raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第23部分

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　 〃Well〃
　 〃Just　what　do　you　want　me　to　say？〃
　 He　moved　his　smoothly　tailored　shoulders　in　a　deprecatory　shrug。　His　silly　little　reddish　brown　mustache　glittered　in　the　sun。
　 〃I　suppose　I　like　to　be　liked；〃　he　said。
　 〃I'm　sorry；　Murdock。　I　like　your　being　that　devoted　to　your　wife。　If　that's　what　it　is。〃
　 〃Oh。　Didn't　you　think　I　was　telling　the　truth？　I　mean；　did　you　think　I　was　saying　all　that　just　to　protect　her？〃
　 〃There　was　that　possibility。〃
　 〃I　see。〃　He　put　a　cigarette　into　the　long　black　holder；　which　he　took　from　behind　his　display　handkerchief。　〃WellI　guess　I　can　take　it　that　you　don't　like　me。〃　The　dim　movement　of　his　eyes　was　visible　behind　the　green　lenses；　fish　moving　in　a　deep　pool。
　 〃It's　a　silly　subject；〃　I　said。　〃And　damned　unimportant。　To　both　of　us。〃
　 He　put　a　match　to　the　cigarette　and　inhaled。　〃I　see；〃　he　said　quietly。　〃Pardon　me　for　being　crude　enough　to　bring　it　up。〃
　 He　turned　on　his　heel　and　walked　back　to　his　car　and　got　in。　I　watched　him　drive　away　before　I　moved。　Then　I　went　over　and　patted　the　little　painted　Negro　boy　on　the　head　a　couple　of　times　before　I　left。
　 〃Son；〃　I　said　to　him；　〃you're　the　only　person　around　this　house　that's　not　nuts。〃
　
　
　23
　
　 The　police　loudspeaker　box　on　the　wall　grunted　and　a　voice　said：　〃KGPL。　Testing。〃　A　click　and　it　went　dead。
　 Detective…Lieutenant　Jesse　Breeze　stretched　his　arms　high　in　the　air　and　yawned　and　said：　〃Couple　of　hours　late；　ain't　you？〃
　 I　said：　〃Yes。　But　I　left　a　message　for　you　that　I　would　be。　I　had　to　go　to　the　dentist。〃
　 〃Sit　down。〃
　 He　had　a　small　littered　desk　across　one　corner　of　the　room。　He　sat　in　the　angle　behind　it；　with　a　tall　bare　window　to　his　left　and　a　wall　with　a　large　calendar　about　eye　height　to　his　right。　The　days　that　had　gone　down　to　dust　were　crossed　off　carefully　in　soft　black　pencil；　so　that　Breeze　glancing　at　the　calendar　always　knew　exactly　what　day　it　was。
　 Spangler　was　sitting　sideways　at　a　smaller　and　much　neater　desk。　It　had　a　green　blotter　and　an　onyx　pen　set　and　a　small　brass　calendar　and　an　abalone　shell　full　of　ashes　and　matches　and　cigarette　stubs。　Spangler　was　flipping　a　handful　of　bank　pens　at　the　felt　back　of　a　seat　cushion　on　end　against　the　wall；　like　a　Mexican　knife　thrower　flipping　knives　at　a　target。　He　wasn't　getting　anywhere　with　it。　The　pens　refused　to　stick。
　 The　room　had　that　remote；　heartless；　not　quite　dirty；　not　quite　clean；　not　quite　human　smell　that　such　rooms　always　have。　Give　a　police　department　a　brand　new　building　and　in　three　months　all　its　rooms　will　smell　like　that。　There　must　be　something　symbolic　in　it。
　 A　New　York　police　reporter　wrote　once　that　when　you　pass　in　beyond　the　green　lights　of　a　precinct　station　you　pass　clear　out　of　this　world；　into　a　place　beyond　the　law。
　 I　sat　down。　Breeze　got　a　cellophane…wrapped　cigar　out　of　his　pocket　and　the　routine　with　it　started。　I　watched　it　detail　by　detail；　unvarying；　precise。　He　drew　in　smoke；　shook　his　match　out；　laid　it　gently　in　the　black　glass　ashtray；　and　said：　〃Hi；　Spangler。〃
　 Spangler　turned　his　head　and　Breeze　turned　his　head。　They　grinned　at　each　other。　Breeze　poked　the　cigar　at　me。
　 〃Watch　him　sweat；〃　he　said。
　 Spangler　had　to　move　his　feet　to　turn　far　enough　around　to　watch　me　sweat。　If　I　was　sweating；　I　didn't　know　it。
　 〃You　boys　are　as　cute　as　a　couple　of　lost　golf　balls；〃　I　said。　〃How　in　the　world　do　you　do　it？〃
　 〃Skip　the　wisecracks；〃　Breeze　said。　〃Had　a　busy　little　morning？〃
　 〃Fair；〃　I　said。
　 He　was　still　grinning。　Spangler　was　still　grinning。　Whatever　it　was　Breeze　was　tasting　he　hated　to　swallow　it。　Finally　he　cleared　his　throat；　straightened　his　big　freckled　face　out；　turned　his　head　enough　so　that　he　was　not　looking　at　me　but　could　still　see　me　and　said　in　a　vague　empty　sort　of　voice：
　 〃Hench　confessed。〃
　 Spangler　swung　clear　around　to　look　at　me。　He　leaned　forward　on　the　edge　of　his　chair　and　his　lips　were　parted　in　an　ecstatic　half　smile　that　was　almost　indecent。
　 I　said：　〃What　did　you　use　on　hima　pickax？〃
　 〃Nope。〃
　 They　were　both　silent；　staring　at　me。
　 〃A　wop；〃　Breeze　said。
　 〃A　what？〃
　 〃Boy；　are　you　glad？〃　Breeze　said。
　 〃You　are　going　to　tell　me　or　are　you　just　going　to　sit　there　looking　fat　and　placent　and　watch　me　being　glad？〃
　 〃We　like　to　watch　a　guy　being　glad；〃　Breeze　said。　〃We　don't　often　get　a　chance。〃
　 I　put　a　cigarette　in　my　mouth　and　jiggled　it　up　and　down。　〃We　used　a　wop　on　him；〃　Breeze　said。　〃A　wop　named　Palermo。〃
　 〃Oh。　You　know　something？〃
　 〃What？〃　Breeze　asked。
　 〃I　just　thought　of　what　is　the　matter　with　policemen's　dialogue。〃
　 〃What？〃
　 〃They　think　every　line　is　a　punch　line。〃
　 〃And　every　pinch　is　a　good　pinch；〃　Breeze　said　calmly。　〃You　want　to　knowor　you　want　to　just　crack　wise？〃
　 〃I　want　to　know。〃
　 〃Was　like　this；　then。　Hench　was　drunk。　I　mean　he　was　drunk　deep　inside；　not　just　on　the　surface。　Screwy　drunk。　He'd　been　living　on　it　for　weeks。　He'd　practically　quit　eating　and　sleeping。　Just　liquor。　He'd　got　to　the　point　where　liquor　wasn't　making　him　drunk；　it　was　keeping　him　sober。　It　was　the　last　hold　he　had　on　the　real　world。　When　a　guy　gets　like　that　and　you　take　his　liquor　away　and　don't　give　him　anything　to　hold　him　down；　he's　a　lost　cuckoo。〃
　 I　didn't　say　anything。　Spangler　still　had　the　same　erotic　leer　on　his　young　face。　Breeze　tapped　the　side　of　his　cigar　and　no　ash　fell　off　and　he　put　it　back　in　his　mouth　and　went　on。
　 〃He's　a　psycho　case；　but　we　don't　want　any　psycho　case　made　out　of　our　pinch。　We　make　that　clear。　We　want　a　guy　that　don't　have　any　psycho　record。〃
　 〃I　thought　you　were　sure　Hench　was　innocent。〃
　 Breeze　nodded　vaguely。　〃That　was　last　night。　Or　maybe　I　was　kidding　a　little。　Anyway　in　the　night；　bang；　Hench　is　bugs。　So　they　drag　him　over　to　the　hospital　ward　and　shoot　him　full　of　hop。　The　jail　doc　does。　That's　between　you　and　me。　No　hop　in　the　record。　Get　the　idea？〃
　 〃All　too　clearly；〃　I　said。
　 〃Yeah。〃　He　looked　vaguely　suspicious　of　the　remark；　but　he　was　too　full　of　his　subject　to　waste　time　on　it。　〃Well；　this　a。m。　he　is　fine。　Hop　still　working；　the　guy　is　pale　but　peaceful。　We　go　see　him。　How　you　doing；　kid？　Anything　you　need？　Any　little　thing　at　all？　Be　glad　to　get　it　for　you。　They　treating　you　nice　in　here？　You　know　the　line。〃
　 〃I　do；〃　I　said。　〃I　know　the　line。〃
　 Spangler　licked　his　lips　in　a　nasty　way。
　 〃So　after　a　while　he　opens　his　trap　just　enough　to　say　'Palermo'。　Palermo　is　the　name　of　the　wop　across　the　street　that　owns　the　funeral　home　and　the　apartment　house　and　stuff。　You　remember？　Yeah；　you　remember。　On　account　of　he　said　something　about　a　tall　blond。　All　hooey。　Them　wops　got　tall　blonds　on　the　brain。　In　sets　of　twelve。　But　this　Palermo　is　important。　I　asked　around。　He　gets　the　vote　out　up　there。　He's　a　guy　that　can't　be　pushed　around。　Well；　I　don't　aim　to　push　him　around。　I　say　to　Hench；　'You　mean　Palermo's　a　friend　of　yours？'　He　says；　'Get　Palermo。'　So　we　e　back　here　to　the　hutch　and　phone　Palermo　and　Palermo　says　he　will　be　right　down。　Okay。　He　is　here　very　soon。　We　talk　like　this：　Hench　wants　to　see　you；　Mr。　Palermo。　I　wouldn't　know　why。　He's　a　poor　guy；　Palermo　says。　A　nice　guy。　I　think　he's　okay。　He　wanta　see　me；　that'sa　fine。　I　see　him。　I　see　him　alone。　Without　any　coppers。　I　say；　Okay；　Mr。　Palermo；　and　we　go　over　to　the　hospital　ward　and　Palermo　talks　to　Hench　and　nobody　listens。　After　a　while　Palermo　es　out　and　he　says；　Okay；　copper。　He　make　the　confess。　I　pay　the　lawyer；　maybe。　I　like　the　poor　guy。　Just　like　that。　He　goes　away。〃
　 I　didn't　say　anything。　There　was　a　pause。　The　loudspeaker　on　the　wall　put　out　a　bulletin　and　Breeze　cocked　his　head　and　listened　to　ten　or　twelve　words　and　then　ignored　it。
　 〃So　we　go　in　with　a　steno　and　Hench　gives　us　the　dope。　Phillips　made　a　pass　at　Hench's　girl。　That　was　day　before　yesterday；　out　in　the　hall。　Hench　was　in　the　room　and　he　saw　it；　but　Phillips　got　into　his　apartment　and　shut　the　door　before　Hench　could　get　out。　But　Hench　was　sore。　He　socked　the　girl　in　the　eye。　But　that　didn't　satisfy　him。　He　got　to　brooding；　the　way　a　drunk　will　brood。　He　says　to　himself；　that　guy　can't　make　a　pass　at　my　girl。　I'm　the　boy　that　will　give　him　something　to　remember　me　by。　So　he　keeps　an　eye　open　for　Phillips。　Yesterday　afternoon　he　sees　Phillips　go　into　his　apartment。　He　tells　the　girl　to　go　for　a　walk。　She　don't　want　to　go　for　a　walk；　so　Hench　socks　her　in　the　other　eye。　She　goes　for　a　walk。　Hench　knocks　on　Phillips'　door　and　Phillips　opens　it。　Hench　is　a　little　surprised　at　that；　but　I　told　him　Phillips　was　expecting　you。　Anyway　the　door　opens　and　Hench　goes　in　and　tells　Phillips　how　he　feels　and　what　he　is　going　to　do　and　Phillips　is　scared　and　pulls　a　gun。　Hench　hits　him　with　a　sap。　Phillips　falls　down　and　Hench　ain't　satisfied。　You　hit　a　guy　with　a　sap　and　he　falls　down　and　what　have　you？　No　satisfaction；　no　revenge。　Hench　picks　the　gun　off　the　floor　and　he　is　very　drunk　there　being　dissatisfied　and　Phillips　grabs　for　his　ankle。　Hench　doesn't　know　why　he　did　what　he　did　then。　He's　all　fuzzy　in　the　head。　He　drags　Phillips　into　the　bathroom　and　gives　him　the　business　with　his　own　gun。　You　like　it？〃
　 〃I　love　it；〃　I　said。　〃But　what　is　the　satisfaction　in　it　for　Hench？〃
　 〃Well；　you　know　how　a　drunk　is。　Anyway　he　gives　him　the　business。　Well　it　ain't　Hench's　gun；　you　see；　but　he　can't　make　a　suicide　out　of　it。　There　wouldn't　be　any　satisfaction　for　him　in　that。　So　Hench　takes　the　gun　away　and　puts　it　under　his　pillow　and　takes　his　own　gun　out　and　ditches　it。　He　won't　tell　us　where。　Probably　passes　it　to　some　tough　guy　in　the　neighborhood。　Then　he　finds　the　girl　and　they　eat。〃
　 〃That　was　a　lovely　touch；〃　I　said。　〃Putting　the　gun　under　his　pillow。　I'd　never　in　the　world　have　thought　of　that。〃
　 Breeze　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　looked　at　the　ceiling。　Spangler；　the　big　part　of　the　entertainment　over；　swung　around　in　his　chair　and　picked　up　a　couple　of　bank　pens　and　threw　one　at　the　cushion。
　 〃Look　at　it　this　way；〃　Breeze　said。　〃What　was　the　effect　of　that　stunt？　Look　how　Hench　did　it。　He　was　drunk；　but　he　was　smart。　He　found　that　gun　and　showed　it　before　Phillips　was　found　dead。　First　we　get　the　idea　that　a　gun　is　under　Hench's　pillow　that　killed　a　guybeen　fired　anywayand　then　we　get　the　stiff。　We　believed　Hench's　story。　It　seemed　reasonable。　Why　would　we　think　any　man　would　be　such　a　sap　as　to　do　what　Hench　did？　It　doesn't　make　any　sense。　So　we　believed　somebody　put　the　gun　under　Hench's　pillow　and　took　Hench's　gun　away　and　ditched　it。　And　suppose　Hench　ditched　the　death　gun　instead　of　his　own；　would　he　have　been　any　better　off？　Things　being　what　they　were　we　would　be　bound　to　suspect　him。　And　that　way　he　wouldn't　have　started　our　minds　thinking　any　particular　way　about　him。　The　way　he　did　he　got　us　thinking　he　was　a　harmless　drunk　that　went　out　and　left　his　door　open　and　somebody　ditched　a　gun　on　him。〃
　 He　waited；　with　his　mouth　a　little　open　and　the　cigar　in　front　of　it；　held　up　by　a　hard　freckled　hand　and　his　pale　blue　eyes　full　of　dim　satisfaction。
　 〃Well；〃　I　said；　〃if　he　was　going　to　confess　anyway；　it　wouldn't　have　made　very　much　difference。　Will　he　cop　a　plea？〃
　 〃Sure。　I　think　so。　I　figure　Palermo　could　get　him　off　with　manslaughter。　Naturally　I'm　n