p&c.brimstone-第10部分

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　〃Look；　Lydia；　I'll　call　later　tonight；　okay？〃　
　〃Vincent's　going　out　with　friends。〃　
　〃I'll　call　tomorrow　morning。〃　
　〃You'll　probably　miss　him。　He's　got　baseball　practice　all　day…〃　
　〃Have　him　callme　；　then。〃　
　〃You　think　we　can　afford　to　make　long…distance　calls　on　what　you're　paying？〃　
　〃You　know　I'm　doing　the　best　I　can。　No　one's　stopping　you　from　moving　back　here；　you　know。〃　
　〃Vinnie；　you　dragged　us　kicking　and　screaming　up　here。　We　didn't　want　to　go。　It　was　tough　at　first。　But　then　something　amazing　happened。　I　made　a　life　here。　Ilike　it　here。　And　so　does　Vincent。　We　havefriends　；　Vinnie。　We've　got　alife　。　And　now；　just　when　we're　on　our　feet　again；　you　want　us　to　go　back　to　Queens。　Let　me　tell　you；　I'mnever　going　back　to　Queens。〃　
　D'Agosta　said　nothing。　It　was　just　the　kind　of　declaration　he　hadn't　wanted　to　provoke。　Jesus；　he　had　really　blown　it　with　this　phone　call。　And　all　he　wanted　to　do　was　talk　to　his　son。　
　〃Lydia；　nothing's　engraved　in　stone。　We　can　work　something　out。〃　
　〃Work　somethingout　？　It's　time　we　faced…〃　
　〃Don't　say　it；　Lydia。〃　
　〃Iam　going　to　say　it。　It's　time　we　faced　the　facts。　It's　time…〃　
　〃Don't。〃　
　〃…time　we　got　divorced。〃　
　D'Agosta　slowly　hung　up　the　phone。　Twenty…five　years；　just　like　that。　He　felt　short　of　breath；　almost　sick。　He　wouldn't　think　about　it。　He　had　work　to　do。　
　The　Southampton　police　headquarters　was　located　in　a　charming；　if　dilapidated；　old　wooden　building　that　had　once　been　the　clubhouse　of　the　Slate　Rock　Country　Club。　The　police　force　must　have　labored　hard；　D'Agosta　reflected　bleakly；　to　turn　its　insides　into　a　typical　charmless　linoleum；　cinder…block；　and　puke…colored　police　station。　It　even　had　that　universal　headquarters　smell：　that　bination　of　sweat；　overheated　photocopy　machines；　dirty　metal；　and　chlorine　cleaning　agents。　
　D'Agosta　felt　a　knot　in　his　gut。　He'd　been　out　of　the　place　for　three　days　now；　running　around　with　Pendergast；　reporting　to　the　lieutenant　by　phone。　Now　he　had　to　face　the　lieutenant　in　person。　The　phone　call　to　his　wife　had　left　him　a　wreck。　He　really　should　have　waited　and　called　her　later。　
　He　walked　through　the　outer　offices；　nodding　this　way　and　that。　Nobody　looked　particularly　glad　to　see　him；　he　wasn't　popular　with　the　regular　guys。　He　hadn't　joined　the　bowling　club　or　hung　out　with　them　at　Tiny's；　tossing　darts。　He'd　always　figured　he　was　just　passing　through　on　his　way　back　to　NYC；　hadn't　thought　it　worth　the　time　to　make　friends。　Perhaps　that　had　been　a　mistake。　
　Shaking　such　thoughts　away；　he　rapped　on　the　frosted…glass　door　that　led　to　the　lieutenant's　small　office。　Faded　gold　letters；　edged　in　black；　spelled　outBRASKIE　。　
　〃Yeah？〃　came　the　voice。　
　Inside；　Braskie　sat　behind　an　old　metal　desk。　To　one　side　was　a　stack　of　newspapers；　from　thePost　and　theTimes　to　theEast　Hampton　Record；　all　with　front…page　stories　about　the　case。　The　lieutenant　looked　terrible：　dark　circles　under　the　eyes；　face　lined。　D'Agosta　almost　felt　sorry　for　him。　
　Braskie　nodded　him　into　a　seat。　〃News？〃　
　D'Agosta　ran　through　everything　while　Braskie　listened。　When　he　was　done；　Braskie　wiped　his　hand　over　his　prematurely　thinning　scalp　and　sighed。　〃The　chief　gets　back　tomorrow；　and　basically　all　we've　got　so　far　is　jack。　No　entry　or　egress；　no　latents；　no　hair　or　fiber；　no　eyewitnesses；　no　nothing。　When's　Pendergast　ing？〃　
　He　sounded　almost　hopeful；　he　was　that　desperate。　
　〃Half　an　hour。　He　wanted　me　to　make　sure　it　was　all　ready。〃　
　〃It's　ready。〃　The　lieutenant　rose　with　a　sigh。　〃Follow　me。〃　
　The　evidence　room　was　housed　in　a　series　of　portable；　container…type　structures；　fitted　end…to…end　behind　the　police　station；　at　the　edge　of　one　of　Southampton's　last　remaining　potato　fields。　The　lieutenant　swiped　his　card　through　the　door　scanner　and　entered。　Within；　D'Agosta　saw　that　Joe　Lillian；　a　fellow　sergeant；　was　laying　out　the　last　of　the　evidence　on　a　table　in　the　middle　of　the　long；　narrow　space。　On　both　sides；　shelves　and　lockers　stretched　back　into　the　gloom；　crammed　with　evidence　going　back　God　knew　how　many　years。　
　D'Agosta　eyed　the　table。　Sergeant　Lillian　had　done　a　nice　job。　Papers；　glassine　envelopes；　sample　tubes…everything　was　tagged　and　laid　out　neat　as　a　pin。　
　〃Think　this'll　meet　with　your　special　agent's　approval？〃　Braskie　asked。　
　D'Agosta　wasn't　sure　if　it　was　sarcasm　or　desperation　he　detected　in　Braskie's　voice。　But　before　he　could　contemplate　a　reply；　he　heard　a　familiar　honeyed　voice　behind　them。　
　〃Indeed　it　does；　Lieutenant　Braskie；　indeed　it　does。〃　
　Braskie　fairly　jumped。　Pendergast　stood　inside　the　doorway；　hands　behind　his　back；　he　must've　somehow　slipped　in　behind　them。　
　Pendergast　strolled　up　to　the　table；　hands　still　clasped　behind　his　back；　lips　pursed；　examining　the　evidence　as　keenly　as　a　connoisseur　admiring　a　table　laden　with　precious　art。　
　〃Help　yourself　to　anything；〃　said　Braskie。　〃I've　no　doubt　your　forensics　lab　is　better　than　ours。〃　
　〃And　I　doubt　the　killer　left　any　forensic　evidence　beyond　that　which　hewanted　to　leave。　No；　for　the　moment　I'm　merely　browsing。　But　what's　this？　The　melted　cross。　May　I？〃　
　Sergeant　Lillian　picked　up　the　envelope　holding　the　cross　and　handed　it　to　Pendergast。　The　agent　held　it　gingerly；　turning　it　slowly　this　way　and　that。　〃I'd　like　to　send　this　to　a　lab　in　New　York。〃　
　〃No　problem。〃　Lillian　took　it　back　and　laid　it　in　a　plastic　evidence　container。　
　〃And　this　charred　material。〃　Pendergast　next　picked　up　a　test　tube　with　some　burned　chunks　of　sulfur。　He　unstoppered　it；　waved　it　under　his　nose；　restoppered　it。　
　〃Done。〃　
　Pendergast　glanced　at　D'Agosta。　〃Anything　that　interests　you；　Sergeant？〃　
　D'Agosta　stepped　forward。　〃Maybe。〃　He　swept　an　eye　over　the　table；　nodded　toward　a　packet　of　letters。　
　〃Everything's　been　gone　over　by　forensics；〃　said　Lillian。　〃Go　ahead　and　handle　it。〃　
　D'Agosta　picked　up　the　letters　and　slipped　one　out。　It　was　from　the　boy；　Jason　Prince；　to　Grove。　Out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye；　he　saw　a　smirk　growing　on　Lillian's　face。　What　the　hell　did　he　think　was　so　funny？　D'Agosta　began　to　read。　
　Jesus。　Oh；　Jesus。Reddening；　D'Agosta　put　the　letters　down。　
　〃Learn　something　new　every　day；　huh；　D'Agosta？〃　Lillian　asked；　grinning。　
　D'Agosta　turned　back　to　the　table。　There　was　a　small　stack　of　books：Dr。　Faustus　by　Christopher　Marlowe；The　New　Book　of　Christian　Prayers　；Malleus　Maleficarum。　
　〃The　Witches　Hammer；〃　Pendergast　said；　nodding　at　the　last　title。　〃The　professional　witch…hunting　manual　of　the　Inquisition。　A　font　of　information　on　the　black　arts。〃　
　Beside　the　books　was　a　stack　of　Web　printouts。　D'Agosta　picked　up　the　top　sheet。　The　site　was　called　Maledicat　Dominus；　this　particular　page　appeared　to　be　devoted　to　charms　or　prayers　for　warding　off　the　devil。　
　〃He　visited　a　bunch　of　sites　like　that　in　the　last　twenty…four　hours　of　his　life；〃　said　Braskie。　〃Those　were　the　pages　he　printed　out。〃　
　Pendergast　was　now　examining　a　wine　cork　with　a　magnifying　glass。　〃What　was　the　menu？〃　he　asked。　
　Braskie　turned　to　a　notebook；　flipped　open　some　pages；　and　passed　it　to　Pendergast。　
　Pendergast　read　aloud。　〃Dover　sole；　grilled　medallions　of　beef　in　a　burgundy　and　mushroom　reduction；　julienned　carrots；　salad；　lemon　sherbet。　Served　with　a　'90　Petrus。　Excellent　taste　in　wine。〃　
　Handing　back　the　notebook；　Pendergast　continued　his　prowl。　He　bent　forward；　picked　up　a　wrinkled　piece　of　paper。　
　〃We　found　that　balled　up　in　the　wastebasket。　Appears　to　be　a　proof　sheet　of　some　kind。〃　
　〃It's　an　advance　print　of　an　article　for　the　next　issue　ofArt　Review　。　Due　on　the　newsstands　tomorrow；　if　I'm　not　mistaken。〃　Pendergast　smoothed　the　paper；　once　again　began　to　read　out　loud。　〃'Art　history；　like　any　other　great　discipline；　has　its　own　sacred　temples：　places　and　moments　any　self…respecting　critic　would　give　his　eyeteeth　to　have　attended。　The　first　impressionist　exhibition　on　the　Boulevard　des　Capucines　in　1874　was　one；　the　day　Braque　first　saw　Picasso'sLes　Demoiselles　d'Avignon　is　another。　I　am　here　now　to　tell　you　that　the　Golgotha　series　of　Maurice　Vilnius…now　on　display　in　his　East　Village　studio…will　be　another　such　watershed　moment　in　the　history　of　art。'〃　
　〃At　the　memorial　service　yesterday；　I　thought　you　said　Grove　hated　Vilnius's　stuff；〃　D'Agosta　said。　
　〃And　so　he　did…in　years　past。　But　he　seems　to　have　suffered　a　change　of　heart。〃　Pendergast　replaced　the　paper　on　the　desk　with　a　thoughtful　expression。　〃It　certainly　explains　why　Vilnius　was　in　such　a　good　mood　last　night。〃　
　〃We　found　another；　similar　article　sitting　beside　his　puter；〃　Braskie　said；　pointing　to　another　sheet　on　the　table。　〃Printed　out　but　not　signed。　Appears　to　be　by　Grove；　however。〃　
　Pendergast　picked　up　the　indicated　sheet。　〃It's　an　article　toBurlington　Magazine　；　titled　'A　Reappraisal　of　Georges　de　la　Tour'sThe　Education　of　the　Virgin　。'〃　He　glanced　over　it　quickly。　〃It's　a　short　article　by　Grove　retracting　his　own　earlier　review；　where　he　labeled　the　de　la　Tour　painting　a　forgery。〃　He　replaced　the　sheet。　〃He　appears　to　have　changed　his　mind　about　a　lot　of　things　in　his　final　hours。〃　
　Pendergast　glided　along　the　table；　then　stopped　once　again；　this　time　before　a　sheaf　of　telephone　records。　〃Now；　these　will　be　helpful；　don't　you　think；　Vincent？〃　he　said；　handing　them　to　D'Agosta。　
　〃Just　got　the　warrant　for　their　release　this　morning；〃　said　Braskie。　〃Clipped　to　the　back　are　names　and　addresses　and　a　short　identification　of　each　person　he　called。〃　
　〃Looks　like　he　made　a　lot　of　calls　on　his　last　day；〃　said　D'Agosta；　flipping　through。　
　〃He　did；〃　said　Braskie。　〃To　a　lot　of　strange　people。〃　
　D'Agosta　turned　over　the　records　and　looked　at　the　list。　Itwas　strange：　An　international　call　to　Professor　Iain　Montcalm；　New　College；　Oxford　；　Medieval　Studies　Department。　Other；　local　calls　to　Evelyn　Milbanke；　Jonathan　Frederick。　A　variety　of　calls　to　directory　information。　After　midnight；　calls　to　Locke　Bullard；　the　industrialist；　one　Nigel　Cutforth；　and　then…even　later…the　call　to　Father　Cappi。　
　〃We　plan　to　interview　them　all。　Montcalm；　by　the　way；　is　one　of　the　world's　experts　on　medieval　satanic　practices。〃　
　Pendergast　nodded。　
　〃Milbanke　and　Frederick　were　at　the　last　dinner　party；　and　the　call