Chapter 3 Chapter two

As expected!He angrily said to Samantha: "Look, this New World company has never built a house or contracted any projects, and it turned out to make fifty million dollars. I said there is a ghost in it." !" "Will it be drug dealing?" she suggested. "Impossible," he said, shaking his head. "Stanley and Lucinda will definitely protect their reputations. Many of the distinguished guests they invite to the banquet are world-class. No, they will never do drug trafficking. They must be playing some commercial tricks." For such a fierce and aggressive woman like Samantha, it was hard to imagine the high-end apartment she lived in.The interior arrangement is not the imagined white walls, stainless steel and glass furniture.

Her living room was bright and spacious, with a chintz upholstered sofa in lively colours.On the bed lay a doll in lace.The wallpaper is printed with a pattern of plaid and vines.There was an oval rug on the polished wooden floor, and a marble fireplace with reproduced famous paintings. They ate dinner together, drank Dutch beer, and after the meal, the two of them sprawled out on the rug. "Did you read today's paper?" she asked him. "Of course I read the papers." "I think so," she said. "You've got to read the headlines and the economy."

"Don't forget to read the obituaries. I often open the newspaper and read the obituaries first." "I sometimes read the social news, maybe you should too." She handed him a folded newspaper from the jacket pocket of her blue denim skirt, and he read it quickly, covering a charity gala and mentioning the many guests, all celebrities. "It seems that Stanley and Lucinda are very active. Where is the beautiful Mrs. Stanley Clovis?" She shrugged. "How do I know that. I just thought you might be interested in this news." "Yes," he said, "thank you, can I keep this paper?"

She nodded and he stuffed the newspaper into his pocket. "Is there any progress?" she asked. "About Anthony Booner..." he said, "I told you about his past records, and when I went to our lawyer's office to check, they found that he was the financial manager of New World Enterprises. I think he must have been with There's a trick here." "Who else is there in this company?" "Stanley Clovis is president, Lucinda is vice president, Anthony Buehner is in charge of finance. And there's a secretary, Consta Figeria. This secretary, I believe I've met. First time. I saw her walk into the New World Enterprises factory, and later at the press conference held by Stanley, I saw her and Anthony the whole time."

"What are they doing?" "How do I know!" he yelled at her before regaining his composure. "Sorry! I was so rude. Tomorrow I'm going to call New York City Detective Neil Davenport and ask him to find Consta Figeria. Maybe the computer can find something." "You have something to ask me too, don't you?" "How do you say that?" "You've gone too far." "Too much? Will you? Well, Samantha, I admit I'm asking for a car. I'd like to borrow a car. I tried to borrow the 'Toyota' from the company for a few hours, but I couldn't do it. .I need a car to do errands and can't always take the subway, bus or taxi."

"The boss refuses." "Yeah, I'm in a hurry right now. If this case can be done, he will become the Jesus of Wall Street. Anyway, you can say anything for me. Anyway, it doesn't cost him a penny. Well, he puts it all in Isaac's account." "I'll try," she said. "That's my dear shithead," he said, patting her cheek. "Okay," she said, "let's not talk about business, what are your plans for tonight?" "I was thinking," he said. "You must let me take a shower first, don't you?" he asked her. "Every time I come to your boudoir, I think you will want me to take a good bath."

"I want to make love to you," she said. "I hope," he said. He borrowed a car—a little Honda, which wasn't going fast, but New York City was so jam-packed that it didn't matter.There was one thing he hadn't told Samantha about Mrs. Grace Clovis.He believed that this woman would have a nervous breakdown at any time, and if the time was right, she would definitely shout something. That morning he drove to the Stanley Clovis house.The building was built by the Clovis Company, and Stanley's residence was located on the top three floors of the building.Timothy drove around the area three times and finally found a parking spot with a view of the building entrance.Then he opened a New York Times and brought hot coffee and donuts.

He saw a blue Mercedes parked in the winding driveway, and Stanley and Lucinda got out, both with suitcases, and got into the car.So maybe Lucinda lives with her brother and sister-in-law, doesn't she?That's interesting. He stayed there, luckily, and half an hour later he saw Grace coming out alone, wearing a silver fox cape.The concierge went out into the street and hailed a cab for her, and Timothy put down the newspaper and started his Honda. The taxi stopped, Grace got into the car, and Timothy followed the taxi into the city.The traffic was so heavy that the cars almost bumped into each other.

The taxi headed for Forty-second Street, and Timothy guessed that Grace might be going there.Sure enough, the taxi stopped in front of a high-end residence on East Thirty-seventh Street, not far from Park Street.That house is where Anthony lives. "Interesting, interesting," Timothy said loudly. He drives the car a little past and sees Grace enter the house.Then Timothy drove to Brooklyn, and the traffic was very congested, but he didn't care, it wasn't on his mind. He parked his car in front of Shinsegae Enterprises and got out of the car.It was the same guard from last time, limping out of the guard booth.

"It's me again," said Timothy quickly. "Is Consta Figeria here?" "She's here," said the guard reluctantly, "but you have to make an appointment first. Have you made an appointment with her?" "Well, no, but I'm sure she'd like to see me." "It doesn't work if you don't have an appointment," the guard said. "That's how they order me." "Okay," Timothy said lightheartedly. "I'll call her again. If you run into her, tell her Mr. Javitt wants to see her." "Jawett?"

"Yes. Thank you." Timothy drove back to Manhattan, and he was very satisfied that he had gained a lot from this trip today. Back in the office, he called Neil Davenport. "Thank you for sending me the information," Timothy said. "It helped me a lot." "Glad to hear that, now it's your turn." "I found out that Anthony has served as the financial manager of New World Corporation for the past year. The company has not approached any business, but the profit has exceeded 50 million U.S. dollars." "Oh?" Neil Davenport said. "What the hell is this guy doing?" "That's what I thought too. I haven't found a clue yet--I want to ask you for a favor." "Look what's going on." "A secretary of the New World Enterprise Company is called Consta Figeria; black hair and tan skin, I think she is about five feet three inches, one hundred and twenty pounds, about thirty-eight years old, wearing clothes like Bought it from a thrift store. Can you find her profile?" The other party was silent. "Neil," Timothy said, "are you still there?" "I'm here. I'm just thinking, this woman and those people are also united, and I don't know what the hell they are doing together." "Well, it seems so." "Okay, I'll check her profile and answer you." "Great. Maybe I'm out of the office. You know my home number? It's not in the phone book." "I have," Neil Davenport said. "I know a lot about you. Why didn't you tell me you got the Marine Corps medal?" "That medal has been pawned off by me." The detective laughed. "You're a weirdo, you know that?" After hanging up, Timothy made another call to Clovis and asked for Miss Consta Figeria. "Please wait a moment," the switchboard lady said in a quick voice, "I will pick up her department for you." Click, click, click, another sound broke in. "Accounting review room," she said. "Miss Consta Figeria, please." "I'm sorry, sir, but she's out today. Would you like to leave a message?" "Please tell her Mr. Javitt called," Timothy said. "I'll call again tomorrow." In his small office, he sat for almost an hour, smoking a Camel, thinking about a script, as colorful as a videotape.However, these speculations may not be possible, he sighed and began to write down the work report for this week.Self-consciously funny, there is no Samantha who doesn't know the content of his work report. Back home, he and Cleo ate pastrami sandwiches and coleslaw, playing the possibilities in his mind like a videotape.Just after eleven o'clock, the phone rang. "Did I wake you up?" Neil Davenport said. "No, but you woke Cleo up." "Shit, after this phone call, I'm going to sleep more than that cat, go home and sleep for eighteen hours." "Where do you live?" "Stan Island. Do you know the place?" "have no idea." "Small place, don't know. As for the lady you want to investigate - Consta Figeria, she has no criminal record, we can't find anything about her. But I and a friend who works in a criminal organization Speaking of which, he said the woman was Vincent Figeria's niece. Do you know?" "Never heard of this man." "He's a Sicilian, lives on Long Island, and does blackmail. He's also connected to the Brooklyn gang. Mind you, Consta Figglia is his niece." "Well, it turns out that there is some background. But it's not a big person." "Do you remember? I told you before, Anthony used to do fake green cards? The FBI people are very strict, but he is really slippery. Tell you, Vansante Figuria has been since then I'm with him, and the two are partners at work. Therefore, this Constance Figglia may have known Anthony before the establishment of New World Enterprises, and he also knew that he was not a good guy. This Interesting - don't you think?" "Well," said Timothy slowly, "it was interesting." "One more thing." Neil Davenport said. "According to my friend, Consta Figeria is also a computer expert. Well, good night, I wish you a sweet dream." After hanging up the phone, the video tape was still playing in Timothy's mind.Finally he undressed, turned out the light, and lay down on the mattress.After a while Cleo fell asleep curled up in his lap. "This afternoon, a strange thing happened," Samantha said. "Stanley called the boss himself, and he asked if there was someone named Javitt among our staff." "Javert?" Timothy said. "Who is this guy?" "Yeah, the boss was also wondering, and he thought it might be someone from Hudlin's company, so he was very angry. But he said to Stanley that people from Hudlin's company would never be so boring as to harass anyone. People, and there is no one named Javitt in the company here. Stanley Clovis was relieved and apologized to the boss." Samantha was sitting in a chair by her desk, her booted feet just above the chair, her denim skirt pulled demurely below her knees. Timothy leaned against the door frame as usual, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You know who Javitt is, don't you?" she asked, looking intently at him. "I don't know, I haven't heard the name before." "You know. When I saw your innocent face, I knew you were playing tricks again. Tell you, I came here for nothing but another matter. Stanley Crowe After Wes had a little argument with his boss on the phone, Stanley apologetically invited Heron Hudlin to their cocktail party tonight, on Madison Street, in the Ballroom of the Burlington Hotel, with wine and meatball sandwiches Reception, from five to seven, Stanley is going to announce that he's running for the House of Representatives. I thought you might want to go and see." "I'll go," Timothy said. "I'd love to try the meatballs." "Get out!" Samantha said roughly. Timothy stopped again at the door of Joey Washington's office and poked his head in. "How was your case with me?" he asked. "Boring -" Joey said: "Nothing, just make a phone call, or go to the public library to check the data." "Would you like to attend a cocktail party tonight, five to seven in the afternoon. There will be wine and meatballs. It's a political banquet." "I'll have to ask my wife." "I want you to go." "Does this have anything to do with the death of Edward Garver?" "Maybe." "Then I'll go." Joyton said. Timothy's actions have always been secretive, and he never said anything that didn't need to be said. He drove to the banquet with Joey, and there was a traffic jam on the road, driving and stopping all the way.He told Joey that there were five people in the banquet that must be nailed down. He couldn't nail down five people, so he asked Joey to help him nail down two people: two brothers and sisters, Stanley and Lucinda. "These two brothers and sisters are the host and hostess of today's banquet. You will never miss them. These two people are short, with dark complexion, and gorgeously dressed." "What do you want me to do?" Joey asked. "I just want you to pay attention to their behavior, and if you get a chance, try to talk to them." "Should I tell them I work for Hudlin's?" "Don't bring it up, if they ask where you work, tell them." When they arrived, the hall was already full of people.The hall was decorated with so many flags, balloons, colored tape and confetti that it looked like a celebration party.A large banner was posted on the stage, reading: "A new beginning!" Timothy and Joey pushed their way through the crowd to the bar, where two sweaty bartenders were busy. "They're over there, a short man and woman talking to a tall man in an Indian linen suit." "I see," said Joey, "let's go have a drink first." "I still have to find a few other people. You try to stay as long as possible. We will meet at the company tomorrow and refer to each other's knowledge tonight." He turned and walked away, pushing his way through the crowd.The crowd was a bunch of young yuppies with badges pinned to them that read: "A New Beginning!" Timothy hated being in a crowd, especially this crowd. He wears a silly smile, which is equivalent to his protective color.But his sharp eyes searched for targets in the crowd.Seeing one of these, Grace Clovis stood upright in a short cocktail dress, like a beautiful statue.She didn't speak, she was listening to a man talking. Timothy watched Grace finally walk away slowly, the man hadn't finished speaking, and his mouth was still open.She walked toward the elevator, followed by Timothy.He was very skeptical. She met him at the press conference last time. I don't know if she will remember this time.For the sake of safety, he didn't dare to take the same elevator with her, and waited for the next elevator to come before going down, hoping that he wouldn't get lost. No, he just got off the elevator.When I came out to the hall, I saw her standing there, looking around blankly. She looked like she was suffering from nervous tension. She walked to a dimly lit bar, and Timothy followed her. The bar was empty, almost empty, and Timothy ordered a vodka, looking at the bar from the rear mirror. Grace sat alone at a small table in the corner, and the waiter gave her a glass of condiment, which contained a lot of fruit, and a small paper umbrella was stuck on it. As Timothy watched, she sat like a statue, neither smoking nor drinking nor looking around.He thought that if someone pushed her lightly at this moment, she would fall to the side. Finally, Anthony Buner strode in, and Timothy watched him.Anthony looked around and walked toward her desk with a smile, a folded newspaper under his side.That must be The Wall Street Journal, Timothy thought. Anthony sat down at the table, took her hands, turned them over and kissed her palms.Then he leaned forward and whispered something quickly into her ear.The waiter passed by, Anthony sat up straight again, and ordered the dishes. The waiter walked away, and Grace stood up and walked down the hall, holding the newspaper.Anthony sat down again, his drink came and he took a few quick sips. Timothy looked at his watch, within ten minutes, Grace came back again, walked briskly, before sitting back in the seat, kissed Anthony's ear, and then slid back to her seat beautifully and sexyly. The two continued to talk in whispers, and after drinking the food, Anthony paid the bill and left together.The waiter cleared the table, returned empty glasses on a small tray, and returned the crepe napkins to the bar.Timothy reached out and picked up the little paper umbrella. "Can I take this?" he asked. "Of course," said the waiter, "are you afraid it will rain tonight?" Timothy smiled, playing with the little paper umbrella, opening and closing it.Made in Taiwan, maybe.Shipped to Manhattan, garnished with cocktail party dishes. Timothy was driving home, not feeling hungry, but Cleo was, and he treated the cat to a sumptuous meal: the whole can of tuna in the cat's bowl, with the little paper umbrella on top . Cleo sniffed the fish, looked up at him, wondered how the master had been so generous this time, and ate so much that half the can of tuna was gone.The cat walked away and sat down to lick and trim its whiskers. "Thank you at all?" Timothy asked, suddenly feeling hungry too.He ate the rest of the tuna in the can with a spoon, and he ate a moldy piece of cheese, which he spit out so suddenly that Cleo ran to the bottom of the bathtub in fright. It was almost midnight when he called Samantha. "Hope I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked her. "No, I'm watching Channing Carson." "Does it look good?" "Replay. What's your business?" "It's okay, how are you?" "Very well, it's the same as in the afternoon, did you go to the banquet?" "Yeah, I went and had a drink." "What did you find?" He thought for a while and said: "Lucinda, Stanley's sister, lives in the same house as her brother and sister-in-law." "so what?" "Don't you think that's a little weird?" "Maybe!" Samantha said. "What did you do when you got home?" he asked. "Wash your hair, wash your clothes!" "what did you eat?" "Fast food chicken noodles, fried noodles, delicious, what do you eat?" "Tuna Salad." "I don't believe it," she said. "You've been eating canned food." "Yeah," he admitted. "I'll eat the leftover Cleo, what do you think?" She sighed. "I convinced you, that's all. Can I sleep now?" After hanging up the phone, he couldn't figure out why he called Samantha without thinking.Ask her what she is doing tonight?what to eatIt's really meaningless nonsense, but it's very comfortable to talk to her. "Did you get a chance to speak to Stanley and Lucinda yesterday?" "Yeah, I talked to them for a while. There, eyeing them every now and then. They didn't ask me where I was working, so I didn't say anything." "Did you find anything?" Joey looked at his desk, played with lead weights mindlessly, then looked up at Timothy. "Don't you think they're a little weird?" Timothy nodded. "I think you're right," said Joy, "but don't expect me to testify in court. I have a sister too, and I dote on her very much. When we meet, we hug and kiss each other warmly on the cheek, and maybe I do too. would take her arm—but, Stanley and Lucinda, there's nothing wrong with it. If you hadn't told me they were brother and sister, I'd have thought they were a loving couple, or lovers. He The two held hands so tightly and patted and touched each other from time to time. They seemed to be unconscious of their small movements and did not pay attention to other people's thoughts. Some people watched with unnatural smiles on their faces or raised their eyebrows , feel disgusted and disgusted by the ambiguous relationship between the two of them!" "Yeah," said Timothy, "do you have a Manhattan directory?" "Of course I do! Don't you think I'm a second-class citizen?" "Do me a favor? Look up Stanley Clovis's phone number for me. Is it different from Lucinda's phone number?" While Joey flipped through the phone book, he waited patiently and lit another Camel.Finally Negro Joey looked up. "You guessed it, Lucinda's phone number is the same as Stanley's." "I think so," Timothy said. "I know that Lucinda lives in the same apartment as Stanley, with Grace and the two kids, and I just wanted to double check." They stared at each other. "This family plays and lives together," Joy said. "Maybe." Timothy said: "But it's hard for us to determine whether the siblings have deviant behavior." "It's hard." Joy said, "Unless you peek in their bedroom." "Maybe there's a way," said Timothy slowly. "Have you noticed Stanley's haircut?" "Oh, of course, he has a little curly perm, which is very eye-catching, and Lucinda has the exact same perm." "Well," Timothy said, "I think I should get a haircut." "Just do it yourself," Joy said. Timothy returned to his office thoughtfully. He spent half an hour going through the consumer advertisements in the Manhattan phone book, checking every hair salon advertisement. . Every time he called, he said: "I would like to ask you a favor. The night before last, I met Mr. Stanley Clovis at a banquet. I admired his hair very much, but forgot to ask in which hair salon he got it. He Is it your customer?" The eighth call was made. This hair salon is called Venus-Adonis (Adonis is the beautiful boy Venus loves). It is located on Eighty-sixth Street in the East District and has both male and female customers. "Is he your customer?" Timothy asked. "It's not just him," the person who answered the phone replied coldly, "Stanley and Lucinda are both our guests." "Can I get a haircut like Stanley's too?" "Wait a minute, sir, I've got to ask Louis, he did Mr. Stanley's hair." Timothy waited patiently, and finally the voice on the other end of the phone rang again. "If you're free at eleven," she said, "Louis will cut it for you." "I'll go," he said. "Thank you, thank you Louis." "May I ask your name?" "Jawett." He picked up his black leather cap and left the office, driving to the Venus-Adonis Hair Salon on East Eighty-sixth Street.The interior is lively in color, like a small dance hall with records and singing, there are many mirrors with pink frames on the wall, and the sound of music is coming from the ceiling amplifier. Timothy told the reception lady the alias of "Javitt".The lady was wearing a black leather skydiving suit and a purple wig on her head. Looking at his reddish-yellow hair like ears of wheat, she found it very interesting. "You really need a trim, don't you?" she said. She sat him down on a chair and wrapped him in a cloth. "Louis will cut it for you himself." Timothy waited and waited, he was not the only guest here.There are already four guests sitting on the six chairs, three women and one man, all surrounded by cloth. Louis appeared, six-foot-eight, looking like a basketball player, in a pair of painter's overalls and reeking of cologne. Louis saw Timothy's hair and slapped his palm on his cheek in astonishment. "My God, my God, who made your hair look like this?" "Butcher!" "Must be a sadistic butcher," Louis said. "No, no. I'll have to recreate your haircut like Stanley's. But you'll have to wait until your hair grows a bit longer. Hair color isn't bad , " he said beautifully: "this color can be kept, but it needs to be brightened a little more, and the hair needs to be treated again. I will cut it for you now, but you have to promise to come back within a month." "I promise." Timothy said humbly. Louis got to work, trimming lightly, stepping back now and then, squinting to examine his handiwork. "Stanley and Lucinda are very nice people," Timothy said. "Beautiful one," Louis said, snipping a little here and a little there.Then he said something in French. Timothy didn't understand what he meant, and nodded as he thought it was a compliment. "Yeah, yeah, they pay attention to each other." Louis chuckled. "So you've heard those stories too? My mouth is tight." "Everybody's heard the rumors," Timothy said. "Stanley and Lucinda live in the same apartment." "Yeah, they will say that the siblings are a little too close, and I don't want to be too critical." "As long as they're happy," Timothy said. "You're right," Louis said. "It's just that I feel wronged as a wife." Louis laughed. "Don't waste your sympathy. She bore him two sons, but now she wants to spread her wings, you know what I mean!" "I've heard that too," Timothy said. "That's true," Louis said. "Now we're going to flush. I've got to figure out what to do with your mop-like mess." As he lay flushing, Timothy felt Louis' firm fingers massaging his scalp. "They should be more careful—I mean Stanley and Lucinda," Timothy said. "Are you talking about the use of money?" Louis said, "They don't need to save this money, but this money can bring them higher prestige." Louis leaned closer and whispered in Timothy's ear: "The last time, he You two come here together. I'll do Lucinda first, then I'll cut Stanley's hair. Don't you believe she's standing by his chair with her hand under the white cloth he's wrapped around?" "I believe it," Timothy said. Louis rinsed the soap suds from his hair and dried it. "Now go back to your seat," he said. Timothy sat on the seat and covered himself with a cloth.Lewis said: "The hair is too short to be permed easily. But I can make your hair curl and look a little exaggerated." Louis said and went to work. In the end, Timothy looked at himself in the pink frame, and he felt very depressed. "I like it." He said bravely. "Of course you'd like it," Louis said. Timothy paid every staff tip—enough money to buy Cleo canned Norwegian sardines for a year.He always felt that the cost was too much, but he kept convincing himself that the investment was worth it. On the drive back to the office, Timothy opened every window in the car. He couldn't stand the smell on his head, like the gas from a swamp.Fortunately, the first person he met when he returned to the office was Samantha. She took a look at his hair style and bent over laughing, leaning against the wall with her stomach in her arms and laughing non-stop. After a while, four or five people came to look around him—pointing at his hair, commenting in one go: "Just like a mad porcupine!" "Timothy, you should sue him, go to court and sue him for making your hair look like this." "Did you fall asleep sitting in a chair while you were getting your haircut?" "Fuck you!" he growled. "It's just an exaggerated hairstyle." Then he strode to the office, closed the door, desperately pressed the curly hair with his hands, and told himself: "It's not that bad." In fact, he also knew it in his heart. Then he lit a cigarette, and after a while, another, and then realized he had already lit two. He thought about everyone in the case: Stanley and Lucinda Clovis, Mrs. Clovis Grace, Consta Figeria, Anthony Buner.Thinking of Edward being pushed to his tragic death on the subway tracks, Timothy was furious when he thought about it. He looked again at the Clovis files, looking for clues.The Clovis Company was located in the middle of Manhattan, and the company's money was deposited in the Manhattan Bank branch on Madison Street.However, on the day of the press conference, he followed Anthony and Consta, and saw them go to Manhattan International Bank.However, there is nothing wrong with that, and of course they may open private accounts. He went to the chief accountant again. "Why, my God, it's you again!" cried Sinai Abikela. "Why didn't you list which bank New World Enterprises is dealing with in the report?" Timothy said angrily. Abikela sighed. "I have records here." He went to the iron cabinet and searched for many files. "Yes, New World Enterprise's bank is Manhattan International Bank, are you satisfied?" "Sinai, don't you think it's a little strange? Why is the parent company and subsidiary company not the same bank?" "There's nothing surprising about that. It's too risky to have that much money in one bank. Clovis often has very large deposits and withdrawals, so his money is kept in several banks, I think. It also makes sense." "I see," Timothy said. "Thank you, Sinai. Do you like my haircut? If you want my haircut, you can go to Venus-Adonis, on East Eighty-sixth Street, Find Louis." "The devil goes there!" cried Sinai Abikela. Timothy spent several more hours poring over Clovis' files.While smoking a cigarette, he wondered what to do next.He decided it would be best to nail the mysterious woman Consta Figeria again. He locked the desk drawer and prepared to leave.When he put on his fur hat, he suddenly cried out: "Shit!" Then walk out of the office. It took him three days to follow Consta Figeria.He found that her routine was different every day, and it was difficult to master her habits, which made Timothy feel frustrated.Her daily activities are even more mysterious. Timothy went to the lawyer's office again, looking for Louis Conan, asking him to find Consta's phone number, she lived on Long Island. With Consta's phone number, Timothy returned to the office and called Consta's residence. "Who?" A man answered with a voice like a frog with laryngitis. "I want to see Miss Consta Figeria." "Who are you?" the frog asked. Timothy decided to play Javitt again, and he didn't want them to suspect Hudlin's company again. "My name is Javitt," he said, "I work for Rongguang Insurance Company. We have a very good plan. As long as you buy the insurance, you can still get interest every month, and the tax will not be deducted until the final withdrawal." "She won't be interested." The phone slammed down and stopped working, but Timothy was content.Now that he knew where she lived, he sorted out the mess in the suitcase and stuffed some more.Then, driving to Long Island with a suitcase, I wondered if there were a few insurance guys in corduroy suits and black leather hats like him. Before noon, he had already driven to Consta's residence.The place looked like a Virginia horse farm, with its expansive lawns and shrubs, neatly manicured. There are white wood toon around to set the boundary.The gate is not locked, and the paved stone road leads to the inner courtyard. Timothy walked inside with a bulging suitcase, and suddenly a man came out. "What is it?" he said. It was the voice of that chisel. Listening to the voice, Timothy imagined that this person must be short, neckless, and looking fat and bloated; or like a murderous assassin, with a curved hooked nose and a cigarette dangling. But not this man.Tall and thin, he wore a black silk suit, white shirt, and narrow black tie.The suits on him are very well made and finely crafted. "Good morning!" said Timothy quickly, "is Miss Consta Figeria home?" The guy looked at him disdainfully. "Are you the guy who called earlier?" Timothy nodded. "It's me." "I tell you that she is not at home, even if she is at home, she will not talk to you." Timothy shrugged apologetically. "My boss handed me a list of potential clients. I'm going to go door-to-door and file a report. I think you'll understand." "That's your business," said the tall man, "I only know that you're trespassing on private land. You can go now, don't wait for me to break your dog legs, it won't be easy!" "Based on my experience," Timothy said quickly, "really violent people don't threaten people first, they do it first. So I don't think you will be that kind of violent person." "Would you like to try it?" said the fellow, but softened suddenly. "Why don't you do it?" Timothy said, "You dare to kill me? Try it, I'll turn around and go back to my car now, you can shoot me in the back, don't you guys know how to shoot from behind? " 这时，高个子气得发抖，提摩西想自己是不是说得太过分了，但他已经一发难以控制。他转过身，开始朝着大门走去，那只靑蛙在后面气得不知在吼叫着什么。 坐进那辆“本田”汽车里，提摩西看着自己的双手，没有发抖，他颇为欣喜。驾车回曼哈顿途中，一边听着收音机里播报新闻，气象人员说，新形成的暴风，可能会袭击纽约市，提摩西听了并不在意。 回到办公室，他打电话订了奶酪汉堡、油炸食物和可口可乐。他一边吃着中餐，一边打电话给新世界总部，没有人接。然后他又试着打电话到克洛维斯公司给康丝妲·费吉利亚，总机告诉他，一小时后，她会到会计审查处。 提摩西花了十五分钟把中餐吃完，又抽了两根烟，接着又去找西奈。 “提摩西，”西奈气呼呼地说“你就不能让我淸静淸静吗？你也知道，我也正在忙着。” “我知道，西奈，我知道，但是我只躭搁你十分钟，你能不能偷偷去曼哈顿国际银行查一査看？” “这个……”西奈很谨慎的说：“我们和那里面的人也有些关系。” “只是很简单的查询，”提摩西说：“请你査査康丝妲·费吉利亚，她个人是否在银行里有账户，就是这样。等你查出来，打个电话给我，好吗？我就在办公室。” 电话铃响时，他正点着另一根骆驼牌香烟，一把抓起电话。 "Hey?" “提摩西，我是西奈，曼哈顿国际银行客户名单中，没有康丝妲·费吉利亚这个名字。” 这么一来，提摩西知道康丝妲去曼哈顿国际银行存款和提款，并不是她私人的账户，那么，很可能存款都是新世界企业公司的那笔基金。 他又打电话去克洛维斯公司找她，过了几秒钟，电话接通了，突然他发现自己就在和康丝妲·费吉利亚谈话。 “费吉利亚小姐？” “是的，你哪位？”她的声音沙哑。 “费吉利亚小姐，我是杰弗里·罗宾，最近就要辞掉曼哈顿中央银行，麦迪逊街分行的工作，升为协理。” "congratulations." “谢谢。目前我在现职还要工作一个星期。” “那么福瑞德·哈特呢？”康丝妲·费吉利亚问道。 “他调到信托部去了。费吉利亚小姐，今天我打电话给你，是因为发现存款数目不符合，坦白说，我想是敝行的错，但数目太大，得查淸楚才行，能不能请你来一趟。我想只要花几分钟，就能把事情解决了。” “数目不符？”她说：“差多少？” “六位数字，”提摩西说：“我想我们该一块儿核对淸楚。” “我会去。”她很快地说：“或许我现在就来，十五分钟之内就会到。” “太好了。”提摩西说：“我会亲自见你，克洛维斯公司对我们来说是非常重要的客户。” “我马上来。”她说着砰地挂了电话。 "good luck!" 他轻轻地说，放下电话筒。 现在他知道了，康丝妲·费吉利亚管理克洛维斯公可和子公司——新世界企业公司的钱。 知道这一点有何意义，提摩西尙未理出头绪。 打从第一天他开始钉梢这女人，就认定这工作不容易。她有时在曼哈顿克洛维斯公司，有时去布鲁克林的新世界企业公司。但是她很难得固定在什么地方。也不知她从长岛家出来时，是搭什么交通工具。train?bus?汽车？ 他都不知道。 好几次，他看到她跟安东尼在一起，两个人一块走到银行，但依据提摩西观察，除了公事之外，他们没有什么私人的关系。安东尼对她非常恭敬，为她开车门等等，但举止间看不出他们之间有什么激情存在。 提摩西断定，他们只是工作的伙伴。 他跟踪她的第三天，有一件怪事发生了。那天提摩西躱在东五十七街克洛维斯大楼附近，看到康丝妲·费吉利亚从电梯出来，偷快的和史坦利和露辛妲谈话。提摩西躱在一根柱子后面，看他们三人好像在等着什么人，最后葛丽丝和安东尼连袂来了。五个人互相拥吻，亲着双颊，喧闹成一团。然后一群人又说又笑，朝着五十七街走去，一辆白色的凯迪拉克大轿车已经等着他们，众人就乘车离去。 提摩西他那辆本田汽车停在五十五街，来不及过去开车。他急切地想招一辆出租车，可是不幸得很，偏偏招不到车，只好眼巴巴看着那辆白色的凯迪拉克消失在车潮中，又朝西转。 这五个人要到哪儿去，参加鸡尾酒会？还是晚宴？也许参加派对。是生日宴会，还是周年庆？ 他发现附近有个酒吧，就走了进去，叫了一杯伏特加。也许是酒精作用，加上他一向对人的不信任感，他突然有了灵感，猜想这五个人可能在玩着什么样的金钱游戏。也许，葛丽丝对这金钱游戏并不大热中。不过，提摩西还没有进一步发现，究竟是他们中间的哪一个，害死了爱德华·葛佛。 他一定要找到这个人算这笔血债，现在谋杀爱德华的凶手居然逍遥法外……不把这人抓出来，他一辈子都无法释怀。 “全是狗屎！” 他对酒保说，付淸酒钱和小费。 “你在说什么？”酒保伸手收下小费。“祝你有个美好的一天。” “今天我要好好请你。”星期五晚上，他打电话给珊曼莎说。 “噢，上帝！”珊曼莎泄气地说：“上回你请我吃东西，害我拉了两天肚子。” “这次不会了，”他保证。“你一定会喜欢的。” 星期六早上，他买了许多东西：剥了壳的虾仁，意大利香肠，像犹太人戴的小帽一般大的蘑菇，肉片，鱼片，靑椒，一把大蒜、韮菜，还有加州黑葡萄。 这一天风势很大，暴风雨很接近了，却还没有变成飓风，整夜纽约都下着大雨。 他提着菜回家就开始烹调，把肉炖着，放了许多大蒜、靑椒、蘑菇、韮菜等佐料，最后在上桌之前，加入虾仁。 他在忙的时候，丢了一块牛腩给克丽奥吃，还有生虾仁，一片香肠，甚至还有一点大蒜，这只疯狂的猫什么都吃。为了增加他的创造力，他又加了一些盐、胡椒、酒、酱油，凡是他觉得味道不错的都加一点进去。 将近五点的时候，珊曼莎来了，她那件军用外套全淋湿了，雨伞还在滴水。她带了一小盒冰冻的莎莉干酪蛋糕当餐后的点心。 “今晚可热闹了，”她说：“东边闪着电，你听到雷声吗？” “我没有听到。”提摩西说。 “不，你绝不会听不到，雷声很大。咦，好香啊！” “克丽奥也很喜欢，等虾仁熟了，我们就可以吃了。” “我们有什么吃的啊？” “现在先不告诉你，一会儿就知道了。” “先给我酒喝。” “什么酒都有，啤酒、伏特加、白兰地都有，待一会再替你斟酒。” “哇，你听这声雷打得好大声，你听到了，可不是吗？” “我听到了，”他说：“但我们在一个温暖的地方，而且好菜马上就要上桌了。” “我等不及想快点吃，饿死了。” 他们坐在提摩西桌旁的木椅上，他端上肉，还有长条形的法国面包。克丽奥也跳上第三张椅子上，耐心地等候着。 珊曼莎尝了一口。 “天啊，”她说着，吸了一口气，辣得张开了嘴。“你到底放了多少胡椒？” “太多了吗？” “难道你的舌头是法兰绒做的，没感觉了吗？不过我还吃得惯。你在我的酒里加几块冰块如何？” 总而言之，这顿飨宴十分成功，连克丽奥都感到十分满足。然后他们把空碗都堆到水槽里，接着开始吃珊曼莎带来的干酪蛋糕。 “你调査克洛维斯的案子，现在有什么结果了？” “满顺利。” “还无法查出罪证？” “还没有。” “还得多久？” He shrugged. “也许还得花几个星期。” 她若有所思的注视着他。“你真认为他们在搞什么鬼，很臭是不是？” “臭气冲天！” “现在能告诉我吗？” "Not yet." 她接受了。 “我知道这是你的作风，”她对他说：“可是也别拖上太久，我们的委托人艾萨克也不耐久等。” 提摩西自顾自倒着白兰地。 珊曼莎注视着他，他穿一条牛仔裤，一看就知道洗了许多遍。上面穿一件T恤，上面写——救救鲸鱼。 “我一辈子都不会了解你，为什么总是这样不修边幅。” “噢，这我也不知道，我也有我的美德。” “哦？”她说：“像什么呢？” 他注视着她。 “我是很忠实的，我从不看别的女人。” 她握住他的手，吻着他的手关节，然后抬起头。 “我们谈谈晚上一起睡的事吧……” "Uh?" “把克丽奥锁在厕所里，好不好？上一次她一直咬我的脚趾头。” “该说'他'，”提摩西说：“或是说'牠'。” 暴风雨真的来了，外面雷电交加，大雨倾盆。他俩温暖的蜷缩在床垫上。 “谈谈我们自己的事。”珊曼莎说。 “应该谈这些吗？” “是的。”她坚定地说。 “以后再谈。”他保证。 在黑暗中，他俩紧紧拥抱着对方骨瘦如柴的身子。 “我要把你吃了。”他告诉她。 “吃吧！”她说。 这一对男女，都相当剽悍强硬，即使做爱的时候，都无法放得温柔。 他们没有海誓山盟，也没有不褪的热情，他们倒像两个破了产的股东，必须胼手胝足重新奋斗，转亏为盈。 “我问你上百次了，”她说，用食指轻轻弹着他的左臀。“你怎么会有这个疤？” “我自己烧的。” “说谎，我都告诉过你我这疤是怎么来的。一个疤是因为割盲肠，另一个是孩提时代玩橄榄球跌倒的。快，告诉我，你的疤是怎么来的。” “战争时受伤的。” 她低下头吻着他的伤口。 “我可怜、受伤的英雄，”她说：“你一直想维护世界的民主安全，是吗？” "The same can be said." 她躺下来，听着屋外雷声隆隆，大雨敲窗。 “关于我们……你想我们会在一起多久？” “你要多久就多久。你是我上司啊！” “在办公室也许是。可是在你这垃圾堆里就未必。” “我们开始的时候，曾经有个协议，不要互相束缚。” 她不安地动了动。 “难道你没想过买张床吗？” “想过啊，”他说，“总有—天吧。” "Why not now?" “因为你总会把我的床弄绉。” 两人都大笑，搂在一块。 “好吧，我看你根本不在乎我。” “喔，我在乎你，”他向她保证：“我有我的作风。” “你的作风是什么？” “我不知道，我也说不出来。” “谢了，”她说：“女孩子听了这种话就会有安全感。” “你会要那个——安全感吗？？算了吧，宝贝！” 她挨向他。 “好吧，”她说：“现在我告诉你真话，大大的忏悔——你对我而言只是个性伴侣，如此而已，我要的只是你的身体，皮肤上还点着雀斑。” 他心里暗自好笑。 “你和我一样古怪又疯狂，”他说：“这是我们唯一相同的地方。” “噢，我不知道，”她说，将他的手，放在她两腿之间。“当然，我们还有其他地方是相同的。” “才不一样，”她捏她。“绝不一样。” “你今天炖的那一锅，使你变得很有力气吗？” “那是大蒜的功效。”他说。 这是他们在做爱之前，常有的亲密讨论。话题永远不会扯得太远，也不会挖掘个人隐私。两个人都承认，他们都戴着面纱，虽然如此，爱情的生命仍充满了惊喜。 过了一会儿，她说： “我想我们该冲个澡。” “还是你先吧，我太懒了。”他说。 “拖到明天早上算了。”她说：“现在我倒喜欢这味——全是大蒜、胡椒粉和性的味道，还是留到明天再说吧！” 他俩又坐到桌边喝着白兰地，谁也不想开口说话，享受着对方沉默的存在。 克丽奥在旁边玩着球，他们高兴地看着那只猫偷快的玩着，时而蹦跳，时而奔跑，一边推弄着球，追赶着球，不停的玩。突然，牠趴下来安静地躺着，呼吸好急促。 “就像我们一样，”珊曼莎说：“只是一种游戏。” “是吗？”提摩西·柯恩说道。 既没告诉珊曼莎，也没获得老板贺伦·哈德林的许可，提摩西擅自将乔伊也列入调查克洛维斯案的一员。乔伊对他日常处理的案子烦腻极了，因此很容易就说服了他。他和提摩西一样，希望查出杀死爱德华·葛佛的凶手。 提摩西并没有对乔伊说明每一件事——不过已经足以钩住他了。乔伊大致了解这几个人的性格。 “疯狂的人。”乔伊说，摇摇头。 “而且贪心。”提摩西说。“安东尼·布纳是这五个人中唯一有前科的，康丝妲·费吉利亚却来自一个复杂的家庭。至于克洛维斯家三个人，我还找不出他们的动机，他们拥有的钱够他们花了——可是这并不代表他们不想要更多的钱。” 乔伊和提摩西几日来分别驾车跟踪康丝妲·费吉利亚每天的路线。她通常坐火车，然后步行或坐出租车去新世界企业公司的仓库。有时她坐火车在另一站下，然后搭出租车到克洛维斯公司，总是隔好几条街就先下车。 “为什么她要这么做呢？”乔伊说。 “有人教过她，如果你认为可能会被人钉梢，就不要走一定的路线。”提摩西说。“尤其最后几条街一定用走的，这样她可以有机会回头看看，或站到阴影中。” “今天她又到银行去了，”乔伊报告：“和安东尼一起到商业银行。这星期来，她第三次去那儿了。” “星期一，”提摩西说：“她和安东尼到麦迪逊街的曼哈顿中央银行分行。如果他们是去存款，只有天知道他们那笔钱是从哪儿来的。听着，乔伊，你再跟踪康丝妲几天，我去钉安东尼，看看这家伙平常干些什么。” 他并没有发现什么。安东尼似乎起得很晚，然后在东区昂贵的餐厅里，悠悠闲闲地吃一顿中餐，有两次跟葛丽丝一道进餐。然后他就去克洛维斯公司，然后和康丝妲一起去银行。 “真要命！”提摩西对乔伊大叫。“安东尼到底在搞些什么？” 到了晚上，安东尼经常在酒吧或自家中和他一票朋友泡在一起。这些人都有一张鲜红的脸，中年绅士，衣冠楚楚，袖子上别着法国袖扣，小指上戴着戒指。 提摩西回到办公室，一路想着这些，他几乎认为自己真的是在浪费时间了。进了办公室，他发现警探尼尔·达文波特已经坐在办公室里等着他了。 他一边嚼着口香糖一边对他说： “我可没翻看你任何东西，你的抽屉也锁着，咱们谈谈吧！” “好啊！”提摩西说，砰地落坐在他那把破烂的旋转椅子上。“我希望有什么大消息告诉你，可是没有，只是些片片断断的消息。” “那就说来听听吧，有总比没有好。” 提摩西告诉他的，他大部分都听过了，只多添了一些枝节。不过，他并没有对警探提到安东尼和葛丽丝之间的事，以及史坦利和露辛妲之间不正常的兄妹感情。 警探注意地听着，他的手指放在肥胖的肚子上。 提摩西说完后，他叫道： “天啊！你可够忙了，可不是吗？他们每回到银行去，你竟然都跟着。” 提摩西沮丧地说： “到现在，我也不知道他们在搞什么鬼。我想，他们若接到很大一笔款子，也许会分成好几趟分别存入，自然就会常常跑银行。可是新世界企业公司什么也没做，怎么会有现金收入呢？” “好，”尼尔·达文波特说：“现在我们从头再想想，克洛维斯公司投资新世界企业公司的资本额是一亿三千五百万美元对不对？” "right!" “那么有哪些人拥有新世界企业公司的股权？” “有四个人。史坦利、露辛妲、康丝妲和安东尼，每个人拥有百分之二十五的股权，这是我查过的。” “好，照他们说，新世界企业公司要整修一些高级住宅，或盖一些宅或商店，是不是？” "yes." “为什么这样一家公司，需要一亿三千五百万这么庞大的一笔资本额呢？做那些工程哪里需要这么大一笔钱来周转？这笔资本额和实际所需相差得太多太多了。” 提摩西感到自己脸红了，一拍桌子。 “该死！”他大叫：“为什么我没想到这一点，我早该想到才对，竟然遗漏了。” “放轻松点！”尼尔·达文波特安抚着他说：“有时太置身事内，反而看不淸楚。可不是？我这话也有道理吗？” “是有道理，但我真想踢我自己。” “母公司投资新世界企业公司这么多钱，为了什么？这么做并不犯法啊。” 提摩西深深吸了一口气又吐了出来。 “嗯，我想不出为什么，也许慢慢会想出道理来。现在，我有个消息要告诉你。” 两个人互看了一阵子。 “几天前，缉毒组的人员破获了华尔街最大的一椿毒品交易案，并捜到一个黑色小本子，记着他顾客的名字，其中赫然有安东尼·布纳的名字。” 提摩西转动着他的转椅，沈思了一下，最后说： “我还有一个消息，没吿诉你。” “老天！你有什么消息就快说吧！” “安东尼·布纳，是史坦利·克洛维斯太太葛丽丝的情夫。” “这倒有趣。”尼尔·达文波特迫切地想缉拿到安东尼。 "How did you know?" 提摩西没有回答。 “你听我说，”尼尔·达文波特耐心地说，又拆开一个新的口香糖放进嘴里。 “我想做好份内工作，并不是为了要升官，而你是一心要替爱德华·葛佛报仇，不是吗？” “也可以这么说，”提摩西喃喃说道：“葛佛曾试着想跟我做朋友，我不该让那机会溜走。” “我可以了解，过去我也帮过你两次忙，你得到什么消息也该告诉我。” “你真有手腕，可不是？好吧，我是知道一些事没对你说。许多人谣传史坦利和他妹妹露辛妲的感情已不止于兄妹之情。” 尼尔·达文波特瞪视着他。 "you believe?" Timothy nodded. “可是那家伙结婚了啊？” “我知道，还有两个小孩，但是他却和他妹妹住在一起。至于他的太太，倒也很高兴搭上了安东尼·布纳。” 警探叹了一口气，站了起来。 “有时我觉得自己干这一行实在老了！”他朝外走去，走到门口突然停住回过头来。“现在我俩扯平了，谁也不欠谁。不过，我另外给你一项情报做为你的红利吧！你记不记得我以前告诉你，有一个证人目睹爱德华被谋杀？” “我当然记得，那人不愿卷入。” “对，他什么都想不起来。但是我们利用催眠术和他谈话——你猜怎么样？他说出是一个女人，把你的朋友推下了地下铁站台！”