Chapter 8 Chapter VI Agreement on the Ticket
Forensic Cooper arrived first.He's a grumpy, God-like guy.He parked the big black Mercedes on the side of the road, and his eyes sternly swept over the crowd until the residents receded to both sides like sea water, allowing him to stride forward.He put on his gloves and walked into the house, and the quiet crowd began to discuss again.The two boys swayed to his car, but the mud monster yelled at them for some reason, and they left silently without moving.The Field of Allegiance is too crowded, too focused, and noisy, as if a riot is about to start.
The undertakers arrived next, and they stepped out of the dirty white van with the blue canvas stretcher slung haphazardly over their shoulders and headed toward the house.Everyone immediately understood that this was not a fake reality show on TV, but a real thing, and the stretcher just now would be carried out sooner or later.They stopped shaking their bodies, and their low hisses drifted down the street like a breeze, slowly turning into silence.At this time, the detectives of the crime team appeared, and the timing was always just right.
There are many differences between the serious crime team and the undercover team, and the attitude of dealing with details is one of them.The undercover cares about details far beyond people's imagination. Every time we want to have some fun, we will watch the ostentation of the serious crime team arriving at the scene.These two guys in front of me are driving a silver BMW with no license plate and no license plate, and they slammed across the street corner, braked suddenly, turned the car casually, and the two of them slammed the car door together (they may have practiced it), loudly playing with surround sound in their heads The theme song of "Tan Island Police Cavalry", swaggering towards No. 16.
In the book, a police detective is very young, with blond hair and looks like a ferret. He is still practicing his walking posture and catching up with his predecessors.The old one was about my age, rocking back and forth with a bright leather briefcase in one hand, his swagger was as dazzling as the designer suit he was wearing.The Cavaliers arrived, and it turned out to be "King of the Ball" Kennedy.
Ball King and I have known each other since we were in the police school.He was my closest buddy during training, but that doesn't mean we like each other.Most of my classmates are from places I have never heard of and I don’t want to know. My biggest wish is that I will not have to wear Wellington rubber boots to work in the future, and I will have the opportunity to meet girls who are not relatives.
Me and the king of football are both from Dublin, and I don't want to do uniform work at all.We stared at each other on the first day we met, and in the next three years, we had to compete in everything from physical fitness tests to snooker.
The king of the ball is actually called Mick, and I picked up the nickname. I think it's a good deal for him.Mick likes to win, and so do I, but at least I know how to restrain myself.He has a bad little habit, every time he gets something done, he will clenched his fists and raised his arms and roared "Score!" Although he pressed it very low, it was not necessarily silent.
I endured it for weeks and finally couldn't take it anymore.I said to him, Mitch, does that count if you make the bed?Is this great?Is it really cool?Did you hit the net?Or come from behind in the extra game?
I got on better with the other country boys than he did, and they soon started calling him football king, sometimes in a less friendly tone.He was upset, but well concealed.As I said just now, I can do even better, and he knows it too.I was going to call him Michelle.
We haven't kept in touch much since we got back into the sinister world, but every now and then we see each other for a drink to see who's got the upper hand now.He was promoted to detective five months before me, but I was in the Secret Service a year and a half before him, far ahead of him.He married earlier than me, but also divorced earlier than me.Adding, subtracting, and subtracting, we're a tie.He chose the blond boy as his sidekick, which didn't surprise me at all. Most homicide detectives like to find a partner with their own strengths, but he only chooses the little sidekick.
The ball king is nearly 1.8 meters tall, almost three centimeters taller than me, but he holds his head high and his neck stretched out like a small man, for fear that others will think him short.With dark hair, a thin build, and a serious jawline, he appealed to the kind of woman who grew up wanting to be a high-ranking man, but not a football player.
I knew just by looking at it that his parents only used napkins instead of napkins. The family would rather have nothing to eat, and they must install lace curtains.The ball king speaks with a polished, upper-middle-class accent, but the way he wears his suit gives it away.
Standing on the 16th step, he looked back at the Land of Loyalty and felt the heat of the scene.When he saw me, he acted as if he had never seen this person before, his gaze didn't stop for half a second.One of the many joys of being an undercover agent is that other co-workers never know whether you're working or (say) hanging out with your buddies, so you're usually ignored just to be on the safe side.If they get the situation wrong and expose their identities as undercover agents, then it will be less of a priority to eat the boss, and they will have endless food and walk around in the bar.
"Stay here," I said, after the King of Balls and his little henchman disappeared through the dark doorway.
Shay said, "Am I your woman?"
"Only the mouth. I'll be right back."
"Don't bother him," Kevin said to Shay without looking up, "he's working."
"Damn it, he talks like a cop."
"Hey, he's the police," Kevin finally lost his temper.He spent too much time with his brother this day: "Good observation, fuck." He jumped down the steps, pushed the Horns away, walked to the end of the road and left.Shay shrugged and I ignored him and went to get the suitcase.
Kevin was gone, my car was intact, and by the time I got back to the steps, Shay flashed off too, going where he would go.My mother stood on tiptoe at the door of our house and waved at me, chatting something, as if it was urgent, but my mother has always been like this.I pretended not to see her.
Ball King stood on the 16th step, and it seemed that he had not had much fruitful chat with my favorite gatekeeper. I strode between the two of them with my suitcase in my arms.
"Ball King," I said, slapping him on the back, "nice to meet you."
"Franco!" He shook hands with me like a big man, "Wow, wow, long time no see, I heard you arrived before me, didn't you?"
"Sorry," I said, turning to the cop with a big smile, "I just wanted to take a look, and I might have a little inside information."
"Please, don't be tricky. If you can give me some pointers on this kind of old case, I would be willing to owe you even a big favor."
"Just what I want," I said, pulling him aside, out of the way of the eavesdropping slime monster.
"I may know who was killed. According to the information I have, the deceased may be Rosie Daly. No. 3 who lives here has been missing for some time."
The ball king let out a low hiss, raised his eyebrows and said, "Pretty. What about her looks?"
"Nineteen years old, 1.73m, curvaceous build, about 63kg, long red curly hair, green eyes. I'm not sure what she was last seen in, but she was probably wearing a denim jacket and fourteen Hole oxford boots." Rosie almost lived in those boots.
"Does this match your findings?"
The ball king answered cautiously: "There is no inconsistency."
"Come on, Ball King, you're not that bad."
The ball king sighed, stretched out his hands to brush his hair, patted it back in place and said: "According to Cooper, the deceased was a young adult woman who may have been there for five or fifty years. Before she was sent for autopsy There was only so much he could say before the table. Forensics found some unidentified tattered items, a jean button and half a dozen metal rings, possibly boot lace holes. The hair may be red, but it's hard to say."
It was a lump of black that was covered in something.I said, "Possible cause of death?"
"God knows. That damn Cooper—did you know him? He'll make anyone look bad, and he just doesn't like me. He won't say anything except that she's dead. I won't lie to you. Sherlock Holmes. To me, it looks like someone hit her head with a brick so hard that it exploded—but who knows, I'm just a police detective. Cooper is still muttering, saying that after death Injuries and compression fractures..." Suddenly, the ball king stopped glancing at Malu, stared at me tightly and said, "Why are you so interested? Could it be that some informant died here for you?"
I am really puzzled that such a person who deserves to be beaten can still live to this day.
"No one of my informants ever got bricked in the head, King of the Balls, ever. Everyone lived happily ever after and lived a long life."
"Wow," said the ball king, spreading his hands, "Damn the little one. Since she's not your subordinate, why do you care what happened to her? Besides, I'm not picking fault, but how did you happen to be here? "
I told him what he needed to know, and he'd hear it from other people anyway: teenage love, midnight dates, outcast hero walking alone into a ruthless world, clever decoys.When I finished speaking, the ball king opened his eyes wide, with a look of awe and sympathy, which made me hate it.
"Damn." He said something, but this conclusion is actually quite good.
"Take a deep breath, King of the Balls, that was the factory of the past twenty-two years ago, and the fire of love was over long ago. I only came here because my dear old girl seemed to have a heart attack on the phone and took me all weekend. Just messed up."
"However, brother, you are still one step faster."
"When I want to cry, I will definitely find you."
He shrugged. "I'm just talking. I don't know how you do things, but I don't like explaining to my boss."
"My boss is very considerate of his subordinates. Be nice to me, King of Balls, I have a Christmas present for you."
I handed him the suitcase and the envelope with Fifi's picture in it - it must have been quicker and less difficult for him than it was for me, since Mr. Daly no longer seemed to be the number one suspect.The ball king inspected the suitcase and the cover, as if they were covered with contagious germs.
"What are you going to do with those two things," he asked, "if you don't mind me asking?"
"Ask a few partners below to check and check, as long as you do some research."
The ball king raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything.He flipped the envelope and read the labels: Matt, Daly, Teresa Daly, and Nora Daly.
"You think the family did it?"
I shrugged. "It's close to the water. It's a good starting point for investigation."
The ball king glanced up.The sky was as dark as the evening, and a few heavy raindrops fell, as if they had made up their minds that it was about to fall.The crowd gradually dispersed and continued to do what they had just done, only a few punks still lingered.He said: "I have two or three things to do here, and then I want to talk to the girl's family briefly, and then we should go for a few drinks, just you and me, how about? Talk about the status quo. The boy can stay Watching and staying at the scene is a kind of training. It is good for him."
The sound changed behind him, on the ground floor of the house: a long grinding sound, the sound of someone muttering, the sound of boots trampling on hollow planks.Several fuzzy white figures flashed past, layered with shadows.The light burst out from the basement, like the flames of purgatory.The undertaker brought up the prey.
The old man took a deep breath, prayed in a low voice, and enjoyed the moment.Undertakers ducked out of the growing rain as they walked past me and the ball king, one of whom was already complaining about the traffic.They were so close that I could just reach out and touch the body bag.The bag was placed on the stretcher with no shape, it was so thin that it didn't contain a corpse, and it was so light that it didn't seem to contain anything.
Ball King watched as they carried the stretcher into the back of the van.
"I'll be right back," he said, "don't run away."
We went to the Blackbird Bar a few streets away.Since it is far away and there are men here, the news has not yet come.The first time I drank, it was at the Blackbird Bar.I was fifteen years old that year, and the first day I went to the construction site to work and move bricks.For Joey the bartender, it's okay to drink grown-up drinks as long as you do the grown-up job.After Joey left, he was replaced by a man wearing the same wig.The bar was no longer smoky, but the smell of sour wine and body odor was overwhelming, but otherwise nothing had changed.There are still cracked black and white photos of unknown teams on the wall, the mirror behind the bar is still stained, the fake leather chairs are ripped open, five or six old guys occupy the high chairs, a few men wear work boots, most of them They are Polish, and several of them are underage at first glance.
The ball king was still busy, so I let him sit in a hidden corner and went to the bar by myself.By the time I got back with the drinks, he was already scribbling away in his notepad with a snazzy designer fountain pen—the guys from the Homicide Squad obviously don't like cheap Billows.
"So," he closed the notepad with one hand, took the wine glass with the other and said, "this is your hometown, who else knows that your hometown is here?"
I grinned at him with a hint of warning.
"You must think my home is in the villa area of Fox Rock, right?"
The ball king smiled.
"Not really. You've always stated that you are, uh, well-to-do. But you never give details, so I thought you should live in a high-rise. I didn't expect that. How can I say it? A colorful place."
"well said."
"According to Matt and Teresa, after you eloped with Rosie, you never came back here."
I shrugged and said, "There is only so much hometown one can afford."
The ball king draws a beautiful smiling face with beer foam.
"It feels good to be home, right? Even if it's not quite what you imagined."
"The premise is that there are good things in the hometown," I said, "but I doubt it very much."
He looked at me with pained eyes like I farted in church.
"I think," he explained to me, "you should look at it in a positive light."
I glared at him.
"I mean seriously, turn things from negative to positive," he said, flipping over the beer coaster and saying it was like this.
Normally, I would have told him directly how bad this suggestion is, but because I have something to ask of him, I had to keep it to myself.
"Teach me." I said.
The ball king raised his head to drink, destroyed the smiling face on the foam, and shook his finger at me.After taking a big sip, he said: "Because of the heart, as long as you believe that things are good for you, things will be good for you, understand?"
"I don't really understand." I said.The ball king will start preaching as soon as the adrenaline is pumped, just like someone will cry after drinking a cocktail.I wish I had ordered an extra shot of spirits just now.
"It's belief. It's belief that makes this country a success. Dublin real estate is really worth a thousand pounds a square foot? Fuck. But house prices are a thousand pounds because people believe it is. You and me, Franco, We were all on the front of the wave. Ireland in the 80s was a piece of shit, there was no hope. But we believed in ourselves, you and me, and that's why we're where we are today."
I said, "I'm where I am today because I'm good at what I do. For God's sake, I hope you are too, man, because I want to crack this case."
The ball king stared at me as if he wanted to fight.
"Fuck, I'm pretty good at my job," he said to me. "Fucking good at it. You know what the average homicide cracking rate is? Seventy-two percent. You know I What's the detection rate?"
He waited for me to shake his head.
"Eighty-six percent, boy, add six to eighty. I'll count your luck today."
I nodded, forced a smile of admiration, and let him win the round.
"Well, it should be."
"Damn it, of course it is." After the victory, the ball king leaned back on the bench, suddenly flinched, and then stared fiercely at the broken cushion spring.
"Maybe," I said, raising my glass to the light, squinting my eyes thoughtfully, "maybe today is a lucky day for you and me."
"How do you say?" the ball king asked suspiciously.He's a guy who knows me well enough not to be careless.
I said, "Think about it, every time you encounter a case, what do you want most?"
"Someone bowed their heads and pleaded guilty, plus witnesses and forensic evidence."
"No, no, you didn't understand what I meant, Ball King, you're thinking wrong, I want you to think more commonly. To put it simply, as a police detective, what is your greatest asset? What do you like most in the world? "
"Stupid, let me spend five minutes with an idiot—"
"News is news. Whether it is useful or not, it doesn't matter if you have more or less. News is your weapon, the king of the ball, and news is fuel. Without stupidity, we can still find a way. Without news, we can't go anywhere."
The ball king thought for a while.
"So?" he asked cautiously.
I spread my arms and smiled at him, "See what you're asking for, man."
"Kylie Minogue in a thong?"
"Prayer at work. All the news you want, the news you can't dig yourself, no one here will tell you, but it's all in the head of your favorite old observer. This observer is me. .”
The king of the ball said: "Please help me, please speak in a language I can understand, Franco. Be clear, what do you want?"
I shook my head and said, "The point is not me. This is a win-win situation. Since you want to turn the case into a positive one, the best way is to come together."
"You want to take on this case?"
"Never mind what I want to do, as long as what's good for you and me, let alone the case. We all want to find out, right? Isn't that the most important thing?"
The ball king pretended to think about it for a moment, then slowly shook his head regretfully: "No, buddy, I'm sorry."
Who said no?I showed a provocative smile and said, "Are you worried? You are still the detective in charge, the king of the ball. If you solve the case, you will be credited. Our undercover team does not set the rate of solving crimes."
"Well, you are lucky," the ball king replied calmly, without taking the bait.Over the years, he has become more restrained.
"You know I'd love to partner with you, Franco, but my boss won't let me."
The boss of the crime team is actually my number one fan, but I don't think the football king knows it.I raised my eyebrows and made an expression full of interest: "Your boss doesn't trust you so much? Why didn't you let you pick someone yourself?"
"Unless I have a reason. Give me some definite information and let me convince him, Franco. Tell me something important about the legend. Has Rosie Daly made any enemies?"
I can't say outright that I know a lot of information, we both know that.
"As far as I know, no. That's why it never occurred to me that she might be dead."
He looked disbelieving: "What? Is she an idiot?"
I replied in a jovial tone, leaving him to guess if I was joking: "She's much smarter than you: "
"Very boring?"
"Not at all."
"Ugly?"
"The most beautiful in this area, what do you think my taste in women is?"
"Then I can assure you, she must have enemies. Being boring or ugly may be a way to avoid being resentful, but if a girl has a head, looks and personality, sooner or later she will be resentful," he clutched at his glass , looked at me curiously and said, "Innocent romance is not your style, Franco. You must be very infatuated with her, right?"
Danger.
"First love," I said with a shrug, "was a long time ago. Yes, I may have flattered her, but she was a really good girl. I don't know anyone who ever had a bad time with her."
"No ex-boyfriend with a grudge? No big fight with anyone?"
"I've been dating Rosie for years, Ball King, since we were sixteen. I think she's had two or three boyfriends before me, but it's all childish tricks: holding hands at the theater, at school desks. Write the name of the other party, and after three weeks, we broke up because the relationship was too tiring."
"Is there a name?"
He's already got out his shiny detective pen, and it looks like some poor bastard is waiting for the unexpected visitor.
"Martin Horn, who used to be called 'Hyperactive', but he probably won't be called that now. He lives in No. 7 and briefly called himself Rosie's boyfriend when he was fifteen. Before that was A little kid named Com, who was our schoolmate, moved to the country with his family. Then, when she was about eight years old, she couldn't stand the provocation, so she gave a kiss to Riley Sweeney who lived in Smith Road. I am very sorry I wonder if the three of them still remember her."
"No girls are jealous of her?"
"Jealousy? Rosie is not a femme fatale and never picks on other girls' boyfriends. I may be good-looking, but no one knows that I'm dating Rosie. Touching my sexy body against her."
The ball king scoffed.
"I do agree with that. But, Franco, please help me. Is there one thing you just told me that I can't ask from the talkative old woman around here? I need to be more explicit about convincing my superiors to let you join. Give me two or three possible motives for the crime, or the dark secret of the dead, and—ah, yes," he said, snapping his finger, pointing at me, "tell me that you're scheduled to meet That night, give some witness clues, and we'll see what we can do."
In other words, boy, where were you on the night of the 15th.I don't know if the ball king really thinks I'm too stupid to hear the hints in his words.
"That makes sense," I said, "December 15th to 16th, 1985, that is, between Sunday and Monday, at about 11:40 in the middle of the night, I left No. My house at the end of the road. Rosie and I made an appointment to meet around twelve o'clock, but it depended on when the family went to bed and when there was a chance to leave the house without being found. I stayed there until five or two in the morning. Between six o'clock, I'm not sure what time it is. I only left once, just after two o'clock, about five minutes. I went to the sixteenth to see if I got the meeting place wrong, see Rosie Are you waiting for me there?"
"Is there any reason for you to think that she might meet you on the 16th instead?" Ball King asked while taking notes with the shorthand notation he invented.
"We discussed it before we decided to meet at the intersection. People here often see each other on the 16th, especially children. Whether it's drinking, smoking or kissing, or anything your parents forbid you to do or you are not old enough to do. , No. 16 is the only choice."
The ball king nodded.
"That's why you went there to find Rosie. Which rooms did you pass?"
"I looked at all the rooms on the first floor. I didn't want to alarm outsiders, so I didn't call her. There was no one on the first floor, I didn't see a suitcase, and I didn't see or hear anything unusual. A note signed by Rosie Daly was found in the first room on the right hand side. From the contents, she decided to go to England alone. I left the note where it was."
"I've seen the note, but it didn't say who it was written to. How do you think it was written to you?"
The thought of him drooling over the note and carefully putting it in the evidence bag made me want to punch him, not to mention the fact that he had made it clear that Rosie might repent.I wonder what the Dalys told him about me.
"It seemed reasonable at the time," I said, "that I was the one who was scheduled to meet her, and if she left a note, it should be for me."
"She didn't reveal any signs, making you feel that she hesitated?"
"Not at all," I said to him with a big smile, "even now, don't you, King?"
"Maybe," Ball King said.He scribbled a few sentences on the notepad and squinted to read.
"Didn't you go to the basement?"
"No, nobody's going there. It's dark and ramshackle and damp and rats and stinks like hell and we've always kept away. I have no reason to think Rosie's going to be there."
The ball king tapped his teeth with a pen and looked down at his notes.I drank a third of my glass of beer and thought about the scene in my mind: I was upstairs feeling lost, and Rosie was just a few feet away in the basement.
"So," Ball King said, "even though you thought Rosie's note was a breakup letter, you went back to the intersection and continued to wait for her. Why?"
He asked casually, but I caught a sharp flash in his eyes.This bitch is having fun. "Everyone expects spring to be around," I said with a shrug. "Besides, women are fickle. I think I'll give her time to change her mind."
The king of the ball snorted softly like a big man: "A woman, right? So you gave her another three or four hours, and then flew away. Where did you go?"
I told him about the empty house, the stinky rocker, and the generous sister, in chronological order, but not by name so he wouldn't bother them.The ball king took notes while listening, and asked me after listening, "Why don't you just go home?"
"Impulse, and self-esteem. I wanted to move out, and no matter what Rosie did, I wouldn't be shaken. England doesn't mean much to me on my own, but going home with my tail between my legs isn't much better. Now that I've Prepare everything to leave home, then move on.”
"Well," said the ball king, "let's go back to those six hours—it's love, yes, especially in December—the six hours you wait at the intersection. A house or something?"
I said, "One or two things. Around midnight, I don't know the exact time, I heard a rustling sound and thought it was a couple doing business nearby. But in retrospect, the sound had two possibilities: making love or struggling. After that, about a Between 15:00 and 15:30, someone walked through the backyards of the even-numbered row of houses. After many years, I don't know how much these clues will help you, but please use them if you can."
"A clue is a good clue," the ball king transcribed, without comment, "You should know this. All the voices and movements are like that? In this kind of neighborhood? All night? Come on, this is not a high-end place." residential area."
He started to annoy me, but I thought the anger would only hit him, so I deliberately relaxed my shoulders and drank slowly: "It was Sunday night, when I arrived at the intersection, almost everyone was asleep, it should be shut down They're all closed, too, or I'd have to be out later. There's no movement in Loyalty. Some people are still awake, and some are talking, but no one is walking on the road, or going out or coming home. I hear people going around Walking towards Xinjie at the corner of the street, there were two or three times when the sound was so close that I hid from the lights so as not to be discovered, but I didn't meet anyone I knew."
The ball king played with the pen, looking thoughtfully at the swaying luster on the surface.
"So you weren't seen," he repeated, "and no one knows you're together, is that what you mean?"
"That's right."
"Is there any special reason for you to be so mysterious?"
"Rosie's dad didn't like me. He was so pissed off when he found out we were dating for the first time, so we went underground afterwards. If we told him I wanted to take his baby girl to London, there would be a big fight .In my mind at the time, it should be easier to ask forgiveness than permission."
"Some things never change," the ball king said bitterly, "Why doesn't he like you?"
"Because he has no taste," I grinned. "Who wouldn't love my face?"
He didn't smile.
"Speak seriously."
"You'd have to ask him, he didn't share with me what he thought."
"I'll ask him. Who else knows what you two are planning?"
"I didn't tell anyone, and neither did Rosie, as far as I know. Mandy's mine.The ball king can smell her by himself, and it is his luck to ask what he can find out. I will definitely wait and see the good show.
The ball king sipped his beer in a leisurely manner, browsed through the notes just now, put on the famous dream pen with a click and said, "Okay, that's about it for now."
"Let's see what your boss thinks," I said.He wouldn't go to the boss, but if I backed down too quickly, he might wonder if I had other plans.
"Those clues just now may impress him and make him feel that it is good to work together to solve the case."
The ball king and I met our eyes and forgot to blink for a second.He must be thinking right now what I realized when I heard the suitcase was there: the prime suspect was the guy who was there, had a motive and an opportunity, but no alibi.The guy who silently waits for Rosie Daly, but is likely to be dumped by her that night.The guy who told the cops he swears to God Rosie didn't show up all night.
Neither the ball king nor I intend to mention this first.
"I'll do my best," he said, stuffing the notepad into his suit pocket without looking at me. "Thanks, Franco, I may need to go over it with you and me later."
"No problem," I said, "you know where to find me."
He drank the remaining beer in one breath: "Remember what I said just now, think positively, and look at it from a different angle."
"Ball King," I said, "that lump your colleague dug up just now is my girlfriend. I thought she had crossed the ocean and lived a happy life. If I have a hard time seeing the bright side, please Please forgive me."
The ball king sighed.
"Well," he said, "that makes sense, and you want to hear my guess?"
"my pleasure."
"You've got a great reputation for your work, Franco, very well, except for one small place. You've been rumored to be a unique individual who likes—how to put it—likes changing the rules of the game to your will. The suitcase is the best Good example. Bosses like gregarious people more than loners, unless you're Mel Gibson. Investigating a case like this, if handled properly, even under tremendous pressure, as long as you can prove that you can sit on the sidelines for the team, Your evaluation will be greatly improved. Think farther away. Do you understand what I am saying?"
I gave him an extra-large smile so I wouldn't be tempted to punch him.
"You babbled and said such a bunch of clichés, I need to give me some time to digest."
He stared at me, couldn't read my mind, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Whatever, just a suggestion." He stood up and straightened the lapels of the two suits.
"I'll keep in touch with you." There was a hint of warning hidden in the tone, and then he picked up his overly ostentatious briefcase and strode out of the bar.
I'm not planning to leave right away because I don't have to work on weekends.The first reason is the king of the ball.For the next two or three days, he and his Homicide colleagues would run in and out of the Loyalty like rabid Russell Terriers, intruding into the privacy of the residents, sniffing and spying.I have to make it clear to people here that I have absolutely nothing to do with them.
Another reason is still the king of the ball, but the angle is different.I feel like he's a little too concerned that letting him go for twenty-four hours might take him out of my grasp.When we meet people we met when we were young, we always see him back then, not the present.In the eyes of the ball king, I am still the impulsive kid who is always in a hurry to do things.He himself has learned to control himself over the years, but he didn't expect that I might also learn to be patient.The same is hunting prey, if you like to sprint at full speed after letting go of the chain like a panting dog, then enter the serious crime unit, but if you want to be an undercover agent like me, you have to learn from lions: plan raids, get close Ground, crawl close, however long it takes.
The third reason is Dai Qi, she should be getting angry and gearing up for me.I'll have to face her soon, and (God forbid) Olivia, but men have limits.I wasn't drunk, but at the end of the day, I felt entitled to pass the night and test how paralyzed I could go before I collapsed.The bartender and I exchanged glances and said, "One more drink."
The bar was almost empty, probably because of the king of the ball.The bartender was behind the counter, wiping wine glasses, eyeing me at a leisurely pace.After a while, he gestured to the door with his head and said, "Your friend?"
I said, "I don't know how to use that word."
"Never seen you before."
"should not."
"What is your relationship with the Mackey family in the Land of Loyalty?"
my eyes. "It's a long story," I said.
"Ha," said the bartender, as if he had figured out what I was up to.
"Who isn't like this?" After speaking, he flicked the wine glass and put it under the faucet.
My last date with Rosie Daly was Friday, nine days before "Let's Go."That evening, the town was bitingly cold, crowded with people, all the Christmas lights were lit, shoppers were in a hurry, and roadside vendors were selling five pieces of wrapping paper for one pound.I don't have much of a thing for Christmas—Mum's madness culminates in Christmas dinner every year, as does Dad's alcohol addiction, and there's always something smashed and more than one person in tears at the end.
But that year, everything felt dull and unreal, teetering on the edge of charming and foreboding.A girl student with shiny hair in a private school sang "Joy to the World" for a charity, feeling too calm, with a dazed expression; the child put his nose against the window of the Swayze Candy Store, staring at the fairy tale scene in the window, feeling too addicted to the colorful colors and melodies.With one hand in the pocket of my German army coat, I made my way through the crowd.That day was the day I least expected to be robbed.
Rosie and I always meet at O'Neill's on Pierce Street.It's a student pub at Trinity College, which means there's a high density of jerks, but we're low-key and unlikely to run into acquaintances.The Dalys thought Rosie was out with her friends and my family didn't care about me.O'Neill was big, but the day was packed quickly, filled with heat, cigarettes and laughter.However, with that unrestrained red hair, I found Rosie at a glance.She was leaning against the bar talking to the bartender, making him grin.By the time she's paid for the beer, I've found an empty table in a hidden corner.
"Sexy," she said, putting two glasses of wine on the table, looking back at a group of students snickering at the bar.
"Look at my boobs while I'm bending over."
"Which one is it?"
I got up, but Rosie gave me a glare and pushed the glass in front of me.
“给我坐好，喝你的酒，我自己会解决他，”她说，随即绕过来坐在我身边，和我大腿贴着大腿，“那边那个家伙，你看。”
那小子穿着橄榄球衣，看不到脖子，两手摇摇晃晃抓满酒杯离开吧台。萝西挥手招回他的注意，接着倾身向前，将舌尖卷成小圈凑到酒杯边。橄榄球小子看得瞳目结舌，双脚一不留神绊到高脚凳，手里一半的酒杯砸到某人背上。萝西朝他一比中指，之后便将他抛在脑后，对我说：“搞定。你买到了吗？”
我伸手到椅背上的外套里捞出信封（挂在那儿我才能时刻盯着），抽出两张票放在破破烂烂的木桌上说：“喏，在这里。”邓莱里往霍利黑德，出发时间早上六点三十分，十二月十六日星期日。请于出发前三十分钟上船。
看到船票，我的肾上激素又开始急遽分泌。萝西轻笑一声，有点喘不过气。
我说：“我觉得搭早班船比较好。我们可以坐夜船，但晚上比较难打包行李，也比较难走人。搭早班船的话，只要有机会，我们周日晚上就能先到码头，在那里等船来，对吧？”
“天哪，”萝西过了半晌才说，仍然呼吸困难。
“老天，我觉得我们应该——”她用手臂遮住船票，不让隔壁桌的人看见。
"do you know?"
我和她十指交缠。
“我们在这里不用怕，从来没见到认识的人，不是吗？”
“这里还是都柏林，除非离开邓莱里，否则我不会放心的。把票收起来，好吗？”
I made a face. “可以给你保管吗？我老妈会搜我们的东西。”
萝西咧嘴微笑。
“我想也是。要是我爸搜我东西，我也一点不意外。不过，他不会碰内衣抽屉。把票给我。”她小心翼翼拿起船票，仿佛那是蕾丝做的。然后收进信封，塞到牛仔外套口袋里。她手指停在胸前片刻。
“哇，再过九天就……”
“再过九天，”我举起酒杯说，“敬你和我和我们的新生活。”
我们碰杯，各自喝了一口啤酒，我吻她。酒很棒，酒吧里的温暖让我走过镇上的双脚不再冰冷，墙上裱框相片挂着亮片，邻桌一票学生曝出微醺的哄笑。我应该是酒吧里最幸福的人，但我依然感觉那个夜晚夹带着一丝不祥，有如转眼就会化成灾厄的闪亮美梦。我放开萝西，生怕自己太过用力，反而伤了她。
“我们必须得很晚才能碰面，”萝西又喝了一口啤酒，膝盖搭上我的膝盖说，“半夜，甚至更晚。我老爸十一点才会上床，我必须再待一会儿，等他睡着。”
“星期天的话，我家十点半就躺平了。谢伊偶尔会晚归，不过只要别碰巧撞上他进门就好，没问题的。就算撞上了，他也不会拦我，反而更乐。”萝西眉毛一挑，又喝了一口啤酒。我说：“我半夜左右出门，你可以晚一点再出来，没关系。”
萝西点点头说：“不会太晚，但到时就没末班公交车了，你打算走到邓莱里？”
“扛着行李不可能。就算真的走到，双脚也都废了。我们得搭出租车。”
萝西露出“了不起”的眼神，但只有一半是装出来的。
“哦啦啦！”
我咧嘴微笑，手指勾着她一绺鬈发。
“我这星期还有两三份工可打，钱不是问题。我的女人一定要享受最好的。我很想租豪华礼车，不过还得等一等。或许挑你生日，如何？”
她对我微笑，但笑得漫不经心。她没心情胡闹。
“约在十六号？”
I shake my head.
“莎娜西兄弟最近常去那里闲晃，我可不想撞上他们，”莎娜西兄弟没有威胁性，但又蠢又闹，几乎整天烂醉如泥。我得费上好一番唇舌才能说服他们闭嘴，假装没看见我们。
“约在路口如何？”
“路口会被人看到。”
“星期日半夜之后不会。那种时间除了我们和莎娜西家的蠢蛋，还有谁会出来？”
“但我们只要被一个人看到就完了，而且要是下雨怎么办？”
这不像萝西，太紧张了。她这个人平常连神经在哪里都搞不清楚。我说：“我们不用现在决定，可以先看下周天气如何，之后再做打算。”
萝西摇头说：“我们不应该再见面了，在离开之前。我不想让老爸起疑。”
“要是他到现在都还……”
“我知道，我知道，我只是——老天，弗朗科，那两张票……”她将手伸回口袋。
“眼看就要实现了，我不希望我们松懈下来，一秒钟也不行，免得出差错。”
“什么差错？”
“我不晓得，某人半路阻止我们。”
“不会有人阻止我们。”
“是啊，”萝西咬着指甲回答，目光从我身上移开半秒，“我知道，不会有事的。”
我说：“怎么了？”
“没事。就照你说的，我们在路口碰面，万一下大雨就改到十六号。天气太差，那些家伙不会出来，对吧？”
“对，”我说，“萝西，看着我，你是不是觉得这么做有罪恶感？”
她嘴角不悦地一撇。
“有个屁。我们又不是为了好玩。要不是我老爸搞不懂状况又爱管闲事，反对我们交往，我们根本不用这么干。干吗？你有罪恶感？”
“怎么可能？家里只有凯文和洁琪会想念我。等我拿到第一份薪水，一定要寄好东西给他们，让他们开心。你会想念家人是吗？还是姐妹淘？”
萝西沉思片刻。
“姐妹淘嘛，是会想念，还有我家人，一点点。可是，嗯……我早就知道自己想赶紧搬出去。我和伊美达还没毕业就讨论过溜到伦敦，直到……”她转头朝我匆匆一笑说，“直到你和我想出更棒的计划。无论如何，我迟早都会离开，你不也是吗？”
她知道问这个比问我是否会想念家人要好些。
“是啊，”我说。我不晓得是对是错，但这个回答是我们都想听到的。“不管怎么样，我都会离开，不过我更喜欢咱们现在这样的离开方式。”
她又嫣然一笑，却依然有点保留。
"me too."
我问：“那么到底是什么？你从刚才坐下来就一直如坐针毡。”
这下让萝西紧张起来了。她说：“你还好意思说我？你自己今天晚上才可笑呢，你就是。我感觉自己好像跟《芝麻街》的奥斯卡出去……”
“我会这样是因为你这样，我还以为你拿到船票会飞上天，结果——”
“少来，你进酒吧就这样了。你只是想找机会捶掉那个变态的头—一”
“你还不是一样？你反悔了吗？到底是怎么回事？”
“弗朗科·麦奇，想和我分手的话，就像个男人自己开口，不要让我代替你做这种下流事。”
我们互瞪对方，只要一个不小心就会大吵一架。但萝西忽然长吁一日气，靠回坐垫，双手梳拢头发说：“我就告诉你，弗朗科。我们很紧张，因为我们太自大了。”
我说：“别扯到我。”
“我没有。我们两个想去伦敦搞音乐，工厂不必了，谢谢，不是我们的菜，我们打算为摇滚乐团工作。要是你老妈知道了，她会怎么说？”
“她会说天杀的，我以为自己是谁，接着赏我一个耳光，骂我是没脑袋的蠢蛋，要我安分一点。绝对热闹滚滚。”
“这个，”萝西举起酒杯，对我说，“这就是我们紧张的原因，弗朗科。我们从小认识的每个人都会这么说，说我们太自以为是，假如我们相信这一套，最后只会伤害彼此，让对方过着悲惨的日子，所以我们最好乖乖认命。对吧？”
在我心底，我和萝西当年相爱的方式依然让我自豪。我们没有榜样，双方父母都不是美好伴侣的典范，因此我们只能从对方身上学习。只要是你爱的人开口，你就能控制自己的火爆脾气，压抑让你怕得不知所措的无名恐惧，表现得像个大人，而不是原始人一样的青少年。你可以做到一百万件意想不到的事情。
我说：“过来。”我双手滑上她的手臂，捧着她的双颊，她倾身向前，和我额头相贴，让全世界消失在那一团纠结闪亮的浓浓秀发之外。
“你说得对极了。抱歉，我刚才很混蛋。”
“我们也许会一败涂地，但没有理由不尽力尝试。”
我说：“你很聪明，你知道吗？”
萝西看着我，近得我能看见她绿色眼眸中的金黄、她微笑前眼角浮现的细纹。“我的男人应该得到最好的。”她说。
这一回，我好好吻了她。我感觉船票夹在我和她狂乱的心跳之间嘶嘶作响，仿佛随时就要爆炸，射出满天的金黄火花。就在那一刻，夜晚不再模糊，也不再危险。我体内泛起一阵晕眩，骨头深处微微颤抖。从那一刻起，我只能让这股力量拖着，相信它会带领我们走上正确的方向，双脚穿越诡谲暗流与险恶斜坡，踩到安全的踏脚石。
半晌，我们松开彼此，萝西说：“忙的人不止你一个，我到伊森书店看了英国报纸的所有求职广告。”
“有看到什么工作吗？”
“只有几个，大部分我们都不能做，像是堆高机驾驶或代课老师，不过也有几个地方在征侍者和酒保。我们可以谎报经验，反正他们从来不查。没有人想找灯光师或乐团经理人，但这一点咱们早就知道了。我们一到就可以找工作，而且那里一大堆房子，弗朗科，几百间。”
“我们付得起吗？”
“嗯，可以。就算没有马上找到工作也无所谓，我们存的钱够付订金，而且可以先靠救济佥租一个烂地方。很烂的那种，必须和别人共享卫生间，但起码不必多浪费钱在青年旅馆。”
我说：“我可以和别人共享厕所和厨房之类的地方，没问题。我只是想尽快搬离青年旅馆，但我们没必要分住两个寝室，因为明明可以——”
萝西对我微笑，眼神里的光彩几乎让我心跳暂停。她说：“明明可以有自己的窝。”
“没错，”我说，“自己的窝。”
我只要一张床，让我和萝西整夜依偎对方臂弯，早晨在彼此怀中醒来。为此，我愿意付出一切，一切，其他都不算什么。现代人谈起爱情，总让我目瞪口呆。
我和组里的小伙子到酒吧，常听他们巨细靡遗描述女人要有什么身材、哪里的毛该刮、怎么刮、什么日子该做什么，一定得说什么、要什么，还有一定不能说什么、要什么。我也听女人在咖啡馆闲聊，列出男人应该做的工作、该有的车款和服装品牌，还有哪种花、哪家餐厅和哪种宝石符合标准。
我只想大叫：你们这些人疯了吗？我从来没有买花给萝西（她回家之后会很难解释），也没想过她脚踝长得好不好。我要她，要她只属于我，而我相信她也要我，就这么简单。直到荷莉出生前，我的生活里再也没什么比这一点更简单。
萝西说：“有些房子不租给爱尔兰人。”
我说：“他们真该死。”潮水不停上涨，越来越汹涌。我知道我们走进的第一间房子一定会很完美，这股吸力会将我们直直带向我们的家。
“我们就跟他们说我们是蒙古来的，你的蒙古口音怎么样？”
萝西咧嘴微笑：“谁需要口音？我们只要说爱尔兰文，跟他们说是蒙古话就好。你想他们分得出来吗？”
我对她夸张地鞠了一躬，说：“'P6gmo th6in'意思是'去你的'”，还带着百分之九十的爱尔兰口音。
“古蒙古的问候语。”
萝西说：“不过说真的，我会这么说，是因为我很清楚你这人有几分耐性。就算我们第一天没找到房子，那也没什么大不了，不是吗？我们多得是时间。”
“我知道。有些房东不租给我们，因为他们觉得我们足醉鬼或恐怖分子。至于其他……”我抓起她握着酒杯的双手，拇指抚摩她的手指。结实的手指，因为缝纫而结了茧，还戴着路边地摊买的廉价银戒指，有的像居尔特图腾，有的像猫头。
“其他的房东不要我们，因为我们要活在罪恶里。”
萝西耸耸肩说：“这些人也去死。”
“你想的话，”我说，“我们可以假装。去买镀金戒指，彼此称呼先生和太太，直到——”
她马上用力摇头：“不要，才不要。”
“只要一下下，等我们有钱买真的金戒指。这么做会让我们日子好过许多。”
“无所谓，我不想假装。结婚了就结婚了，没结就没结，跟别人怎么想无关。”
“萝西，”我握紧她的手说，“你知道我们会结婚，对吧？你知道我要娶你，这是我最想、最想做的事情。”
微笑又浮现了。
“最好是。我们刚开始约会的时候，我还是好女孩，完全听从修女的教诲，现在却准备做你的情妇——”
“我是认真的。看着我，很多人听到这件事会说你疯了，他们会说麦奇家都是人渣，我会对你予取予求，之后一走了之，留下孩子，让你的人生冲进马桶。”
“不可能，我们在英国，那里有安全套。”
我说：“我只是想跟你说，你不会后悔的，我绝不让这种事发生，我对天发誓。”
萝西柔声说：“我知道，弗朗科。”
“我不是我爸爸。”
“我要是认为你是，现在就不会在这儿了。好了，起来去帮我买一包薯片，我快饿死了。”
那天，我们在欧尼尔酒吧待到学生走光，酒保用吸尘器吸我们的脚才离开。
我们慢慢喝酒，聊些无关痛痒的事，逗彼此开心。回家前（我们分开走，免得被看见，我跟在萝西后面盯着她，以策安全），我们靠着三一学院的后端亲吻告别，吻了很久，接着静静拥着彼此，从脸颊到脚趾贴在一起。
寒风刺骨，在几公里的上空发出清脆如铃的声响，有如破碎的水晶。她粗嘎的呼息暧暖拂过我的喉咙，头发飘着有如柠檬眼泪的香气，我感觉她心跳匆匆拍打我的肋骨。之后我放开她，看她离开，最后一次目送她离开我身旁。
我当然找过她。我头一回单独使用警用电脑，就输入她的名字和出生日期查过：她在爱尔兰共和国没有任何被捕纪录。这很正常，我不认为她会变成黑帮女老大。但我非常亢奋查了一天，从她和我道别之后踏出的第一步开始。随着我的人脉越来越广，搜查范围也越来越大：她没有在北爱尔兰被捕，也没有在英格兰、苏格兰、韦尔斯和美国被捕。她没有在任何地方申请救济金，没有申请护照，也没有死亡或结婚。我每两年就从头搜查一次，找欠我人情的人脉帮忙，他们从来不问原因。
不过，这些年（荷莉出生让我沉稳许多）我只希望萝西自己出现在侦测范围里，过着简单满足的生活，没有和警方扯上关系，偶尔想起我曾是她的真爱，心头微微一痛。有时我会想象她找到我：半夜电话响起或敲我办公室的门。我想象两人在绿草如茵的公园里，并肩坐着长椅，带着五味杂陈的心情默默看荷莉和两个红发小男孩在攀缘架爬上爬下。或者在幽暗的酒吧消磨漫漫长夜，两人说说笑笑，脸庞越来越近，手指沿着老旧桌面滑向对方。
我巨细靡遗想象她现在的模样：过去没有的鱼尾纹、生过不是我的小孩的松弛腹部，所有我错过的岁月在她身上留下的印记，都如盲人点字等待我去阅读。我想象她给我出乎意料的答案，解开了所有谜团，让全部断片轻轻归位。我甚至想象我们重新开始。
至于其他时候，即使事隔多年，我依然抱着二十岁那年的怨恨，希望见到萝西出现在家暴组的记录或艾滋病妓女档案，不然就是伦敦治安败坏区的停尸间，因为吸毒过量而死。这些年来，我读了几百个这样的案例。
但现在，我为萝西设置的路标全都轰然一声，湮灭在刺眼晕眩的爆炸之中：我的重新开始、我的复仇，还有和家人势不两立的马其顿防线。萝西·戴利甩了我是我这辈子的分水岭，多年来岿然不动，如今却像幻影瞬间消失，让我天动地摇，上下颠倒，眼前一切竟是如此陌生。
我又点了一杯啤酒，外加一杯双份威士忌。我想，只有这样才能让我撑到早上。除此之外，我找不出任何办法抹去我刚才见到的景象，一场由尸骨谱成的梦魇。棕色细长的骨骸蜷曲在凹洞里，沙土轻轻滑落，窸窣有如疾走的步伐。
Notes:
Notes: