Chapter 3 Chapter Two: The Stranger's Curiosity

Although he was threatened with death, he still carried out the investigation to the end. This is a person who will not give up.He'll bounce back, it's just a matter of time.To him, the truth is as addictive as a drug, and we are one. The hearse moved forward slowly, followed by three passenger cars.Simon sat on the driver's right, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. The funeral procession entered the cemetery, walked along the winding path, and drove to a higher place before stopping at the side of the road. Cemetery workers unloaded the coffin and placed it next to a freshly dug grave.They put two garlands on the coffin lid.One read "To my best friend" and one read "To our dear colleague who gave his life for our cause."

Ten meters away stood a reporter from a local TV station, waiting for the funeral to start so he could take some pictures. Simon was the first to speak, and he said that the dead were like brothers to him. "Although the deceased appeared to be a stubborn and irascible journalist, deep down he was a generous and humorous person. Andrew should not have passed away at this age. He still has a lot of unfinished business. His passing is an irreparable loss." Simon had to pause several times during his speech due to choking.Wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, he said that the kindest people always pass away first.

The editor-in-chief of The New York Times, Olivia Stein, was the second to speak.With a grimace, she recounted the details of Andrew Steelman's death. "An excellent reporter, Andrew went to Argentina to investigate a crime during the war years. But when he returned to New York after a heroic mission, he was assassinated while jogging along the banks of the Hudson, showing that no one could Outrun death. This is a despicable act, precisely to keep the truth hidden forever. This assassination was planned by the daughter of the perpetrator of this crime, to avenge her father. The attack on Andrew, which she organized, was equally It is also an attack on the freedom of the press. Her atrocities are exactly the same as the crimes of her father's generation. But before falling into a coma, Andrew gave the name of the assassin to the first responders who arrived at the scene. The United States will not let the murderer who injured her son go unpunished. Court has requested extradition from Argentina. Justice will be restored!" said Olivia Stein.

Then she put her hands on the coffin, looked up at the sky, and said seriously the following words: "Andrew Steelman was a man of faith, he gave his life for his work, for our profession, for us Democracy builds the last line of defense. Andrew Steelman, you sacrificed on the front line of defending democracy, just like soldiers sacrificed on the battlefield of defending their home and country. We will never forget you! Starting tomorrow, the basement of the newspaper office The No. 2 reference room next to the elevator will be renamed," she exchanged glances with the HR director of the newspaper, "We will use its new name to commemorate you. From now on it will no longer be the No. 2 reference room, but 'Andrew. Steelman Reference Room'." She concluded her speech with this sentence.

The rest of the colleagues who came to the funeral all applauded, while Olivia leaned over and left lip marks on the coffin lid with the "Coco Chanel" lipstick on her lips.Then she went back to her place. The cemetery staff were waiting for Simon's signal.Four men lifted the coffin and placed it on a hoist above the tomb.The winch turned slowly, and Andrew's body gradually sank into the ground. Those relatives and friends who came to see Andrew off for the last time stepped forward one by one to bid farewell to the deceased.Among them was Dolores Salazar, the paper's data clerk, who liked Andrew very much—they often met on Saturdays at some unknown tavern on Perry Street; Manuel Figuera, the newspaper's manager. The employees of the letters—Andrew is the only person who buys him a coffee if they meet him at a coffee shop; Tom Cimilio, the human resources supervisor—who threatened Andrew to stop drinking or fuck off two years ago; Gary Palmer, an employee of the legal department - he is often responsible for cleaning up the mess left by Andrew when he is out in the field; Bob Stoll, the head of the union - he has never met Andrew, but he is on duty today; And Freddie Olsen, at the next table in Andrew's office - you don't even know if he's crying all his tears or trying to hold back a laugh, because his face is full of satisfied addicts .

Olsen was the last to drop white roses on Andrew's coffin.He leaned forward to see where the flowers fell, but almost fell into the grave. Fortunately, the head of the trade union grabbed his sleeve in time. The funeral guests then left the tomb and returned to the vicinity of the bus. People supported each other, Olivia and Dorothy cried to each other, Simon thanked everyone present, and everyone returned to their lives. Dolores is going for a manicure at 11, Olivia is having brunch with friends, Manuel Figuera has promised his wife will take her to Home Depot to buy a new dryer, Tom West Myriot is going to marry his nephew, Gary Palmer is going to pick up his live-in boyfriend at the flea market on 26th Street, Bob Stoll is returning to the agency to continue his shift, and Freddy O. Ersen was going to get a massage at an Asian massage parlor in Chinatown, and I'm afraid the masseuse there hadn't repented for a long time.

Everyone went back to their old life trajectories, leaving Andrew Steelman in a cold death. For Andrew, the few hours after the burial seemed particularly long, and there was a great sense of loneliness.This surprised Andrew, because he usually likes to be alone.Then he felt anxious, and this time he didn't feel like drinking a Fernet-Cola, sweating, shaking, or even an accelerated pulse, for obvious reasons. Then, night fell.There was also a strange phenomenon that came with the night, and Andrew soon realized it. Although he quickly adapted to the closed environment in this "subterranean shabby room" with no doors and no windows, he could barely tolerate the quiet atmosphere six feet underground—you know, Andrew loves the noisy sounds on the street the most: Engineering the noise of a car; the roar of motorcyclists who use the sound of their motors as a sign of masculinity; the teasing laughter of voluptuous women; the unnerving beeps of delivery trucks; and those stupid party animals, always day and night He sang songs hoarsely and went home, making people wish they could also sing a song under the window of his house.But there was one thing that shocked Andrew, that is, he found himself floating up, under the new mud that buried his body.What's even more absurd is that he sat cross-legged and could see everything happening around him, that is to say, he couldn't see very far.

Since he had nothing to do, he began to observe the things around him. There was a freshly mowed lawn, with the breeze blowing all the vegetation towards the north; and a clump of yew trees, with some maples and oaks beside them, all blown in the same direction.Everything around him seemed to face a highway high above the cemetery. Andrew couldn't help feeling frustrated, thinking that he didn't know how long he would be bored here, when suddenly a voice rang in his ear. "You'll get used to it, time will seem a little slower at first, but then everyone loses the sense of time. I know what you're thinking. You must be thinking, if you knew the afterlife is like this, you should give yourself Buy a cemetery by the sea. Then you'd be wrong! Waves are boring! But highways are different. Something different always happens. Traffic jams, car chases, accidents, more than you think It's much more interesting."

Andrew moved his gaze to the direction of the sound.There was a man like him, suspended a few centimeters above the grave next door, also sitting cross-legged, still smiling at him. "Arnold Knopf," the man said to him without changing his position, "that's what I used to be called. This is the fiftieth year I've been here. You see, you'll get used to it, it just takes A little time." "Is this what death is like?" Andrew asked. "Sitting on your own graveyard, looking at the highway?" "You can watch what you want, no one restricts your freedom, but watching the highway is the best thing to pass the time. Sometimes people come to visit us, especially on weekends. The living people will come to us Crying at the grave, but no one ever came to see me. As for our neighbors, they have been here so long that those who came to see them have been buried. If I may, I would even say that we are Young people in this community. Hopefully people will come to see you, at first there are always people coming, and then when the grief passes, things are different."

During the long coma before his death, Andrew thought about what death was like many times, and even hoped that it would save him from the demons that had been haunting him.But the reality is much worse than he thought. "I've seen things too, you know," the man went on, "two centuries, and three wars. It was a bronchitis that sent me down, who knew such a ridiculous ailment could kill And you, how did you die?" Andrew didn't answer. "Well, we're not in a hurry anyway. Don't get tired, I've heard everything," his neighbor went on, "Your funeral was really well attended! You were assassinated, it's really abnormal."

"Yeah, quite special, I agree." Andrew replied. "And you were killed by a woman!" "There is no difference between men and women in this matter, is there?" "I don't think so. By the way, do you have no children? I have seen neither your wife nor your children." "Yes, no wife and no children." "you are single?" "Not long ago." "It's a pity, but maybe it's a good thing for that her." "I think so too." In the distance, a police car drove up with its lights flashing, and the station wagon in front of it was parked in the emergency stop. "You see, there's always something new happening on this freeway. It goes from Long Island to JFK. These guys are always in a hurry, and they get pulled over here every time. With luck, maybe Someone would refuse to stop, and the cops would go right up to the turn there. Well, bad luck with the row of oaks blocking our view." "You mean we can't leave our own graves?" "Okay, take your time, and you can leave. I was able to reach the intersection of that trail last week, and I moved sixty feet in one fell swoop! It's been 50 years of training! Fortunately, it finally paid off, otherwise Aren't all these efforts in vain?" "Sorry, let's talk later. I really need to be quiet." "You can rest as long as you like, son," replied Arnold Knopf. "I understand, and I'm not in a hurry." In the night, they sat side by side cross-legged like this. After a while, headlights illuminated the entrance to the cemetery and followed the path towards their position.It stands to reason that the gate of the cemetery should have been closed at this time, but apparently someone opened the door for the car, and Arnold expressed his surprise to Andrew. The maroon station wagon pulled up to the side of the road, and a woman opened the door and came toward them. Andrew immediately recognized his ex-wife, Valerie, who was also the love of his life, only to lose her in one of the stupidest mistakes of his life.This lesson made Andrew understand how much a person has to pay for a moment of loss and a moment of madness. Does Valerie know how much he regrets it?Did he know that since she stopped visiting him in the hospital, he had completely given up fighting against death? Valerie walked to the grave and kept silent. Seeing her bent over his own grave gave Andrew a burst of comfort.For the first time since he was assassinated on the Hudson River he felt warm. Valerie came and she was there more than anything else. Suddenly, she lifted her skirt and started urinating on Andrew's tombstone. When she was done, she straightened her clothes and said aloud: "Go to hell, Andrew Steelman!" Then she got into the car and went back as she had come. "Well, I must say, this is also very unusual!" Arnold Knopf gasped. "Did she really urinate on my grave?" "I don't want to change a poet's famous line to describe this scene, but she did. I'm not a talkative person, but what did you do to make her come to your grave in the middle of the night to put water on it?" Andrew let out a long sigh. "The night we got married, I confessed to her that I was in love with another woman." "It's great to have you as a new neighbor, Andrew Steelman, you don't know how happy I am! I feel like it should be a little less boring afterward, maybe it won't be. I lied to you just now , It's so boring after death. But death is dead, there is no other way, man, we have to accept fate. I'm just saying, but I don't think she can't forgive you. And, after the wedding Ye told the whole story, I didn't want to teach you a lesson, but I just didn't think it was the right time." "I'm not good at lying." Andrew sighed. "Okay, you used to be a reporter? You gotta tell me about it later, now I'm going to practice concentration, and I swear I'm going to move to that little grove over there by the end of the century. I've had enough of these sycamores !" "It used to be..." This statement made Andrew feel as if the city defense in his heart was suddenly knocked down by a shell.He used to be a reporter, but now he is just a corpse waiting to rot. Andrew felt as if there was a force pulling him back into the tomb, he struggled a bit, but to no avail, he couldn't help crying out. Simon walked to the sofa, pulled up the quilt, and pushed Andrew. "Don't tremble, I can't bear it! It's already ten o'clock, it's time to go to work!" Andrew took a deep breath, as if a long-drowning person had just surfaced. "Stop drinking, and you won't have so many dreams at night," said Simon, picking up an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's from the floor, "Get up and get dressed, or I promise I'll throw you out, I really don’t want to see your kindness again.” "Well," Andrew sat up, "it's your sofa that's too uncomfortable. Can't you prepare a guest room?" "Then you can't go back to your own home? It's been three months since you were discharged from the hospital." "Soon, I promise you. I really can't be alone at night. I'm just going to stop drinking." "Don't drink it before I go to bed! There's coffee in the kitchen. Go to work, Andrew, so you can feel better and you'll do it." "'Always the kindest man dies first'...Really? Can't you find something else to end my eulogy?" "It seems to remind you that this is just something that happened in your messy head. Of course you wrote the screenplay in your dream, and your writing is indeed not very good." Simon slammed the door and left the house. Andrew walked into the bathroom, looked at his face, and felt that his complexion was much better than the day before.But after stepping into the mirror, he no longer thinks so.His eyes looked drowsy, and Hu Zhaer even covered half of his face.Simon was right, it might be time for him to go to Drinks Anonymous on Perry Street again.Now, I have to make a symbolic attendance at today's editorial meeting, and then go to the municipal library.For three months, he loves spending his days there. Sitting in the empty reading room, although there was silence all around, he felt that someone was with him.Where in the world is there such a place where he is not disturbed by the noise of others and can stay away from loneliness? Andrew took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and left Simon's apartment.He sat in Starbucks for a while, eating breakfast and reading the newspaper.Looking at the time on his watch, he went straight into the meeting room of the newspaper office, where Olivia was already summarizing the day's tasks. The reporters got up and left.Andrew stood by the door, and Olivia motioned him to wait for a while.After the conference room was empty, she walked over. "Nobody's forcing you to get back to work so soon. But now that you're back at the paper, you should work hard. The editorial meeting is a must." "Didn't I attend?" "Yes, you were present, but it's no different from being absent. For three months, you haven't written a single line of manuscript." "I'm thinking about my next interview plan." "You're letting yourself go now, and you're drinking again." "Why do you say that?" "Look in the mirror." "I was working late to start a new investigation." "Glad to hear that. Can you tell me a little bit?" "Eighteen months ago in Johannesburg, a young woman was raped and then murdered. The police had no intention of arresting the suspect." "A piece of social news in South Africa, which will definitely interest our readers. After you finish your investigation, be sure to let me know, and I will reserve a headline for you." "Is this sarcasm?" "of course." "She was killed because of her own sexual orientation. Her only crime was loving another woman. That's why the police who know who the criminal is is doing nothing like a stray dog. It was like being hit by a car. Her family tried to give her justice, but the authorities didn't care, and they even thanked some moral conservatives for killing this woman. She was only 24 years old." "It's tragic, but South Africa is a long way from us, and even further from our readers' interest." "Last week we had a brilliant Republican congressman on TV calling homosexuality incest, we live in a ridiculous world with restrictions everywhere, our good mayor even wants to restrict us from drinking fizzy soda in movie theaters. But those No one has stopped the stupid things done by the superiors! Some laws should be passed to limit their stupidity and ignorance!" "Steelman, are you going to bash politics?" Andrew implored the editor-in-chief not to take his words on deaf ears.The congressman's remarks are far more serious than ordinary insults, because they may cause serious hostility.He wanted to do a survey summarizing the violence that provocative political views could spark. "Now do you see what I mean? Reports can start with the tragedy of this innocent woman, the official inaction in South Africa, and then cut to the words of our MP, the intentions of his speech and the impact of these words in certain groups. The possible reaction. If done well, maybe the Republican Party can publicly express its disapproval of this congressman's remarks and force the party to express its position on gay issues at the end of the article." "This topic has a lot of risk and is not very clear. But if it can be used as a buffer, so that you can do some more meaningful topics later..." "Do you think other topics are more meaningful than this case of a 24-year-old woman who was raped and bludgeoned because of her homosexuality, and her body is covered with bruises?" "Steelman, I didn't say that." Andrew put his hand on the editor-in-chief's shoulder and pushed it down slightly, as if hoping that this action would make her understand the seriousness of the topic. "Olivia, promise me something. If one day I'm really gone, don't make any speeches at my funeral." Olivia looked at him with puzzlement on her face. "Well, if that's what you want, but why?" "'You died on the front lines defending democracy like a soldier died defending the country.' No, I'm still alive. You shouldn't have said that." "What the hell are you talking about, Steelman?" "It's nothing, just promise me. Don't discuss this issue again. Oh, no, there is one more thing, why is it No. 2 reference room? Frankly speaking, can't you give me a cleaner room?" "Andrew, get out of my presence. You're wasting my time and I don't understand what nonsense you're talking about. Go to work and I'll get someone to book you a plane ticket to Cape Town right away. Make you disappear quickly." "It's Johannesburg! From now on you can't say I'm not paying attention! But I'm often absent-minded." Andrew walked into the elevator and returned to the office.The house is still in the same mess as the day he was attacked.Freddie Olsen leaned back in his chair with a crossword in hand and a pencil in his mouth. "Do you know of any seven-letter words that mean 'come back'?" "Then do you know how I can slap your face seven times?" "There was a guy on a bike in the West Village that was hit by the cops," Olson said. "He was in the way of the cop, and the cop got annoyed, and asked him to show his ID, and the guy protested, and said it was the wrong way to go. The police handcuffed him and threw him in jail. Would you like to go and see what happened?" "How did he resist?" "Someone saw the man slap the officer because he didn't like the tone of the officer." "How old is this cyclist?" "Eighty-five and thirty for the policeman." "This city can always give me 'surprises'," Andrew sighed, "You'd better go busy with such trivial matters, I'm going to do what a real reporter would do." "Is it a dry bourbon or a daiquiri?" "Olsen, want to talk about your addiction? You were on a high at my funeral." "Don't know what you're talking about, but I haven't smoked in a long time. I promised you at your hospital bed that if you really died, I would never touch those things again." Andrew didn't answer.He grabbed the mail and the morning paper and left the office, heading to the New York City Public Library a few blocks away. When he walked into the reading room, Andrew took out his reader card.The staff greeted him in low voices. "Hello, Yassin," Andrew said, holding out his hand to him. "Do you have an appointment book today?" Yassin said while browsing the appointment records on the computer in front of him. "I've brought letters and newspapers, that's all I need. I'm here today to try to do nothing." Yassin turned to the table where Andrew usually sat. "You have neighbors," he continued in a low voice. "Didn't we agree before?" "Sorry, Mr. Steelman, but there are so many people booking seats right now, the reading room is full, and we're even going to turn away some readers. I can't keep this seat empty." "How long has she been here?" "have no idea." "is it beautiful?" "not bad." "what is her name?" "You know we can't reveal personal information about our readers." "Can't even I know, Yassin?" "Mr. Steelman, there are other people behind you, please go and sit down first." Andrew walked through the reading room cooperatively, stepping harder in a mischievous manner.He dragged out the chair loudly, sat down, and opened the newspaper. When turning the pages, he deliberately rattled the paper.But the neighbor didn't even look up.He had to give up and wanted to read the newspaper article seriously. But he couldn't concentrate, so he put down the newspaper and began to observe the young lady reading seriously across from him. Her hair and looks are like Jean Seberg.She stared at the book in front of her, her eyes moved with her index finger on the page, and sometimes she wrote something down in her notebook.Andrew rarely saw such a dedicated person. "I guess there should be several volumes of this book?" Andrew asked. The woman looked up. "I don't know what you're reading, but it seems very interesting," he continued. The lady opposite raised her eyebrows, showing displeasure, and continued to read the book. Andrew stared at her for a moment, but before he could say anything, the female neighbor had already closed the book and left the seat.She returned the book to the administrator at the entrance and walked out of the reading room. Andrew also stood up and walked quickly towards Yassin. "Mr. Steelman, are you looking for a book?" "I want this one." Andrew pointed to the book returned by the lady just now on the bookshelf. Yassin took out the book. "I have to return the book first, and then I can open a new library list. You should know our process all the time, right? Please go back to your seat, and we will send it to you in a while." Andrew's next actions showed the librarian that his enthusiasm was out of control. He rushed out of the library, surprised to find himself looking for his neighbor among the crowd sitting on the doorstep.Then he shrugged and decided to take a walk. The next day, Andrew came to the reading room at around ten o'clock in the morning as usual.There was no one on the chair in front of him.He glanced around, then resignedly opened the newspaper. At lunch time, he went to the cafe.The neighbor he's been looking for is waiting to pay at the cashier, with his plate on the sliding door of the freezer.Andrew grabbed a sandwich from a certain shelf of the freezer and joined the payment queue. After a while, Andrew sat down three seats away from her and watched her eat lunch.While swallowing two mouthfuls of apple pie, she was still writing something in her notes, and nothing around her seemed to disturb her. Andrew was amazed by her concentration.Her attention was constantly shifting between her notebook and her apple pie.Andrew also noticed a detail that he discovered yesterday.She always uses the index finger of her left hand to aid in reading and takes notes with the same hand, but her right hand is always hidden under the table.Andrew finally walked over and asked her what she was hiding. She raised her head, looked around, smiled at Andrew, dumped the rest of the dinner plate into the trash can, and walked into the reading room. Andrew also threw away his sandwich and followed her inside.He sat down and opened the newspaper. "Hope it's today's paper," the woman whispered. "Sorry, what did you just say?" "You're too inattentive, too. I'm just saying I hope at least it's today's paper. Since you're not here to read, tell the truth. What do you want?" "I don't want to do anything, and I'm not interested in you. I'm just thinking for myself." Andrew stammered, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. "I'm studying Indian history, are you interested?" "Are you a history teacher?" "No. What about you, policeman?" "No, I'm a reporter." "A financial reporter?" "Why do you think so?" "Your watch. You're the only one I've ever met who could afford one in this business." "This is a gift from my wife, oh, it should be my ex-wife." "She's serious about you." "Yes, I didn't take her seriously enough." "Can I read?" the woman asked. "Of course," Andrew replied, "I didn't mean to interrupt you." The woman thanked him and buried her head in the book again. "I'm a journalist." Andrew further explained. "I don't want to be too abrupt," replied the young lady, "but I prefer to concentrate on what I'm doing." "Why study India?" "I'm going to go there once." "Vacation?" "You won't leave me alone, will you?" she sighed. "That's not it, well, I promise I won't talk again. From now on, not a word. If I talk again, I'll go to hell." Andrew did not break his promise.He didn't say a word all afternoon, and he didn't even have time to say hello to the lady when she left the library an hour before closing. As he was leaving, Andrew grabbed a book someone had just put down, slipped twenty dollars under the cover, and handed the book to the administrator. "I just want to know her name." "Baker." Yassin grabbed the book in front of him and replied in a low voice. Andrew reached into his jeans pocket again, took out a Jefferson bill, stuffed it into a book at hand, and handed it to Yassin. "address?" "65 Morton Street." Yassin took out the money and said softly. Andrew left the library.The sidewalks of Fifth Avenue were packed.At this time, it is difficult to find a taxi that stops and picks up passengers.He saw the woman waving at the 42nd Street intersection, trying to get a driver's attention.A private car stopped beside her and asked her if she wanted a ride.Andrew was just in a position to hear her haggling with the driver.Then she got into the back seat of the black Toyota Corolla, and the car rolled into traffic. Andrew ran all the way to Sixth Avenue, got into the subway, and got on the D line.Fifteen minutes later, he showed up at the subway station on 4th Avenue West.From there he walked to Henriette Hudson's, whose list he knew well.After ordering a glass of dried ginger water, he sat on the round stool behind the window facing the street.Looking at the intersection of Morton Street and Hudson Street, he began to wonder why he thought the woman would go straight home after leaving the library, and why he came here to do such a meaningless thing .After thinking for a while, he found that the biggest problem was how to convince himself to continue doing this.Andrew simply paid the bill and went to find Simon. At this time, he should also go back from the car dealership. The garage door has been closed.Andrew walked along the road and saw Simon's back.There was a Steepunk parked not far down the street, and Simon was standing stooped under the hood of the car. "You came at a good time," said Simon. "The car won't start. I couldn't get it into the garage by myself, and it gave me a headache to think about leaving it out all night." "Man, your troubles are so funny." "This is the cost of my life, of course I care." "You haven't sold this car yet?" "It's been sold, to the collector who bought me that 1950 Oldsmobile earlier. That's how we keep regular customers. Can you help?" Andrew was at the back of the Steepunk pushing the car forward while Simon reached in through the half-open window to steer the wheel. "What's wrong with this car?" Andrew asked. "I don't know, the repairman will come tomorrow." After parking the car, they went to "Mary's Cooking Fish" for dinner. "I'm going to start working." After a moment of silence, Andrew said. "You should have done this long ago." "I want to go home and live." "No one is forcing you." "You're rushing me." Andrew ordered a meal with the waiter. "Have you heard from her?" "Whose?" Simon replied. "You know who it is." "No, I don't have any news about her, why should I?" "I don't know, I just hope you have." "You better let go, she won't come back. You hurt her too much." "One drunken night, one stupid confession. Don't you think I've gotten my due?" "It's no use telling me, you have to tell her." "She moved." "I don't know, but how do you know, since you haven't heard from her?" "I sometimes pass downstairs by her house." "Just passing by by chance?" "Yes, occasionally." Andrew looked through the restaurant window at the dark windows of his apartment across the street. "I can't help myself, the desire is too strong. Some places always remind me of something. The time with her is the happiest time in my life. I went to her window and sat on the bench I think of the old days. Sometimes I see the two of us storming into the apartment building like ghosts at night, carrying things from the corner grocery store. I can hear her laughing, her jokes .I looked at the street corner. In the past, when she was looking for the keys, she always dropped something in her hand when she passed by there. Sometimes, I would leave the bench, as if I wanted to get back the feeling that the building door said Maybe it will open again, and life will start all over again. It's stupid, but I'm really going crazy about it." "Do you do this often?" "Is your fish good?" Andrew dipped his fork into Simon's plate. "How many times a week do you go downstairs to her, Andrew?" "It's better to eat mine, you're right." "You can't feel fate like this anymore. It's very sad that there is no result between you, but this is not the end of the world. You still have the rest of your life." "I've heard some bullshit, but 'You've got the rest of your life' is definitely the worst bullshit out there." "You just told me this, and now you're teaching me?" Then Simon asked him what he did during the day. In order to keep him from mentioning what happened just now, Andrew told him that he met a woman in the library today. "As long as you don't go downstairs to spy on her, that's good news." "I was at the bar on the corner of that street for a while." "What did you do?" "I've told you, it's not what you think. There's something about this woman that attracts me, I don't know what." Andrew paid the bill.查尔斯街上空无一人，一个老人牵着他的拉布拉多犬，狗和主人一样都一跛一跛的。 “真是奇怪，狗和主人竟然如此相似。”西蒙感叹道。 “是啊，你该买只柯基犬。走吧，回去了，这是我在你那个破沙发上度过的最后一个晚上了。明天我就走，就这么说定了。而且我也向你保证，以后不再去瓦莱丽窗下等着。不管怎样，她也走了。你知道每次一想到她也许和另一个男人住到了一起，我就想给自己个痛快。” “但是你也只能期望她会这样了，不是吗？” “我只要一想到她会把心事说给别人听、照顾他、问他今天过得怎么样、和他过我们之前的生活……我做不到。” “你的嫉妒用错了地方，你不应该在心里这样对她。” “你知道你的这些教训有多烦人吗？” “也许吧，不过需要有人对你进行道德教育，看看你现在的样子。” “好吧，但是西蒙，不要是你，千万别是你。” “首先，没人能证明她现在和别人在一起了，更没人告诉你她和那个人过得很快乐。我们可以找个人来排解孤独，可以和某个人一起过日子，来消化上一段感情，可也许对之前的人的记忆一直存在。我们跟一个人说话，也许听到的是另一个人的声音，看着说话人的眼睛，其实心里看的却是另外一个人。” “你看，西蒙，这才是我要听的。你是怎么知道这些事的？” “笨蛋，因为我经历过。” “和一个女人在一起，心里却想着另一个。” “不是，是和一个心里装着别人的女人在一起，充当替身演员。人一旦爱上了什么人，就会特别痛苦。其实人们心里明白，但是他们往往假装一无所知，直到有一天实在无法忍受，或者那个人把你赶到门外。” 夜晚的空气越来越冷了，西蒙打了个寒战，安德鲁揽住了他的肩。 “我们两个人住一起挺好的，”西蒙吸着气说，“明天，要是你还没准备好，就别强迫自己了。有时候我也可以睡睡沙发，你来住我的房间。” “伙计，我知道的，我明白，但是我能行，我很确定。不过既然这么说了，我就同意今晚睡你房间了。这可是你说的！” 说完，他们就在一片寂静中，走向了西蒙的公寓。 一个男人背靠在车上，拿着一本旅游导览，似乎在等待什么。等到三层的住户出门遛狗之后，他就扔掉了手上的书，顺着没关上的大门溜了进去。 他上到最高的一层，耐心等到楼道里的脚步声消失，还确认了一眼电梯里是否有人。走到6B公寓的门前，他拿出一套开锁钩，开始撬门。 这套转角处的公寓有六个窗户。窗帘已经拉了下来，不会有人从街对面看到他。他确认了手表上的时间，就开始干活儿。他划破了沙发的坐垫和靠背，掀翻了地毯，扯下了墙上的相框。把客厅弄得一塌糊涂之后，他又走进卧室翻找。床上的物品都遭遇了和沙发相同的命运，然后就轮到了浴室门口的扶手椅，衣柜里的衣服全都掉在了破掉的床垫上。 听到楼梯间传来了阵阵脚步声，他就立刻回到了客厅，抓紧口袋里的刀柄，屏住呼吸，把身体贴在墙上。门外，有一个声音在叫门。 男人缓缓地掏出了武器，努力让自己处于冷静的状态。声音消失了，可是门外的呼吸声还在。最后，呼吸声消失了，脚步逐渐远去。 一切又恢复了寂静，但他认为要是还走公寓内部的楼梯显然有些危险。刚才那个人显然怀疑屋里有人，说不定已经报了警。警察署就在几条街以外，楼下定时也会有人巡逻。 他等了一会儿，就离开了房间。男人翻过走廊尽头半掩的窗户，跳到了楼体外侧的救生梯上。现在是十二月，旁边的树木并没有什么枝叶，如果他顺着这个楼梯一直走到楼下，一定会被人看见。下到下一层，他就跨过了栏杆，爬上了旁边那幢楼的楼梯。他看了看五层的窗户，然后用肘部打碎了玻璃。窗户插销很容易就拉开了，窗框也不难取下，他就钻进了隔壁那座公寓，从那里回到了街上，中间没被任何人撞见。 邻座到来之后，安德鲁强忍着没有跟她说一句话。只是她在坐下前跟安德鲁示意了一下。两个小时，他们都只是在看书。 苏茜·贝克的手机在桌上振动了一会儿，她看了看刚来的短信，低低地骂了一句什么。 “有什么事情吗？”安德鲁终于问道。 “好像是。”苏茜·贝克看着他的眼睛，回答道。 "Do you need help?" “应该用不到，除非你之前跟我说你不是警察的时候撒谎了。”她站起身说。 “我不会说谎，或者说我说谎的技术很烂。出什么事情了？” “我公寓的门半开着，房屋管理员觉得里面有人。但是他没敢进去，就问我是不是在家。” “但你不在家啊。”安德鲁说道，心里却立刻懊恼自己怎么说了句这么蠢的话。 苏茜点了点头，朝出口走去，把书落在了桌上。 安德鲁拿起书跟在她后面。一张便笺从书里滑了出来，掉在地上。他捡起便笺，把书放在亚辛面前的桌上，就加快脚步走了出去。等他走到门前的广场时，正好看到苏茜·贝克上了一辆出租车。 “白痴，现在你又要干什么？”安德鲁暗自咒骂自己。 第五大道上车流拥堵，一辆辆车都首尾相接，向前缓缓移动。安德鲁相信第七和第八大道上的交通也不会更顺畅。不过只要搭地铁，应该还是可以比她先到。 “又做了一件蠢事！”他一边走下地铁站一边想道。 走出4号西大街的地铁站后，他一直都在想如何向苏茜解释自己通过何种方法找到了她的地址，却一点儿想法都没有。 走到苏茜公寓楼下，他正好看到苏茜从的士上下来。他什么都没有想，一声“小姐”就冲口而出，苏茜转过身来。 “你在这儿做什么？” “你忘记还书了，我替你交给了管理员。出来的时候就看到你上了出租车。想到你要一个人面对抢匪，我很替你担心。当然，这个想法很蠢，你肯定已经报了警。但楼前并没有警车，我就想应该是虚惊一场，警察已经离开了。我也走了。再见小姐。”安德鲁边说边要转身离开。 “你怎么会有我的地址？”苏茜在他身后大声问道。 安德鲁转过身来。 “我跳上一辆的士，给了司机一点儿小费，让他跟着你。我是跟你一块儿到的。” “如果按刚刚出租车的速度，你本可以走上我的车和我一起回来的。” “我也这么想过，可是没敢这么做。” 苏茜·贝克看着她面前的男人。 “我没有报警。”她突然说。 “那房屋管理员呢？” “我给他回短信说自己刚才在洗澡，应该是没有关好门。” “为什么要撒这个谎？” “我才刚在这里住下来，是之前的房客偷偷转租给我的，中间的手续不是很正规。其实这个'这前的房客'是我一个朋友，她要去欧洲待几个月。要是发生点儿什么事，我每周给她塞的那点儿钱恐怕就不能让她继续保守秘密了。我不能被赶到大街上去，你知道在纽约找个安身之处有多难吗？” “我知道。”苏茜迟疑了一下。 “你愿意跟我一起上去吗？不瞒你说，我心里的确是有些怕。但没人强迫你这样做，我不想让你冒险。” “我不认为有什么险要冒。如果门被撬开了，那抢匪应该很早前就离开了。既然我已经来了，那就得做点儿什么。走吧，”他拉起苏茜的手臂，“我先进去。” 安德鲁看了看客厅的情况，然后就让苏茜在走廊里等他。他观察着四周，掏出了出院后购买的那把小型瓦尔特手枪。 五个月前，他还把那些随身携带武器的人当作傻瓜。但是上次的袭击让他几乎在救护车里流干了血，还在病床上躺了两个月。从那之后他就觉得在上衣口袋里装把枪是有必要的，毕竟要杀他的人仍然在逃。 他走进苏茜的公寓，踢开了卧室的门。 看到眼前的场景，他就想到要是苏茜看到她的“安身之处”被翻成了这个样子，一定会大吃一惊，最好一会儿陪着她一起进来。他转过身去，被身后的苏茜吓了一跳。 “我跟你说让你在外面等着的。” “我可不是容易服从的人。你能把这个东西收起来吗？”苏茜看着他手里的枪。 “当然可以。”安德鲁回答道，尴尬地拿着枪站在那里。 “他们还真是干得不错，”苏茜叹了口气，“房间都被翻成什么样子了！” 她弯下腰，开始捡地上散落的东西，安德鲁在后面看着她，不知道自己该做些什么。 “可以吗？”他一边捡起一件套头衫，一边问道。 “可以，把这个扔在床上吧，我回头整理。” “你不检查一下看看有没有少什么东西？” “我也没什么可偷的。没有钱也没有首饰，我不戴这些。你可以去厨房给我们拿点儿喝的东西吗？我也可以把一些个人物品放起来。”她一边示意安德鲁踩到了她的一件内衣，一边说道。 “没问题。”安德鲁回答。 他过了一会儿才回来，拿来了一杯水，苏茜一口就把它喝掉了。 “看来造访你公寓的人既不打算偷钱也不打算偷首饰。” "Why do you say that?" “抢匪没有进厨房。大部分人会把值钱的东西放在易拉罐里，谷物早餐下方或者是冰块后面的塑料袋里。” “也许他被管理员吓到了。” “那他也可以从厨房开始翻，而且，他为什么要划破你的沙发和床垫？现在人们早就不会把金条缝在垫子里了，也没有女人会把戒指和项链藏在那儿，这样要是晚间外出可不太方便。” “你难道也是个抢匪？” “我是记者，我们这一行的人对什么都感兴趣。但是我对刚刚说的话很有信心。房间里的状况看起来不像入室盗窃。他把屋里翻得乱七八糟，应该是在找某样东西。” “那他应该是走错了门，或者就是进错了楼。这条街上所有的楼房看起来都差不多。” “看来得给你的朋友买新的沙发和床了。” “幸好她不会很快回来。鉴于我目前的财务情况，恐怕要等一段时间了。” “我知道唐人街那边有家店的家具很便宜。如果需要的话，我可以开车送你过去。” “非常感谢，”苏茜继续整理着物品，“现在不需要你的帮助了，我想你应该还有事情。” “没什么要紧的。” 苏茜一直背朝着安德鲁，她的平静与镇定让他很惊讶，但也许她是一个不愿让情感外露的人。她有她的骄傲。如果是安德鲁遭遇了类似的情况，他也许会有同样的反应。 安德鲁走到客厅，捡起了地上的相框。他试着辨认墙上的痕迹，想把它们一一挂回原处。 “这些相片是你的还是你朋友的？” “是我的。”苏茜在隔壁房里喊道。 “你是登山运动员？”安德鲁注视着一张黑白照片，“攀在岩壁上的是你吗？” “是我。”苏茜回答道。 “你真勇敢，我站在凳子上都会恐高。” “高度是可以适应的，这只是训练的问题。” 安德鲁又拿起另一个相框，照片上，苏茜同沙米尔站在一块山石下面。 “你旁边的这个人是谁？” “我的向导。” 但是安德鲁注意到，在另外一张照片上，这个向导正紧紧地搂着苏茜。 苏茜收拾房间的时候，安德鲁则试图让客厅看起来整洁一些。他走回厨房，打开抽屉，从里面找到了一卷用来封存纸箱的胶带。他用它贴了一下沙发的坐垫，然后就起身欣赏自己的劳动成果。 苏茜走到了他的身后。 “看起来不太美观，但是坐下的时候就不用担心陷下去了。” “我可以请你吃午饭来表示一下谢意吗？” “你的财务状况呢？” “我至少要给你买份沙拉。” “我讨厌所有绿色的东西。走吧，我请你吃份牛排，你需要休息一下。” “我是素食主义者。” “看来没有完美的事情，”安德鲁惋惜地说，“我知道附近有家不错的意大利餐馆。意大利面总是素的吧？” 弗兰基餐厅的侍应生问候了安德鲁，请他选一个座位。 “你是这儿的常客？” “贝克小姐，你是做什么工作的？” “研究工作。” “什么类型的研究？” “如果详细地说，你一定会觉得很无聊。你呢，你是什么类型的记者？” “一个总是忙着在别人的事情里发掘新闻点的时事记者。” “你最近有没有发表过什么我可能读过的文章？” “我三个月没有写东西了。” "why?" “这是个很复杂的故事，也会让你很无聊的。那个照片上的男人应该不是你的向导吧？” 苏茜注视着安德鲁的脸，希望能从络腮胡下辨别出他五官的轮廓。 “你不留胡子的时候是什么样子的？” “和现在不一样。你不喜欢我留胡子？” “不知道，我从来没有想过这个问题。” “吃东西的时候的确不太方便，但是早晨可以省很多时间。”安德鲁用手摸着自己的脸。 “沙米尔曾经是我的丈夫。” “你也离婚了？” "He passed away." “抱歉，我经常问些不够谨慎的问题。” “没有，这个问题没有什么不妥的。” “不，恐怕还是不够礼貌。怎么会这样？我是指你丈夫的过世。” “沙米尔的离开让人很难接受，直到现在我都没有恢复过来，但是你刚刚不是才说过要谨慎一点儿吗？看来你在这个方面很笨拙，我喜欢这样的人。你呢，之前的婚姻为什么会结束？” “我的婚姻恐怕应该算最短的了。中午注册，晚上八点就分开了。” “我比你厉害。我的婚姻只持续了不到一分钟。” 安德鲁的眼中露出不解的神色。 “我们刚刚交换过誓言，沙米尔就去世了。” “他病得很重？” “当时我们悬在半空。他割断了挂在我身上的绳子，好让我能活下来。如果你不介意的话，我们还是换个话题吧。” 安德鲁又把视线放在了面前的餐盘上。他沉默了一会儿，又抬起头说道： “不要误会我的意思，但我有个建议。今晚你肯定不能住在自己家里了，至少在安上新锁之前恐怕不可以。窃匪还可能会回来。我在附近有个小小的公寓，但是我现在不住在那里。我可以把钥匙给你，这三个月我一直住在朋友家里，多住几天也没什么关系。” “你为什么不住在自己家？” “我害怕幽灵。” “你请我住在闹鬼的公寓里？” “我前妻的幽灵只会出现在我的脑袋里，不要害怕。” “你为什么要这样帮我？” “其实也是为了我自己，如果你能答应，也算是帮了我一个忙。而且，也不过是几天而已，等到……” “等到我换了锁，买一个新床垫。好的，”苏茜说，“我之前没有想过，不过既然你提起了这件事，住在自己家的确是让我有些害怕。谢谢你的好意，就两天，不会更久，我向你保证。不过这顿午饭至少要我来请吧。” “如果你坚持的话。”安德鲁回答道。 午饭之后，他陪苏茜一直走到公寓楼下，把钥匙交给了她。 “在三层。应该还算干净，家政人员定期会来打扫，而且房子很长时间都没有人住，她的工作量应该也不算很大。热水的话要放一段时间才有，但是水热了之后会很烫，要小心一点儿。门口的衣橱里有毛巾。请自便吧，就像在自己家一样。” “你不带我上去参观一下？” “算了吧，我不打算上去。”安德鲁向苏茜道了别。 “可以给我你的手机号吗？好把钥匙还给你……” “在图书馆还我吧，我每天都去。” 苏茜仔细地看了看安德鲁的公寓，觉得它很温馨。她在壁炉上方的相框里看到了瓦莱丽的照片。 “是你让他变成这个样子？多么愚蠢的决定，我倒希望能跟你换一换。也许我会把他还给你的，但是要过一段时间了，现在我需要他。” 苏茜把相框反面冲外放好，然后就去参观卧室。 下午的时候，苏茜回到自己的房子去取东西。 进门之后，她就脱下大衣，打开了灯，眼前突然出现了一个男人，把她吓了一跳。 “我说的是'把房间弄乱'，可不是把所有的东西都搞坏！”苏茜关上门，说道。 “他把钥匙给你了。看来你成功吸引到了他的注意力，你应该谢谢我。” "Are you following me?" “只是出于好奇。很少有人找我帮忙是为了偷自己的家，所以我肯定要问些问题的。” 苏茜走进厨房。她打开壁橱，抓起架子上的一包谷物早餐，从底下拿出一沓钞票，然后回到了客厅。 “六万美金，之前你借我的钱还剩这么多，你可以数一数。”她边说边把钱递给那个男人。 “你想从他身上得到什么？”阿诺德·克诺夫问道。 “我不会告诉你，我们之前说好的。” “我们的合约结束了。我已经做了你要求的事情。最近这几天，我在图书馆坐着的时间比之前一辈子在那儿待的都要多，虽然我一直在看一本不错的书。如果不是出于对你外祖父的尊重，我是不会在退休后再参与到这些事情中来的。” “这不是尊重的原因，而是还债的问题，他救过你多少次？” “贝克小姐，有很多事情你都不知道。” “我还是小姑娘的时候，你一直叫我苏茜。” “但是你长大了。” “阿诺德，拜托，在你的行业里大家都什么时候退休？不要跟我说，你是因为天天在花园里摆弄花草，才显得这么年轻。” 阿诺德·克诺夫把视线移向天花板。 “为什么选他，而不是别人？” “他是个称职的记者，我喜欢这样的人，而且我一直都相信自己的直觉。” “原因肯定不是这么简单。因为他曾经与死亡擦肩而过，这会让他的心态和之前很不一样，你就可以对此加以利用。” “不，不完全是这样的。是因为虽然受到死亡的威胁，可他还是把调查进行到底了，这是个不会放弃的人。他会重新振作的，这只是时间问题。对他来说，真相就和毒品一样让人上瘾，我们是一类人。” “我不了解他，也什么都不知道，你说的也许是对的。但是苏茜，你高估了自己的能力。你总是执着于你的调查，这已经让你付出了很多代价。总有一天你也会受到伤害的。你没有忘记之前被你牵连进来的人遭遇了什么吧？” “阿诺德，离开我的公寓。你已经拿到了钱，我们两清了。” “我答应你外祖父要照看你的。恐怕直到我离开人世那天我们才会两清了。再见，苏茜。” 阿诺德·克诺夫走出了屋子。 第二天早晨，安德鲁准时出席了编务会。他甚至还记了笔记，而奥莉薇亚把这一切都看在了眼里。 散会的时候，她和安德鲁走进了同一部电梯。 “你在忙某项采访计划吗，斯迪曼？” “抱歉，我没有明白你的意思。” “刚刚在会议上，我看到了一位久违的同事。” “是吗？那太好了，你指的是谁？” “你在调查什么？不要跟我重复那个南非的事情，我不会相信的。” “我想好的时候会告诉你的。”安德鲁回答道。 The elevator doors opened.安德鲁走向办公室的方向，但是在奥莉薇亚走远之后，他立刻从逃生梯返回了地下一层。 整个上午他都待在档案室里。他找到了一个在德克斯特做公证员的苏茜·贝克，一个在弗吉尼亚州詹姆斯·麦迪逊大学担任心理学教师的苏茜·贝克，一个叫苏茜·贝克的画家，一个叫苏茜·贝克的瑜伽教练，一个在沃里克大学负责行政事务的苏茜·贝克，还有二十几个同名的人。但是在尝试过所有的搜索引擎后，他完全找不到任何关于这个在图书馆偶遇的苏茜·贝克的信息。这比找到了什么不寻常的信息更让他震惊。在这个社交网站如影随形的时代，一个人要想不在网上留下任何痕迹，几乎是不可能的。 安德鲁想给某位做警察的朋友打个电话，但他随即想到苏茜的公寓是朋友转租的。用电和天然气的账单都不会是她的名字。没有更具体的信息，恐怕朋友也找不到什么。这个拿着他公寓钥匙的苏茜·贝克完全隐身在一片迷雾中，雾中好像有什么不对劲儿的东西。安德鲁知道一旦有了这种感觉，他一般都不会搞错。 他有一个中学同学在税务部门工作。他拨了个电话，得知莫顿街65号的6B公寓是一家挪威公司的产业。看来这就是苏茜那个在欧洲的朋友的真面目。安德鲁起身活动了一下筋骨，继续思考着这些事情。 “你到底是谁，苏茜·贝克？”他一面自言自语，一面重新在电脑前坐了下来。 他在搜索框里输入了“勃朗峰事故”，看到了在这座山峰上发生过的一系列惨剧。 有一家法国的日报网站给出的链接提到去年一月，搜救队在4600米的高度发现了一个困在风雪里整整两夜的登山者。这位幸存者身上多处冻伤，还出现了低体温的症状，被送到夏蒙尼镇的医