“ONE OF CORRINE DAGBY’S COWORKERS AT THE time of her death remembers—or more accurately1 thinks she remembers—the vic mentioning she was up for a part in a play. Off-off Broadway. If she spoke2 of this to anyone else, family, friends, other students in her classes, they don’t recall.
“Melissa Congress, second vic, secretarial position. Last seen leaving a club Lower West, well lubricated. This remains4, most probably, a grab. A moment of opportunity. She was, however, known to complain with some consistency5 about her level of employment, her pay, her hours. There remains a possibility that she was approached about interviewing for another position and therefore knew or recognized her abductor.
“Anise Waters,” Eve continued. “Grad student at Columbia. Fluent in Mandarin6 Chinese and Russian, and working on a master’s in political science. She sometimes supplemented her income by tutoring, most usually on campus. Last seen leaving the university’s main library. Wits stated that she took a pass on joining a group for drinks, claiming she had work. As she was a serious and dedicated7 student, it was assumed she was heading home to study. She didn’t mention, to anyone’s recollection, an outside tutoring job. The language discs she checked out from the library were never recovered. The vic did have a scheduled tutoring job, on campus, the next day. It was assumed she’d checked out the discs for that purpose.
“Last, Joley Weitz. Last seen leaving Arts A Fact, a shop where she was employed, at approximately seventeen hundred. The vic did pottery8, and had sold a few pieces she had on consignment9 at her place of employment. Her employer stated that the vic mentioned she had an important stop to make before she got ready for a date with a new boyfriend. The boyfriend was identified and cleared. As the vic had a dress on hold at a boutique she frequented, it was thought picking that item up for her date was her stop. She never reached the boutique, if indeed that was her intended destination.”
She waited a moment, let it soak. “New theory. The vics were approached by the unsub at some time. York gave dance instruction, Rossi moonlights as a personal trainer off-site. It’s a reasonable assumption all or most of these women were offered a private job, and went to their killer10. I’ve begun examining the other cases, outside of New York, and believe this possibility extends. We have an assistant chef, a photographer, a nurse, a decorator, a data cruncher, a freelance writer, two health care aides, two artists, a clerk in a nursery—plants, the owner of a small flower shop, a librarian, a hair and skin consultant11, a hotel maid. A music instructor12, an herbalist, a caterer’s assistant.
“No link but physical appearance was ever found between these women. But if we factor in this possibility. An opportunity to head the kitchen for a private dinner party, to do a photo shoot, private nursing care, write an article, so on.”
“Why didn’t anyone know they were going off for a private job, an audition13?” Baxter asked.
“Good question. Some of them are likely grabs, as we assumed all along. It’s also possible he took the time once they were inside the location to engage them in casual conversation, determine if they had told anyone. In some cases, outside jobs would be against their rules of employment. Cop moonlights as a security guard, a bouncer, a body guard, he keeps it to himself. Dr. Mira? Any thoughts on this?”
“It could be another form of control and enjoyment14. Inviting15 his victims in, having them willingly enter, would be yet more proof to him of his superiority over them. It may indeed be another part of the ritual he’s created. The lack of violence on the bodies—and by that I mean the fact there’s no evidence he used his fists, his hands to strike, to throttle16, that there is no sexual molestation—indicates he isn’t physical in that way. The violence is through implements17 and tools. A method such as you’re theorizing would fall within the structure of his profile.”
“I like it,” Baxter commented. “Makes more sense to me, if he’s hitting on sixty or over, he’d use deception18 instead of force to bag them.”
“Agreed,” Eve said. “If this holds, it indicates he’s aware they’re physically19 stronger than he is, or might be,” Eve put in. “All these women were in good physical shape, a number of them in exceptional physical shape. He targets young, strong women. We believe he isn’t young, maybe he isn’t particularly strong.”
“Which may be one of the reasons he needs to subdue20, humiliate21, and control them.” Mira nodded. “Yes, by luring22 them into a location he has secured, he’s dominated them intellectually, and then he proceeds to dominate them physically up to and including the point of their death. He not only masters them, but makes them other than they were. And by doing so, makes them his own.”
“What does that tell us?” Eve scanned the room. “It tells us one thing we didn’t know about him before.”
“He’s a coward,” Peabody said, and gave Eve a quick, inner glow of pride.
“Exactly. He doesn’t, as we believed, confront his victims, doesn’t risk a public struggle, even with the aid of a drug. He uses guile23 and lies, the lure24 of money or advancement25 or the achievement of a personal goal. He has to know them well enough to use what works, or has the greatest potential of working. He may have spent more time observing and stalking each vic than we previously26 supposed. And the more time he spent, the more chance there is that someone, somewhere, saw him with one or more of the victims.”
“We’ve been shooting blanks there,” Baxter reminded her.
“We go back, interview again, and ask about men the vics spent time with at work, who may have taken one of their classes or talked about doing so. A month ago, two months ago. He wouldn’t have been back since he abducted27 them. He’s done with them; he’s moved on from that stage. Who used to hang out at these locations, or frequent them who hasn’t been there in the last week for York, the last three days for Rossi.
“McNab, dig into Rossi’s comps, find me a new outside client. Roarke, names, addys, place of employment on everyone on your list who feels like she fits. Feeney, keep at the Urban War angle. Body identification, comments, commentaries, names of medics officially assigned, of volunteers where you can find them. I want photos, horror stories, war stories, editorials, every scrap28 you can dig up. Baxter, you and Trueheart hit the street. Jenkinson, you and Powell stay out there, find somebody whose memory can be jogged.
“Write it up, Peabody.”
“Yes, sir.”
She started out, and Feeney caught up with her. “Need a minute,” he said.
“Sure. Got something?”
“Your office.”
With an easy shrug29, she kept going. “Heading back there. I want to go through the cases between the first and this one more carefully, start calling names on the original interview lists. We just need one break, one goddamn crack, and we can bust31 it. I know it.”
He said nothing as they wound through the bullpen, into her office. “Want coffee?” she asked, then frowned as he closed the door. “Problem?”
“How come you didn’t come to me with this?”
“With what?”
“This new theory.”
“Well, I—” Sincerely baffled, she shook her head. “I just did.”
“Bullshit. What you did was come out as primary, as team leader, you briefed and assigned. You didn’t run this by me. My case, you remember? It’s my case you were using out there.”
“It just popped. Something York’s boyfriend said clicked on a new angle for me. I started working it and—”
“You started working it,” he interrupted. “Going back over my case. A case where I was primary. I was in charge. I made the calls.”
Because the muscles in her belly32 were starting to twist, Eve took a long, steady breath. “Yeah, like I’m going to go back over the others. They’re all part of the same whole, and if this is an opening—”
“One I didn’t see?” His tired, baggy33 eyes were hard and bright now. “A call I didn’t make while the bodies were piling up?”
“No. Jesus, Feeney. Nobody’s saying that or thinking that. It just turned for me. You’re the one who taught me when it turns for you, you push. I’m pushing.”
“So.” He nodded slowly. “You remember who taught you anyway. Who made a cop out of you.”
Now her throat was drying up on her. “I remember. I was there, Feeney, from the beginning when you pulled me out of uniform. And I was there for this case. Right there, and it didn’t turn for us.”
“You owe me the respect of cluing me in when you’re going to pick my work apart. Instead you roll this out, roll it over me, and you push me off on some bullshit Urban Wars research. I lived and breathed this case, day and night.”
“I know it. I—”
“You don’t know how many times I’ve dug it out since and lived and breathed it again,” he interrupted furiously. “So now you figure it’s turned for you and you can rip my work to pieces without so much as a heads-up.”
“That wasn’t my intent or my purpose. The investigation34 is my priority—”
“It’s fucking well mine.”
“Is it?” Temper and distress35 bubbled a nasty stew36 in her belly. “Fine, then, because I handled this the best I know how—fast. The faster we work it, the better Rossi’s chances are, and right now they’re about as good as a snowball’s in hell. Your work wasn’t the issue. Her life is.”
“Don’t tell me about her life.” He jabbed his finger in the air toward her. “Or York’s, or Dagby’s, or Congress’s, Waters’s, or Weitz’s. You think you’re the only one who knows their names?” Bitterness crackled in his tone. “Who carries the weight of them around? Don’t you stand there and lecture me about your priorities. Lieutenant37.”
“You’ve made your viewpoint and your feelings on this matter clear. Captain. Now, as primary, I’m telling you, you need to back off. You need to take a break.”
“Fuck that.”
“Take an hour in the crib, or go home and crash until you can shake this off.”
“Or what? You’ll boot me off the investigation?”
“Don’t bring it down to that,” she said quietly. “Don’t put either of us there.”
“You put us here. You better think about that.” He stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to make the glass shudder38.
Eve’s breath whistled out as she braced39 a hand on her desk, as she lowered herself into her chair. Her legs felt like water, her gut40 like a storm inside a violent sea.
They’d had words before. It wasn’t possible to know someone, work with someone, especially under circumstances that were so often tense and harsh, and not have words. But these had been so biting and vicious, she felt as if her skin was flayed41 from them.
She wanted water—just a gallon or two—to ease the burning of her throat, but didn’t think she was steady enough to get up and get it.
So she sat until she got her wind back, until the tremor42 in her hands ceased. And with a headache raging from the base of her skull43 up to her crown, she called up the next file, prepared to make the next call.
She stuck with it for two hours solid, with translators when necessary. Needing air, she rose, muscled her window open. And just stood, breathing in the cold. A couple more hours, she thought. In a couple more, she’d finish with this step, run more probabilities, write up the report.
Organizing data and hunches44, statements and hearsay45, writing it all down in clear, factual language always helped you see it better, feel it better.
Feeney had taught her that, too.
Goddamn it.
When her communicator signaled, she wanted to ignore it. Just let it beep while she stood, breathing in the cold.
But she pulled it out. “Dallas.”
“I think I’ve got something.” The excitement in McNab’s voice cut through the fog in her brain.
“On my way.”
When she walked into the war room, she could almost see the ripple46 of energy and could see Feeney wasn’t there.
“Her home unit,” McNab began.
“Fell into your lap, Blondie,” Callendar commented.
“Was retrieved47 due to my exceptional e-skills, Tits.”
The way they grinned at each other spoke of teamwork and giddy pride.
“Save it,” Eve ordered. “What’ve you got?”
“I’ll put it on the wall screen. I found it under ‘Gravy48.’ I’d been picking through docs labeled ‘PT,’ ‘PP,’ ‘Instruction,’ and well, anyway. I hit the more obvious, figuring gravy was like nutrition or, I dunno, recipes. What she means is extra—the gravy.”
“Private clients.”
“Yeah, like she couldn’t have doc’d it that way? So, she’s had a bunch. Works with someone until they don’t want anymore, or does monthly follow-ups. Before she starts she does this basic analysis—sort of like a proposal, I think. Tons of them in there. But this one…”
McNab tapped one of his fingers on the comp screen. “She created sixteen days ago, and she’s finessed49 and updated it here and there since. Up to the night before she poofed. She made a disc copy of it, which isn’t anywhere in her files.”
“Took it with her,” Eve concluded as she studied the wall screen. “Took the proposal to the client. TED3.”
“His name, or the name he gave her. She has all her private clients listed by first name on the individualized programs she worked up.”
“Height, weight, body type, measurements, age.” Eve felt a little giddy herself. “Medical history, at least as he gave it to her. Goals, suggested equipment and training programs, nutrition program. Thorough. Boys and girls,” Eve announced. “We’ve got our first description. Unsub is five feet, six and a quarter inches, at a weight of a hundred and sixty-three pounds. A little paunchy, aren’t you, you son of a bitch? Age seventy-one. Carries some weight around the middle, according to these measurements.”
She kept her eyes on the screen. “Peabody, contact all officers in the field, relay this description. McNab, go through the comps from BodyWorks, find us Ted. Callendar, do a search on York’s electronics for this name, for any instruction program she might have written that includes body type, age. Anything that coordinates50 or adds to this data.”
She turned. “Roarke, give me anything you’ve got. You and I will start contacting the women on your list, find out if they’ve been contacted or approached by anyone requesting a home visit. Uniforms, back to canvass51, making inquiries52 about a man of this description. Baxter, Trueheart, you’re back to the club, back to the fitness center. Jog somebody’s memory. I need a station, a d and c. We’ve got a hole. Let’s pull this bastard53 out of it.”
H e sighed as he stepped back from his worktable. “You’re a disappointment to me Gia. I had such high hopes for you.”
He’d hoped the rousing chorus from Aida would snap her back, at least a bit, but she simply lay there, eyes open and fixed54.
Not dead—her heart still beat, her lungs still worked. Catatonic. Which was, he admitted as he moved over to wash and sterilize55 his tools, interesting. He could slice and burn, gouge56 and snip57 without any reaction from her.
And that was the problem, of course. This was a partnership58, and his current partner was very much absent from the performance.
“We’ll try again later,” he assured her. “I hate to see you fail this way. Physically you’re one of the best of all my girls, but it appears you lack the mental and emotional wherewithal.”
He glanced at the clock. “Only twenty-six hours. Yes, that’s quite a step back. I don’t believe you’ll be breaking Sarifina’s record.”
He replaced his tools, walked back to the table where his partner lay, bleeding from the fresh cuts, her torso mottled with bruising59, crosshatched with thin slices.
“I’ll just leave the music on for you. See if it reaches inside that head of yours.” He tapped her temple. “We’ll see what we see, dear. But I’m expecting a guest shortly. Now, I don’t want you to think of her as a replacement60, or even a successor.”
He leaned down, kissed her as yet unmarred cheek as kindly61 as a father might kiss a child. “You just rest awhile, then we’ll try again.”
It was time—time, time, time—to go upstairs. To cleanse62 and change. Later he would brew63 the tea, and set out the pretty cookies. Company was coming.
Company was such a treat!
He unlocked the laboratory door, relocked it behind him. In his office, he glanced at the wall screen, tsked at the image of Gia as she lay comatose64. He was afraid he would have to end things very soon.
In his spotless white suit he sat at his desk to enter the most current data. She was simply not responding to any stimuli65, he mused66 as he noted67 down her vital signs, the methods and music used in the last thirty minutes of their session. He’d believed the dry ice would bring her back, or the laser, the needles, the drugs he’d managed to secure.
But it was time to admit, to accept. Gia’s clock was running down.
Ah, well.
When his log was completed, he made his way through the basement labyrinth68, past the storage drawers that were no longer in use, past the old work area where his grandfather had forged his art once upon a time.
Family traditions, he thought, were the bedrock of a civilized69 society. He eschewed70 the elevator for the stairs. Gia had been quite right, he thought. He would benefit from more regular exercise.
He’d let himself go just a little, he admitted as he patted his plump belly, during his last dormant71 stage. The wine, the food, the quiet contemplation, and of course, the medication. When this work period was finished, he would take a trip to a spa, concentrate on his physical and mental health. That would be just the ticket.
Perhaps he would travel off planet this time. He’d yet to explore anything beyond his own terra firma. It might be amusing, and certainly beneficial, to spend some time in Roarke’s extra-planetary playground, the Olympus Resort.
Doing so would be a kind of delicious topping after he’d completed his current goal.
Eve Dallas, Lieutenant, NYPSD. She would not disappoint as Gia had, he was sure. Still a few kinks to work out in securing her, he admitted. Yes, yes, that was true. But he would find the way.
He unlocked the steel-core basement door using code and key, stepped into the spacious72 and spotless kitchen. Relocked it.
He would spend some quality time the next day studying the data he’d accumulated on his final Eve. She wasn’t as predictable as the ones he usually selected. But then again, that was one of the elements that would make her so special.
He was looking forward to getting reacquainted with her, after so many years.
He moved through the lovely old house, glancing around to make certain all was in order. Past the formal dining room, where he always took his meals, and the library, where he would often sit and read or simply listen to music.
The parlor73, his favorite, where he had a pretty little fire burning in the rose granite74 hearth75, and Asian lilies, blushed with pink, rising glamorously76 out of a wide crystal vase.
There was a grand piano in the corner, and he could still see her there, creating, re-creating such beautiful music. He could see her trying to teach his unfortunately stubby fingers to master the keys.
He’d never mastered them, nor had his voice ever mastered the demands and beauty of the notes, but his love for music was deep and true.
The double doors across from the parlor were closed, were locked. As he’d kept them for many years now. Such business as had been done there was carried on in other places.
His home was his home. And hers, he thought. It would always be hers.
He went up the curve of stairs. He still used the room he’d had as a boy. He couldn’t bring himself to use the bedroom where his parents had slept. Where she had slept.
He kept it preserved. He kept it perfect, as she had once been.
Pausing, he studied her portrait, one painted while she had glowed, simply glowed, with the bloom of youth and vibrancy77. She wore white—he believed she should always have worn it. For purity. If only she’d remained pure.
The gown swept down her body, that slim and strong body, and the glittery necklace, her symbol of life, lay around her neck. Swept up, her hair was like a crown, and indeed the very first time he’d seen her he’d thought her a princess.
She smiled down at him, so sweetly, so kindly, so lovingly.
Death had been his gift to her, he thought. And death was his homage78 to her through all the daughters he lay at her feet.
He kissed the silver ring he wore on his finger, one that matched the ring he’d had painted onto the portrait. Symbols of their eternal bond.
He removed his suit. Put the jacket, the vest, the trousers, the shirt in the bin79 for cleaning. He showered, he always showered. Baths could be relaxing, might be soothing80, but how unsanitary was it to lounge in your own dirt?
He scrubbed vigorously, using various brushes on his body, his nails, his feet, his hair. They, too, would be sanitized, then replaced monthly.
He used a drying tube. Towels were, in his opinion, as unsanitary as bathwater.
He cleaned his teeth, applied81 deodorant82, creams.
In his robe he went back to the bedroom to peruse83 his closet. A dozen white suits, shirts ranged on one side. But he never greeted company in his work clothes.
He chose a dark gray suit, matching it with a pale gray shirt, a tone-on-tone gray tie. He dressed meticulously84, carefully brushed his snow-white hair before adding the trim little beard and mustache.
Then he replaced the necklace—her necklace—that he’d removed before his shower.
The symbol of a tree with many branches gleamed in gold. The tree of life.
Satisfied with his appearance, he traveled down to the kitchen, moved through it to the garage where he kept his black sedan. It was a pleasant drive across town, with Verdi playing quietly.
He parked, as arranged, in a small, ill-tended lot three blocks from Your Affair, where his potential partner worked. If she was timely, she would be walking his way right now, she would be thinking about the opportunity he’d put in her hands.
Her steps would be quick, and she would be wearing the dark blue coat, the multicolored scarf.
He left the car, strolling in the direction of the store. He’d found her there, in the bakery section, and had been struck immediately by her looks, her grace, her skill.
Two months had passed since that first sighting. Soon, all the time, the work, the care he’d put into this selection would bear fruit.
He saw her from a block away, slowed his pace. He carried the two small shopping bags from nearby stores he’d brought along with him. He would be, to anyone glancing his way, just a man doing a little casual Sunday shopping.
No one noticed, no one paid any mind. He smiled when she saw him, lifted his hand in a wave.
“Ms. Greenfeld. I’d hoped to make it down and escort you all the way. I’m so sorry to make you walk so far in the cold.”
“It’s fine.” She tossed back the pretty brown hair she wore nearly to her shoulders. “It’s so nice of you to pick me up. I could have taken a cab, or the subway.”
“Nonsense.” He didn’t touch her as they walked, in fact moved aside as a pedestrian, chattering85 on a pocket ’link, clipped between them. “Here you are, giving me your time on a Sunday afternoon.” He gestured toward the lot. “And this gave me an opportunity to do a little shopping.”
He opened the car door for her, and estimated they’d been together no more than three minutes on the street.
When he got in, he started the car, smiled. “You smell of vanilla86 and cinnamon.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“It’s lovely.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your granddaughter.”
“She’s very excited. Wedding plans.” He laughed, shook his head, the indulgent grandfather. “Nothing but wedding plans these days. We both appreciate you meeting with us, on the QT, we’ll say. My darling is very choosy. No wedding planners, no coordinators. Has to do it all herself. No companies, no organizations.”
“A woman who knows her own mind.”
“Indeed. And when I saw some of your work, I knew she’d want to meet with you. Even though you worked at Your Affair, and she refuses to so much as go through the doors.” With a little laugh, he shook his head. “Over a year now since she had trouble with the manager. But that’s my girl. Her mother, God rest her, was the same. Stubborn and headstrong.”
“I know Frieda can be temperamental. If she found out I was doing a proposal like this on the side, she’d wig87. So, well, keeping this between us is best for everyone.”
“It certainly is.”
When he pulled off the street, she gaped88 at the house. “What a beautiful home! Is it yours? I mean, do you own the whole building?”
“Yes, indeed. It’s been in the family for generations. I wanted us to meet here, particularly, so you could see it, the wedding and reception venue89.”
He turned off the engine and led the way into the house. “Let me take you into the parlor—you can make yourself at home.”
“It’s gorgeous, Mr. Gaines.”
“Thank you. Please, call me Edward. I hope I can call you Ariel.”
“Yes, please.”
“Here, let me have your coat.”
He hung her things in the foyer closet. He would, of course, dispose of the coat, the scarf, her clothing. But he enjoyed this part of the pretense90.
He stepped back into the parlor, sighed. “I see my granddaughter isn’t here yet. She’s rarely prompt. I’m just going to make us some tea. Be at home.”
“Thanks.”
In the kitchen, he switched his security screen to the parlor, so he could watch her as he prepared.
He had house droids, of course, and replaced their memory drives routinely. But for the most part he preferred doing for himself.
He selected Earl Grey, and his grandmother’s Meissen tea set. He brewed91 it as he’d been taught—heating the pot, boiling the water fully30, measuring precisely92.
Using tongs93, he added the precious and pricey sugar cubes to the bowl. She would add sugar, he knew. He’d observed her adding the revolting chemical sweetener to her tea. She would think the cubes a treat, and never notice they were spiked94 with the tranq until it was already swimming in her system.
After setting a lacy doily on a plate, he arranged the thin, frosted cookies he’d bought especially for this little tête-à-tête. And on the tray he set a single pink rose in a pale green bud vase.
Perfect.
He carried the tea tray—with the three cups to maintain the granddaughter fantasy—into the parlor where Ariel wandered, looking at some of his treasures.
“I love this room. Will you use this for the wedding?”
“We will. It’s my favorite room in the house, so welcoming.” He set the tray down between the two wing chairs that faced the fire. “We’ll have some tea while we wait for the bride. Oh, these cookies are some of her favorites. I thought it might be nice if you re-created them for the reception.”
“I’m sure I can.” Ariel sat, angling herself so she could face him. “I brought a disc with images of some of the cakes I’ve done, and some I’ve assisted in making.”
“Excellent.” He smiled, held up the sugar bowl. “One lump or two?”
“I’ll live dangerously, and go for two.”
“Perfect.” He sat back, nibbling95 on a cookie while she chattered96 about her plans and ideas. While her eyes began to droop97, her voice began to slur98.
He dusted the crumbs99 from his fingers when she tried to push out of the chair. “Something’s wrong,” she managed. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“No.” He sighed and sipped100 his tea when she slumped101 into unconsciousness. “Everything’s just as it should be.”
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accurately
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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ted
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remains
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consistency
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Mandarin
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dedicated
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pottery
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consignment
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killer
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consultant
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instructor
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audition
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enjoyment
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inviting
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throttle
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implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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18
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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19
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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20
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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21
humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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22
luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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23
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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24
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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25
advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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26
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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27
abducted
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| 劫持，诱拐( abduct的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（肢体等）外展 | |
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28
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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29
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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30
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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31
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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32
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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33
baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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34
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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35
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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36
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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37
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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38
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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39
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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40
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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41
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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42
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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43
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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44
hunches
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| 预感，直觉( hunch的名词复数 ) | |
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45
hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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46
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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47
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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48
gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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49
finessed
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| v.手腕，手段，技巧( finesse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
coordinates
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| n.相配之衣物；坐标( coordinate的名词复数 )；（颜色协调的）配套服装；[复数]女套服；同等重要的人（或物）v.使协调，使调和( coordinate的第三人称单数 )；协调；协同；成为同等 | |
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51
canvass
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| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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52
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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53
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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54
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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55
sterilize
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| vt.使不结果实；使绝育；使无效；杀菌，消毒 | |
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56
gouge
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| v.凿；挖出；n.半圆凿；凿孔；欺诈 | |
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57
snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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58
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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59
bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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60
replacement
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| n.取代，替换，交换；替代品，代用品 | |
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61
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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62
cleanse
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| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
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63
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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64
comatose
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| adj.昏睡的，昏迷不醒的 | |
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65
stimuli
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| n.刺激（物） | |
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66
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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67
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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68
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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69
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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70
eschewed
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| v.（尤指为道德或实际理由而）习惯性避开，回避( eschew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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72
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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73
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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74
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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75
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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76
glamorously
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| 富有魅力的； 迷人的； 富于刺激的； 独特的 | |
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77
vibrancy
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| n.活跃；震动 | |
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78
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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79
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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80
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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81
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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82
deodorant
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| adj.除臭的；n.除臭剂 | |
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83
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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84
meticulously
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| adv.过细地，异常细致地；无微不至；精心 | |
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85
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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86
vanilla
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| n.香子兰，香草 | |
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87
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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88
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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89
venue
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| n.犯罪地点，审判地，管辖地，发生地点，集合地点 | |
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90
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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91
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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92
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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93
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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94
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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95
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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96
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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97
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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98
slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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99
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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100
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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