Chapter 2 Chapter Two Never Let Him Go

Tracy Whitney stepped out of the foyer of her apartment building and into the gray rain curtain.The rain, laced with snow, fell indiscriminately on the limousines driven by liveried chauffeurs on Market Street, and on the boarded-up, abandoned old slums of North Philadelphia. on the house.The rain washed the dust off the limousines and soaked up the mountains of garbage in front of the abandoned rows of old houses.Tracy is going to work.She walked briskly down Chestnut Street towards the Bank East, almost singing out of joy.She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat, rain boots, and a yellow rain hat couldn't hide her brown hair.Tracy was twenty-four or five years old, with a lively, intelligent face, full and attractive lips, and watery eyes that could change from soft light green to dark green in an instant.She is slim and athletic.Her skin can take on shades ranging from translucent milky white to rose red, depending on whether she's angry, tired, or suddenly aroused.Her mother once said to her, "Really, boy, sometimes I don't even think I recognize you. You're like a rainbow of colors."

As Tracy walked down the street, people turned and smiled at her, looking enviously at her radiant face of happiness.She also smiled at people. It would be unseemly to be so cheerful, Tracy Whitney thought.I will marry the man I love and have children for him.Who would expect more happiness! As she approached the bank, she glanced at her watch.Eight twenty.It would be ten minutes before the doors of the Trust Bank of Philadelphia would open to bank employees, but Clarence Desmond, the senior vice president in charge of the international department, was already turning off the perimeter sirens and opening the doors.Tracy loved watching this routine every morning.She stood in the rain and waited, watching Dismond walk into the bank and close the door behind him.

Banks around the world have their own mysterious security procedures, and the Philadelphia Trust Bank is no exception.Routine rituals never change, but security codes change weekly.The sign this week was a half-opened blind, signaling to waiting employees outside that a check was being made inside to see if there were gangsters hiding in the bank who were trying to take the employees hostage.Clarence Desmond checked the toilets, warehouse, basement and safe area, and was sure that no one was hiding in the bank, so he fully opened the shutters to indicate that nothing happened. The senior bookkeeper is always the first to walk through the door.He stood by the emergency sirens and closed the doors when all the employees entered the bank.

At 8:20 sharp, Tracy Whitney walked into the ornate foyer with her colleagues, took off her raincoat, rain hat and boots, and snickered as people complained about the rainy day. "A nasty wind blew away my umbrella," said one teller angrily. "I'm soaked to the bone." "I saw two ducks swimming down Market Street," joked the Cashier Manager. "The forecast says another week. I wish I was in Florida." Tracy smiled and got to work.Her position is in the wire transfer department.Not so long ago, transferring money between banks or countries was a slow, complicated affair, filling out various forms and relying on domestic and international postal services.After the advent of electronic computers, the situation has changed dramatically, and the exchange of huge sums of money can be completed in an instant.Tracy's task is to find out the overnight remittance money in the computer, and then use the computer to remit to other banks. All remittance operations are carried out with passwords, and the passwords are changed regularly to prevent people from being stolen.Millions of dollars in wire transfers go through Tracy every day.It's extremely interesting work: keeping the life-sustaining blood flowing through the arteries of the global business community.Banking was her greatest joy until she met Charles Steinborg III.The international department at the Philadelphia Trust Bank was large, and over lunch Tracy would talk to colleagues about the morning's events.That was an interesting conversation.

Bookkeeping Director Deborah announced: "We have just suspended a one million dollar syndicated loan to Turkey..." May Trenton, the vice president's secretary, said in a mysterious tone: "When the board of directors met this morning, they decided to join the new aid plan for Peru. The first installment will have to pay more than five million dollars..." Jon Clayton, a conservative at the bank, said: "As far as I know, we're going to spend $30 million on a disaster relief package for Mexico. We shouldn't be spending a dime on coolies who sneak across the border." .”

"It's funny," Tracy mused, "that the people who swear the most about money in America are always the first to lend us money." This was the subject of her first argument with Charles. Tracy meets Charles Steinborg III at a financial seminar.He was invited to give a lecture.Charles ran an investment firm his grandfather had started and did a lot of business with the bank that Tracey worked for.After Charles finished, Tracy took the stage to speak against his arguments about the ability of third world countries to repay the huge debts they borrowed from various commercial banks and Western governments.

Charles found it amusing at first, but was moved by the beautiful girl's emotional words.They continued their discussion over dinner at the venerable Stapler's. Tracy didn't like Charles Steinable at first, even though she knew he was the unmarried man who most attracted the attention of Philadelphia's women.Charles was thirty-five, a wealthy and capable member of one of the oldest Philadelphia families.He was five foot ten, with thinning auburn hair, brown eyes, and a pedantic demeanor.Tracy thought, must be a disgusting rich man. Charles seemed to guess what she was thinking.He leaned over the table and said to her, "My father believes that someone in the hospital must have exchanged someone else's baby for him."

"what?" "I'm a bad boy. I don't think money rules everything. But don't tell my father that." His manner was frank and innocent, and Tracy felt that she liked him a little.I don't know what it would be like to marry someone from such a famous family. The family fortune that Tracy's father had spent most of his life earning was hardly worth mentioning in the eyes of the Stannobs.The Steinbow family and the Whitney family are not in the right family, and the household is wrong.Tracy thought.Oil is insoluble in water.Stannob is oil.I was thinking about something, it was all wishful thinking.A guy invited me out to dinner and I started thinking about marrying him.Maybe in the future we will never see each other again.

Charles is asking, "Could you join me for dinner tomorrow?" There are so many great things to do in Philadelphia.Tracy and Charles went to the ballet on Sunday nights, or to the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Riccardo Muti.On weekends, they visited New Market and Society Hill's assortment of shops not found anywhere else.They ate cheesesteaks at street tables at Gino's and dined at the Royal, one of the most luxurious restaurants in Philadelphia.They went shopping at Headhouse Square, then visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Rodin Museum. Tracy stopped in front of the statue of The Thinker.She glanced at Charles and said with a smile, "This is you!"

Charles has little interest in sports, but Tracy loves to be active.So every Sunday morning she jogged along the West River Drive or the road along the Skykill River.She also went to a tai chi class for a Saturday afternoon event, practiced for an hour, and went to meet Charles at his apartment, exhausted but refreshed.Charles is a gourmet, and he likes to cook special delicacies by himself, such as Moroccan "Bai Stila", North China's "Goubuli" steamed buns, and "Lemon Chicken", etc., and then enjoy them with Tracy. Tracy had never met anyone as meticulous as Charles.Once they met for dinner, she was fifteen minutes late.He was unhappy all night, and she also felt disappointed.After that, she swore she would never be late for a date with him again.

Tracy had little experience with men and women, but she felt that Charles was still his usual way in bed: cautious and orderly.Charles was so horrified at one point when Tracy wanted to be a little daring that Tracy secretly wondered if she was a bit of a pervert. Tracy didn't expect to be pregnant.When she found out she was pregnant, she couldn't make up her mind what to do.Charles never talked about marriage, and she didn't want him to feel that he had to be married because he had children.Tracy didn't know if she could afford an abortion, but the alternative would be just as painful.Could she bring up the child alone without the help of the child's father?Besides, is this fair to the child? One day she decided to tell him about it after dinner.She had prepared a chai pot for him in the apartment because she was so nervous that it burned the dish.When she brought the burnt meat and beans in front of him, she completely forgot the set of words she had practiced so many times, and said to him in a daze, "I'm sorry, Charles. I, I'm pregnant." Then there was a long awkward silence.Tracy was about to speak when Charles said, "Of course, we should get married." Tracy felt relieved. "I don't want you to think that I—you don't have to marry me." He raised his hand to stop her. "I want to marry you, Tracy, and you will be a good wife to me." He added slowly, "My parents will be a little surprised." He smiled and kissed her. Tracy whispered, "Why are they surprised?" Charles sighed. "My dear, I'm afraid you don't fully realize the extent of the trouble you've got yourself into. The Steinborgs - sorry, I'm quoting them - 'marry only with equally noble families'. That is A distinguished family in Philadelphia." "Have they chosen a wife for you?" Tracy guessed. Charles took her in his arms. "I don't give a shit about that. What I like counts. Next Friday we'll have dinner with Mum and Dad. It's time for you to meet them." At five minutes to nine, Tracy felt a change in the noise in the bank.Employees speak and act a little faster.The bank will open in five minutes, and everything must be ready.Looking out the front window, Tracy could see customers lining up on the sidewalk outside in the cold rain. Tracy watched as the bank guard sorted out new blank deposit slips and withdrawal slips.There are six desks lined up in the center of the hall, and deposit and withdrawal slips are placed in metal boxes on the desks.Regular customers are issued by the bank with a deposit slip with a personal magnetic password below, and the computer automatically transfers the money to the appropriate account every time a deposit is made.But customers often come to deposit without a deposit slip, so they have to fill out a blank deposit slip. The guard looked up at the clock on the wall. When the hands moved to nine o'clock, he walked to the door and unlocked it as if performing a ceremony. Another banking day begins. For the next few hours, Tracy was too busy at the computer to think about anything else.Every wire transfer payment must be double-checked to ensure that the password is correct.To debit a sum of money, she enters the account number, the amount and the name of the bank where the money will be sent.Every bank has its own secret number, and a secret book is registered with the cipher codes of every major bank in the world. The morning passed in a flash.She was going to get her hair done during lunch and had an appointment with the barber, Larry Steiner Porter.He charged quite a lot, but it was worth the money, because she was going to show Charles' parents her best.Gotta make them like me.No matter what kind of girl they picked for him, Tracy thought.Only I can bring Charles the greatest happiness. At exactly one o'clock, Tracy was putting on her raincoat when Clarence Desmond called her into the office.Dismond has an extraordinary bearing, born with the appearance of a general manager.If the bank is going to do a TV commercial, it's best to ask him to appear.He is elegantly dressed, with a steady and conservative sense of authority in his demeanor, and he is obviously a reliable person. "Sit down, Tracy," he said.He prides himself on knowing every employee's given name. "The weather is terrible." "yes." "However, people still have to deal with the bank." Dismond's polite words were finished. "I hear you are engaged to Charles Stannob?" Tracy was taken aback. "We haven't announced it yet, why?..." Dismond smiled. "You can't hide anything about the Stannobs? I'm so happy for you. I suppose you'll come back to work with us? After the honeymoon, of course. We don't want you to quit your job here. You are one of our most valuable employees." "I've talked to Charles and we both think it will be more fun if I keep working after marriage." Dismond smiled with satisfaction.Steinborg & Sons is one of the most important investment companies in the financial world.It would be great if they could get all their business, he leaned back in his chair. "When you come back from your honeymoon, Tracy, we're going to give you a promotion and a big raise in your salary." "Oh, thank you, that's great!" She knew that she had earned it with her talent, and she was excited and proud.She couldn't wait to report the good news to Charles.Tracy felt that God seemed to bless her everywhere, and she couldn't bear the happy event after the happy event. Charles Steinb's parents lived in a splendid old mansion in Rittenhouse Square.The building was a prominent symbol of Philadelphia, and Tracy often passed by it.Now, she thought, my life was about to begin to relate to this mansion. Tracy felt uneasy.The beautifully done hairstyle was out of shape by the rain.I changed clothes four times.Should I dress more simply, or more elegantly?She lived frugally and saved up money to buy a YSL dress at the Wanamaker store.If I wear that, they'll think I'm too luxurious.However, if he wears the cheap ones I bought from "Poshorn", they will feel that the son condescends to a poor girl.Alas, there is no way, they will always think so.Tracy finally decided to wear a sober gray woolen dress over a white silk shirt and a thin gold chain around her neck, a Christmas present from her mother. A liveried butler opened the door of the mansion. "Good evening, Miss Whitney." Is it a good or bad sign that the housekeeper knows my name?Water drips from her raincoat onto the mansion's expensive Persian rug. He led Tracy through a marble foyer twice the size of the bank's lobby.Tracy was terrified: God, I shouldn't be wearing this dress!Should wear that YSL dress.When she turned the corner and walked into the study, she noticed that the pantyhose began to slip near the ankle, and a tear opened.At this juncture, she came to Charles' parents. Old Charles Stannob was stern-looking, about sixty-five or sixteen years of age.Just by looking at him, he was an accomplished man.In another thirty years, his son will grow into what he is now.His eyes were brown like Charles'.He had a firm jaw and grizzled temple hair.Tracy immediately begins to like him.There is nothing better than such a man as the grandfather of the child. Charles' mother was very grand.Although she was short and stout, her manners exuded nobility.This is a steady, reliable woman, Tracy thought.She can be a good grandmother to children. Mrs. Stanley held out her hand. "Honey, you're welcome to come to our place. You don't mind if we ask Charles to let us talk to you alone?" "Of course not," said Charles' father confidently. "Please sit down...Tracey, am I right?" "No, sir." The old couple sat down on a couch opposite her.Why do I feel like I'm on trial?Tracy heard her mother's voice saying, Son, God will never make things hard for you that you can't handle.Don't rush, do it step by step. Tracy's first move was to smile at them, but she smiled awkwardly because she could feel the opening where the stocking had slipped to her knees.She tried to cover this embarrassing flaw with her hands. "It appears," said Mr. Stannob in a booming voice, "that you and Charles intend to marry." The word intend confused Tracy.Charles must have told them that they were going to be married. "Yes," Tracy said. "You haven't been with Charles very long, have you?" asked Mrs. Stannob. Tracy suppressed her unhappiness.I was not mistaken, this was indeed an interrogation. "We've been together long enough for us to love each other, Mrs. Stannob." "In love?" muttered Mr. Stannob. "Frankly, Miss Whitney, Charles' father and I were taken aback when he told me about it," said Mrs. Steinable, smiling indulgently. "Charles must have told you about Charlotte?" She saw the expression on Tracy's face. "No? I get it. He and Shalotti were childhood sweethearts, and they became very close afterwards—to be honest, everyone knows that they are going to get engaged this year." She didn't need to introduce this Charlotte, Tracy could clearly imagine it: she lived next door, she was quite wealthy, her family background was about the same as Charles', she went to the best school, she liked horse racing, and she had won many trophies. "Tell us about your family," suggested Mr. Stannob. God, this is exactly a scene from "Night Films," Tracy couldn't help thinking.I played the role of Rita Hales, meeting Cary Grant's parents for the first time.I need something to drink.In those old films, there was always a butler coming out with a tray of drinks to relieve the situation. "Where were you born, child?" said Mrs. Stannob. "Louisiana. My father was a mechanic." It didn't have to be added, but Tracy couldn't help it.Whatever they thought, she was proud of her father. "Mechanic?" "Yes. He started a small manufacturing plant in New Orleans and later expanded it into a pretty big business in that line of business. My father died five years ago, and my mother went on to run the business." "What does this—er—company produce?" "Exhaust valves and other auto parts." The Sdanubs exchanged glances and said in unison, "Understood." Their tone made her look tense.I really don't know how long it will take me to like these two people?she asked herself.Looking at the two indifferent faces opposite, she started talking nonsense. "You'll like my mother, she's beautiful, smart, and lovely. She's from the South, and she's small, of course, about your height, Mrs. Stannob..." Tracy's voice was getting worse and worse. Low, swallowed by that oppressive silence.She smiled inappropriately, which was forced back by Mrs. Stannob's cold eyes. Mr. Stannob said blankly: "Charles told us that you are pregnant." Tracy wished Charles hadn't told them about it!They looked completely disapproving, as if their son had nothing to do with this matter.They shame her.Now I know what to wear to meet them, Tracy thought.You should wear a dress embroidered with scarlet letters (the punishment for adultery in the West). "I don't know why now--" Mrs. Stannob said only halfway, for at that moment Charles came in.Tracy had never looked forward to someone so much in her life. "Well," said Charles, laughing, "you get on well, don't you?" Tracy stood up and hurried into his arms. "Very well, dear." She held him close, thinking: It's a good thing Charles isn't like his parents, he's never going to be like them.They are narrow, snobbish, and ruthless. Someone coughed cautiously from behind - the butler was standing there with a tray of drinks.Everything will be fine, Tracy told herself.The film will end with a happy ending. The dinner was rich and delicious, but Tracy lost her appetite from nervousness.They talk about finance, politics and the frustrating world situation.Everyone chatted in general terms and remained polite.They didn't say out loud to her, "Our son fell into your trap and had to marry you!" Anyway, Tracy thought, they had every right to care what kind of woman their son married, and Charles would one day To be the owner of the company, he must marry a good wife, and Tracy believes that she will be his good wife. One of her hands was twisting a napkin under the table.Charles took her hand lightly and winked at her with a smile.Tracy felt a warm current in her heart. "Tracey and I want to have a small wedding," Charles said, "and then..." "Nonsense," interposed Mrs. Steinable, "we've never had a small wedding in our family, Charles. Dozens of friends would love to see you get married." She surveyed Tracy's face from across the table. figure. "Maybe we should send out the invitation right away." After thinking for a while, she added, "It depends on whether you agree or not?" "Of course I agree." The wedding had been decided long ago.Why was I so worried just now? Mrs. Stannob said: "Some guests are coming from abroad. I have to arrange accommodation for them in the mansion." Mr. Stannob asked, "Have you decided where to spend your honeymoon?" Charles smiled. "That's our secret, Dad." He squeezed Tracy's hand. "How long are you going to spend on your honeymoon?" asked Mrs. Stannob. "More than fifty years," Charles replied.Tracy admired his witty answers. After supper they went to the study for brandy.Tracy looked at the cozy old-fashioned oak-paneled room.There were leatherbound books on the shelves, and two Corots, a Copley miniature, and a Reynolds on the walls.She would love Charles even if he was poor, but she admitted that it was not bad to live in such luxury. It wasn't until close to midnight that Charles drove her back to the small apartment near Fairmont Park. "Didn't embarrass you too much tonight, Tracy? My mom and dad can be really stubborn sometimes." "Oh no, they're nice people," Tracy said against her will. She was exhausted after a tense night, but when she came to her door she asked, "Come in, Charles?" Nobody can tear us apart." He said, "Not today. I have a lot to do tomorrow morning." Tracy hid her disappointment: "Of course, I understand, dear." "See you tomorrow." He kissed her hastily.She watched him disappear down the corridor. The apartment was on fire, and a series of deafening fire alarm bells suddenly tore through the silence in the room.Tracy sat up suddenly in bed, sniffing sleepily in the dark, trying to pick out the smoke from the fire.The bell is still ringing.Only then did she gradually understand: it was the phone ringing.The clock next to the bed said two thirty in the morning.Her first frightening thought was—something had happened to Charles.She picked up the phone: "Hello?" A man's voice came from a distance: "Is that Tracy Whitney?" She hesitated for a moment.Is it one of those flirty phone calls... "Who are you?" "I'm Sheriff Miller of the New Orleans Police Department. Are you Tracy Whitney?" "Yes." Her heart skipped a beat. "I have some sad news to tell you." Her hand clenched the phone. "About your mother." "What happened to me—my mother?" "She's dead, Miss Whitney." "No!" she yelled.It was indeed the kind of flirtatious call, the bad guy trying to scare people.My mother is healthy and healthy.I love you so much, Tracy. "I am very reluctant to inform you in this way," said the voice again. This is real.It's a nightmare, but it's true.She was speechless.Her heart and tongue froze. The sheriff's voice said, "Hello? Miss Whitney? Hello?" "I'm going to fly right away." Sitting in the tiny kitchen of her apartment apartment, she missed her mother.How could she die!Always so active and full of life.They got along so close.Ever since Tracy was a little girl, she went to her mother when she was in trouble.They talked about school, boys, and then together they talked about men.After Tracy's father died, many people came to discuss buying her father's company.They were willing to pay a lot of money, enough to keep Doris Whitney happy for the rest of her life, but Mrs. Whitney was determined not to sell. "Your father started this company, and I don't want to give up his hard-earned family business easily." My mother managed the company very prosperously. Mom, I love you so much, Tracy thought.You'll never see Charles, and you'll never see your grandson, she cried. She made a cup of coffee.She sat in the dark, her coffee cold.She wanted desperately to call Charles, tell him what had happened, tell him to come to her.She glanced at the clock in the kitchen.Three thirty in the morning.She didn't want to wake him up.She was going to call him from New Orleans.She wondered if it would affect their wedding plans, but she was immediately ashamed of the thought.How can you think about your own affairs at a time like this?Sheriff Miller said just now, "Call a cab to the police station as soon as you get here." Why go to the police station?Why?What's the matter? Standing in the crowded New Orleans airport waiting for her luggage, jostled by anxious travelers, Tracy felt suffocated.She tried to push her way to the baggage carousel, but no one would make way for her.Her nervousness was growing, and she shuddered at the thought of what she was about to have to see.She kept reassuring herself that maybe they were mistaken.But those words kept ringing in her head: I have some sad news to tell you... She is dead, Miss Whitney... It is with great reluctance that I inform you in this way... Once Tracy got her luggage, she got into a taxi and repeated to the driver the address the sheriff had given her: "715 South Broad Street." The driver grinned at her in the rearview mirror. "Go to the police cottage?" Tracy didn't want to talk.Do not want.She was distraught. The car headed east towards the Penchatlan Lake Embankment Road.The driver continued to chat. "Come here to see the fun, miss?" She didn't know what excitement he was talking about, but she thought: No, I'm here to attend the funeral.She could hear the driver's voice, but couldn't hear what he was saying.She sat stiffly, ignoring the familiar scenery that passed quickly by outside the window.It wasn't until she approached the French-speaking neighborhood that Tracy became aware of the growing noise.It was a passionate crowd chanting an ancient prayer, question and answer. "I can only drive you here." The driver told her. Tracy looked up and saw an unbelievable scene.Thousands of people clamored and crowded the front streets and sidewalks, masked as dragons, giant crocodiles, or pagan gods.People played music, hugged floats, danced and danced like crazy. "Go ahead, or they'll overturn my car," the driver said. "What kind of carnival is it, what the hell!" By the way, it's February and the whole city is celebrating Lent.Tracy climbed out of the car and stood by the curb with the suitcase.She was immediately drawn into the roaring, dancing crowd.It was an abominable scene, it was Halloween, a thousand Furies were applauding her mother's death, and someone had taken the suitcase from Tracy's hand.A fat man dressed as a devil put his arms around her and kissed her.A "deer" touched her chest, and a "giant panda" hugged her from behind and lifted her up.She broke free and tried to run, but couldn't.The carnival crowd swept her away, and she shed tears, helpless.When she finally broke through the crowd and fled into a quiet side street, people were going crazy.She stood quietly for a while, leaning against the lamppost and taking a deep breath, gradually calming down.She started walking towards the police station. Sheriff Miller is a middle-aged man with a scowl on his weather-beaten face who seems genuinely disturbed by his role. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport," he said to Tracy. "The whole town is going nuts, though. We took an inventory of your mother's belongings and only found your phone number, so we got in touch." "Please tell me, Mr. Sheriff, my mother—what happened to her?" "She committed suicide." She felt a chill hit her heart. "That—impossible! Why did she kill herself? She's alive and well!" Tracy's voice changed. "She left you a note." The morgue is a cold, gloomy place.Tracy was led down a long white corridor into a large, sterile, empty room, which she suddenly realized was not an empty room.There are a lot of dead people here.One is her relative. A staff member in a white coat walked to the wall, grabbed a handle, and pulled out the huge drawer. "Want to see it?" No, I don't want to see that lifeless body in the iron drawer.She wants to leave this place.She wanted to turn back time a few hours, to the time when she heard the fire alarm.It had better be a real fire alarm, not a telephone, or the news of my mother's death.Tracy walked forward slowly, her heart tensing with each step.She stared blankly at the insensible corpse—the one who had born her, raised her, loved her, laughed with her.She leaned down and kissed her mother on the cheek.Mother's face was cold and seemed to be made of rubber. "Mom," Tracy said softly, "why did you kill yourself? Why?" "We're going to do an autopsy," the officer said. "That's what state law says about suicide." The note left by Doris Whitney did not specify the reason for the suicide. The note was as empty and inexplicable as a corpse lying in a drawer. After making arrangements for the funeral that afternoon, Tracy took a taxi to her and her mother's original home.In the distance she could hear the din of the carnival, the people performing some strange and terrifying ritual. The Whitneys' house was a Victorian house in the Garden District, in "Uptown," that is, a residential area away from the commercial center.Like most homes in New Orleans, the Whitneys' house is log-frame and has no basement because the area is below sea level. Tracy grew up in this house, and it brings back many fond, happy memories.She hadn't been home for a year, and when the taxi pulled up in front of the house, she was amazed to see an advertisement in large letters on the grass: "Home For Sale - New Orleans Real Estate Company."This is impossible.I will never sell the old house, my mother used to tell her how happy we were in this house together! Tracy walked past a huge magnolia tree to the gate with a strange, inexplicable fear.She has had her own gate key since seventh grade.She has carried the key with her at all times since then, as a talisman.The key reminds her that no matter what happens, she always has a safe haven she can always hide in. She opened the door and walked in.She stood there, dumbfounded.The house was empty and the furniture had been removed.All the antique decorations have disappeared.The whole house is like a shell cast off by its departed owners.As Tracy looked from room to room, she became more and more confused. There seemed to be a sudden disaster here.She ran upstairs and stood in the doorway of the bedroom which had been hers for most of the time she had spent.Now the cold, empty room stared back at her blankly.God, what the hell was going on, Tracy heard the front doorbell ring and went downstairs in a daze to answer it. Otto Schmidt stood at the door.He was a foreman at Whitney Auto Parts, an elderly, wrinkled, thin man with only his customary beer belly sticking out prominently.His bald head was fringed with gray hair. "Tracey," he said in a thick German accent, "I just heard the news. I'm—so sad." Tracy clasped his hands. "Otto, nice to meet you. Come in." She ushered him into the empty living room. "Sorry, there's no place to sit," she said apologetically, "Sit on the floor, okay?" "Okay." They sat opposite each other, their eyes dimmed.Otto Schmidt had worked in the family business for as long as Tracy could remember.She knew how much her father trusted him earlier.After his mother inherited his father's property, Otto stayed on to assist his mother in running the company. “奥托，我不明白到底发生了什么事。警察厅说妈妈自杀了，可你知道，她没有任何理由要自杀。”特蕾西心里忽然冒出一个可怕的念头。“她没得病吧？她没有得那种可怕的……” “没有，不是因为这个，不是。”他的眼睛望着别处，显得很不自在，似乎心里藏着什么话。 特蕾西慢慢地说：“看来你知道事情的原委。” 他用那浑浊的蓝眼盯着特蕾西。“你母亲没有告诉你后来出了什么事。她怕你为她担心。” 特蕾西皱起眉头。“担什么心？你说呀……” 奥托满是老茧的双手忽儿攥紧，忽儿松开。“你听说过一个名叫乔·罗曼诺的人吗？” “乔·罗曼诺？没有。他怎么啦？” 奥托·史密特眨了眨眼。“六个月前，罗曼诺找到你母亲，说他要把她的公司买下来。你母亲说，她不想卖，可罗曼诺出的价钱是公司本身价值的十倍，你母亲就答应了。她满心欢喜，想把卖公司的钱全部买成债券，这就能赚来一大笔钱，够你们俩舒舒服服过一辈子了。她想事成之后让你大吃一惊，让你喜出望外。我真替她高兴。三年前我就打算退休了，特蕾西，可我不能撇下惠特尼太太不管，是吧？那个罗曼诺……”奥托几乎是咬牙切齿地说出这个名字。“罗曼诺预付了一小笔现钱。剩下的一大笔钱应当在上个月付清。” 特蕾西急欲听个究竟：“说呀，奥托。后来呢？” “罗曼诺接管公司后辞退了所有的人，把他自己的人安插进来。然后他开始洗劫公司。他变卖了公司所有的财产设备，又订购了大量新设备，却并不付款，卖主们并不为拖欠的款子担忧，他们以为仍在和你母亲打交道。最后他们开始找你母亲要钱，她就跑来找罗曼诺询问。罗曼诺说，他不愿意做这笔交易了，决定把公司退还给你母亲。到这个时候公司已经一钱不值，而且你母亲已经欠债五十万元，无法偿还。特蕾西，看到你母亲东求西告地设法挽救公司，我和我老伴都伤心透了。公司已经救不活了。他们迫使你母亲宣布破产。他们把所有的东西都拿走了——公司、这幢房子，连她的汽车也赔了进去。” "Oh my God!" “还有呢。地方检察官通知你母亲，他将指控她犯有欺诈罪，她可能被判刑。我想，从那天起，她就不想活了。” 特蕾西胸中燃起一股无名火。“只要她向大家说明真相——说明那个人如何坑骗了她，不就没事了吗。” 老工长摇了摇头。“乔·罗曼诺的主子是一个叫安托尼·巫萨地的人。巫萨地主宰整个新奥尔良市。罗曼诺曾经用同样的办法骗过别的几家公司，我发现这个情况时已经太晚了。即使你母亲跟他打官司，至少得花几年才能把案子弄清，她出不起这笔诉讼费。” “她为什么不告诉我呢？”她大声问。这问话中含着悲愤，为母亲的遭遇感到悲愤。 “你母亲是自尊心很强的人。再说告诉你又有什么用？任何人都无能为力。” 你说错了，特蕾西愤愤地想。“我要去见乔·罗曼诺。他在哪儿住？” 史密特断然表示反对：“不要去找他，你不知道他有多厉害。” “奥托，他住在哪儿？” “他在杰克逊广场附近有一所房子，不过找他也没有用，真的，特蕾西。” 特蕾西没有答话，她的胸中充满了一种陌生的感情：仇恨。她暗中发誓：乔·罗曼诺害死了我妈妈，我决不能放过他！