按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Another batter struck out or flied out behind my back in the recreated ball game。 I turned from watching the tall Italian； put the key into the door of Apartment 204 and went in。
A square room with a brown carpet； very little furniture and that not inviting。 The wall bed with the usual distorting mirror faced me as I opened the door and made me look like a two…time loser sneaking home from a reefer party。 There was a birchwood easy chair with some hard looking upholstery beside it in the form of a davenport。 A table before the window held a lamp with a shirred paper shade。 There was a door on either side of the bed。
The door to the left led into a small kitchenette with a brown woodstone sink and a three…burner stove and an old electric icebox that clicked and began to throb in torment just as I pushed the door open。 On the woodstone drain board stood the remains of somebody's breakfast； mud at the bottom of a cup； a burnt crust of bread； crumbs on a board； a yellow slime of melted butter down the slope of a saucer； a smeared knife and a granite coffee pot that smelled like sacks in a hot barn。
I went back around the wall bed and through the other door。 It gave on a short hallway with an open space for clothes and a built…in dresser。 On the dresser was a b and a black brush with a few blond hairs in its black bristles。 Also a can of talcum； a small flashlight with a cracked lens； a pad of writing paper； a bank pen； a bottle of ink on a blotter； cigarettes and matches in a glass ashtray that contained half a dozen stubs。
In the drawers of the dresser were about what one suitcase would hold in the way of socks and underclothes and handkerchiefs。 There was a dark gray suit on a hanger； not new but still good； and a pair of rather dusty black brogues on the floor under it。
I pushed the bathroom door。 It opened about a foot and then stuck。 My nose twitched and I could feel my lips stiffen and I smelled the harsh sharp bitter smell from beyond the door。 I leaned against it。 It gave a little； but came back； as though somebody was holding it against me。 I poked my head through the opening。
The floor of the bathroom was too short for him； so his knees were poked up and hung outwards slackly and his head was pressed against the woodstone baseboard at the other end； not tilted up； but jammed tight。 His brown suit was rumpled a little and his dark glasses stuck out of his breast pocket at an unsafe angle。 As if that mattered。 His right hand was thrown across his stomach； his left hand lay on the floor； palm up； the fingers curled a little。 There was a blood…caked bruise on the right side of his head； in the blond hair。 His open mouth was full of shiny crimson blood。
The door was stopped by his leg。 I pushed hard and edged around it and got in。 I bent down to push two fingers into the side of his neck against the big artery。 No artery throbbed there； or even whispered。 Nothing at all。 The skin was icy。 It couldn't have been icy。 I just thought it was。 I straightened up and leaned my back against the door and made hard fists in my pockets and smelled the cordite fumes。 The baseball game was still going on； but through two closed doors it sounded remote。
I stood and looked down at him。 Nothing in that； Marlowe； nothing at all。 Nothing for you here； nothing。 You didn't even know him。 Get out； get out fast。
I pulled away from the door and pulled it open and went back through the hall into the living room。 A face in the mirror looked at me。 A strained； leering face。 I turned away from it quickly and took out the flat key George Anson Phillips had given me and rubbed it between my moist palms and laid it down beside the lamp。
I smeared the doorknob opening the door and the outside knob closing the door。 The Dodgers were ahead seven to three； the first half of the eighth。 A lady who sounded well on with her drinking was singing Frankie and Johnny； the roundhouse version； in a voice that even whiskey had failed to improve。 A deep man's voice growled at her to shut up and she kept on singing and there was a hard quick movement across the floor and a smack and a yelp and she stopped singing and the baseball game went right on。
I put the cigarette in my mouth and lit it and went back down the stairs and stood in the half dark of the hall angle looking at the little sign that read： Manager； Apt。 106。
I was a fool even to look at it。 I looked at it for a long minute； biting the cigarette hard between my teeth。
I turned and walked down the hallway towards the back。 A small enameled plate on a door said： Manager。 I knocked on the door。
9
A chair was pushed back； feet shuffled； the door opened。
〃You the manager？〃
〃Yeah。〃 It was the same voice I had heard over the telephone。 Talking to Elisha Morningstar。
He held an empty smeared glass in his hand。 It looked as if somebody had been keeping goldfish in it。 He was a lanky man with carroty short hair growing down to a point on his forehead。 He had a long narrow head packed with shabby cunning。 Greenish eyes stared under orange eyebrows。 His ears were large and might have flapped in a high wind。 He had a long nose that would be into things。 The whole face was a trained face； a face that would know how to keep a secret； a face that held the effortless posure of a corpse in the morgue。
He wore his vest open； no coat； a woven hair watchguard； and round blue sleeve garters with metal clasps。
I said： 〃Mr。 Anson？〃
〃Two…o…four。〃
〃He's not in。〃
〃What should I dolay an egg？〃
〃Neat；〃 I said。 〃You have them all the time； or is this your birthday？〃
〃Beat it；〃 he said。 〃Drift。〃 He started to close the door。 He opened it again to say： 〃Take the air。 Scram。 Push off〃 Having made his meaning clear he started to close the door again。
I leaned against the door。 He leaned against it on his side。 That brought our faces close together。 〃Five bucks；〃 I said。
It rocked him。 He opened the door very suddenly and I had to take a quick step forward in order not to butt his chin with my head。
〃e in；〃 he said。
A living room with a wallbed； everything strictly to specifications； even to the shirred paper lampshade and the glass ashtray。 This room was painted egg…yolk yellow。 All it needed was a few fat black spiders painted on the yellow to be anybody's bilious attack。
〃Sit down；〃 he said； shutting the door。
I sat down。 We looked at each other with the clear innocent eyes of a couple of used car salesmen。
〃Beer？〃 he said。
〃Thanks。〃
He opened two cans； filled the smeared glass he had been holding； and reached for another like it。 I said I would drink out of the can。 He handed me the can。
〃A dime；〃 he said。
I gave him a dime。
He dropped it into his vest and went on looking at me。 He pulled a chair over and sat in it and spread his bony upjutting knees and let his empty hand droop between them。
〃I ain't interested in your five bucks；〃 he said。
〃That's fine；〃 I said。 〃I wasn't really thinking of giving it to you。〃
〃A wisey；〃 he said。 〃What gives？ We run a nice respectable place here。 No funny stuff gets pulled。〃
〃Quiet too；〃 I said。 〃Upstairs you could almost hear an eagle scream。〃
His smile was wide； about three quarters of an inch。 〃I don't amuse easy；〃 he said。
〃Just like Queen Victoria；〃 I said。
〃I don't get it。〃
〃I don't expect miracles；〃 I said。 The meaningless talk had a sort of cold bracing effect on me； making a mood with a hard gritty edge。
I got my wallet out and selected a card from it。 It wasn't my card。 It read： James B。 Pollock； Reliance Indemnity pany； Field Agent。 I tried to remember what James B。 Pollock looked like and where I had met him。 I couldn't。 I handed the carroty man the card。
He read it and scratched the end of his nose with one of the corners。 〃Wrong john？〃 he asked； keeping his green eyes plastered to my face。
〃Jewelry；〃 I said and waved a hand。
He thought this over。 While he thought it over I tried to make up my mind whether it worried him at all。 It didn't seem to。
〃We get one once in a while；〃 he conceded。 〃You can't help it。 He didn't look like it to me； though。 Soft looking。〃
〃Maybe I got a bum steer；〃 I said。 I described George Anson Phillips to him； George Anson Phillips alive； in his brown suit and his dark glasses and his cocoa straw hat with the brown and yellow print band。 I wondered what had happened to the hat。 It hadn't been up there。 He must have got rid of it； thinking it was too conspicuous。 His blond head was almost； but not quite； as bad。
〃That sound like him？〃
The carroty man took his time making up his mind。 Finally he nodded yes； green eyes watching me carefully； lean hard hand holding the card up to his mouth and running the card along his teeth like a stick along the palings of a picket fence。
〃I didn't figure him for no crook；〃 he said。 〃But hell； they e all sizes and shapes。 Only been here a month。 If he looked like a wrong gee； wouldn't have been here at all。〃
I did a good job of not laughing in his face。 〃What say we frisk the apartment while he's out？〃
He shook his head。 〃Mr。 Palermo wouldn't like it。〃
〃Mr。 Palermo？〃
〃He's the owner。 Across the street。