weeks?”
“Could be.”
“Where’s Ms. Dowd?”
“Dunno.”
“No idea?”
“Nossir.”
“She’s your boss.”
“Yessir.”
“Want to guess where she might be?”
Shrug.
“When did you see her last?”
“I work days, she’s here at night.”
Out came Milo’s pad. “Your name, please.”
No answer.
Milo edged closer. The man stepped back,just as Ralph Jabber30 had.
“Sir?”
“Reynold.”
“First name, please.”
“Reynold. Last name’s Peaty.”
“Reynold Peaty.”
“Yessir.”
“Is that Peaty with two e’s or e-a?”
“P-E-A-T-Y.”
“You work here full-time31, Mr. Peaty?”
“I do the clean up and the lawn mowing32.”
“Full-time?”
“Part-time.”
“Got another job?”
“I clean buildings.”
“Where do you live, Mr. Peaty?”
Peaty’s left hand flexed33. Gray shirt fabric26 shimmied. “Guthrie.”
“Guthrie Avenuein L.A.?”
“Yessir.”
Milo asked for the address. Reynold Peatythought for a moment before giving it up. Just east of Robertson. A short walkfrom Michaela Brand’s apartment on Holt. Close to the death scene, too.
“Know why we’re here, Mr. Peaty?”
“Nossir.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Five years.”
“So you know Michaela Brand.”
“One of the girls,” said Peaty. His bushy eyebrows35 twitched36. The fabric overhis gut34 vibrated harder.
“Seen her around?”
“Coupla times.”
“While you were working days?”
“Sometimes it stretches,” said Peaty. “If I get here late.”
“You know her by name.”
“She was the one did that thing with him.”
“That thing.”
“With him,” Peaty repeated. “Pretending to be kidnapped.”
“She’s dead,” said Milo. “Murdered.”
Reynold Peaty’s lower jaw37 jutted38 like a bulldog’s, rotated as if chewinggristle.
“Any reaction to that, sir?” said Milo.
“Terrible.”
“Any idea who’d want to do something like that?”
Peaty shook his head and ran his hand up and down the broom shaft39.
“Yeah, it is terrible,” said Milo. “Such apretty girl.”
Peaty’s small eyes narrowed to pupil-glint. “You think he did it?”
“Who?”
“Meserve.”
“Any reason we should think that?”
“You asked about him.”
Milo waited.
Peaty rolled the broom. “They did that thing together.”
“That thing.”
“It was on TV.”
“You think that might be connected to Michaela’s murder, Mr. Peaty?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would it be?”
Peaty licked his lips. “They didn’t come here together no more.”
“For acting9 lessons.”
“Yessir.”
“Did they come separately?”
“Just him.”
“Meserve kept coming but not Michaela.”
“Yessir.”
“Sounds like a lot of your days stretch into nights.”
“Sometimes he’s here in the day.”
“Mr. Meserve?”
“Yessir.”
“By himself?”
Head shake.
“Who’s he with?”
Peaty shifted the broom from hand to hand. “I don’ wanna get in trouble.”
“Why would you?”
“You know.”
“I don’t, Mr. Peaty.”
“Her. Ms. Dowd.”
“Nora Dowd comes here during the day with Dylan Meserve.”
“Sometimes,” said Peaty.
“Anyone else here?”
“Nossir.”
“Except you.”
“I leave when she tells me I done enough.”
“What do she and Meserve do when they’re here?”
Peaty shook his head. “I work.”
“What else can you tell me?” said Milo.
“About what?”
“Michaela, Dylan Meserve, anything else that comes to mind.”
“Nothing,” said Peaty.
“The hoax40 Michaela and Dylan tried to pull off,” said Milo.“What’d you think about that?”
“It was on TV.”
“What do you think of it?”
Peaty tried to chew on his mustache but the clipped hair was too short for atooth hold. He tugged41 at his right muttonchop. I tried to think of the lasttime I’d seen a set that overgrown. College days? Portrait of Martin Van Buren?
Peaty said, “It ain’t good to lie.”
“I agree with you there. My job, people are always lying to me and it reallygets on my nerves.”
Peaty’s eyes dropped to the porch planks42.
“Where were you last night, Mr. Peaty, say between eight p.m. and two a.m.?”
“Home.”
“Your place on Guthrie.”
“Yessir.”
“Doing what?”
“Eating,” said Peaty. “Chicken fingers.”
“Takeout?”
“Frozen. I heat ’em up. I had a beer.”
“What brand?”
“Old Milwaukee.I had three. Then I watched TV, then I went to sleep.”
“What’d you watch?”
“Family Feud43.”
“What time did you pop off?”
“Dunno. The TV was goin’ when I woke up.”
“What time was that?”
Peaty curled a muttonchop. “Maybe three.”
One hour past the bracket Milo had givenhim.
“How do you know it was three?”
“You asked so I said something.”
“Anything special about three?”
“Sometimes when I get up I look at the clock and it’s three, or three thirty.Even if I don’t drink a lot, I gotta get up.” Peaty looked at the floor again.“To piss. Sometimes twice or three times.”
“Let’s hear it for middle age,” said Milo.
Peaty didn’t answer.
“How old are you, Mr. Peaty?”
“Thirty-eight.”
Milo smiled. “You’re a young guy.”
No answer.
“How well did you know Michaela Brand?”
“I didn’t do it,” said Peaty.
“I didn’t ask you that, sir.”
“This other stuff you’re asking. Where was I.” Peaty shook his head. “Idon’t wanna talk no more.”
“Just routine,” said Milo, “no reason toget—”
Shaking his head, Peaty backed away, toward the door.
Milo said, “Here we were having a niceconversation, then I ask you how well you knew Michaela Brand and all of asudden you don’t want to talk. That’s only gonna make me wonder.”
“It ain’t,” said Peaty, groping for the door handle. He’d left the oak panelslightly ajar and the handle was inches out of reach.
“Ain’t what?” said Milo.
“Right. Talking like I did something.” Peaty edged back, found the handle, andshoved, revealing oak floors and walls, a glimmer44 of stained glass. “I had abeer and went to sleep.”
“Three beers.”
No answer.
“Listen,” said Milo. “No offense45 intended,but it’s my job to ask questions.”
Peaty shook his head. “I eat and watch TV. That don’t mean nothing.”
He stepped into the house, started to close the door. Milochecked it with his shoe. Peaty tensed but let go. His grip on the broom handleswelled his knuckles46. He shook his head and stray hairs floated free, landingon thick, rounded shoulders.
“Mr. Peaty—”
“Leave me alone.” More whimper than demand.
“All we’re trying to do is get some basic facts. So how about we come inand—”
Peaty’s hand grabbed the door’s edge. “Not allowed!”
“We can’t come in?”
“No! The rules!”
“Whose rules?”
“Ms. Dowd’s.”
“How about I call her? What’s her number?”
“Dunno.”
“You work for her but don’t—”
“Dunno!”
Peaty danced backward and shoved the door hard. Milolet it slam.
We stood on the porch for a few moments. Cars drove up and down the street.
Milo said, “For all I know he’s got ropeand a bloody47 knife in there. But no damn way to find out.”
I said nothing.
He said, “You could argue with me.”
“There is the fact that he’s weird48,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Guy lives on Guthrie off Robertson. You visualizingthe same map I am?”
“Blocks from Michaela. Not much farther to the crime scene.”
“And he’s weird.” He glanced back at the door. Rang the bell several times.
No response.
“Wonder what time he got to work this morning.” Another bell-push. Wewaited. He put his pad away. “I’d love to check this place out but I’m not evengonna think about heading round back and giving some lawyer an illegal entryangle.”
He grinned. “One day in and I’ve got trial fantasies. Okay, let’s see whatwe can do within the boundaries of The Law.”
We descended49 the porch and headed for the car.
“It’s probably no big deal,” he said. “Not getting inside. Even if Peaty isthe bad guy, why would he bring evidence to work? What do you think of himprobability-wise?”
“A definite maybe,” I said. “Talking about Michaela clearly made himnervous.”
“Like he had a crush on her?”
“She was a beautiful girl.”
“And way out of his league,” he said. “Working around all those starletwannabes could be frustrating50 for a guy like that.”
We got into the Seville.
I said, “When Peaty shook his head, stray hairs fell out. Fellow thathirsute and unruly, you’d think he’d have left some trace on the body, or atleast at the scene.”
“Maybe he had time to clean up.”
“Guess so.”
“There was some wind last night,” he said. “The body coulda been there awhile before the poodle came by. For all we know, the damned dog licked uptrace evidence.”
“The owner let it nose the body?”
Milo rubbed his face. “The owner claims sheyanked it away the minute she saw what it was. Still…”
I started up the car.
He said, “I need to be careful not to tunnel in on anyone too quickly.”
“Makes sense.”
“Sometimes I do that.”
收听单词发音 |
1
craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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pruned
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| v.修剪（树木等）( prune的过去式和过去分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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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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demolition
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| n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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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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aspirants
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| n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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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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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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sonata
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| n.奏鸣曲 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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sweepings
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| n.笼统的( sweeping的名词复数 )；（在投票等中的）大胜；影响广泛的；包罗万象的 | |
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tattoos
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| n.文身( tattoo的名词复数 )；归营鼓；军队夜间表演操；连续有节奏的敲击声v.刺青，文身( tattoo的第三人称单数 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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25
slurred
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| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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consultant
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| n.顾问；会诊医师，专科医生 | |
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jabber
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| v.快而不清楚地说；n.吱吱喳喳 | |
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full-time
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| adj.满工作日的或工作周的，全时间的 | |
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mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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hoax
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| v.欺骗，哄骗，愚弄；n.愚弄人，恶作剧 | |
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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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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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frustrating
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| adj.产生挫折的，使人沮丧的，令人泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的现在分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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