I flew to Charleston and arrived a little before nine in the morning. The local murder story was splashed boldly across the front pages of the Post and Courier and also USA Today.
I could feel uncertainty1 and fear in the bright, sterile2, overly commercialized confines of the airport. Travelers I passed seemed nervous and wary3. Several looked as if they hadn’t slept well the night before.
I’m sure that some of them felt that if the mysterious killers4 could strike in the heart of Charleston, they could do it in an airport waiting room or food court just as easily. No one was feeling safe anywhere.
I rented a car at Charleston airport, and then I set off for a spot called Colonial Lake in town. A male and female jogger had been murdered there at around six the previous morning. The couple had been married for just four months. The similarities to the murders in Golden Gate Park were unmistakable.
I had never been to Charleston, though I’d read books set in the city. I soon discovered for myself that Charleston is physically5 gorgeous. Once upon a time, it had been a city of incredible wealth, most of which came from cotton, rice, and slaves, of course. Rice had been the biggest export, but slaves, who were brought into Charleston Port and sold throughout the South, were the import that proved the most profitable. Wealthy planters had traveled frequently between the plantations6 in the lowlands and their homes in Charleston, where the important balls, concerts, and masquerades were held. Relatives of Nana Mama’s had been brought into Charleston Port and sold there.
I found a parking spot on Beaufain Street, which was lined with Victorian-style houses. I even spied a few English gardens. This wasn’t the kind of place where ghoulish murders ought to happen. It was too pretty, too idyllic7. Was that what drew the killers here? Did they appreciate beauty - or hate it? What were they revealing to us with each new murder? What was their dark fantasy? Their horror story?
If Charleston as a whole was suspicious and fearful about the murders, then the streets around Colonial Lake seemed close to terror. People eyed each other warily8 and coldly. There was nothing even close to a welcoming smile, no southern hospitality on display anywhere.
I had left a message for Kyle to meet me at the lake. It was surrounded by wide sidewalks and wrought-iron benches. Yesterday, it had probably appeared picture perfect and completely safe. Today, bright yellow crime-scene tape was set up near the intersection9 of Beaufain and Rutledge. The Charleston police had surrounded the area and were watching everybody as if the killers might return today.
I finally saw Kyle waiting under a spreading shade tree and I walked toward him. The morning was warm, but there was a breeze off the ocean that smelled of salt and fish. Kyle had on his usual attire10: gray suit, white shirt and nondescript blue tie. He looked like the playwright11 and actor Sam Shepard, even more so than usual. He also looked gaunt, tired, almost as haunted as I felt. The murders were getting to him, too. Something was.
‘It must have been like this yesterday morning, though it was earlier when they struck the couple,’ I said as I came up to Kyle.’No one saw anything? No witnesses in an area like this? That’s what I read in the police briefs.’
Kyle sighed. ‘We actually have a witness who saw two men hurrying out of the park. Older man in his mid-eighties. He said he thought he saw blood on the shirts of the men, and he felt he was mistaken. Then he found the bodies.’
I quickly surveyed the scene at Colonial Lake again. The sun was shining brightly and I was forced to shade my eyes. Birds were twittering in several of the trees. The park was wide open to scrutiny12. ‘They were out in broad daylight. Some vampires13,’ I muttered.
Kyle eyed me.’You’re not starting to believe in vampires.’ ‘I believe that there are people who practice a vampire14 lifestyle,’ I told him.’I know some of them believe the/re vampires. Some of the role-players even sport very sharp teeth. Fangs15. They can be very violent. I haven’t seen any shape changers yet. Otherwise our witness might have seen a couple of furry16 bats winging it out of here instead of two men. That’s supposed to be funny, Kyle. What else did our witness say about the men he saw?’
‘Not a lot. He thought they were young, Alex. Twenties or thirties, which covers a hell of a lot of territory. They were walking quickly, but didn’t seem alarmed that he saw them. He’s eighty-six, Alex. He seems, shall we say, distracted by all the attention he’s getting.’ ‘Whoever the killers are, they’re certainly bold. Or stupid. I wonder if these are the same bastards17 we chased through California and Nevada.’
Kyle lit up a little. He had something to tell me. ‘My people in Quantico were up half the night. Again. Alex, the/ve come up with a dozen East Coast cities with unsolved murders that could be connected to the others.’
‘What’s the time frame of the murders?’ I asked. ‘That’s the really interesting part. This may have been going on for a long time. Nobody seems to have put these cases together before we came along. The time frame is at least eleven years.’
1 uncertainty | |
n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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2 sterile | |
adj.不毛的,不孕的,无菌的,枯燥的,贫瘠的 | |
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3 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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4 killers | |
凶手( killer的名词复数 ); 消灭…者; 致命物; 极难的事 | |
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5 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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6 plantations | |
n.种植园,大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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7 idyllic | |
adj.质朴宜人的,田园风光的 | |
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8 warily | |
adv.留心地 | |
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9 intersection | |
n.交集,十字路口,交叉点;[计算机] 交集 | |
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10 attire | |
v.穿衣,装扮[同]array;n.衣着;盛装 | |
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11 playwright | |
n.剧作家,编写剧本的人 | |
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12 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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13 vampires | |
n.吸血鬼( vampire的名词复数 );吸血蝠;高利贷者;(舞台上的)活板门 | |
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14 vampire | |
n.吸血鬼 | |
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15 fangs | |
n.(尤指狗和狼的)长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 );(蛇的)毒牙;罐座 | |
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16 furry | |
adj.毛皮的;似毛皮的;毛皮制的 | |
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17 bastards | |
私生子( bastard的名词复数 ); 坏蛋; 讨厌的事物; 麻烦事 (认为别人走运或不幸时说)家伙 | |
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