Chapter 4 long farewell (4)

"Now it's time for me to say 'what the hell happened' and you to say 'we ask the question'." "You just answer." I light a cigarette.Tobacco is too wet.It took me a while to light it, using three matches. "I've got time," said Green, "but I've spent quite a bit of time waiting for you around here. Speak quickly, sir. We know who you are. You know we ain't sitting around to work up an appetite." "I was just thinking," I said, "we used to go to Victor's Pub a lot, not Green Lantern and Wildcat and Bear, the one at the end of the Sunset District that tried to pretend to be an English inn—"

"Don't delay." "Who died?" I asked. Detective Dayton spoke, his tone stern, mature, "don't play tricks on me." "Marlowe, just talk back. We're doing a routine investigation. You don't need to know too much." Maybe I'm tired and angry.Maybe I'm a little guilty.I can hate this guy without even knowing him, just look at him across the cafeteria and want to kick him in the ass. "Come on, boy," I said, "save that for the Boys' Department, they'll think it's ridiculous." Green giggled.There was no obvious change on Dayton's face, but he seemed to suddenly be twice as old and twice as obscene, and the breath from his nostrils made a soft noise.

"He's passed the bar exam. You can't bullshit Dayton," Green said. I stood up slowly, went to the bookshelf, took down the bound copy of the California Criminal Code, and handed it to Dayton. "Would you please find out the terms under which I must answer these questions?" He stands still.He wanted to hit me hard, we both knew it, but he was biding his time.It can be seen that he is not sure whether Green will support him if he misbehaves. He said: "Every citizen must cooperate with the police. Cooperate in many ways, even with practical actions, especially answering non-discriminatory questions that the police deem necessary to ask." smooth.

"That would happen," I said, "mostly by intimidation, direct or indirect. There is no legal obligation to do so. Nobody has to tell the police anything, anywhere, anytime." "Oh, shut up," Green said impatiently. "You're looking for a way out and you don't know it. Sit down. Lennox's wife was murdered. In one of their guest houses in Encino .Lennox escaped, and there's no one to be found anyway. So we're looking for a murder suspect. Are you satisfied?" I threw the book into a chair and went back to the couch across from Green's coffee table. "Why did you come to me?" I asked. "I never went into that house. I told you."

Green patted his thigh, moved his hand up and down, and grinned quietly at me.Dayton remained motionless in his chair, staring like he wanted to eat me. "Because your phone number has been written on a notepad in his room for the past twenty-four hours," Green said. "It's a dated note. Yesterday's was torn out, but today's page is visible. We don't know when he called you. We don't know where, why, or when he went. But we'll have to find out, of course." "Why are you in the guest house?" I asked, and I didn't expect him to answer, but he did.

He blushed a little, and said: "She seems to go there often. At night. There are guests. There are lights in the house, and the servants can see through the shadows of the trees. The cars come and go, sometimes very late, very very late. Enough Right, huh? Don't lie to yourself. Lennox is our man. He passed around one o'clock in the morning. The steward just happened to see him. He came back alone in about twenty minutes. Then nothing happened, the lights were still on. On. Lennox was nowhere to be found this morning. The superintendent went to the guest house. The lady lay naked on the bed like a mermaid and told you he couldn't recognize her face. She didn't even have a face. Smash it bloody with a statue of a monkey."

"Terry Lennox wouldn't do that," I said. "Yeah, she cheated on him. It's old. He always did. They divorced and reunited. I guess he wasn't too Pleasant, but how did he get so mad about something like this now?" "Nobody knows the answer," Green said patiently. "It happens all the time. It happens to both men and women. A person endures and endures, and one day he can't bear it anymore. He may not know why he is there." It took a moment to go berserk. He did go berserk anyway, and someone got a pigtail. So we got something to do. So we're going to ask you a simple question. Stop talking nonsense, or we'll get you in."

"He won't tell you, Sergeant," said Dayton sourly. "He's read the law book. A lot of people who read the law book think the law is in the book." "You take notes," Green said, "don't use your head for a while. If you can, we'll let you sing "Ode to a Mother" in the police smoking room." "Fuck you, Sergeant, I hope I don't offend your rank by saying that." "You fight him," I said to Green, "and I'll catch him when he falls." Dayton carefully put down the pad and ballpoint pen.He stood up with bright eyes, and came and stood in front of me.

"Stand up, smart boy. Just because I went to college doesn't mean I'll put up with your little bastard." I stood up, but before I could stand still, he hit me.He gave me a nice left hook and missed.The bell rang, but it wasn't the bell for dinner.I sat down hard and shook my head.Dayton was still there.Now he is smiling. "Let's try again," he said. "You weren't ready that time. Not really ready." I look at Green.He was looking down at his thumb as if studying a splinter on his nail.I didn't move or speak, waiting for him to look up.If I stand up again, Dayton will hit me again.In fact, he will make another shot no matter what.But if I get up again and he hits me, I'll make him look good, that punch proves he's a boxer.He hit the right spot, but it took a lot of punches to knock me down.

Green said, seemingly absent-mindedly, "Good job, dude. He'd love it if you did it." Then he looked up and said kindly, "Marlowe, ask again for the record. Where did you see Terry Lennox last time, how did you meet, what did you talk about, and where did you come from?" Come on, tell—or not?" Dayton stood with ease, with a steady center of gravity.There was a soft, sweet light in his eyes. "Where's the other guy?" I ignored him and asked. "What other guy?" "On the bed in the guest room. No clothes. Didn't you say she went there to sing a one-man show?"

"That's for later—after we get her husband." "Okay. Once you have a scapegoat, it won't be too much trouble to catch him." "If you don't tell me, we'll lock you in, Marlowe." "As an important witness?" "Bullshit important witness. Be a suspect, accomplice to a murder. Help the suspect get away. I guess you took that guy somewhere. I'm just guessing right now. The boss has been vicious lately. He knows the law, but He's a little absent-minded. That may be your misfortune. We're going to have you speak up anyway. The harder it is to get an answer, the more sure we'll have to." "It's all bullshit to him," Dayton said. "He understands the law." "It's bullshit for everybody," Green said calmly, "but it works. Come on, Marlowe, I'm whistling for you." "Okay," I said, "blow. Terry Lennox's a friend of mine. I've got a fair amount of affection invested in him that won't be ruined by a few words from the cops. You've got a case to sue." He, maybe more clearly than you guys told me. There was a motive, an opportunity, plus the fact that he was cheating. The motive is old, watered down, almost part of the deal. I don't appreciate that kind of deal , but that's the kind of guy he is -- kind of weak, very gentle. If he knows she's dead, he knows you're going to get him, nothing else. If there's an interrogation, if they call me, I'll have to Answer these questions. I don't have to answer your questions. Green, I can see that you are a good guy. I can also see that your partner is a guy with a fucking power mood and a police badge. If you want I'm in real trouble, tell him to hit me again. I'm gonna fucking cut his shit off." Green stood up and looked at me sadly.Dayton didn't move, he was a murderer with one shot.He must take a break and stroke his back. "I'll make a call," Green said, "but I know what the answer is. You're a sick little chicken, Marlowe. A very sick little chicken. Get out of your way and out of your way." The last words were To Dayton.Dayton turned and walked back, picking up the notepad. Green walked to the phone and picked it up gently.His face was wrinkled by the long, thankless chore.Herein lies the trouble with dealing with the police.You have made up your mind to hate them, but when you meet someone who is humane to you, you don't know what to do. The group leader ordered me to be arrested and not to be polite to me. They handcuffed me and didn't search my house, which seems to be their negligence.Maybe they think that I am experienced and will not leave anything at home that is not good for them.They were wrong about this.If they search, they will find Terry Lennox's car keys.When the car is found--it will be later--they check the keys against the car and they know he was with me. Turns out it really doesn't make any sense.The police will never find that car.The car was stolen in the middle of the night, probably driven to Elpa, fitted with new keys and forged papers, and sold in Mexico City.The formalities are just routine.Most of the money flowed back as heroin.In the view of the gangsters, this is also part of the good neighbor policy. There are two beds in Room 3 in the felon cell area, like the one in a sleeper car, but it is not full, and Room 3 is the only one for me.The recidivism cell was well treated, with two blankets that weren't too dirty or clean, and a mattress two inches thick over a wire mesh.There are flush toilets, vanities, toilet paper and gritty gray soap.The cell area was clean with no smell of disinfectant.Model prisoners are in charge of cleaning.There are no model prisoners in prisons. The prison officers look at you from head to toe with wisdom in their eyes.Unless you're an alcoholic, psychopath, or acting like a psychopath, you can keep the matches and cigarettes.Before the court session, the prisoners put on their own clothes.After the court session, he changed into a prison thick cotton jacket, without a tie or shoelaces.You sit on the berth and wait.There is nothing else to do. Drunk people are not so comfortable.No bed, no chair, no blanket, nothing.You're lying on the concrete floor, you're sitting on the toilet, throwing up into your lap.Nothing could be more tragic than that.I see it. Although it was broad daylight, the ceiling was lit.Inside the steel door of the cell block is a steel basket covering the peephole in the door.The lights are controlled from outside the door, and the lights are turned off at nine o'clock.No one came in or called.You might read a newspaper or magazine halfway through a sentence, without a click or any warning—suddenly it's pitch black.Before dawn in summer, you have nothing to do, sleep when you can, smoke when you can, and think about something if you have something to think about without being in a daze. People have no personality in prison.He's a minor problem to deal with, a few entries on the report.No one cares who loves him or hates him, what he looks like, or how his life goes.Unless he makes trouble, no one will talk to him.No one bullied him.The prison authorities only asked him to walk quietly to the correct cell and stay there quietly.There is nothing to fight, nothing to be angry about.Jailors are quiet men with no hatred or sadistic tendencies.You read in the papers about prisoners yelling, banging on bars, smuggling spoons with them, guards rushing in with sticks—all referring to reformatories.A good prison is one of the few quiet places in the world.Walking through the regular cell block at night, you'll see through the bars a tangle of brown blankets, a strand of hair, or a pair of blank eyes.You may hear snoring.Occasionally you will hear someone having a nightmare.Prison life is up in the air, meaningless without purpose.In another cell you might see a person who can't sleep or even wants to sleep, sitting on the edge of the bed doing nothing, looking at you or not looking at you.You look at him.He doesn't say a word, and you don't say a word.Nothing to talk about. There may be another steel door in the corner of the cell area leading to a small display room with a wall of black painted barbed wire.There are height scales on the wall and spotlights overhead.In the morning, before the captain of the night watch gets off work, you have to go in as usual.You stand against the height scale and the light shines on you.There are no lights behind the barbed wire, but there are many people, including police officers, detectives, citizens who have been robbed, attacked, cheated, or kicked out of their cars by gunmen and robbed of their life savings.You can neither see nor hear them, only the voice of the Captain of the Night's Watch.You answered loudly and clearly.He tests your abilities and treats you like a show dog.He's tired, cynical, and competent.He was the stage manager of a great play of all ages, but he himself had no interest in that play. "Okay, you, stand up straight. Stomach in. Chin in. Shoulders back. Head level. Look straight ahead. Turn left. Turn right. Go forward, hands out. Palms up. Palms down. Sleeves Curled up. No visible scars. Dark brown hair, a little white. Brown eyeballs. Six foot and a half inches tall. Weighs about a hundred and ninety pounds. Name is Philip Marlowe. Private detective by trade. OK, OK, Nice to meet you, Marlowe. That's it. Next." Thank you, Captain.Thank you for your time.You forgot to tell me to open my mouth.I have a couple of teeth that are well placed and have a very high grade porcelain crown.It's a porcelain crown worth eighty-seven dollars.Captain, you forgot to look at my nostrils.There's a lot of scar tissue in there.I had septum surgery and that guy was a butcher!It took two hours at the time, but I heard it only takes twenty minutes now.Captain, I played rugby and tried to block a falling ball and got hurt a little by miscalculation.I blocked the guy's feet -- after he kicked the ball.Fifteen yard penalty, and the day after surgery they pulled stiff, bloody bandages out of my nose an inch at a time, and the bandages were almost fifteen yards long.I'm not bragging, Captain.I'm just telling you.It's the little things that matter. On the third day a prison officer came to open my cell door early in the morning. "Your lawyer is here. Put out the cigarette butt--not on the floor." I flushed the cigarette butt down the toilet.He took me to the conference room.A tall, pale, dark-haired man stood looking out the window.There was a fat brown briefcase on the table.He turned around and waited for the door to close.Then he sat down near the briefcase at the end of the scarred oak table that looked like it had been taken out of Noah's Ark.The table is really old, I'm afraid even Noah's Ark was bought from a second hand.The lawyer opened a silver cigarette case, put it in front of him, and looked me up and down. "Sit down, Marlowe. Want a cigarette? My name is Endicott, Sewell Endicott. I'm hired as your attorney at no cost to you. I suppose you'd love to get out?" I sat down and took a cigarette.He lit it for me with a lighter. "Good to see you again, Mr. Endicott. We met before—when you were the District Attorney." He nodded. "I don't remember, but it's possible," he said, with a slight smile. "That's not my job. I don't think I'm aggressive enough." "Who sent you here?" "I can't tell. If you accept me as your lawyer, the fees will be paid." "I guess that means they've got him." He just stared at me.I blow smoke rings.It was one of those filter-tipped cigarettes that tasted like thick cotton smog. "If you mean Lennox," he said, "of course you mean him—no, they didn't get him." "Mr. Endicott, who sent you, and why the mystery?" "Client prefers to remain anonymous. My client has some privileges. Do you accept me?" "I don't know," I said. "If they didn't get Terry, why did they get me? No one ever asked me a word, no one approached me." He frowned and looked down at his long, white, slender fingers. "District Attorney Springer handles the case himself. He's probably too busy to ask you a question. But you have the right to a trial and hearing. I can release you under habeas corpus. You probably know what the law says ." "I have been charged with murder." He shrugged impatiently and said, "That's just a generalization. You should have been transferred to Pittsburgh, or charged with any of a dozen counts. They mean accessory after the fact. You put Lenno Max sent somewhere, didn't he?" I didn't answer.I threw the tasteless cigarette on the floor and stomped on it with my foot.Endicott shrugged and frowned again. "Just for the sake of discussion, let's assume that was done at the time. If they list you as an accessory, you have to prove that intent. In this case you knew a crime was committed and Lennox was a fugitive .This charge is bailable in any case. Of course, you are only a material witness. This state cannot put people in jail for material witnesses unless ordered by a court. Only a judge can declare whether a person is a material witness. But There is always a way for law enforcement officers to do whatever they want." I said, "Yes. A detective named Dayton hit me. A homicide chief named Gregorius poured coffee on me and hit me on the neck so hard he nearly burst an artery- - You see it's still swollen. A phone call from Police Chief Albright prevented him from handing me over to a wrecking squad and he spat in my face. You're right, Endiko Mr. Te. Law enforcement officers are free to do as they please."