raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第5部分

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　4
　
　 After　the　bell　had　rung　three　times　at　the　other　end　of　the　line　a　light　childish　sort　of　girl's　voice　filtered　itself　through　a　hank　of　gum　and　said：　〃Good　morning。　Mr。　Morningstar's　office。〃
　 〃Is　the　old　gentleman　in？〃
　 〃Who　is　calling；　please？〃　
　 〃Marlowe。〃
　 〃Does　he　know　you；　Mr。　Marlowe？〃
　 〃Ask　him　if　he　wants　to　buy　any　early　American　gold　coins。〃
　 〃Just　a　minute；　please。〃
　 There　was　a　pause　suitable　to　an　elderly　party　in　an　inner　office　having　his　attention　called　to　the　fact　that　somebody　on　the　telephone　wanted　to　talk　to　him。　Then　the　phone　clicked　and　a　man　spoke。　He　had　a　dry　voice。　You　might　even　call　it　parched。
　 〃This　is　Mr。　Morningstar。〃
　 〃I'm　told　you　called　Mrs。　Murdock　in　Pasadena；　Mr。　Morningstar。　About　a　certain　coin。〃
　 〃About　a　certain　coin；〃　he　repeated。　〃Indeed。　Well？〃
　 〃My　understanding　is　that　you　wished　to　buy　the　coin　in　question　from　the　Murdock　collection。〃
　 〃Indeed？　And　who　are　you；　sir？〃
　 〃Philip　Marlowe。　A　private　detective。　I'm　working　for　Mrs。　Murdock。〃
　 〃Indeed；〃　he　said　for　the　third　time。　He　cleared　his　throat　carefully。　〃And　what　did　you　wish　to　talk　to　me　about；　Mr。　Marlowe？〃
　 〃About　this　coin。〃
　 〃But　I　was　informed　it　was　not　for　sale。〃
　 〃I　still　want　to　talk　to　you　about　it。　In　person。〃
　 〃Do　you　mean　she　has　changed　her　mind　about　selling？〃
　 〃No。〃
　 〃Then　I'm　afraid　I　don't　understand　what　you　want；　Mr。　Marlowe。　What　have　we　to　talk　about？〃　He　sounded　sly　now。
　 I　took　the　ace　out　of　my　sleeve　and　played　it　with　a　languid　grace。　〃The　point　is；　Mr。　Morningstar；　that　at　the　time　you　called　up　you　already　knew　the　coin　wasn't　for　sale。〃
　 〃Interesting；〃　he　said　slowly。　〃How？〃
　 〃You're　in　the　business；　you　couldn't　help　knowing。　It's　a　matter　of　public　record　that　the　Murdock　collection　cannot　be　sold　during　Mrs。　Murdock's　lifetime。〃
　 〃Ah；〃　he　said。　〃Ah。〃　There　was　a　silence。　Then；　〃At　three　o'clock；〃　he　said；　not　sharp；　but　quick。　〃I　shall　be　glad　to　see　you　here　in　my　office。　You　probably　know　where　it　is。　Will　that　suit　you？〃
　 〃I'll　be　there；〃　I　said。
　 I　hung　up　and　lit　my　pipe　again　and　sat　there　looking　at　the　wall。　My　face　was　stiff　with　thought；　or　with　something　that　made　my　face　stiff。　I　took　Linda　Murdock's　photo　out　of　my　pocket；　stared　at　it　for　a　while；　decided　that　the　face　was　pretty　monplace　after　all；　locked　the　photo　away　in　my　desk。　I　picked　Murdock's　second　match　out　of　my　ashtray　and　looked　it　over。　The　lettering　on　this　one　read：　TOP　ROW　W。　D。　WRIGHT　'36。
　 I　dropped　it　back　in　the　tray；　wondering　what　made　this　important。　Maybe　it　was　a　clue。
　 I　got　Mrs。　Murdock's　check　out　of　my　wallet；　endorsed　it；　made　out　a　deposit　slip　and　a　check　for　cash；　got　my　bank　book　out　of　the　desk；　and　folded　the　lot　under　a　rubber　band　and　put　them　in　my　pocket。
　 Lois　Magic　was　not　listed　in　the　phone　book。
　 I　got　the　classified　section　up　on　the　desk　and　made　a　list　of　the　half　dozen　theatrical　agencies　that　showed　in　the　largest　type　and　called　them。　They　all　had　bright　cheerful　voices　and　wanted　to　ask　a　lot　of　questions；　but　they　either　didn't　know　or　didn't　care　to　tell　me　anything　about　a　Miss　Lois　Magic；　said　to　be　an　entertainer。
　 I　threw　the　list　in　the　waste　basket　and　called　Kenny　Haste；　a　crime　reporter　on　the　Chronicle。
　 〃What　do　you　know　about　Alex　Morny？〃　I　asked　him　when　we　were　through　cracking　wise　at　each　other。
　 〃Runs　a　plushy　night　club　and　gambling　joint　in　Idle　Valley；　about　two　miles　off　the　highway　back　towards　the　hills。　Used　to　be　in　pictures。　Lousy　actor。　Seems　to　have　plenty　of　protection。　I　never　heard　of　him　shooting　anybody　on　the　public　square　at　high　noon。　Or　at　any　other　time　for　that　matter。　But　I　wouldn't　like　to　bet　on　it。〃
　 〃Dangerous？〃
　 〃I'd　say　he　might　be；　if　necessary。　All　those　boys　have　been　to　picture　shows　and　know　how　night　club　bosses　are　supposed　to　act。　He　has　a　bodyguard　who　is　quite　a　character。　His　name's　Eddie　Prue；　he's　about　six　feet　five　inches　tall　and　thin　as　an　honest　alibi。　He　has　a　frozen　eye；　the　result　of　a　war　wound。〃
　 〃Is　Morny　dangerous　to　women？〃
　 〃Don't　be　Victorian；　old　top。　Women　don't　call　it　danger。〃
　 〃Do　you　know　a　girl　named　Lois　Magic；　said　to　be　an　entertainer。　A　tall　gaudy　blond；　I　hear。〃
　 〃No。　Sounds　as　though　I　might　like　to。〃
　 〃Don't　be　cute。　Do　you　know　anybody　named　Vannier？　None　of　these　people　are　in　the　phone　book。〃
　 〃Nope。　But　I　could　ask　Gertie　Arbogast；　if　you　want　to　call　back。　He　knows　all　the　night　club　aristocrats。　And　heels。〃
　 〃Thanks；　Kenny。　I'll　do　that。　Half　an　hour？〃
　 He　said　that　would　be　fine；　and　we　hung　up。　I　locked　the　office　and　left。
　 At　the　end　of　the　corridor；　in　the　angle　of　the　wall；　a　youngish　blond　man　in　a　brown　suit　and　a　cocoa…colored　straw　hat　with　a　brown　and　yellow　tropical　print　band　was　reading　the　evening　paper　with　his　back　to　the　wall。　As　I　passed　him　he　yawned　and　tucked　the　paper　under　his　arm　and　straightened　up。
　 He　got　into　the　elevator　with　me。　He　could　hardly　keep　his　eyes　open　he　was　so　tired。　I　went　out　on　the　street　and　walked　a　block　to　the　bank　to　deposit　my　check　and　draw　out　a　little　folding　money　for　expenses。　From　there　I　went　to　the　Tigertail　Lounge　and　sat　in　a　shallow　booth　and　drank　a　martini　and　ate　a　sandwich。　The　man　in　the　brown　suit　posted　himself　at　the　end　of　the　bar　and　drank　coca　colas　and　looked　bored　and　piled　pennies　in　front　of　him；　carefully　smoothing　the　edges。　He　had　his　dark　glasses　on　again。　That　made　him　invisible。
　 I　dragged　my　sandwich　out　as　long　as　I　could　and　then　strolled　back　to　the　telephone　booth　at　the　inner　end　of　the　bar。　The　man　in　the　brown　suit　turned　his　head　quickly　and　then　covered　the　motion　by　lifting　his　glass。　I　dialed　the　Chronicle　office　again。
　 〃Okay；〃　Kenny　Haste　said。　〃Gertie　Arbogast　says　Morny　married　your　gaudy　blond　not　very　long　ago。　Lois　Magic。　He　doesn't　know　Vannier。　He　says　Morny　bought　a　place　out　beyond　Bel…Air；　a　white　house　on　Stillwood　Crescent　Drive；　about　five　blocks　north　of　Sunset。　Gertie　says　Morny　took　it　over　from　a　busted　flush　named　Arthur　Blake　Popham　who　got　caught　in　a　mail　fraud　rap。　Popham's　initials　are　still　on　the　gates。　And　probably　on　the　toilet　paper；　Gertie　says。　He　was　that　kind　of　a　guy。　That's　all　we　seem　to　know。〃
　 〃Nobody　could　ask　more。　Many　thanks；　Kenny。〃
　 I　hung　up；　stepped　out　of　the　booth；　met　the　dark　glasses　above　the　brown　suit　under　the　cocoa　straw　hat　and　watched　them　turn　quickly　away。
　 I　spun　around　and　went　back　through　a　swing　door　into　the　kitchen　and　through　that　to　the　alley　and　along　the　alley　a　quarter　block　to　the　back　of　the　parking　lot　where　I　had　put　my　car。
　 No　sand…colored　coupé　succeeded　in　getting　behind　me　as　I　drove　off；　in　the　general　direction　of　Bel…Air。
　
　
　5
　
　 Stillwood　Crescent　Drive　curved　leisurely　north　from　Sunset　Boulevard；　well　beyond　the　Bel…Air　Country　Club　golf　course。　The　road　was　lined　with　walled　and　fenced　estates。　Some　had　high　walls；　some　had　low　walls；　some　had　ornamental　iron　fences；　some　were　a　bit　oldfashioned　and　got　along　with　tall　hedges。　The　street　had　no　sidewalk。　Nobody　walked　in　that　neighborhood；　not　even　the　mailman。
　 The　afternoon　was　hot；　but　not　hot　like　Pasadena。　There　was　a　drowsy　smell　of　flowers　and　sun；　a　swishing　of　lawn　sprinklers　gentle　behind　hedges　and　walls；　the　clear　ratchety　sound　of　lawn　mowers　moving　delicately　over　serene　and　confident　lawns。
　 I　drove　up　the　hill　slowly；　looking　for　monograms　on　gates。　Arthur　Blake　Popham　was　the　name。　ABP　would　be　the　initials。　I　found　them　almost　at　the　top；　gilt　on　a　black　shield；　the　gates　folded　back　on　a　black　position　driveway。
　 It　was　a　glaring　white　house　that　had　the　air　of　being　brand　new；　but　the　landscaping　was　well　advanced。　It　was　modest　enough　for　the　neighborhood；　not　more　than　fourteen　rooms　and　probably　only　one　swimming　pool。　Its　wall　was　low；　made　of　brick　with　the　concrete　all　oozed　out　between　and　set　that　way　and　painted　over　white。　On　top　of　the　wall　a　low　iron　railing　painted　black。　The　name　A。　P。　Morny　was　stencilled　on　the　large　silver…colored　mailbox　at　the　service　entrance。
　 I　parked　my　crate　on　the　street　and　walked　up　the　black　driveway　to　a　side　door　of　glittering　white　paint　shot　with　patches　of　color　from　the　stained　glass　canopy　over　it。　I　hammered　on　a　large　brass　knocker。　Back　along　the　side　of　the　house　a　chauffeur　was　washing　off　a　Cadillac。
　 The　door　opened　and　a　hard…eyed　Filipino　in　a　white　coat　curled　his　lip　at　me。　I　gave　him　a　card。
　 〃Mrs。　Morny；〃　I　said。
　 He　shut　the　door。　Time　passed；　as　it　always　does　when　I　go　calling。　The　swish　of　water　on　the　Cadillac　had　a　cool　sound。　The　chauffeur　was　a　little　runt　in　breeches　and　leggings　and　a　sweat…stained　shirt。　He　looked　like　an　overgrown　jockey　and　he　made　the　same　kind　of　hissing　noise　as　he　worked　on　the　car　that　a　groom　makes　rubbing　down　a　horse。
　 A　red…throated　hummingbird　went　into　a　scarlet　bush　beside　the　door；　shook　the　long　tubular　blooms　around　a　little；　and　zoomed　off　so　fast　he　simply　disappeared　in　the　air。
　 The　door　opened；　the　Filipino　poked　my　card　at　me。　I　didn't　take　it。
　 〃What　you　want？〃
　 It　was　a　tight　crackling　voice；　like　someone　tiptoeing　across　a　lot　of　eggshells。
　 〃Want　to　see　Mrs。　Morny。〃
　 〃She　not　at　home。〃
　 〃Didn't　you　know　that　when　I　gave　you　the　card？〃
　 He　opened　his　fingers　and　let　the　card　flutter　to　the　ground。　He　grinned；　showing　me　a　lot　of　cut…rate　dental　work。
　 〃I　know　when　she　tell　me。〃
　 He　shut　the　door　in　my　face；　not　gently。
　 I　picked　the　card　up　and　walked　along　the　side　of　the　house　to　where　the　chauffeur　was　squirting　water　on　the　Cadillac　sedan　and　rubbing　the　dirt　off　with　a　big　sponge。　He　had　red　rimmed　eyes　and　a　bang　of　corn…colored　hair。　A　cigarette　hung　exhausted　at　the　corner　of　his　lower　lip。
　 He　gave　me　the　quick　side　glance　of　a　man　who　is　minding　his　own　business　with　difficulty。　I　said：
　 〃Where's　the　boss？〃
　 The　cigarette　jiggled　in　his　mouth。　The　water　went　on　swishing　gently　on　the　paint。
　 〃Ask　at　the　house；　Jack。〃
　 〃I　done　asked。　They　done　shut　the　door　in　mah　face。〃
　 〃You're　breaking　my　heart；　Jack。〃
　 〃How　about　Mrs。　Morny？〃
　 〃Same　answer；　Jack。　I　just　work　here。　Selling　something？〃　I　held　my　card　so　that　he　could　read　it。　It　was　a　business　card　this　time。　He　put　the　sponge　down　on　the　running　board；　and　the　hose　on　the　cement。　He　stepped　around　the　water　to　wipe　his　hands　on　a　towel　that　hung　at　the　side　of　the　garage　doors。　He　fished　a　match　out　of　his　pants；　struck　it　and　tilted　his　head　back　to　light　the　dead　butt　that　was　stuck　in　his　face。
　 His　foxy　little　eyes　flicked　around　this　way　and　that　and　he　moved　behind　the　car；　with　a　jerk　of　the　head。　I　went　over　near　him。
　 〃How's　the　little　old　expense　account？〃　he　asked　in　a　small　careful　voice。
　 〃Fat　with　inactivity。〃
　 〃For　five　I　could　start　thinking。〃
　 〃I　wouldn't　want　to　make　it　that　tough　for　you。〃　
　 〃For　ten　I　could　sing　like　four　canaries　and　a　steel　guitar。〃　
　 〃I　don't　like　these　plushy　orchestrations；〃　I　said。　
　 He　cocked　his　head　sideways。　〃Talk　English；　Jack。〃　
　 〃I　don't　want　you　to　lose　your　job；　son。　All　I　want　to　know　is　whether　Mrs。　Momy　is　home。　Does　that　rate