raymondchandler.thehighwindow-第13部分

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　 He　shook　his　head。　〃Mr。　Palermo　wouldn't　like　it。〃
　 〃Mr。　Palermo？〃
　 〃He's　the　owner。　Across　the　street。　Owns　the　funeral　parlors。　Owns　this　building　and　a　lot　of　other　buildings。　Practically　owns　the　district；　if　you　know　what　I　mean。〃　He　gave　me　a　twitch　of　the　lip　and　a　flutter　of　the　right　eyelid。　〃Gets　the　vote　out。　Not　a　guy　to　crowd。〃
　 〃Well；　while　he's　getting　the　vote　out　or　playing　with　a　stiff　or　whatever　he's　doing　at　the　moment；　let's　go　up　and　frisk　the　apartment。〃
　 〃Don't　get　me　sore　at　you；〃　the　carroty　man　said　briefly。　
　 〃That　would　bother　me　like　two　per　cent　of　nothing　at　all；〃　I　said。　〃Let's　go　up　and　frisk　the　apartment。〃　I　threw　my　empty　beer　can　at　the　waste　basket　and　watched　it　bounce　back　and　roll　half　way　across　the　room。
　 The　carroty　man　stood　up　suddenly　and　spread　his　feet　apart　and　dusted　his　hands　together　and　took　hold　of　his　lower　lip　with　his　teeth。
　 〃You　said　something　about　five；〃　he　shrugged。
　 〃That　was　hours　ago；〃　I　said。　〃I　thought　better　of　it。　Let's　go　up　and　frisk　the　apartment。〃
　 〃Say　that　just　once　more〃　his　right　hand　slid　towards　his　hip。
　 〃If　you're　thinking　of　pulling　a　gun；　Mr。　Palermo　wouldn't　like　it；〃　I　said。
　 〃To　hell　with　Mr。　Palermo；〃　he　snarled；　in　a　voice　suddenly　furious；　out　of　a　face　suddenly　charged　with　dark　blood。
　 〃Mr。　Palermo　will　be　glad　to　know　that's　how　you　feel　about　him；〃　I　said。
　 〃Look；〃　the　carroty　man　said　very　slowly；　dropping　his　hand　to　his　side　and　leaning　forward　from　the　hips　and　pushing　his　face　at　me　as　hard　as　he　could。　〃Look。　I　was　sitting　here　having　myself　a　beer　or　two。　Maybe　three。　Maybe　nine。　What　the　hell？　I　wasn't　bothering　anybody。　It　was　a　nice　day。　It　looked　like　it　might　be　a　nice　eveningThen　you　e　in。〃　He　waved　a　hand　violently。
　 〃Let's　go　up　and　frisk　the　apartment；〃　I　said。
　 He　threw　both　fists　forward　in　tight　lumps。　At　the　end　of　the　motion　he　threw　his　hands　wide　open；　straining　the　fingers　as　far　as　they　would　go。　His　nose　twitched　sharply。
　 〃If　it　wasn't　for　the　job；〃　he　said。
　 I　opened　my　mouth。　〃Don't　say　it！〃　he　yelled。
　 He　put　a　hat　on；　but　no　coat；　opened　a　drawer　and　took　out　a　bunch　of　keys；　walked　past　me　to　open　the　door　and　stood　in　it；　jerking　his　chin　at　me。　His　face　still　looked　a　little　wild。
　 We　went　out　into　the　hall　and　along　it　and　up　the　stairs。　The　ball　game　was　over　and　dance　music　had　taken　its　place。　Very　loud　dance　music。　The　carroty　man　selected　one　of　his　keys　and　put　it　in　the　lock　of　Apartment　204。　Against　the　booming　of　the　dance　band　behind　us　in　the　apartment　across　the　way　a　woman's　voice　suddenly　screamed　hysterically。
　 The　carroty　man　withdrew　the　key　and　bared　his　teeth　at　me。　He　walked　across　the　narrow　hallway　and　banged　on　the　opposite　door。　He　had　to　knock　hard　and　long　before　any　attention　was　paid。　Then　the　door　was　jerked　open　and　a　sharp…faced　blond　in　scarlet　slacks　and　a　green　pullover　stared　out　with　sultry　eyes；　one　of　which　was　puffed　and　the　other　had　been　socked　several　days　ago。　She　also　had　a　bruise　on　her　throat　and　her　hand　held　a　tall　cool　glass　of　amber　fluid。
　 〃Pipe　down；　but　soon；〃　the　carroty　man　said。　〃Too　much　racket。　I　don't　aim　to　ask　you　again。　Next　time　I　call　some　law。〃
　 The　girl　looked　back　over　her　shoulder　and　screamed　against　the　noise　of　the　radio：　〃Hey；　Del！　The　guy　says　to　pipe　down！　You　wanna　sock　him？〃
　 A　chair　squeaked；　the　radio　noise　died　abruptly　and　a　thick　bitter…eyed　dark　man　appeared　behind　the　blond；　yanked　her　out　of　the　way　with　one　hand　and　pushed　his　face　at　us。　He　needed　a　shave。　He　was　wearing　pants；　street　shoes　and　an　undershirt。
　 He　settled　his　feet　in　the　doorway；　whistled　a　little　breath　in　through　his　nose　and　said：
　 〃Buzz　off。　I　just　e　in　from　lunch。　I　had　a　lousy　lunch。　I　wouldn't　want　nobody　to　push　muscle　at　me。〃　He　was　very　drunk；　but　in　a　hard　practised　sort　of　way。
　 The　carroty　man　said：　〃You　heard　me；　Mr。　Hench。　Dim　that　radio　and　stop　the　roughhouse　in　here。　And　make　it　sudden。〃
　 The　man　addressed　as　Hench　said：　〃Listen；　picklepuss〃　and　heaved　forward　with　his　right　foot　in　a　hard　stamp。
　 The　carroty　man's　left　foot　didn't　wait　to　be　stamped　on。　The　lean　body　moved　back　quickly　and　the　thrown　bunch　of　keys　hit　the　floor　behind；　and　clanked　against　the　door　of　Apartment　204。　The　carroty　man's　right　hand　made　a　sweeping　movement　and　came　up　with　a　woven　leather　blackjack。
　 Hench　said：　〃Yah！〃　and　took　two　big　handfuls　of　air　in　his　two　hairy　hands；　closed　the　hands　into　fists　and　swung　hard　at　nothing。
　 The　carroty　man　hit　him　on　the　top　of　his　head　and　the　girl　screamed　again　and　threw　a　glass　of　liquor　in　her　boy　friend's　face。　Whether　because　it　was　safe　to　do　it　now　or　because　she　made　an　honest　mistake；　I　couldn't　tell。
　 Hench　turned　blindly　with　his　face　dripping；　stumbled　and　ran　across　the　floor　in　a　lurch　that　threatened　to　land　him　on　his　nose　at　every　step。　The　bed　was　down　and　tumbled。　Hench　made　the　bed　on　one　knee　and　plunged　a　hand　under　the　pillow。
　 I　said：　〃Look　outgun。〃
　 〃I　can　fade　that　too；〃　the　carroty　man　said　between　his　teeth　and　slid　his　right　hand；　empty　now；　under　his　open　vest。
　 Hench　was　down　on　both　knees。　He　came　up　on　one　and　turned　and　there　was　a　short　black　gun　in　his　right　hand　and　he　was　staring　down　at　it；　not　holding　it　by　the　grip　at　all；　holding　it　flat　on　his　palm。
　 〃Drop　it！〃　the　carroty　man's　voice　said　tightly　and　he　went　on　into　the　room。
　 The　blond　promptly　jumped　on　his　back　and　wound　her　long　green　arms　around　his　neck；　yelling　lustily。　The　carroty　man　staggered　and　swore　and　waved　his　gun　around。
　 〃Get　him；　Del！〃　the　blond　screamed。　〃Get　him　good！〃　Hench；　one　hand　on　the　bed　and　one　foot　on　the　floor；　both　knees　doubled；　right　hand　holding　the　black　gun　flat　on　his　palm；　eyes　staring　down　at　it；　pushed　himself　slowly　to　his　feet　and　growled　deep　in　his　throat：
　 〃This　ain't　my　gun。〃
　 I　relieved　the　carroty　man　of　the　gun　that　was　not　doing　him　any　good　and　stepped　around　him；　leaving　him　to　shake　the　blond　off　his　back　as　best　he　could。　A　door　banged　down　the　hallway　and　steps　came　along　toward　us。
　 I　said：　〃Drop　it；　Hench。〃
　 He　looked　up　at　me；　puzzled　dark　eyes　suddenly　sober。　〃It　ain't　my　gun；〃　he　said　and　held　it　out　flat。　〃Mine's　a　Colt　。32belly　gun。〃
　 I　took　the　gun　off　his　hand。　He　made　no　effort　to　stop　me。　He　sat　down　on　the　bed；　rubbed　the　top　of　his　head　slowly；　and　screwed　his　face　up　in　difficult　thought。　〃Where　the　hell〃　his　voice　trailed　off　and　he　shook　his　head　and　winced。
　 I　sniffed　the　gun。　It　had　been　fired。　I　sprang　the　magazine　out　and　counted　the　bullets　through　the　small　holes　in　the　side。　There　were　six。　With　one　in　the　magazine；　that　made　seven。　The　gun　was　a　Colt　。32；　automatic；　eight　shot。　It　had　been　fired。　If　it　had　not　been　reloaded；　one　shot　had　been　fired　from　it。
　 The　carroty　man　had　the　blond　off　his　back　now。　He　had　thrown　her　into　a　chair　and　was　wiping　a　scratch　on　his　cheek。　His　green　eyes　were　baleful。
　 〃Better　get　some　law；〃　I　said。　〃A　shot　has　been　fired　from　this　gun　and　it's　about　time　you　found　out　there's　a　dead　man　in　the　apartment　across　the　hail。〃
　 Hench　looked　up　at　me　stupidly　and　said　in　a　quiet；　reasonable　voice：　〃Brother；　that　simply　ain't　my　gun。〃
　 The　blond　sobbed　in　a　rather　theatrical　manner　and　showed　me　an　open　mouth　twisted　with　misery　and　ham　acting。　The　carroty　man　went　softly　out　of　the　door。
　
　
　10
　
　 〃Shot　in　the　throat　with　a　medium　caliber　gun　and　a　softnosed　bullet；〃　Detective…Lieutenant　Jesse　Breeze　said。　〃A　gun　like　this　and　bullets　like　is　in　here。〃　He　danced　the　gun　on　his　hand；　the　gun　Hench　had　said　was　not　his　gun。　〃Bullet　ranged　upwards　and　probably　hit　the　back　of　the　skull。　Still　inside　his　head。　The　man's　dead　about　two　hours。　Hands　and　face　cold；　but　body　still　warm。　No　rigor。　Was　sapped　with　something　hard　before　being　shot。　Likely　with　a　gun　butt。　All　that　mean　anything　to　you　boys　and　girls？〃
　 The　newspaper　he　was　sitting　on　rustled。　He　took　his　hat　off　and　mopped　his　face　and　the　top　of　his　almost　bald　head。　A　fringe　of　light　colored　hair　around　the　crown　was　damp　and　dark　with　sweat。　He　put　his　hat　back　on；　a　flat…crowned　panama；　burned　dark　by　the　sun。　Not　this　year's　hat；　and　probably　not　last　year's。
　 He　was　a　big　man；　rather　paunchy；　wearing　brown　and　white　shoes　and　sloppy　socks　and　white　trousers　with　thin　black　stripes；　an　open　neck　shirt　showing　some　ginger…colored　hair　at　the　top　of　his　chest；　and　a　rough　sky…blue　sports　coat　not　wider　at　the　shoulders　than　a　two…car　garage。　He　would　be　about　fifty　years　old　and　the　only　thing　about　him　that　very　much　suggested　cop　was　the　calm；　unwinking　unwavering　stare　of　his　prominent　pale　blue　eyes；　a　stare　that　had　no　thought　of　being　rude；　but　that　anybody　but　a　cop　would　feel　to　be　rude。　Below　his　eyes　across　the　top　of　his　cheeks　and　the　bridge　of　his　nose　there　was　a　wide　path　of　freckles；　like　a　mine　field　on　a　war　map。
　 We　were　sitting　in　Hench's　apartment　and　the　door　was　shut。　Hench　had　his　shirt　on　and　he　was　absently　tying　a　tie　with　thick　blunt　fingers　that　trembled。　The　girl　was　lying　on　the　bed。　She　had　a　green　wrap…around　thing　twisted　about　her　head；　a　purse　by　her　side　and　a　sho