p&c.brimstone-第8部分

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　8　
　
　The　Renaissance　Salon　of　the　Metropolitan　Museum　of　Artwas　one　of　the　museum's　most　remarkable　spaces。　Taken　piece　by　piece；　stone　by　stone；　from　the　ancient　Palazzo　Dati　of　Florence　and　reassembled　in　Manhattan；　it　re…created　in　perfect　detail　a　late　Renaissancesalone。　It　was　the　most　imposing　and　austere　of　all　the　grand　galleries　in　the　museum；　and　for　this　reason；　it　was　chosen　for　the　memorial　service　of　Jeremy　Grove。　
　D'Agosta　felt　like　an　idiot　in　his　cop's　uniform；　with　its　Southampton　P。D。　patch　in　gold　and　blue　and　its　lowly　sergeant's　stripes。　People　turned　toward　him　quickly；　stared　as　if　he　was　some　kind　of　freak；　and　then　just　as　quickly　dismissed　him　as　hired　help　and　turned　away。　
　As　he　followed　Pendergast　into　the　hall；　D'Agosta　was　surprised　to　see　a　long　table　groaning　with　food；　and　another　sporting　enough　bottles　of　wine　and　liquor　to　lay　low　a　herd　of　rhinos。　Some　memorial　service。　More　like　an　Irish　wake。　D'Agosta　had　been　to　a　few　of　those　during　his　NYPD　days　and　felt　lucky　to　have　survived　them。　They'd　obviously　set　this　whole　thing　up　with　remarkable　speed…Grove　had　been　dead　only　two　days。　
　The　room　was　crowded。　There　were　no　chairs：　people　were　meant　to　mingle；　not　sit　reverentially。　Several　television　crews　had　set　up　their　gear　near　a　carpet…covered　stage；　which　was　bare　save　for　a　small　podium。　A　harpsichord　stood　in　a　far　corner　of　the　salon；　but　it　was　barely　audible　over　the　noise　of　the　crowd。　If　there　was　anybody　shedding　tears　over　Grove；　they　were　hiding　it　pretty　well。　
　Pendergast　leaned　over。　〃Vincent；　if　you　are　interested　in　any　estibles；　now　is　the　time　to　act。　With　a　crowd　like　this；　they　won't　last　long。〃　
　〃estibles？　You　mean　that　food　on　the　table？　No；　thanks。〃　His　dalliance　with　the　literary　world　had　taught　him　that　events　like　these　served　things　like　fish　eggs　and　cheese　that　smelled　so　bad　it　encouraged　you　to　check　the　bottom　of　your　shoes。　
　〃Then　shall　we　circulate？〃　Pendergast　began　moving　sylphlike　through　the　crowd。　Now　a　lone　man　mounted　the　stage：　impeccably　dressed；　tall；　hair　carefully　groomed　back；　face　glistening　with　a　professional　makeup　job。　The　crowd　hushed　even　before　he　reached　the　microphone。　
　Pendergast　took　D'Agosta's　elbow。　〃Sir　Gervase　de　Vache；　director　of　the　museum。〃　
　The　man　plucked　the　microphone　from　the　podium；　his　elegant　figure　straight　and　dignified。　
　〃I　wele　you　all；〃　he　said；　apparently　feeling　it　unnecessary　to　introduce　himself。　〃We　are　here　to　memorialize　our　friend　and　colleague　Jeremy　Grove…but　as　he　would　have　wanted　it：　with　food；　drink；　music；　and　good　cheer；　not　long　faces　and　lugubrious　speeches。〃　He　spoke　with　a　trace　of　a　French　accent。　
　Although　Pendergast　had　stopped　the　moment　the　director　gained　the　stage；　D'Agosta　noticed　that　the　FBI　agent　was　still　scouring　the　room　with　his　restless　eyes。　
　〃I　first　met　Jeremy　Grove　some　twenty　years　ago；　when　he　reviewed　our　Monet　exhibition　forDowntown　。　It　was…how　shall　I　say　it？…a　classic　Grove　review。〃　
　There　was　a　ripple　of　knowing　laughter。　
　〃Jeremy　Grove　was；　above　all　else；　a　man　who　told　the　truth　as　he　saw　it；　unflinchingly　and　with　style。　His　rapier　wit　and　irreverent　sallies　enlivened　many　a　dinner　party　。　。　。〃　
　D'Agosta　tuned　out。　Pendergast　was　still　ceaselessly　scanning　the　room；　and　now　he　began　moving　again；　slowly；　like　a　shark　that　has　just　scented　blood　in　the　water。　D'Agosta　followed。　He　liked　to　watch　Pendergast　in　action。　There；　at　the　liquor　table；　pouring　himself　a　stiff　drink；　was　a　striking　young　man　dressed　entirely　in　black；　with　a　neat　goatee。　He　had　exceptionally　large；　deep；　liquid　eyes；　and　fingers　that　were　even　more　spidery　than　Pendergast's。　
　〃Maurice　Vilnius；　the　abstract　expressionist　painter；〃　Pendergast　murmured。　〃One　of　many　beneficiaries　of　Grove's　ministrations。〃　
　〃What's　that　supposed　to　mean？〃　
　〃I　recall　a　review　Grove　wrote　of　Vilnius's　paintings　some　years　back。　The　phrase　that　best　sticks　in　my　mind　is：These　paintings　are　so　bad　they　inspire　respect；　even　awe。　It　takes　a　special　kind　of　talent　to　produce　mediocrity　at　this　level。　Vilnius　has　such　talent　in　abundance。　〃　
　D'Agosta　swallowed　a　laugh。　〃That's　worth　killing　over。〃　He　hastily　put　his　face　in　order；　Vilnius　had　turned　to　see　them　approach。　
　〃Ah；　Maurice；　how　are　you？〃　Pendergast　asked。　
　The　painter　raised　two　very　black　eyebrows。　As　a　fellow　sufferer　of　bad　reviews；　D'Agosta　had　expected　to　see　anger；　or　at　least　resentment；　on　the　flushed　face。　Instead；　it　wore　a　broad　smile。　
　〃Have　we　met？〃　
　〃My　name's　Pendergast。　We　met　briefly　at　your　opening　at　Galerie　Dellitte　last　year。　Beautiful　work。　I've　been　considering　acquiring　a　piece　for　my　apartment　in　the　Dakota。〃　
　Vilnius　's　smile　grew　broader。　〃Delighted。〃　He　spoke　with　a　Russian　accent。　〃e　by　anytime。　e　by　today。　It　would　make　my　fifth　sale　this　week。〃　
　〃Indeed？〃　D'Agosta　noticed　Pendergast　was　careful　to　keep　surprise　from　his　voice。　In　the　background；　the　director's　voice　droned　on：〃。　。　。　a　man　of　courage　and　determination；　who　did　not　go　gently　into　that　good　night　。　。　。〃　
　〃Maurice；〃　Pendergast　continued；　〃I'd　like　to　speak　with　you　about　Grove's　last…〃　
　Suddenly；　a　middle…aged　woman　came　up　to　Vilnius；　her　cadaverous　figure　draped　in　a　sequined　dress。　In　tow　was　a　tall　man　in　a　black　tuxedo；　his　bald　head　polished　to　gemstone　brilliance。　
　The　woman　tugged　at　Vilnius's　sleeve。　〃Maurice；　darling；　I　justhad　to　congratulate　you　in　person。　That　new　review　is　simply　wonderful。　Andso　long　overdue。〃　
　〃You've　seen　it　already？〃　Vilnius　replied；　turning　toward　these　new　arrivals。　
　〃Just　this　afternoon；〃　the　tall　man　replied。　〃A　proof　copy　was　faxed　to　my　gallery。〃　
　〃。　。　。　and　now；　one　of　Jeremy's　beloved　sonatas　by　Haydn　。　。　。〃　
　People　continued　talking；　ignoring　the　man　at　the　podium。　Vilnius　glanced　back　toward　Pendergast　for　a　moment。　〃Nice　to　have　met　you　again；　Mr。　Pendergast；〃　he　said；　drawing　a　card　from　his　pocket　and　handing　it　to　the　FBI　agent。　〃Please　drop　by　the　studio　anytime。〃　Then　he　turned　back　to　the　woman　and　her　escort。　As　they　walked　away；　D'Agosta　could　hear　Vilnius　saying；　〃It's　remarkable　to　me　how　quickly　news　spreads。　The　review　isn't　even　due　to　be　published　for　another　day。〃　
　D'Agosta　looked　at　Pendergast。　He；　too；　was　watching　Vilnius　walk　away。　〃Interesting；〃　he　murmured　under　his　breath。　
　They　drifted　back　into　the　crowd。　De　Vache　had　concluded　his　speech；　and　the　noise　level　had　risen　once　again。　The　harpischord　had　resumed　but　was　now　pletely　inaudible　over　the　drinking；　eating；　and　gossiping。　
　Suddenly；　Pendergast　took　off　at　high　speed；　arrowing　through　the　crowd。　D'Agosta　realized　his　aim　was　the　director　of　the　Met；　stepping　down　from　the　stage。　
　De　Vache　paused　at　their　approach。　〃Ah；　Pendergast。　Don't　tell　meyou're　on　the　case。〃　
　Pendergast　nodded。　
　The　Frenchman　pursed　his　lips。　〃Is　this　official？　Or　were　you　perhaps　a　friend　of　his？〃　
　〃Did　Grovehave　any　friends？〃　
　De　Vache　chuckled。　〃True；　very　true。　Friendship　was　a　stranger　to　Jeremy；　something　he　kept　at　arm's　length。　The　last　time　I　met　him　was…let　me　see…at　a　dinner　party。　I　recall　he　asked　the　man　across　from　him…a　perfectly　harmless　old　gentleman　with　dentures…to　stop　clacking　his　front　incisors　while　he　ate；　that　he　was　a　man；　not　a　rat。　Someone　later　dripped　sauce　on　his　tie；　and　Jeremy　inquired　if　perchance　he　was　related　to　Jackson　Pollock。〃　Sir　Gervase　chuckled。　〃And　that　was　just　one　dinner　party。　Can　a　man　who　routinely　talks　this　way　have　friends？〃　
　Sir　Gervase　was　called　away　by　a　group　of　jewelry…laden　matrons。　He　apologized　to　Pendergast；　nodded　at　D'Agosta；　then　turned　away。　Pendergast's　eyes　went　back　to　roaming　the　room；　finally　locking　on　a　group　of　people　near　the　harpsichord。　〃Voilà；〃　he　said。　〃The　mother　lode。〃　
　〃Who？〃　
　〃Those　three　talking　together。　Along　with　Vilnius；　whom　you　just　met；　they　were　the　guests　at　Grove's　last　dinner　party。　And　our　reason　for　being　here。〃　
　D'Agosta's　eye　landed　first　on　an　unexceptional…looking　man　in　a　gray　suit。　Beside　him　stood　a　wraithlike　elderly　woman；　covered　with　powder　and　rouge；　dressed　to　the　nines；　manicured；　coiffed；　and　no　doubt　Botoxed　in　an　ultimately　failed　attempt　to　look　less　than　sixty。　She　wore　a　necklace　of　emeralds　so　big　D'Agosta　feared　her　scrawny　shoulders　would　tire　carrying　their　weight。　But　the　standout　among　the　group　was　the　figure　at　her　other　elbow：　an　enormously　fat　man　in　a　gorgeous；　dove…gray　suit；　replete　with　silk　waistcoat；　white　gloves；　and　gold　chain。　
　〃The　woman；〃　murmured　Pendergast；　〃is　Lady　Milbanke；　widow　of　the　seventh　Baron　Milbanke。　She　is　said　to　be　a　poisonous　gossip；　a　drinker　of　absinthe；　and　an　indefatigable　séance　organizer　and　raiser　of　the　dead。〃　
　〃She　looks　like　she　needs　a　little　raising　from　the　dead　herself。〃　
　〃Vincent；　I　have　missed　your　trenchant　sense　of　humor。　The　heavyset　gentleman　is　undoubtedly　Count　Fosco。　I　have　long　heard　of　him；　but　this　is　the　first　time　I've　seen　him。〃　
　〃He　must　weigh　three　hundred　pounds　if　he　weighs　an　ounce。〃　
　〃And　yet　observe　how　lightly　he　carries　himself。　And　the　tall　gentleman　in　the　gray　suit　is　Jonathan　Frederick；　the　art　critic　forArt　&　Antiques　。〃　
　D'Agosta　nodded。　
　〃Shall　we　venture　into　the　lion's　den？〃　
　〃You're　the　boss。〃　
　Immediately；　Pendergast　strode　over；　smoothly　and　shamelessly　insinuated　himself　into　the　group；　and；　seizing　Lady　Milbanke's　hand；　raised　it　toward　his　lips。　
　The　old　woman　blushed　beneath　her　makeup。　〃Have　we　had　the　pleasure…？〃　
　〃No；〃　said　Pendergast。　〃More's　the　pity。　My　name　is　Pendergast。〃　
　〃Pendergast。　And　who　is　your　friend？　A　bodyguard？〃　This　elicited　a　round　of　titters　from　the　group。　
　Pendergast　chuckled　along　with　them。　〃In　a　manner　of　speaking。〃　
　〃If　he's　moonlighting；〃　the　tall　man　named　Frederick　said；　〃he　should　do　so　out　of　uniform。　This　is；　after　all；　a　memorial　service。〃　
　D'Agosta　noted　that　Pendergast　did　not　bother　to　correct　the　man　about　the　moonlighting。　Instead；　he　shook　his　head　sadly；　ignoring　the　ment。　〃Terribly　sad　about　Grove；　don't　you　think？〃　
　Nods　all　around。　
　〃I　heard　a　rumor　he　gave　a　dinner　party　the　night　of　his　death。〃　
　There　was　a　sudden　silence。