Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Providence (1)

1 The following Wednesday, after get off work, Rosie and Pol Hayward took the attendant elevator downstairs.Pohl's face was pale and his whole body was weak.Rossi worriedly asked her what was wrong. "I'm on my period and my stomach hurts like hell." "Would you like to take a break and have a cup of hot coffee?" Pole thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Go on your own, now I have to go back to the sisters' house, find a quiet place to sleep for a while before everyone comes back, if I can sleep for an hour or two, maybe I can recover my strength."

"I'll go with you." The elevator door opened, and the two walked out together. Pol shook his head. "No, you don't need to come with me." She forced a smile, "I can handle it myself. You are an adult, so you can't drink coffee by yourself. If you are lucky, you may meet an interesting person .” Rossi sighed.Pohl's funny guy usually means the kind of guy who wears a T-shirt and shows muscle mass like a topographic map.And Rossi never wanted to see this kind of man again in his life. Moreover, she is a married woman. Out on the street, she looked down at the engagement ring.It was the most precious thing her husband had ever given her.But she never felt that it was really her own, and she could throw it away without any qualms if she wanted to.

Rosie accompanied her to the bus station closest to the White Rock Hotel, despite Pohl's best efforts to argue that she was fine on her own.She didn't want to see Pole like this, with her pale face, blue-black bruises under her eyes, and painful lines at the corners of her mouth.She helped Pol into the car and wished her a safe home.Pol would not be interested in coffee and pies then. She stood by the side of the road and waved to Pole who was sitting by the window.The car drove away, and Paul waved her goodbye.Rossi stood there silently for a while, and then walked along Bolivard Avenue in the direction of the hot tea restaurant.Her thoughts went back to the day when she first came to this city.Only two feelings are fresh in my memory, and that is lost and fear.Two figures appeared in her hazy memory, one was the pregnant woman she met when she turned the corner, and the other was the man standing in front of Pooh's bar holding a wine bottle and yelling at her.

hi baby hi baby... He kept yelling at her.For a moment these memories took over her mind so completely that she didn't even realize she passed the hot tea shop.She was listless, her eyes full of emptiness and frustration, and she kept thinking about the guy with the crimson beard on the porch of Pooh's Bar, every muscle in his body shaking as he stood there yelling, his Everything she did reminded her of Norman, and it really terrified her at the time. Someone grabbed Rosie's arm, and she was so startled that she almost screamed.She looked around, expecting to see Norman, or the crimson beard at Pooh's Bar.Beside her stood a conservatively dressed young man. "I'm sorry, did I surprise you?" he said, "The car almost hit you just now."

She looked back and found herself standing at the intersection of Hitchens Road and Water Tower Avenue, one of the busiest traffic junctions in the city, three or four blocks past Hot Tea.The continuous flow of vehicles formed a metallic river.She suddenly realized that the young man next to her had saved her life. "Thank you... thank you very much." "It's okay," he said.The crosswalk's white marker light was shining somewhere just off the curb off Water Tower Avenue.The young man gave her one last curious look, turned away from the curb, walked towards the crosswalk, and quickly disappeared among the other pedestrians.

Rosie stood there dumbfounded, a little puzzled, but she felt a relief from waking from a nightmare.She thought, I really had a nightmare, and I have already woken up, but the nightmare has not really left me, I hope the fragment just now is just a memory.She looked down and found herself clutching the purse just as she had five weeks earlier when she had scoured the world for Dooham Street.She turned around, took off the leather bag hanging from her shoulder, and tried to identify the footprints she left here. Water Tower Boulevard is the traffic artery leading to the fashionable and prosperous business district in the city center. Rossi walked forward from here and came to a place with many small shops, most of them were dirty, run-down and very depressed.A thrift store window with ads for duty-free goods, a window with five dollar store ads and discount signs filled with Barbie dolls made in Mexico City and Manila, and a furry store called Motorcycle Mama , and other various small shops.Rosie was amazed by the dazzling array of goods on both sides of the street. She reluctantly left and walked across the street.When she was half a block away from the hot tea restaurant, she decided to forget about the coffee and pie and just ride back to the sisters' home.This whole day has been enough for today.

There is a shop at the intersection, and the billboard in the window reads: Mortgage, Leasing, Jewelry Appraisal and Operation, and the last business has attracted Rossi's attention.She looked down at her engagement ring and remembered what Norman had said not long after they were married: Rose, if you're going to wear it on the street, put the diamond end on the palm side.That's a big diamond ring, too big for a little girl like you. He often taught her that.She once asked him how much the diamond ring was worth, and he shook his head and replied with a tolerant smile: For your safety, it's better not to know too much.That expression seems to be answering a child who wants to know why the sky is blue and why there is snow at the North Pole.He once said to her: You want to know whether I plan to buy a plain ring or a diamond ring, well, it doesn't matter, let me tell you, I decided to buy a diamond ring.Because I love you, Rose.

Now that she's standing at the crossroads, she can still vividly remember what it felt like - a feeling of terror, because you can't help being terrified of a man who's so profligately choosing a diamond ring over a car, and gasping a bit at the same time. Out of breath, even a feeling of sexual stimulation.It was indeed very romantic that he actually bought such a big diamond ring for her.It would be unsafe to take to the streets with a diamond ring that is big enough to show off. Maybe he really loves me...but that was fourteen years ago, the girl he loved once had bright eyes, full breasts, a flat belly, and two long, muscular thighs .The girl hadn't had any problems with her kidneys and hadn't lost a single child.

Rosie's intersection was very close to the window with the bright billboard.She looked down at the engagement ring again.She waited, wondering what kind of emotion it would create in her: a memory of horror or romance.As a result, nothing happened, she turned around and walked towards the door of the rental store.Someday she would leave the sisters' home, and if the rental store offered a reasonable price, she would use that to pay for her room and board, and maybe have a few hundred dollars left over. She thought, oh, maybe I sold it just to get rid of it and not want any of his stuff in my sight again.

The sign outside the store read: Liberty City Mortgage and Lease Specialty Store.She suddenly had a strange idea. She had heard some nicknames for this city, and they were all related to the lake and the climate.She cleared her mind, opened the door and walked in. 2 She guessed it must be dark in the store.Unexpectedly, the shop was full of splendor.The sun was about to set, and the afterglow of the evening glow illuminated Hichens Street, and shone into the store through the windows on the west side of the store, warmly reflecting the entire lobby.A golden sun shines directly on the saxophone on the wall, making it look like a burning fire.

Rossi thought that this scene did not happen by accident.Someone must have hung the saxophone on that wall on purpose, and he must be a smart guy.True or not, she felt on the verge of being intoxicated by it, and even the mysterious, dusty smell of the shop added a charm to the scene.She could hear the crisp ticking of many clocks to the left. She walked slowly into the middle aisle, where electric guitars hung on one side and glass cases with guitar accessories and stereo equipment on the other.There are also many large multi-function sound systems called "Boom" that have been shown on TV.At the end of the aisle is a long counter with a billboard saying buy, sell, exchange. Rosie approached the counter and saw a man sitting inside with a jeweler's spectacles, through which he was concentrating on an object resting on a velvet upholstery.Rossi got closer and realized that it was an old pocket watch with only a movement and no case.The man poked inside the watch movement with a steel probe so thin that it was almost invisible.She thought that he was very young, maybe less than thirty years old, with shoulder-length hair and a blue silk vest over a snow-white shirt.She felt that this combination was both unconventional and very beautiful. She heard movement on the left, and turned her head to see that a gentleman was squatting next to the pile of books under the billboard saying "Nostalgic Souvenir", carrying a black old-fashioned briefcase, patiently like a confident puppy Crouched there waiting. "Ma'am, what's the matter?" She turned her attention to the man at the counter, who had removed his glasses and was smiling friendly at her.His hazel eyes were very beautiful.She wondered if Pohl would put him in the interesting category of men.She guessed not, because he didn't have a map-like mass of muscle under his shirt. "Yes," she said. She took off her wedding ring and diamond engagement ring, and put the plain wedding ring in her purse.Fingers without rings felt a little strange, she thought, and she'd get used to it.If a woman can go on the road of no return forever without even wearing a change of clothes, she will be able to adapt to all kinds of changes.She put the diamond ring beside the old pocket watch on the velvet cushion. "Please see, how much is it worth?" she asked him.After thinking about it, she added, "How much are you willing to pay me for something like this?" He put the ring on his fingertip and held his hand up into the dusty light that streamed in through the west window, over his shoulder, and down on the diamond.It caught Rosie's eyes in colorful reflections in the sunlight, and at that moment she felt a tinge of regret.The jeweler glanced at her, just for a second, but enough for her to see something in those charming eyes that she couldn't immediately comprehend - a look that seemed to say, are you kidding me? "What is it?" she asked. "What the hell is this thing?" "Worthless," he said. "Wait a minute, please." He put the lens back on his eye and stared at the diamond that had been his engagement present for a long time.When he looked at it a second time, his eyes were easy to read.Rosie understood everything immediately, but she was not surprised, angry, or regretful.All she felt was boredom and restlessness: why hadn't she been aware of this before?How could she be so stupid? You never realize that there is a voice deep inside her that says, Rosie, you really don't.In a way, if you knew from the beginning that the diamond ring was fake, you might have made it this far.Do you really believe that on your twenty-second birthday, Norman Daniels gave you a ring worth thousands of dollars instead of hundreds of dollars?Do you really believe this is going to happen? No, she didn't believe it.She is not worth so much money in his eyes, this is one of them.Second, her husband installed three locks on the front and back doors, an infrared alarm device in the yard, and an anti-theft alarm on the brand new Sandra car. This kind of man would never let his wife wear such a big lock. The diamond ring I went to the market to buy vegetables. "It's fake, right?" she asked the jeweler. "Oh," he said, "it's a real piece of zirconia, and if by 'fake' you mean a diamond, I'm pretty sure it's not a diamond." "Of course I mean diamonds," she said. "Can I mean anything else?" "Are you all right?" asked the jeweler.His concern comes from the heart.She was so close to him now, she thought, that he was probably only about twenty-five, not thirty. "Hell," she said, "I don't know. Likely." She took the Kleenex out of her purse, just in case she burst into tears or laughed out loud.She must rein in herself anyway, not to develop into either of these extremes, at least not yet.Better to leave here with a little dignity. "I hope so," he said, "because the department you work in is a very nice place. Believe me, sooner or later you'll be amazed at how many women there are like you..." "Oh, stop it," she told him. Deep inside she heard Norman's voice.I decided to buy diamonds, his voice trembling with excitement, his gray eyes already moist.Because I love you, Rose. "Isn't it worth a penny?" she asked, "whatever it is worth. Maybe it's something he scraped off the gum machine." This time he didn't wear the glasses, but picked up the ring again and looked at it for a while in the bright light. "Actually it's worth a few bucks." He sounded like he was about to deliver good news. "The stone is worth ten bucks, and as for the ring . Let's put it that way?" "Your father always said you were fooling around," said the old man squatting beside the pile of books, "a child is a child after all." He didn't even look up. The jeweler looked at him, then back at Rosie, and put his hand in his half-open mouth, making a disgusted look.Rosie hadn't seen such a funny face since leaving school, and she couldn't help laughing.The man in the vest smiled too. "I can pay you fifty dollars, and you should be satisfied now?" he said. "Thank you, no need." She picked up the ring, thought for a moment, and wrapped it with a clean facial tissue in her hand. "You can go to another store and ask," he said, "and if someone outbids me, I can pay you the same price. It's my father's old rule. It's a reasonable way for him." She tossed the Kleenex into the purse and snapped the buckle. "Thanks, but I don't want to sell," she said. She was sure that the old man the jeweler called Rabbi, squatting beside the books, was watching her with strange concentration.Rossi didn't care.Let him see, it's a free country. "The guy who gave me the ring told me it was worth a brand new car," she said. "Can you believe it?" "I believe." He replied without hesitation.She remembered that he had said that she was working for a very good group, and there were quite a few women who came here and found some unpleasant truths.Although he was young, she guessed that he must have seen many things like today. "I thought you wouldn't believe that this kind of thing happened in the world," she said. "In that case, you should understand why I kept this ring. If a person is fooled by others, of course she I want to figure out why this is happening as soon as possible.” She thought of the scars on both of Pol's arms. In the summer of 1992, her husband, in a fit of rage, threw her so hard through the double-layered damper that she stretched out her arms to protect her head, resulting in sixty stitches in one arm and sixty stitches in the other. Only one hundred and five stitches.Despite all her injuries, she still revels in bliss whenever she walks past a construction site where workers whistle at her long, slender thighs.Is she magnanimous or ignorant?Is it quick-witted or forgetful?Rosie thought she was suffering from some kind of mental syndrome, and she prayed secretly that she was spared. "Whatever you may think, ma'am," replied the jeweler, "I am really sorry to have given you bad news. It may be the cause of the store's bad reputation. We always tell people the truth that they initially Contrary to my wishes, no one can accept such a thing.” "Yes, sir, I do have a hard time accepting..." "My name is Steiner," he said, "Bill Steiner. My father is Abe Steiner. Here's our calling card." He hands over a business card, but she shakes her head and smiles. "I want it to be useless. Good-bye, Mr. Steiner." She goes to the door.This time she chose the third passage to go out, because the old gentleman was walking towards her with a book in one hand and a suitcase in the other.She wasn't sure if he wanted to say something to her, but she was sure she didn't want to say anything right now.All she wanted was to get out of the Liberty City franchise as soon as possible, climb into any passing car, and forget that she had ever been here in the hustle and bustle of people. She had a vague idea that she was somewhere in the rental store, where various sculptures and paintings, one of which was already framed, were stacked or stood on dusty shelves.She raised her head high, not wanting to see anything.She is not in the mood to appreciate these works of art now.She didn't seem to see anything. But the oil painting seemed to be gazing at her. 3 Its detached charm was no more important to her than everyday life, and she saw no anomalies that particularly struck her.She has been living incognito for more than a month.For fourteen years of marriage, she has lived a life of isolation, and she does not know what is the standard for measuring normal and abnormal.The only yardsticks for her were the TV shows and the movies Norman occasionally took her to see (Norman had seen every single one starring Colinte Eastwood).Whether it is a movie or a TV series, people always watch it in tears.But they don't really mean anything.This oil painting is really meaningful. It made her forget the troubles caused by the diamond ring, made her forget that she was eager to leave here just now, and made her forget the similar problems she encountered after she came to this city. Such unpleasant memories of Pooh Bar.There was only one thing on her mind: look!Isn't this the most beautiful painting in the world? It was an oil painting surrounded by a wooden frame, about three feet long and two feet high, leaning on one side of a stopped clock and on the other against a nude cherub, surrounded by There are many paintings in very different styles, and she doesn't even look at them.What Rosie admired was the painting of the woman sitting on the top of the hill, nothing more.Compared with any street painting that can be bargained at will, there is not much essential difference in subject matter and painting technique between a collection in a rental shop, and this is true all over the country and even the world.And this painting was distinguished precisely in that it brought to her eyes and heart that fresh, revealing excitement that only a work of art can evoke.Works of art move us deeply because songs make us cry, stories make us see the world more clearly from someone else's perspective, poetry moves us to life, and dance makes us temporarily forget that one day we won't be Be ourselves again. Her excited reaction erupted so strongly and suddenly, and because it had nothing to do with her daily life, it completely messed up her mind, which had long been accustomed to being calm, and she seemed so helpless in the face of this accidentally lit fire. This painting is exactly what I would like to add to my own room, which is why it excites me.I want to make it mine. She seized on the idea eagerly.She would have a single room, she promised herself, and it would be a large room, one with a kitchen and bathroom.In any case it will be hers only.This room was so important to her that everything that was chosen for it became important.Of course the room is the most important.Everything in it is possible. Having a private room is a wonderful ideal that all low-income singles aspire to, and many before her and many since.Whether it's pretty or not, it will be a place of utmost importance to her.It stands to reason that only when she moved into the imaginary house, could her new life—single life be regarded as the real beginning... and this oil painting that belonged to her and that Norman had never seen before, It becomes a sign of a new life. 4 Of all the oil paintings, only this one is framed. Rossi believes that oil paintings are generally unframed because they need to breathe.A yellow price tag affixed to the bottom of the frame read: $75, or, question mark. She stretched out slightly trembling hands, stroked the picture frame, lifted it carefully from the easel, and walked into the aisle.The old man with the old-fashioned leather bag was still standing watching her, and Rosie barely felt his presence.She went straight to the counter and gently placed the picture in front of Bill Steiner. "Find something you like?" he asked her. "Yes." She patted the price tag on the corner of the oil painting lightly. "It says, $75 or a question mark. Just now you said that you can buy my engagement ring for $50. Would you like to make a deal, use Is this painting in exchange for my ring?" Steiner came out from the counter and carefully observed the oil painting with the same attitude as he did with the ring... but this time he seemed to be very interested. "I don't remember the painting, and I've never seen it. It must have been picked out for you by the old gentleman, who came from an artistic family, and I'm just a restorer who adds color to a work of art." "You don't seem to want to—" "Barter? You'd better not say anything! If you have to ask, I'll just say it, unless the sun comes out from the west. But this time, I agree to the deal in your way, that is, Say, one thing for one thing. This way I don't have to look at your face anymore." Without thinking, Rosie stretched out her hand, put her arms around Bill Steiner's neck, and gave him a brief but passionate kiss.She shouted, "Thank you! Thank you so much!" Steiner smiled. "Oh, my friend, you're welcome," said he, "it's the first time I've been kissed by a female customer in such a hallowed hall. Ma'am, please take a second look, and perhaps there are other pictures that please you?" The old gentleman in the overcoat, whom Steiner called the Rabbi, also came and looked at the picture. "Just imagine how most customers treat you, lucky you today," he said. Steiner nodded: "You are so right." She barely heard what they were saying.She was rummaging through her purse, looking for the tissue pack with the ring in it.It took too much of her time because she kept looking up at the painting on the counter.That is her painting.She opened the Kleenex, took out the ring and handed it to Steiner.He didn't see anything because he was studying the painting. "It's not a print, it's an original," he said. "I didn't think it was a very good painting, so I put a glass frame on it to make it look nice. At the foot of the mountain is something Building? Is it a burnt flower house?" "I guess it is the ruins of a temple," said the old gentleman calmly. "It may be a Greek temple. But it is difficult to judge." It was really hard, because the building had collapsed, leaving only broken walls on the ground.The four stone pillars in front were covered with green vines, and the sixth one fell to the ground and broke into several pieces.Next to the broken stone pillar was a stone statue that also fell to the ground. She didn't pay attention to the background picture, her attention was all focused on the figure in the center of the oil painting.The man sat on the top of the mountain, turned around and looked at the ruins of the temple down the mountain. From the back, it was easy to tell that it was a woman.Her long brown hair was braided back and she wore a gold armband on her shapely right arm.She raised her left hand as if to shield her eyes.She was wearing a vibrant rose-colored skirt that Rosie guessed was one of those ancient Greek tunics that bared the shoulders.It was impossible to see what she was wearing on her feet, because she was standing on the grass, and the knee-deep grass covered her calves that were exposed under her skirt. "What do you call it?" Steiner asked.He was talking to the rabbi. "Classicism or Neoclassicism?" "I call it bad art." The rabbi grinned. "I can probably guess why the lady likes this painting. It has a very touching quality. There may be some classical Factors, but it gives people the feeling of another world. In fact, the author only drew the back of the protagonist, which is very strange. In short, it cannot be said that this lady chose the best one, only the strangest one. " Rosie still hadn't heard what they were saying.She preoccupied the frame with the things that attracted her, such as the black velvet belt that matched the sleeveless tunic, her breasts faintly visible under her upraised left hand.Those two men were just talking nonsense, but it was a really beautiful painting.She felt she could even admire it for hours, and when she had a place of her own she must enjoy it. "No title, no byline," said Steiner, "unless—" He turned the painting around, and on the cardboard at the back of the oil painting, there were some vaguely printed words painted in charcoal on the cardboard: Rose Maid, which means rose red. "Oh, I guess that's the author's name," he said uncertainly. "It's a funny name. It might be a pseudonym." The rabbi opened his mouth to speak, but felt that the woman who had taken a fancy to this oil painting seemed to have a higher opinion. "This is the title of the work," she said, explaining reluctantly, "Rose means rose, and my name is actually Rose." Steiner looked at her in complete bewilderment. "It's nothing, it's just a coincidence." Is it really a coincidence?She felt a little strange.She gently turned the oil painting around again, stroking the skirt-style tunic on the woman through the glass. "This woman is wearing a fuchsia dress. In fact, the official name of this color should be called rose red." "She's right," Rabbi said. "It's possible that the paint's author, or its last owner, gave the painting its name with the color rose." "Shall we get the paperwork done? I have to hurry, it's getting late," she said to Steiner. Steiner had intended to ask again to see if she really wanted the painting, but there was clearly no need for it.He nodded briefly and said: "The ring is exchanged for the oil painting, a direct transaction, both parties are satisfied." "Yes," said Rosie, giving him a charming smile, the first time in fourteen years that she had genuinely smiled at anyone.He was completely intoxicated by her bright smile. "We are both satisfied." 5 She stood outside the store for a while, blinking subconsciously at the passing cars, feeling a little dazzled when she walked out of the movie theater with her father when she was a child, half of her mind was the real world, and half was still in the imaginary world.That's a totally convincing movie.She kept glancing at the package under her arm to see where she was. The door behind him opened and the old man walked out of the shop.She was so fond of him now that she even smiled at him, the kind of smile that comes only between people who have shared some wonderful experience. "Madam, can you do me a favor?" he said. Her smile turned into a wary look. "That depends on what the job is, but I'm not used to helping strangers." Actually, that's not enough, she's not even used to talking to strangers. He looked awkward, which reassured her. "I guess it sounds weird, but it might be good for us all. My name is Rob Lefferts." "Rosie McClendon," she said.She wanted to reach out, but dismissed the idea again.She even regretted telling him her name. "I really don't have time to help you, because I've wasted too much time." "Look," he put down his well-worn leather bag, and reached into another brown bag to pull out a paperback that had once been stacked on the store floor.The cover of the book clearly expresses the theme, that is, a man in a black and white striped prisoner's clothing is walking into a cave or tunnel. "I want you to read the first paragraph of this book, aloud." "Here?" She looked around. "On the street? In God's name, why?" He just kept repeating "please read it".She took the book and thought to herself, I can leave after reading it as he said.Maybe this person is just a little bit out of the ordinary.There is no danger.It's not too far from the Mortgage Store and Steiner, if he's really a threat to me. The title of the book is "Dark Course" and the author's name is David Gooddis.She turned to the page with the copyright statement and found that the book was published in 1946, sixteen years before her birth. No wonder she had never heard of this author. She looked up at Rob Lefferts.He nodded anxiously to her, almost excited, did he hold a hope for her?How is this possible?But there was a distinct look of expectation on his face. Even Rosie herself is feeling a little agitated now.The first paragraph was not very long, and she began to read it aloud. "The blow came so suddenly. Parry is innocent, not only that, he is also a very decent person, never troubles others, just wants to live a peaceful life. However, the more you don't want the more you can get a lot , wanted and got none of it. A jury found him guilty and sentenced him to life in prison. He was sent to San Quentin." She looked up, closed the book, and handed it to him. "Read it." He smiled, and it seemed he was satisfied. "Very very well, Ms. McClendon. Please wait a moment," he flipped to another page and handed it to her. "Please read this conversation too. It's a conversation between Parry and the taxi driver. It starts with 'oh, that's ridiculous.' Did you find it?" This time she didn't hesitate anymore.She had seen that Lefferts could not be a danger to her, nor was she out of his mind.But she could still feel an unusual excitement, as if something interesting was about to happen, or was already happening. Yes, that's right, said a cheery voice in the back of her mind, the excitement came from that picture, Rosie, do you remember? Then there is no need to ask.Just thinking about that picture made her heart go wild, and she felt so lucky. "It's weird," she said with a smile, and she couldn't help laughing. He nodded. "Yes, that seems a little strange. Did you find the passage I want you to read?" "found it." She quickly skimmed through the conversation, trying to figure out who these people were and what they were talking about.The taxi driver was no stranger, and an image of Jacqui Gleeson immediately popped into her head.She cleared her throat and began to read aloud. She quickly forgot that she was standing on the busiest traffic artery with a packaged oil painting under her arm, and she didn't even notice the curious eyes the two of them drew. "'Oh, that's ridiculous,' the driver said. 'I can read people's faces, what they're thinking, what they do, and sometimes who they are...like you.'" "'Okay, so tell me about me. How am I?'" "'You're a guy in trouble.'" "'I don't know what trouble is yet.'" "'Don't tell me, brother,' said the driver, 'I know I know people well. You know, your troubles are about women.'" "'That's a tempting statement. Too bad I'm happily married.'" Suddenly, she changed her voice, and it was Parry's: James Woods, nervous and excitable, but with a sense of humor.This pleased her, and she read on without a hitch.There was an image in her mind that she had never seen before, Jacqui Gleeson and James Woods punching and kicking in a speeding car like in a fight movie. "'You're not married. You were, but not happily.'" "'Oh, I see, you've probably been hiding in my closet at home.'" “司机说，'我跟你谈谈她吧。她不是个容易相处的家伙，她喜欢占有，占有得越多，她就越想要，而且她想要的东西最终总是能够得到。她就是这样一种人。'” 罗西念完了最下面的一行。她不由自主地打了个冷战，默默地把书递给了利弗茨。他高兴得双手抱在了胸前。 “你的声音简直太奇妙了！”他告诉她，“深沉而不单调，音调优美悦耳，清晰流畅，没有明显的口音。我一听你说话就知道了，你一定能够朗读得很好！” “我当然能，”罗西说，她不知道是被他激怒了还是逗乐了，“难道我看起来像是在虎狼窝中长大的吗？” “一般来说，并不是每一个好的读者都会大声朗读的。很少有人能够这么有感情。对话比叙述更难一些。这是一次测试。我从你的朗读中听到了两个完全不同的声音。我真的听到了。” “是的，我是在尝试着那样做。利弗茨先生，我真的该走了。我……”她打算调头离开时，利弗茨伸出手轻轻地碰了碰她的肩膀。稍有常识的人都知道什么叫做试听测试。罗西完全被利弗茨后面的话惊呆了。当他清了清嗓子，向她提供了一份工作时；她吃惊得一句话也说不出来。 6 当罗伯·利弗茨站在路口静听诺曼·丹尼尔斯的流浪的妻子朗读小说时，他本人正坐在警察局的四层楼上那间不算太大的三维空间里，双脚搭在写字台上，两手放在脑后。几年来他第一次把脚搭在了桌子上，平常他的桌上堆满了表格、快餐盒、写了一半的报告、公函、备忘录，还有其他一些分类垃圾。诺曼不是那种喜欢随手扔垃圾的人，罗西在家时房间干净得一尘不染。在罗西走后的这五星期里，家里已经变成了龙卷风过后的迈阿密。虽然他一贯不整洁，但如今办公室里又多了一丝悲凉和苦涩的味道。他花了几乎一整天的时间打扫这间办公室，终于把三只装满残羹剩饭的大塑料袋扔进了垃圾站，为的是不想让黑肤色的清洁女工半夜三更或者周末凌晨六点来搞卫生。他的父亲曾经告诉他，黑人并不懂得怎么工作，这是非洲人的本性决定的。 诺曼盯着桌子看，现在只能看见电话机和他的双脚。他又把目光转向右边的墙上。许多年来，墙上贴满了通缉令、搜捕令、实验报告，甚至餐馆的定餐菜单，还有一幅用红笔在出庭日期做上了记号的日历。现在那面墙是空的。他把目光又转向了门口，那里放了几箱酒。他一边观察，一边思忖着，生活是多么不可预料，他的脾气极其暴躁，他早该意识到这一点。假如他早在一年前就让自己的办公室变成了现在这副模样的话，他当时就能够得出一个简单的结论：他的坏脾气已经给他带来了不少麻烦，使他陷入困境，不可自拔。他得到一大堆本部门发送的授权免职起诉书，他还因为伤害罪被逮捕过。他确实伤害了雷蒙·桑德斯，这类事情会不会对你造成影响，那就要看你是否遵守游戏规则，至少不要在违反它的时候被人当场抓住。 现在他终于脱身了，办公地点也更换了。自从布什当总统后他就把这间该死的三维空间当成了家，现在终于要搬走了，要搬进一间真正的办公室，地板、墙壁和天花板都符合设计标准。 “冰箱里堆满了电视食品和姜汁酒……”诺曼唱着，笑着，这是一种开心的笑，除了罗西以外，所有人都会以同样的笑脸来回报他的。这笑容会使罗西浑身发抖，使她发疯似地想从他面前消失掉。她觉得诺曼笑里藏刀。 这的确是一个非常美好的春天，而对于诺曼来说，它却糟透了，完全是个活见鬼的春天。准确地说，罗丝是这一切的根源。很久以前他就打算处理她的事情了，可是他还没有来得及，她至今仍在离他很远的某个地方逍遥法外。 他在公园里审问过那位朋友雷蒙·桑德斯之后，当天就去了长途汽车站。他是带着罗丝的照片去的，但他一无所获。当他提到太阳镜和鲜艳的红头巾（这是他在雷蒙·桑德斯的审讯记录中发现的最有价值的细节）时，大陆快运的一位白班售票员大喊一声：我知道。惟一的问题是，售票员不记得她买了去哪儿的车票，而且无法查询，因为她没有留下任何可供查询的记录。她付的是现金，也没有登记任何行李。 大陆快运的发车时刻表提供了三种可能，诺曼排除了第三种可能，即下午1：45开往南方某座城市的长途汽车。他估计她绝不会去那么远的地方。这样就有两座城市可供选择：一座是距此大约二百五十英里远的城市，另一座是中西部中心的大城市。 他渐渐感到，他确信不疑地那两种选择都是错误的。这已经至少花去了他两个星期：他原以为像她这样胆小如鼠的人绝不可能远远地离开家庭和她成长的这块土地。可是现在……诺曼的手掌心有一道半圆形的白色印痕，是他自己的指甲掐出来的，但是这种伤害实际上来自他的大脑，那里面好像有一只烤箱，他一生都在经受着它的炙烤。 “你要是害怕就好了，”他喃喃自语着，“如果你现在还没有感到害怕，我敢保证不会让你等得太久了。” 是的，他非找到她不可。这个春天里发生的一切，那尊为他塑造的迷人的半身塑像，令人兴奋的新闻媒体，那些毕恭毕敬的记者所提问的有关他得到提拔的问题，这些令他感到眩晕……但是没有罗丝，这一切都将毫无意义。罗丝的离去，使那些跟他鬼混的女人变得一钱不值。糟糕的是，他对她的出走毫无觉察，更加无法容忍的是，她竟然为了微不足道的三百五十美元拿走了他的信用卡。而这还不是问题的关键。她恰恰忘记了不该忘记的事情，她拿走的是我诺曼的东西，她忘了我他妈的是个无耻之徒，她得为此付出代价。而且是很高昂的代价。 惊人的代价。 罗丝走后，他掐死了一个与他鬼混的女人，把她的尸体扔到了湖西边那个谷仓的塔楼上。难道这也应该归咎于自己脾气不好吗？he does not know.你这白痴，到底这是为什么，就因为带她出外吃了顿午餐吗？他记得，他带那女人逛完熟食排档来到福莱蒙德大街时，还觉得那个穿了一条浅褐色厚短裤，有着棕色皮肤的婊子挺可爱。他并不清楚她到底像不像罗丝，虽然他跟自己说她长得很像她，而且他居然也相信了。他在用了四年的逐猎牌汽车后座上跟她亲热时，她转过了头，离这里不远有座谷仓上的灯光恰好照在了她的脸上。就在这一瞬间，这个妓女在他眼里完全变成了罗丝，那个连声招呼都不打就抛弃了他的狗杂种，甚至连他妈的一个字都没给他留下。他连想都没想，就拿起一只三角背心，套在了那妓女的脖子上。她的舌头从嘴里伸了出来，眼珠像玻璃弹子一样从眼窝中向外鼓着。最糟糕的是，那个妓女死了以后，看起来竟一点也不像罗丝。 他并没有惊慌失措……他怎么可能惊慌呢？毕竟这已经不是第一次了。 罗丝知道这事吗？难道她有预感吗？ 难道她就是因为这个原因才跑得远远的吗？因为她害怕他可能也会对她…… “别再愚蠢了。”他嘟哝着，闭上了眼睛。 这主意并不怎么样。他眼前出现的是他近来经常梦到的情景：那只商业银行信用卡变得巨大无比，像一只徐成钞票颜色的飞船在黑暗的夜空中漂浮着。他立刻睁开了眼睛，发现手指破了。他伸开了手掌，冷静地观察着流血的伤口，他已经习惯了坏脾气爆发时他在自己身上留下的种种痕迹，也知道该怎么应付它：那就是重新控制自己。这就意味着思考和策划，开始实行计划前需要事先预演一下。 他给近处那两座城市的警察局打了电话，说明了自己的身份，并说罗丝是个携带巨额信用卡潜逃的重要嫌疑犯。一切事件之中最为糟糕的莫过于这张信用卡了，它从来就没有从他的头脑中消失过。他告诉他们她的姓名是罗西·麦克兰登，因为他确信她已经改用婚前姓名了。如果将来发现她没有改名，可以向他们简单解释说，嫌疑犯正巧和办案人员的名字相同。同名同姓的事有时经常会发生。 他还将罗丝的照片传真给他们。一幅是她坐在后门台阶上，这是他的警察朋友路易·福斯特去年八月拍的一张黑白照片，拍得并不好。另一幅是一位警察艺术家奥·凯利，一位他妈的天才，应诺曼的邀请给她拍的，她头上戴了一条头巾。 那两个城市的警察问了一些相关的问题，找遍了所有她可能藏身的地方——无家可归者收容所，流浪者暂住旅馆，两镇之间的旅店等等。他们在可能性较大的几家旅馆里还查通了旅客住宿登记簿。可是这一切都毫无结果。诺曼一有时间就根据自己所掌握的蛛丝马迹不停地打电话，他变得越来越灰心丧气，甚至要求对方传真一份全市新近申请驾驶执照的汽车司机名单给他。仍旧一无所获。 他仍然不认为她真的能够从此音信杳无，彻底逃脱应有的惩罚，特别是拿走信用卡这件事最应该受到严惩。但是他开始怀疑她是否逃到了其他城市，她太畏惧他了，以至于二百五十英里还不足以远离他的视线。 过不了多久她就会知道，即使八百英里也不算太远。 此外，他在这里已经坐得太久了，现在该去收拾一下新办公室了。他把脚从写字台上拿下来，电话铃正好响了。He picked up the phone. “请找探员丹尼尔斯。”对面的人说。 “我就是。”他回答说，同时不愉快地想到，事实上是一级探员丹尼尔斯。 “我是奥利佛·罗宾斯。” 罗宾斯？罗宾斯，这名字很耳熟，可是…… “我是大陆快运公司，记得吗？我卖给那位你想找的女人一张长途汽车票。” 丹尼尔斯在座位上直起腰来。“是的，罗宾斯先生，我记得清清楚楚。” “我在电视上看到了你，”罗宾斯说。“你抓走了那些坏人，这太棒了。那些鞭炮真可怕。你知道吗，汽车站一带经常有人在玩那些玩意儿。” “我相信。”丹尼尔斯说，尽量不使自己的声音里暴露出不耐烦的痕迹。 “这些家伙真的会进监狱吗？” “我想多半会。我能为你效劳吗？” “实际上我倒希望能对你有所帮助。”罗宾斯说，“我记得你说过，如果我又想起了什么就给你打电话，我指的是关于那个戴深色墨镜和红头巾的女人。” “是的，我说过这话。”他的声音仍旧友好而镇静，但是没拿话筒的手已经紧紧地攥成了拳头，指甲使劲地挖进了手心。 “哦，我以为我早就忘了，可是今天早晨我洗澡时突然想起了什么。这件事我反复考虑了很久，我敢肯定没有记错。她确实是那样说的。” “是怎样说的？”他问道。他的声音仍然那么理性和冷静，甚至有点愉快的语调，但是紧握着的拳头缝里已经明显地渗出了血迹。诺曼拉开一个抽屉，把手放在上边。在他后面使用这间该死的老鼠笼的是一位新教徒。 “请听我说，我告诉她，她没有告诉我她要去哪里。很可能这就是我想不起来的原因。丹尼尔斯探员，你上次问我时我一点也不记得了，虽然我的大脑通常对于这类事情十分管用。” “我不懂你说的是什么。” “人们买票时一般都要说明自己去哪里，”罗宾斯说，“例如，他会说：'一张去那什威利的往返车票'，或者'请给我一张去兰星的单程车票'。你懂我的意思吗？” "I know." “这个女人没有这么说。她没有说出地名；只说要几点的车票。所以今天早上洗澡时我终于想起来了，她当时是这样说的：'我想买一张十一点五分的车票。那辆车还有座位吗？'好像她对于去哪里并不关心，而只关心……” “……能不能尽快离开，离得越远越好！”诺曼喊道，“对呀！当然是这样！多谢你了，罗宾斯先生！” “很乐意为您效劳。”罗宾斯的声音听起来似乎为电话另一端流露的激动情绪感到吃惊，“你们一定非常希望抓住这个女人。” “一点不错。”诺曼说。他又发出了一声能使罗西浑身起鸡皮疙瘩的冷笑，每当她听到这种笑声，只想立刻背靠墙壁以便保护自己的肾脏。“我们绝对需要抓住她。罗宾斯先生，那辆十一点五分的汽车开往什么地方？” 罗宾斯告诉他后，又问道：“你要找的那个女人跟你抓的那些家伙是一伙的吗？” “不是，这是一起信用卡犯罪。”诺曼说。 罗宾斯显然很喜欢跟人聊天，他正打算做出反应时，诺曼已经放下了话筒，把对方刚刚挑起的好奇心给掐断了。 诺曼把脚又搭在了写字台上，斜靠着椅背，眼睛盯着天花板。“信用卡犯罪，”他说，“但是法力无边。你是知道的。” 他伸出左手，张开紧握的拳头，暴露出血迹般般的手心，弯曲的手指上也沾满了鲜血。 “法律无敌手，狗杂种。”他说，突然大笑起来，“你绝对逃不出他妈的法律的手心，所以还是相信为妙。”他弯着手指，毫不在意地让血滴到写字台上。他疯狂地笑着，感觉好极了。 一切都开始变得有条不紊起来。