Chapter 15 15

According to the reviews in the guide book, the food at the Wolf Hotel in Bedford Hills can only be considered "acceptable".But the country atmosphere, and the rooms there for the night, could be "classed as superior."To use the words in the manual, it is a good place for leisure, shaded by giant trees, with deep green shade. Once you get there, you can leave all the pressure of our city life behind. There is another characteristic of the Wolf Hotel. It is not necessary to mention it in the guidebook, and the patrons can understand it, that is, it is also an excellent place for trysts.A dinner can only be regarded as barely passing, but the atmosphere of quietly waiting for you upstairs will make even the most picky people appreciate it.As soon as I heard that our destination was such a place, I had a bottom line in my heart: there is a door!My chance this time is so good that I can..."rank it first".

However, I always feel a little annoyed. And who chose this place?Who is it, who does not discuss with others, but decides on his own, first come and book everything?Who is driving my beloved "Porsche" at this moment, speeding away like this? The car made a turn, left the road, and turned into a woods. There was a narrow driveway in the woods, and it was vaguely several miles long.Finally, there was a light ahead.It's a lantern.There is also a sign that reads: Bad Wolf Hotel, Country Style. Marcie slowed down (at last) and the car turned into the yard.In the moonlight, I could only see the outline of a Swiss farmhouse.There were two large fireplaces visible, lighting a dining-sitting room with flickering lights.Upstairs there was no light at all.Crossing the parking lot, I found only one car parked there, a white Mercedes SLC.It can be seen that there will not be many guests in the small restaurant.Want to say something...whispering should be fine.

"I hope I can have some delicious food, so that I won't let you down by driving all the way here," I said sarcastically (hehe). "As long as you don't feel disappointed," Marcy said.So he took my arm and entered the room. We were ushered to a table by the fireplace.I asked for a drink first. "A glass of fresh orange juice, a bottle of ordinary California white wine, any brand is fine, as long as it is not from France." "Cesa Chavez is going to compliment you," Marcie said once the waitress had hurried back. "You should really take care of her. The orange juice must be squeezed from the oranges picked by the union members!"

① Cesar Chavez (1927—): The leader of Mexican commercial and agricultural workers in the United States and the founder of the United Agricultural Workers Union. "I'm not responsible for your morals, Marcy." I immediately looked around.There was no third customer besides the two of us. "Did we come a little early?" I asked. "It's probably because it's too far away from the city, so people usually only come here on weekends." I just said "oh".There is a sentence that I told myself not to ask, but in the end I couldn't help asking: "Have you been here before?"

"No," Marcy said.But I don't think she's telling the truth. "Since I have never seen it before, why did you pick such a place rashly?" "I've long heard that the mood of this place is quite romantic. It's true when I saw it today, don't you think?" "Well...it's very tasty," I said and took her hand. "Every room upstairs has a fireplace," she said. "It's a 'beautiful' scene," I said. "It's not cold, it's warm." A smile appeared on her face. There was silence for a while.Later, I tried my best to pretend to be a casual question: "We also made a reservation on it?"

She nodded yes.Then he added another sentence: "Just in case." I don't know why, but when I heard it, I was not as happy as I expected. "What if?" I said. "Just in case it snows," she said, squeezing my hand. The waitress brought Marcy's orange juice and my wine.The raging fire, coupled with the strength of the wine, immediately awakened my professional instincts, and I felt that I was fully qualified to ask questions. "Hey, Marcy, what's the name you used to book the room?" "Donald Duck," she said without changing her face.

"No, I won't ask you this time, Marcie. I want to ask you, what name do you use to register your hotels elsewhere?" "What's the meaning?" "Like, what's your name in Cleveland?" "Are you talking about Cleveland again?" Marcie said. "What's the name of the hotel you're checking into in Cleveland?" I put on an attorney Barrett's posture and forced her to retreat. "To be honest, I didn't register at all," she answered happily, without even blushing. aha! "To tell you the truth, I never stayed in a hotel," she added nonchalantly.

Oh ho? "But have you been there?" She pouted. "Oliver," she said after a moment. "You seem to be sitting in court to try a case, what exactly do you want to do?" I smiled slightly, poured another glass of wine, and said "refueling in the air".Add enough "oil", and then ask a question in another way. "Marcy, since we are friends, we should be honest with each other, don't you think so?" It seems that this sentence has worked.I used the word "friend" and sparked a spark. "Never mind," said Marcie. Probably because what I said was a kind word, and the tone was very peaceful, which softened her attitude.I took advantage of this to put away all the emotional color in my tone, and asked her directly:

"Marcy, are you hiding something from me?" "I did go to Cleveland, Oliver," she said. "Okay, even if you went to Cleveland, didn't you have other things as a cover?" There was a long silence. After a while, she nodded and admitted. Look, I was right.The true colors are finally revealed.Even if it hasn't been fully exposed, at least there are some clues. But then there was no more sound.Marcy just sat there completely motionless, gritting her teeth and not saying a word.However, the calm and confident look in her attitude has obviously been greatly reduced.It looked like a poor little child.I really feel a little unbearable.But I still hardened my heart.

"How about...?" I said. She reached out and pressed mine. "Hey, it's like this. I know, I'm a little evasive. Don't take it to heart. I won't do that again." What does this mean?Her hand was still on mine. "Let's order, shall we?" Marcy said. I secretly thought: Do we want to reconcile temporarily and wait a little longer?In this way, there is a danger that all previous efforts will be wasted: the truth is about to be found out! "Marcie, there's one or two small questions. Let's finish talking and then order, okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before replying, "Since you must talk first, there is no other way." "It's like I got a jigsaw puzzle, but I can't put it together. Please help me put it together, okay?" She just nodded.So I summed up all kinds of "criminal evidence" and made a summary. "There is such a lady, what conclusion should we draw about her? She doesn't leave her address or phone number. She goes out, but no one knows where she goes; she stays, but changes her name. .She refuses to specify her occupation—or rather, she keeps evading it.” Marcy doesn't come to talk to you.Instead, she asked, "What kind of conclusion should you draw?" "I said you must be living with someone," I said.He spoke in a calm and composed manner, without any intention of stealing the truth. She smiled slightly, looking a little uneasy.Also shook his head. "Or you must be a married woman. Maybe that one has another wife in his family." She looks at me. "Do you want me to choose a correct answer for this multiple-choice question?" "right. "Then you said none of them." Isn't this a hell! --I wonder. "Why else should I ask you to meet?" she asked. "Your relationship with that one is 'non-exclusive.'" She didn't seem happy to hear that. "Oliver, I'm not that kind of person." "Very well, then what kind of person are you?" "I can't tell," she said. “I always feel a little bit of a world away.” "You're complete bullshit!" I'm so pissed off for no reason.I immediately regretted the words. "Is this your barrister's manner in court, Mr Barrett?" "It's not really," I said politely right away. "But this is not a court. If you don't tell the truth, I can't punish you." "Oliver, don't be so annoying anymore! She is a decent woman anyway, and she can't be considered ugly. She has seen that you are quite interested in you, but you are good. You don't look like a flesh and blood. Righteous man, you are like a medieval inquisitor!" What a "flesh and blood, affection and righteousness"!This harsh remark hurt me.Look how bad this bitch is! "Well, Marcie, if you don't think it suits you, just let it go." "There's nothing remarkable about it, and there's nothing to brag about! If you want to leave on a sudden whim, you can go to the court or church as you please; even if you go to a Buddhist monastery, just do it yourself!" "That couldn't be better," I said, and stood up. She said "goodbye" right away. I also said "goodbye" back to her.But neither of them left. "Come on—I'll pay the bill here," she said, waving me away like a fly. But it's impossible to drive me away. "Don't look down on people, I won't be so heartless. I don't feel relieved to leave you alone in this wilderness." "I don't need you to be a hero. I have my own car outside." There was a bang in my head, and another valve exploded.This woman lied again, and I got caught on the spot! "Didn't you say you've never been here, Marcie? And how did you get your car—you have a remote control?" "Oliver," said she, flushing with anger, "what's the matter with you? You're too damn suspicious. Well, to get you out of here sooner, I'll just I tell you, it was one of my colleagues who stayed here for me. Because whether your date with me today is a joy or a rage, I must be in Hartford tomorrow morning anyway." ①In Connecticut.northeast of New York. "What are you going to do in Hartford?" I couldn't help asking, but it didn't really concern me at all. "Because my beau is going to 'buy insurance' for me!" Marcy yelled. "Okay, stop talking, go to your house." I was just too hasty, too much.I'm just pissed off.In fact, I also knew in my heart that we should all keep our voices down and sit down.But at this time, we had just finished scolding each other angrily, and the sound of the word "roll" was still in my ears, what else could I do?I had no choice but to bite the bullet and leave. The summer rain was falling in a hurry, and I was in such a hurry that I couldn't unlock the car door all at once. "Hey—how about a walk around the neighborhood?" Marcy appeared behind me with a hard face.She didn't put on her coat, she didn't bring anything, and she came out of the hotel. "No, Marcy," I replied. "We've gone too far in circles." I finally opened the car door. "Oliver, there's a reason why I'm going around." "Ah, are you still unreasonable?" "Why don't you give me a chance to speak?" "Why don't you tell me the truth?" I got in the car, slammed the door, started the engine, and Marcy was still standing there, motionless, looking straight at me.I rolled down the window as the car drove slowly past her. "Can you call me later?" she said in a low voice. "How did you forget," I said with more than a hint of sarcasm, "I don't have your number. Why don't you think about it?" As soon as I finished speaking, I shifted gears, stepped up the accelerator, rushed out of the yard, and drove straight to the road as if flying. Go to New York City and forget Miss Marcy Nash forever and ever.