THE TREES, A GROVE1 OF EIGHT, ROSE ON beautifully gnarled trunks, lifted high their exquisitely3 twisted branches, shook their graceful4 gray-green tresses in the wet wind, seeming both to defy the storm and to celebrate it. Fruitless in this season, they cast off no olives, only leaves, upon the cobbled walkway.
Twining through the branches, Christmas lights were unlit at this hour, bulbs of dull color waiting to brighten in the night.
This five-story Westwood condominium, less than one block from Wilshire Boulevard, was neither as grand as some in the neighborhood nor large enough to require a doorman. Nevertheless, the purchase price of an apartment here would gag a sword swallower.
Ethan trod the leaves of peace, passed under the extinguished lights of Christmas, and entered a marble-floored and marble-paneled public foyer. He used a key to let himself through the inner security door.
Past the foyer, the secure lobby was small but cozy5, with an area rug to soften6 the marble, two Art Deco armchairs, and a table with a faux Tiffany lamp in red, amber7, and green stained glass.
Although stairs served the five-story building, Ethan took the [88] slow-moving elevator. Dunny Whistler lived—had lived—on the fifth floor.
Each of the first four floors held four large apartments, but the highest was divided into only two penthouse units.
A faint unpleasant odor lingered in the elevator from a recent passenger. Complex and subtle, the scent8 teased memory, but Ethan could not quite identify it.
As he ascended9 past the second floor, the elevator cab suddenly impressed him as being smaller than he remembered from previous visits. The ceiling loomed10 low, like a lid on a cook pot.
Passing the third floor, he realized that he was breathing faster than he should be, as though he were a man on a brisk walk. The air seemed to have grown thin, inadequate11.
By the time he reached the fourth floor, he became convinced that he detected a wrongness in the sound of the elevator motor, in the hum of cables drawn12 through guide wheels. This creak, that tick, this squeak13 might be the sound of a linchpin pulling loose in the heart of the machinery14.
The air grew thinner still, the walls closer, the ceiling lower, the machinery more suspect.
Perhaps the doors wouldn’t open. The emergency phone might be out of order. His cell phone might not work in here.
In an earthquake, the shaft15 might collapse16, crushing the cab to the dimensions of a coffin17.
Nearing the fifth floor, he realized that these symptoms of claustrophobia, which he had never previously18 experienced, were a mask that concealed19 another fear, to which he, being a rational man, was loath20 to admit.
He half expected Rolf Reynerd to be waiting on the fifth floor.
How Reynerd would have known about Dunny or where Dunny lived, how he would have known when Ethan intended to come here—these were questions unanswerable without extensive investigation21 and perhaps without the abandonment of logic22.
[89] Nevertheless, Ethan stepped to the side of the cab, to make a smaller target of himself. He drew his pistol.
The elevator doors opened on a ten-by-twelve foyer paneled in honey-toned, figured anigre. Deserted23.
Ethan didn’t holster his weapon. Identical doors served two penthouse units, and he went directly to the Whistler apartment.
With the key provided by Dunny’s attorney, he unlocked the door, eased it open, and entered cautiously.
The security alarm was not engaged. On his most recent visit, eight days ago, Ethan had set the alarm when he’d left.
The housekeeper24, Mrs. Hernandez, had visited in the interim25. Before Dunny landed in a hospital, in a coma26, she had worked here three days a week; but now she came only on Wednesday.
In all likelihood, Mrs. Hernandez had forgotten to enter the alarm code when she’d departed last week. Yet as likely as this explanation might be, Ethan didn’t believe it. Juanita Hernandez was a responsible woman, methodically attentive27 to detail.
Just inside the threshold, he stood listening. He left the door open at his back.
Rain drummed on the roof, a distant rumble28 like the marching feet of legions gone to war in some far, hollow kingdom.
Otherwise, only silence rewarded his keen attention. Maybe instinct warned him or maybe imagination misled him, but he sensed that this was not a slack silence, that it was instead a coiled quiet as full of potential energy as a cobra, rattler, or black mamba.
Because he preferred not to draw the attention of a neighbor and didn’t want to facilitate any exit but his own, he closed the door. Locked it.
From scams, from drugs, from worse, Duncan Whistler had made himself rich. Criminals routinely grab big money, but few keep it or keep the freedom to spend it. Dunny had been clever enough to avoid arrest, to launder29 his money, and to pay his taxes.
Consequently, his apartment was enormous, with two connecting [90] hallways, rooms leading into rooms, rooms that ordinarily did not spiral as they seemed to spiral now like nautilus shell into nautilus shell.
Searching in a hostile situation of the usual kind, Ethan would have proceeded with both hands on the gun, with arms out straight, maintaining a measured pressure on the trigger. He would have cleared doorways30 quick and low.
Instead, he gripped the pistol in his right hand, aimed at the ceiling. He proceeded cautiously but not with the full drama inherent in police-academy style.
To keep his back always to a wall, to avoid turning his back to a doorway31, to move fast while scanning left-right-left, to be ever aware of his footing, of the need to stay sufficiently32 well balanced to assume, in an instant, a shooting stance: Doing all that, he would have had to admit that he was afraid of a dead man.
And there was the truth. Evaded33, now acknowledged.
The claustrophobia in the elevator and the expectation that he would find Rolf Reynerd on the fifth floor had been nothing but attempts to deflect34 himself from consideration of his true fear, from the even less rational conviction that dead Dunny had risen from the morgue gurney and had wandered home with unknowable intent.
Ethan didn’t believe that dead men could walk.
He doubted that Dunny, dead or alive, would harm him.
His anxiety arose from the possibility that Duncan Whistler, if indeed he’d left the hospital garden room under his own power, might be Dunny in name only. Having nearly drowned, having spent three months in a coma, he might be suffering brain damage that made him dangerous.
Although Dunny had his good qualities, not least of all the sense to recognize in Hannah a woman of exceptional virtues35, he had been capable of ruthless violence. His success in the criminal life had not resulted from polished people skills and a nice smile.
[91] He could break heads when he needed to break them. And sometimes he’d broken them when skull36 cracking wasn’t necessary.
If Dunny were half the man that he’d once been, and the wrong half, Ethan preferred not to come face to face with him. Over the years, their relationship had taken peculiar37 turns; one final and still darker twist in the road could not be ruled out.
The huge living room featured high-end contemporary sofas and chairs, upholstered in wheat-colored silk. Tables, cabinets, and decorative38 objects were all Chinese antiques.
Either Dunny had discovered a genie-stuffed lamp and had wished himself exquisite2 taste, or he’d employed a pricey interior designer.
Here high above the olive trees, the big windows revealed the buildings across the street and a sky that looked like the soggy char39 and ashes of a vast, extinguished fire.
Outside: a car horn in the distance, the low somber40 grumble41 of traffic up on Wilshire Boulevard.
The June-bug jitter42, scarab click, tumblebug tap of the beetle-voiced rain spoke43 at the window, click-click-click.
In the living room, stillness distilled44. Only his breathing. His heart.
Ethan went into the study to seek the source of a soft light.
On the chinoiserie desk stood a bronze lamp with an alabaster45 shade. The buttery-yellow glow struck iridescent46 colors from the border of mother-of-pearl inlays.
Previously a framed photograph of Hannah had been displayed on the desk. It was missing.
Ethan recalled his surprise on discovering the photo during his first visit to the apartment, eleven weeks ago, after he had learned that he held authority over Dunny’s affairs.
Surprise had been matched by dismay. Although Hannah had been gone for five years, the presence of the picture seemed to be an act of emotional aggression47, and somehow an insult to her memory that [92] she should be an object of affection—and once an object of desire—to a man steeped in a life of crime and violence.
Ethan had left the photograph untouched, for even with a power of attorney covering all of Dunny’s affairs, he had felt that the picture in the handsome silver frame hadn’t been his property either to dispose of or to claim.
At the hospital on the night of Hannah’s death, again at the funeral, following twelve years of estrangement48, Ethan and Dunny had spoken. Their mutual49 grief had not, however, brought them together otherwise. They had not exchanged a word for three years.
On the third anniversary of Hannah’s passing, Dunny had phoned to say that over those thirty-six months, he had brooded long and hard on her untimely death at thirty-two. Gradually but profoundly, the loss of her—just knowing that she was no longer out there somewhere in the world—had affected50 him, had changed him forever.
Dunny claimed that he was going to go straight, extract himself from all his criminal enterprises. Ethan had not believed him, but had wished him luck. They had never spoken again.
Later, he heard through third parties that Dunny had gotten out of the life, that old friends and associates never saw him anymore, that he had become something of a hermit51, bookish and withdrawn52.
With those rumors53, Ethan had taken enough salt to work up a thirst for truth. He remained certain that eventually he would learn Duncan Whistler had fallen back into old habits—or had never truly forsaken54 them.
Later still, he heard that Dunny had returned to the Church, attended Mass each week, and carried himself with a humility55 that had never before characterized him.
Whether this was true or not, the fact remained that Dunny had held fast to the fortune that he amassed56 through fraud, theft, and dealing57 drugs. Living in luxury paid for with such dirty money, any genuinely reformed man might have been racked with guilt58 until at last he put his riches to a cleansing59 use.
[93] More than the photograph of Hannah had been taken from the study. An atmosphere of bookish innocence60 was gone, as well.
A double score of hardcover volumes were stacked on the floor, in a corner. They had been removed from two shelves of the wall-to-wall bookcase.
One of the shelves, which had seemed to be fixed61 like all the others, had been removed. A section of the bookcase backing, which also had appeared fixed, had been slid aside, revealing a wall safe.
The twelve-inch diameter door of the safe stood open. Ethan felt inside. The spacious62 box proved empty.
He hadn’t known that the study contained a safe. Logic suggested that no one but Dunny—and the installer—would have been aware of its existence.
Brain-damaged man dresses himself. Finds his way home. Remembers the combination to his safe.
Or ... dead man comes home. In a mood to party, he picks up some spending money.
Dunny dead made nearly as much sense as Dunny with severe brain damage.
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1
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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interim
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| adj.暂时的，临时的；n.间歇，过渡期间 | |
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coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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launder
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| v.洗涤；洗黑钱（把来路可疑的钱弄得似乎合法） | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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deflect
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| v.(使)偏斜，(使)偏离，(使)转向 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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char
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| v.烧焦；使...燃烧成焦炭 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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jitter
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| v.神经过敏，战战兢兢 | |
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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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distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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aggression
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| n.进攻，侵略，侵犯，侵害 | |
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estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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51
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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52
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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53
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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54
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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55
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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56
amassed
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| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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58
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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61
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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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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