马龙探案卷四 之 正确的凶案 一
那个矮胖的红脸男人独自坐在酒吧里，对着杜松子酒哭泣。他不时举起酒杯喝上一口，然后凝视着酒杯，仿佛它是一个能够映射出世间所有悲伤的水晶球，接着，又把酒杯放了下来。
the pudgy, red-faced man sitting alone at the bar was crying into his gin. From time to time he raised his glass, drank from it, stared into it as though it were a crystal ball reflecting all the sorrows of the world, and set it down again.
在乔天使的市政厅酒吧，他并不在意这里的其他顾客。这些顾客大多数也是他的朋友，这会儿正玩得很开心。但是，就连 26 点游戏桌旁喧闹的三人组，也没能分散他的注意力。有一次，当他意识到旁边那群人在庆祝选举时，他抬起了头。他抬起头是因为这令他感到困惑。那次选举已经过去两个月了，然后他发现他们庆祝的是克利夫兰的选举，于是又陷入了刚开始的忧郁中。
It didn’t matter to him that the other customers in Joe the Angel’s city hall bar—most of them his friends, too—were having a wonderful time. Even the loud trio at the 26-Game table didn’t distract him. once he did lift his head when he realized that the group of men next to him was celebrating the election. he lifted his head because it puzzled him. the election had been over two months ago. then he discovered it was cleveland’s election they were celebrating, and returned to his incipient melancholia.
这个矮胖的红脸男人就是约翰?马龙，芝加哥最有名的刑事律师。此刻，他也是这世上最不开心的男人。
the short, stocky, red-faced man was John J. malone, chicago’s most famous criminal lawyer. At the moment, he was also the unhappiest man on earth.
这不仅仅是因为那个来自巴黎咖啡馆的长腿黑发女子典当了他昂贵的圣诞礼物然后和一个新欢去了纽约，也不是因为他已经到了唯一能负担得起的就只有喝得烂醉的身无分文的地步，也不是因为他要独自一人待在这座大城市里度过今晚的跨年夜。只是因为他在这个世界上最喜欢的两个人去了百慕大度蜜月，而此时，他很想念他们。
It wasn’t just because the long-legged brunette from chez paree had hocked his expensive christmas present and gone off to New York with a new prospect. It wasn’t because he had reached that stage of being broke where the only thing he could afford to do was to get expensively drunk. Nor was it because this was New Year’s Eve and he was all alone in the big city. It was just that the two people he liked best in the world had gone to bermuda on their honeymoon, and he missed them.
马龙把稀疏、潮湿的黑发从额头往后捋了捋，擦了把脸，把空杯子和一张五美元的钞票推给了乔天使，说道：“这钱花完了告诉我一声。”
malone pushed the thinning, damp black hair back from his forehead, mopped his face, shoved his empty glass and a five-dollar bill at Joe the Angel, and said, “Let me know when this is used up.”
要是杰克在就好了。红头发的杰克?贾斯特是现存的最伟大的新闻代理人，就像他自己认为的那样，在《观察家报》解雇他之前，他一直是世界上最伟大的记者。要是海伦在就好了。海伦，金发碧眼、美丽动人、富有、魅力四射，让交通部门头疼、让从莱克布拉夫到加里之间的每个酒保都开心。但是杰克和海伦此刻正在百慕大度蜜月。约翰?马龙祝愿杰克和海伦玩得开心，然后又对着他的杜松子酒哭了起来。
If Jake were only here. Red-haired Jake Justus was the greatest press agent alive, just as, by his own admission, he’d been the greatest reporter on earth until the Examiner fired him. If helene were only here. helene—blonde, beautiful, rich, glamorous, the terror of the traffic department and the delight of every bartender between Lake bluff and Gary. but Jake and helene were honeymooning in bermuda. John J. malone hoped Jake and helene were having a wonderful time, and cried into his gin.
马龙右边紧挨着他的四个人开始唱起了《你妈妈是从爱尔兰来的吗》。这位小个子律师振作了一下，想知道为什么每当四个男人在酒吧里唱歌时，其中三个总是爱尔兰人。
the four men to his immediate right began singing did Your mother e from Ireland? the little lawyer roused himself long enough to wonder why it was that whenever four men sing in a barroom, three of them turn out to be Irish.
一个市政厅的常客选在这个不恰当的时候凑过来，亲切地说：“嘿，我听说你在澄清州街和麦迪逊街的枪击事件中帮了大忙。”
A city-hall hanger-on chose that inauspicious moment to edge up to him and say chummily, “Say, I hear you certainly were a lot (more or less) help in clearing up those State and madison shootings.”
马龙说：“对不起，我很想请你喝一杯，但是……”
malone said, “Sorry, I’d like to buy you a drink, but—”
“没关系，伙计。那个女孩真的向你承认是她干的那些枪击案吗？”
“that’s o.K., pal. did the girl really confess to you that she’d done the killings?”
这个忧郁的人用一道长久、冷漠、完全空洞的目光止住了一连串的问题。
the morose man stemmed the flood of questions with a long, cold, and perfectly vacant stare.
“你是约翰?马龙，对吧？”
“You’re John J. malone, aren’t you?”
“见鬼，不是，” 律师说，“你认错人了。我是伯德上将。”
“hell no,” the lawyer said. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m Admiral byrd.”
这个不速之客领会了他的暗示，悄悄地走了。
the intruder took the hint and went quietly away.
约翰?马龙深深地吸了一口气，又长长地叹了出来，这哀怨的喘息足以击碎最硬的铁石心肠。他又要了一杯杜松子酒，希望这个谋杀的话题不要再被提起。
John J. malone heaved a long, indrawn, and outgoing sigh that would have pulverized a heart of stone, ordered another gin, and wished that the subject of murder hadn’t been called to his mind.
他知道自己不得不再在脑海里回顾一下过去几周发生的事情。
he knew he would have to make one more mental excursion over the events of the past few weeks.
杰克和海伦结婚的那天，杰克打了一个赌。赌约的另一方是已经结婚多次的富有魅力的社交名媛、飞行员、作家、探险家、百万富婆 —— 莫娜?麦克莱恩。她跟杰克打赌说她能犯下一起谋杀案，而杰克永远也查不出来。赌注是远近闻名的卡西诺赌场，那是芝加哥最受欢迎的饮酒和跳舞的地方。
the day Jake and helene had been married, Jake had made a bet. the other half of the bet had been the much married, magnetic social leader, aviator, author, explorer, millionairess—mona mcclane. She had bet Jake that she could mit a murder, and Jake would never find it out. the stake had been the far-famed casino, chicago’s favorite drinking and dancing spot.
后来真的有人被杀了，事实上有好几个人。马龙、海伦和杰克费尽心力想把罪名安在莫娜?麦克莱恩头上，结果却发现其实一直以来都是别人犯下的罪行。这倒也没什么，只是莫娜坚持说他们认错了尸体。
then someone had been murdered, several people, in fact, and malone, helene, and Jake had worn themselves to a frazzle pinning it on mona mcclane, only to find out that it was somebody else’s murder all the time, which was okay, except that mona insisted they had followed the wrong corpse.
现在马龙发现自己陷入了一个尴尬的境地，他知道发生了一起谋杀案，也知道凶手是谁，但却不知道受害者是谁。这让他很恼火。这不是他的赌约，也不关他的事，但还是让他很烦恼。要是杰克和海伦在这儿就好了。
Now malone found himself in the unfortable position of knowing that a murder had been mitted and knowing the identity of the murderer, without knowing the identity of the victim. It irked him. It wasn’t his bet, and it wasn’t his business, but it bothered him just the same. If Jake and helene were only here.
马龙发现自己正对着一个空杯子哭泣。他又叫了一份杜松子酒，说道：“记住，乔天使，我要在十二点过五分的时候回家，即使是跨年夜我也要回家。” 他知道自己做不到。
malone discovered he was crying into an empty glass. he called for another gin and said, “Remember, Joe, I want to go home at five minutes after twelve, even if it is New Year’s.” he known that he wouldn’t.
乔天使的市政厅酒吧很小，也远称不上华丽，但很方便。酒吧是一个长长的、狭窄的房间，吧台从一头延伸到另一头，多余的空间被26点游戏桌、几张小桌子和椅子以及一个电话亭占据着，这些就是它的全部。但它位于芝加哥环区的正中心，如果从它的门口扔块石头，向任何方向都能砸到一个可能罪有应得的政客。如果你想赌马、兑现支票、采访市长、结识里亚尔托合唱团里的那个丰满的红发女孩，或者只是想买一杯酒，乔天使都能帮你搞定。他是约翰?马龙最亲密的朋友之一，他很识趣，不断地供应杜松子酒，也从不多嘴。
Joe the Angel’s city hall bar was small and far from ornate, but it was handy. one longish, narrow room, the bar running from end to end, the extra space occupied by the 26-Game table, a few small tables and chairs, and a telephone booth—that was all. but it was located in the very heart of chicago’s Loop, and you couldn’t toss a stone in any direction from its doorway without hitting a politician who probably deserved it. If you wanted to bet on a horse, cash a check, get an interview with the mayor, meet the buxom, red-haired girl in the Rialto chorus, or just buy a drink, Joe the Angel could fix you up. he was one of John J. malone’s closest friends, and he knew enough to keep the gin flowing and his mouth shut.
约翰·马龙右边的那群人不再唱《你妈妈是从爱尔兰来的吗》，正努力回忆起《基拉尼的湖泊和山谷》开头几个小节的旋律。这个小个子律师又叹了口气。抛开他所有的其他的麻烦不谈，现在最麻烦的就是他能准确地预见到今晚将如何结束，他会被拉进酒吧里一些人的对话中，人们会开始互相买酒，他会用他那镀银般的男高音唱起《天堂的一角》，还会被哄着背诵《罗伯特·埃米特挽歌》，他们，他和他新结识的朋友们，会去更多的其他的酒吧，最后来到西塞罗，他们会打一场架，他的衬衫领子会被一个来自罗克岛的完全陌生的人扯掉，他最终会醒过来，要么是因为行为不检被关进监狱，要么是在某个女人的公寓里，离芝加哥卢普区至少有四十五分钟的火车车程。
the group at John J. malone’s right had stopped singing did Your mother e from Ireland? and were trying to remember the opening bars of Killarney’s Lakes and dells the little lawyer sighed again. on top of all his other troubles, he could foresee exactly how the night was going to end. he was going to be drawn into conversation with some of the men at the bar. people would start buying drinks for each other. he would lend his silver-plated tenor to there’s a Little bit of heaven, and be coaxed into reciting the “Elegy for Robert Emmet.” they—he and his new-found friends—would move to a number of other bars, ending up in cicero. there would be a fight and he would get the collar torn off his shirt by some perfect stranger from Rock Island. he would wake up eventually, either jailed for disorderly conduct or in some woman’s apartment at least a forty-five-minute train ride from the chicago Loop.
他知道这个夜晚会如此结束，因为每次都是如此。
he knew the night was going to end that way, because that was the way they always did.
约翰·马龙举起酒杯让人再倒满，一口气喝光，提醒自己明天早上是新的一年的开始，他要重新开始生活。
John J. malone held out his glass to be refilled, emptied it with one breath, and reminded himself that tomorrow morning was the beginning of a new year, and he was going to start life all over again.
他听到门开了又关上。他听到门开了又关上。他抬起头，看到乔天使的脸白了一下，然后怪异地僵住，露出惊恐的表情。
he heard the door open and close. he looked up and saw Joe the Angel’s face whiten a shade and then freeze grotesquely into an expression of horror.
“马龙！”
“malone!”
喊出这个名字的声音紧张、沙哑、可怕，是一种怪异的声音。马龙在酒吧凳子上转过身。
the voice that screamed it was strained, hoarse, terrible, a travesty of a voice. malone wheeled around on the bar stool.
一个男人走进门来，站在那里，一只手紧紧地抓着门把手，手指关节发白。对约翰?马龙来说，他是个陌生人。他没戴帽子，光滑的黑发上闪烁着点点雪花。他是个高个子，瘦而棱角分明，穿着一套芥末色的花呢套装，一件破旧但昂贵的骆驼毛大衣搭在肩上。他那骨骼粗大、布满深深皱纹的脸上有很深的晒黑痕迹。但现在，他的脸色是一种可怕的、毫无血色的灰色。
A man had e in the door and stood there clinging to the knob with one white-knuckled hand. he was a stranger to John J. malone. he was hatless, and tiny bits of snow glistened on his smooth, black hair. he was a tall man, lean and angular, dressed in a mustard tweed suit, with a badly worn but expensive camel’s hair topcoat thrown back on his shoulders. there was a deep tan on his big-boned, deeply lined face, but the color now was a hideous, bloodless gray.
他走进房间两步。
he took two steps into the room.
“马龙……”
“malone—”
声音里有一种可怕的、冒泡的声音。
there was a ghastly, bubbling sound in the voice.
乔天使酒吧里的人们像死了一样寂静。这个男人又走了一步，伸出了手。几乎是下意识地、不假思索地，约翰?马龙伸出了自己的手去握住它。但那只手只是握了他的手一下，然后就松开了，马龙感觉像是有个又硬又冷的东西滑进了他的掌心。
the crowd in Joe the Angel’s bar was still as death. the man took one more step, and held out his hand Almost automatically, without thinking, John J. malone reached out his own hand to grasp it. the hand clasped his and loosened again. he felt something hard and cold slip into his palm.
然后这个陌生人开始倒下。先是他的膝盖慢慢地弯曲，以至于他以祈祷的姿势跪在地上，双手向前伸展。在他毫无血色的脸上出现一种惊恐和难以置信的表情。然后他向后倒去，头撞到木地板，发出一种奇怪的、空洞的声音。一条腿猛的以一种奇怪的、弹跳的动作弹直；另一条腿还弯在他身下。刹那间，一阵可怕的抽搐传遍了他的全身，然后，同样突然地，他一动不动了。
then the stranger began to fall. First his knees buckled—slowly—so that he sank to the floor in an attitude of prayer, his hands outstretched in front of him. A look of horror and incredulity came over his colorless face. then he fell backward, his head striking the wood floor with a strange, hollow sound. one knee unbent, the foot flying out in a curious, springing movement; the other leg remained crooked under him. there was a sudden, horrible twitching that shook the entire frame and then, just as suddenly, he lay still.
约翰?马龙是第一个行动的人。他从酒吧凳上滑下来，只微微踉跄了一下，便跪在地上那个扭曲的身影旁边。片刻之后，他站起来，从口袋里掏出一个五分镍币，扔在吧台上。
John J. malone was the first to move. he slid off the bar stool, lurched only a trifle, and knelt beside the twisted figure on the floor. After a divided second he rose, drew a nickel from his pocket, and threw it on the bar.
“给我一个电话代币。”
“Gimme a slug.”
乔天使递给他一个电话代币。其他人没有人动。
Joe the Angel handed him a telephone slug. No one else moved.
小个子律师穿过狭窄的房间来到电话亭，把代币投进电话，拨打了报警的号码。
the little lawyer crossed the narrow room to the telephone booth, dropped the slug in the telephone, and dialed poL-1313
“派一辆警车到迪尔伯恩街的乔天使酒吧。地上有个死人。”
“Send a squad car to Joe the Angel’s, on dearborn Street. there’s a dead man on the floor.”
他第一次没挂上电话听筒，然后砰地一声把听筒挂上。
he slammed down the receiver after missing the hook on the first try.
就在那一刻，一切乱成了一团。酒吧后面的收音机发出的声音变得震耳欲聋。外面，哨子声尖叫，铃铛叮当作响，聚集人群的喧闹声从州街那边一路传来。
At exactly that moment hell broke loose. the radio back of the bar began to let forth sounds that rocked the little machine. outside, whistles began to scream, bells clanged, and the off-pitch roar of voices was heard all the way from State Street where the crowds were gathered.
这是跨年夜的十二点，新的一年开始了。
It was twelve o’clock on New Year’s Eve, the beginning of a new year.
约翰?马龙喝下他留在吧台上的杜松子酒。等酒让他的血液在他的血管里再次流动起来后，这个小个子律师张开手，看着那个陌生人在生命最后一刻塞进他手里的东西。
John J. malone swallowed the gin he had left on the bar. when it had set the blood moving in his veins again the little lawyer opened his hand and looked at what the stranger had slipped there in the last moment of his life.
是一把钥匙。一把普通的钥匙，钥匙的柄上印着数字 114。
It was a key. An ordinary key, with the number 114 printed on its handle.