英文小说

畅销书| 儿童文学| 世界名著| 奇幻小说| 科幻小说| 侦探小说| 言情小说| 恐怖小说| 励志小说| 名人传记

Flesh And Blood  骨血暴力-Flesh And Blood

25

DUGGER DROVE ALL the way to Ocean Avenue. Bringing a hit man home? That surprised me.

But instead of turning left toward the high-rise, he made a right and swung into the left-turn lane. Only a truck between us now, but the height of the cab kept me safely out of view as we sped down toward PCH.

I switched to the right lane, got close enough to see Bugger behind the wheel, sitting straight, head not moving. Black Suit turned from side to side. Catching an eyeful of the mansions lining Santa Monica's Gold Coast, the white-clapboard palace William Randolph Hearst had built for Marion Bavies, now a crumbling mass of planks, generous expanses of beach parking lot that afforded a clear view of the Pacific, churning and silver under a charcoal cloud bank. Gulls flecked the clouds with avian static. A few wet-suited surfers had paddled out yards from the tide line, despite breakers that degraded to a dribble.

The ocean is never anything but beautiful.

Black Suit taking it all in.

Sightseeing.

Bugger stared straight ahead and put on speed.

He sped through the Palisades and into Malibu, past the latest slide zone and Caltrans's feeble attempt to battle nature with concrete barriers and sandbags and pink, gritty fiberglass slopes as genuine as Caltranspromises. A few more wet winters and the coastline would look like Disneyland. Black Suit's head had stopped swiveling—fixed on the ocean. Easy choice: The land side was shopping centers and pizza joints and schlock shops not much different from what he'd encounter in Brooklyn.

I followed the Volvo through Carbon Beach, La Costa, past the private road that led to the Colony, the emerald hills of Pepperdine University, where the commercial clutter gives way to brown mountains, black gorges, orange poppies, and more than a hint of what Malibu must have been like when the Chumash Indians roamed.

Latigo Beach, the Cove Colony, Escondido. No suspense: I knew exactly where Dugger was headed and was ready well before his left-turn signal flashed and he pulled into the center turn lane.

He stopped a quarter mile before the Paradise Cove intersection and Ramirez Canyon. A towering plastic sign advertised the Sand Dollar Restaurant and the trailer park that bordered the restaurant's private beach.

Malibu's estate zone. A half mile broken by a handful of gates, each handcrafted and unique and flanked by old trees and hedges, too-perfect beds of flowers, closed-circuit TV cameras, No Trespassing warnings.

Prime of the prime: the few multiacre Malibu properties blessed with sheltered coves and sandy beach and views of the shipping channels that lead to Asia.

The gate that held Dugger's interest was a tangle of burnished copper tentacles shadowed by the palms and pines I remembered, as well as gigantic rubber trees and schefflera and sagos and birds-of-paradise blazing flamelike in the afternoon sun. He must have had a remote-control unit, because before he completed the turn across PCH the octopus arms swung open and he sailed through. I had my cheapie camera ready and hustled for shots of the Volvo's rear end as it vanished into green.

Click click click.

The gates closed. I was going no farther.

But Dugger had a busy day lined up.

Chauffering Black Suit to Daddy's place. The pleasure dome conceptual light-years from the little cell in Newport that Dugger had oncecalled home. For all his rumpled guy pretense—attempts to distance himself from his father and what his father represented—when things got rough Junior returned with the volition of a homing pigeon.

Walking in step with a cold-faced man in a black suit.

Business. Tying up loose ends.

Who was next?

I returned to Santa Monica, found a MotoPhoto with a FREE DUPLICATES! banner, had a cup of coffee while my film developed, then inspected my handiwork. Most of the roll was taken up by rear shots too distant to be useful, but I had managed to snag Dugger and Black Suit together in full-frontal midrange and in two individual close-ups. Nice clear view of the Volvo passing through the coiling copper gates but, once again, too far to catch the license plate. Tony Duke's address was partially obscured by greenery, but no matter: Those tentacle gates were unique.

I drove home. Robin's truck was gone, and I was ashamed for being happy about that. Hurrying into my office, I called Milo.

"The gun that killed Jane was registered, all right," he said. No greeting, no preliminaries. "And guess who?"

I said, "Charles Manson."

"Lauren. She bought it two years ago at a Big Five on San Vicente— not far from her apartment. She probably figured in her line of work, she could use protection. Or maybe she was just another single woman wanting the security of firepower. Looks like she lent it to her mother, and stepdad got hold of it."

"Another unfortunate accident."

"So far, that's how it's going down, Alex."

"What will Mel Abbot be charged with?" I asked.

"The D.A.'s office is brainstorming because it's a tricky situation—old helpless guy like that. No one dares question Abbot until he has a lawyer, but he's in no shape to hire one of his own volition. He's also too rich to qualify for a public defender, but they may assign him a temporary PD anyway. In addition to an advocate from competency court. Ruiz and Gallardo are searching for relatives, someone willing to assume responsibility. Meanwhile, Abbot's got a comfy bed in the jail ward at County,and the shrinks say it'll be a few days before they can even try to get an accurate picture of his mental status."

"Once he gets an attorney, then what?"

"No one's eager to make a show case out of it. My guess is he'll be quietly committed."

"Nice and neat," I said.

"If you call a dead woman and a pathetic old guy ending his days on the funny farm neat."

"Everything's relative," I said. "Unfortunately, I just made a mess."

"What are you talking about?"

I described my afternoon.

He didn't answer, but I had a pretty good idea about the look on his face.

Finally: "You followed him again}''''

"I know," I said. "But this time, I was really careful. He definitely didn't see me. The main thing is what I saw."

"You think Bugger's personally escorting a hit man."

"You had to see the guy. He sure doesn't look like a brain surgeon—"

"Whatever he is, Alex, if he flew in today from New York, he didn't kill Jane last night in Sherman Oaks."

"Granted. But he could've killed Lauren. And Michelle and Lance. Maybe there's a team."

"Musical mafiosi," he said.

"That's how I'd do it if I had the money. Use pros the locals don't know, cover my tracks by transporting them back and forth."

"All that flying means paperwork, Alex. If the guy is a professional—a really heavy hitter—he'd have to worry about that. And like I said, if you're the contractor—a supposedly law-abiding fellow like Dugger— why would you also pick the guy up at the airport yourself! Take him out to lunch in plain view, then truck him straight to Daddy's place in broad daylight and give someone the opportunity to snap pictures?"

"So you have no interest in looking at the passenger list?"

"That," he said, "would require a warrant. And grounds—"

"Okay, fine," I said. "He likes black 'cause he's a priest, lost his collar. Tony Duke flew him out for spiritual guidance."

"Listen, Alex, I appreciate all you've—"

"Want me to toss the photos?"Pause. "You have clear shots of this joker's face." "Clear enough. In duplicate."

He made a sound—not a sigh, too weary for a sigh. "I'll come by tonight."

He didn't.

用户还喜欢

A Double Barrelled Detective Story

案中案(A Double Barrelled Detective Story)

马克·吐温[Mark Twain]

一些边缘群体的人们的真实生活状况

点击:次

3rd Degree

三度夺魂(3rd Degree)

詹姆斯.帕特森[James Patterson]

女士谋杀俱乐部系列第3部

点击:次

Gone

消失(Gone)

强纳森.凯勒曼[Jonathan Kellerman]

亚历克斯.特拉华系列第20部

点击:次

The Devil's Spectacles

(The Devil's Spectacles)

威尔基.柯林斯[Wilkie Collins]

点击:次

英语在线小说阅读排行