The US Air flight left Memphis at six-forty in the morning, which meant Ray had to leave Clanton no later than five, which meant he slept about three hours, the usual at Maple1 Run. On the first flight, he dozed2 off en route, again in the Pittsburgh airport, and again on the commuter3 flight to Charlottesville. He inspected his apartment, then fell asleep on the sofa.
The money hadn't been touched. No unauthorized entries into any of his little storage units at Chancy's. Nothing was out of the ordinary. He locked himself inside 18R, opened the five fireproof and waterproof4 boxes, and counted fifty-three freezer bags.
Sitting on the concrete floor with three million dollars strewn around him, Ray Atlee finally admitted how important the money had become. The real horror of last night had been the chance of losing it. Now he was afraid to leave it.
In the past few weeks, he had become more curious about how much things cost, about what the money could buy, about how it could grow if invested conservatively, or aggressively. At times he thought of himself as wealthy, and then he would dismiss those thoughts. But they were always there, just under the surface and popping up with greater frequency. The questions were slowly being answered - no it was not counterfeit5, no it was not traceable, no it had not been won at the casinos, no it had not been filched6 from the lawyers and litigants7 of the 25th Chancery District. 'l And, no, the money should not be shared with Forrest because he would kill himself with it. No, it should not be included in the estate for several excellent reasons.
One by one the options were being eliminated. He might be forced to keep it himself.
There was a loud knock on the metal door, and he almost screamed. He scrambled8 to his feet and yelled, "Who is it!"
"Security," came the reply, and the voice was vaguely9 familiar. Ray stepped over the cash and reached for the door, which he cracked no more than four inches. Mr. Murray was grinning at him.
"Everything okay in there?" he asked, more of a janitor10 than an armed guard.
"Fine, thanks," Ray said, his heart still frozen.
"Need anything, let me know."
"Thanks for last night."
“Just doing my job."
Ray repacked the money, relocked the doors, and drove across town with one eye on the rearview mirror.
The owner of his apartment sent a crew of Mexican carpenters around to repair the two damaged doors. They hammered and sawed throughout the late afternoon, then said yes to a cold beer when they were finished. Ray chatted with them as he tried to ease them out of his den11. There was a pile of mail on the kitchen table, and, after ignoring it for most of the day, he sat down to deal with it. Bills had to be paid. Catalogs and junk mail. Three notes of sympathy.
A letter from the Internal Revenue Service, addressed to Mr. Ray Atlee, Executor of the Estate of Rueben V Atlee, and postmarked in Atlanta two days earlier. He studied it carefully before opening it slowly. A single sheet of official stationery13, from one Martin Gage14, Office of Criminal Investigations15, in the Atlanta office. It read:
Dear Mr. Atlee:
As executor of your father's estate, you are required by law to include all assets for valuation and taxation16 purposes. Concealment17 of assets may constitute tax fraud. The unauthorized disbursement18 of assets is a violation19 of the laws of Mississippi and possible federal laws as well.
Martin Gage
Criminal Investigator20
His first instinct was to call Harry21 Rex to see what notice had been given to the IRS. As executor, he had a year from the date of death to file the final return, and, according to the accountant, extensions were liberally granted.
The letter was postmarked the day after he and Harry Rex went to court to open the estate. Why would the IRS be so quick to respond? How would they even know about the death of Reuben Atlee?
Instead, he called the office number on the letterhead. The recorded message welcomed him to the world of the IRS, Atlanta office, but he would have to call back later because it was a Saturday. He went online and in the Atlanta directory found three Martin Gages. The first one he called was out of town, but his wife said he did not work for the IRS, thank heavens. The second call went unanswered. The third found a Mr. Gage eating dinner.
"Do you work for the IRS?" Ray asked, after cordially introducing himself as a professor of law and apologizing for the intrusion.
"Yes, I do."
"Criminal Investigations?"
"Yep, that's me. Fourteen years now."
Ray described the letter, then read it verbatim.
"I didn't write that," Gage said.
"Then who did?" Ray snapped, and immediately wished he had not.
"How am I supposed to know? Can you fax it to me?"
Ray stared at his fax machine, and, thinking quickly, said, "Sure, but my machine is at the office. I can do it Monday."
"Scan it and e-mail it," Gage said.
"Uh, my scanner's broke right now. I'll just fax it to you Monday."
"Okay, but somebody's pulling your leg, pal22. That's not my letter."
Ray was suddenly anxious to rid himself of the IRS, but Gage was now fully12 involved. "I'll tell you something else," he continued. "Impersonating an IRS agent is a federal offense23, and we prosecute24 vigorously. Any idea who it is?"
"I have no idea."
"Probably got my name from our online directory, worst thing we ever did. Freedom of Information and all that crap."
"Probably so."
"When was the estate opened?"
"Three days ago."
"Three days ago! The return's not due for a year."
"I know." :
"What's in the estate?" -
"Nothing. An old house."
"Just some crackpot. Fax it Monday and I'll give you a call."
"Thanks."
Ray put the phone on the coffee table and asked himself why, exactly, had he called the IRS?
To verify the letter.
Gage would never get a copy of it. And in a month or so he would forget about it. And in a year he wouldn't recall it if anyone mentioned it.
Perhaps not the smartest move so far.
FORREST HAD settled into the routine of Alcorn Village. He was allowed two calls a day and they were subject to being recorded, he explained. "They don't want us calling our dealers25."
"Not funny," Ray said. It was the sober Forrest, with the soft drawl and clear mind.
"Why are you in Virginia?" he asked.
"It's my home."
"Thought you were visiting some friends around here, old buddies26 from law school."
"I'll be back shortly. How's the food?"
"Like a nursing home, Jell-O three times a day but always a different color. Really lousy stuff. For three hundred bucks27 plus a day it's a rip-off."
"Any cute girls?"
"One, but she's fourteen, daughter of a judge, if you can believe that. Really some sad people. We have these group bitch meetings once a day where everyone lashes28 out at whoever got them started on drugs. We talk through our problems. We help one another. Hell, I know more than the counselors29. This is my eighth detox, Bro, can you believe it?"
"Seems like more than that," Ray said.
"Thanks for helping30 me. You know what's sick?"
"What?"
"I'm happiest when I'm clean. I feel great, I feel smart, I can do anything. Then I hate myself when I'm on the streets doing all that stupid stuff like the other scumbags. I don't know why I do it."
"You sound great, Forrest."
"I like this place, aside from the food."
"Good, I'm proud of you."
"Can you come see me?"
"Of course I will. Give me a couple of days."
He checked in with Harry Rex, who was at the office, where he usually spent the weekends. With four wives under his belt, there were good reasons he wasn't home much.
"Do you recall the Judge hearing a case on the coast, early last year?" Ray asked.
Harry Rex was eating something and smacking31 into the phone. "The coast?" He hated the coast, thought they were all a bunch of redneck mafia types.
"He was paid for a trial down there, January of last year."
"He was sick last year," Harry Rex said, then swallowed something liquid.
"His cancer was diagnosed last July."
"I don't remember any case on the coast," he said, and bit into something else. "That surprises me."
"Me too."
"Why are you going through his files?"
"I'm just checking his payroll32 records against his trial files."
"Why?”
"Because I'm the executor."
"Forgive me. When are you coming back?"
"Couple of days."
"Hey, I bumped into Claudia today, hadn't seen her in months, and she gets to town early, parks a brand-new black Cadillac near the Coffee Shop so everybody can see it, then spends half the morning piddling around town. Whatta piece of work."
Ray couldn't help but smile at the thought of Claudia racing33 down to the car dealership34 with a pocket full of cash. The Judge would be proud.
Sleep came in short naps on the sofa. The walls cracked louder, the vents35 and ducts seemed more active. Things moved, then they didn't. The night after the break-in, the entire apartment was poised36 for another one.
收听单词发音 |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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commuter
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| n.(尤指市郊之间)乘公交车辆上下班者 | |
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waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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filched
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| v.偷（尤指小的或不贵重的物品）( filch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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litigants
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| n.诉讼当事人( litigant的名词复数 ) | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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gage
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| n.标准尺寸，规格；量规，量表 [=gauge] | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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taxation
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| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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disbursement
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| n.支付，付款 | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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investigator
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| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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buddies
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| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
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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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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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counselors
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| n.顾问( counselor的名词复数 )；律师；（使馆等的）参赞；（协助学生解决问题的）指导老师 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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payroll
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| n.工资表，在职人员名单，工薪总额 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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dealership
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| n.商品特许经销处 | |
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vents
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| （气体、液体等进出的）孔、口( vent的名词复数 )； （鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的）肛门； 大衣等的)衩口； 开衩 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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