p&c.brimstone-第25节

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　The　voice　was　cut　off　by　the　unbearably　shrill　sound　of　the　fire　alarm　in　the　hall；　followed　by　the　even　louder　blare　of　the　siren　within　her　apartment。　She　dropped　the　phone；　covering　her　ears。　A　moment　later　there　was　a　snapping　noise　as　the　sprinklers　went　off；　and　suddenly　the　room　was　full　of　water；　streaming　everywhere。　
　Mrs。　Dallbridge　was　in　such　a　state　of　shock　that　she　remained　frozen　as　a　statue；　unprehending；　while　the　spray　slowly　darkened　her　gown　and　her　lovely　bedspread　and　refilled　the　teacup　on　her　tray　with　gray；　chill　water。　
　　　
　21　
　
　The　stench　hanging　in　the　apartment　entrance　helped　warn　D'Agosta　what　was　in　store。　It　only　grew　worse　as　he　walked　through　the　dwelling　on　his　way　to　the　master　bedroom。　He'd　been　half　asleep　when　he　entered　the　building's　lobby…filling　out　the　incident　report　on　the　gunfire　he'd　exchanged　in　Riverside　Park　had　taken　longer　than　expected…but　he　sure　as　hell　wasn't　asleep　now。　It　was　amazing　the　way　that　stench　just　cut　through　everything：　took　away　the　2A。M。　grogginess；　took　away　the　aches　in　his　joints；　the　pain　of　the　skinned　knees；　the　itch　of　the　poison　ivy　he'd　managed　to　roll　through　while　evading　the　thugs。　
　He　had　seen　a　lot　of　unpleasant　homicides　in　his　day；　but　nothing　could　have　prepared　him　for　what　lay　on　the　floor　beside　the　bed。　It　was　a　corpse；　that　much　at　least　was　clear：　it　had　ruptured　in　a　way　he'd　never　seen　before；　the　corpse　unzipping　itself　from　pubis　to　sternum；　vomiting　a　shrunken　tangle　of　burned　and　blackened　organs。　In　an　almost　unconscious　gesture；　he　reached　up　and　touched　the　cross　underneath　his　shirt；　feeling　its　reassuring　presence。　If　there　was　a　devil；　this　was　how　he'd　do　it。　This　was　definitely　how　he'd　do　it。　
　He　glanced　over　at　Pendergast　and　felt　faintly　gratified　to　see　that　even　the　great　detective　was　looking　whiter　than　usual。　Pendergast's　normal　impulses　to　poke；　pry；　and　sniff　seemed　to　have　deserted　him。　He　stood　there；　dressed　in　white　tie　and　tails；　something　almost　like　shock　on　his　face。　
　The　last　of　the　SOC　boys…the　fingernail　picker…came　back　around　the　corpse　on　his　hands　and　knees；　bristling　with　test　tubes　and　tweezers　and　swabs。　He　looked　pretty　green；　too；　and　those　guys　were　a　tough　bunch。　They　were　the　ones　who　had　to　find　the　fibers　and　hairs；　swab　stains；　pick　up　all　the　bits　and　pieces。　Close…in　work；　real　close。　
　The　M。E。　ducked　in。　〃Finished？〃　
　〃I　sure　hope　so。〃　
　Pendergast　held　out　his　shield。　〃Mind　if　I　ask　a　few　questions；　Doctor？〃　
　〃Shoot。〃　
　〃Do　you　have　a　cause　of　death？〃　
　〃Not　yet。　Heating；burning　；　is　clear。　But　as　for　the　cause　。　。　。　I　have　no　idea。〃　
　〃Accelerants？〃　
　〃Negative；　at　least　prelim；〃　the　SOC　man　answered。　〃There　are　other　anomalies。　Note　the　lack　of　the　pugilistic　effect…there's　none　of　the　contraction　of　the　arm　muscles　one　usually　sees　in　such　severe　burn　cases。　Note　also　the　heat　fracturing　in　the　bones　of　the　extremities。　Nearer　the　center　of　the　body；　the　bones　have　actually　been　calcined。　Do　you　have　any　idea　how　hot　a　fire　would　have　to　be　to　cause　this　kind　of　damage？　Well　over　the　bustion　threshold。　And　yet　there　was　no　room　flashover。　In　fact；　from　the　look　of　things；　the　fire　never　evenapproached　flashover。　The　heat　was　localized　to　the　body；　and　the　body　only。〃　
　〃What　kind　of　heat　was　applied？〃　
　The　doctor　shook　his　head。　〃No　idea　yet。〃　
　〃Spontaneous　bustion？〃　
　The　doctor　looked　up　sharply。　〃You　mean；　like　Mary　Reeser？〃　
　〃You　know　of　that　case；　Doctor？〃　
　〃It's　kind　of　a　legend　in　medical　school。　A　joke；　really。　I　seem　to　recall　the　FBI　handled　it。〃　
　〃Yes。　And　if　the　case　file　can　be　believed；　SHC…spontaneous　human　bustion；　as　it's　referred　to…is　far　from　being　a　joke。〃　
　The　doctor　gave　a　low；　cynical　laugh。　〃You　FBI　fellows　and　your　acronyms。　I　don't　believe　you'll　find　'SHC'　in　theMerck　Manual　；　Mr。　Pendergast。〃　
　〃There　is　more　in　the　world　than　is　dreamt　of　in　your　philosophy；　Doctor…or　in　theMerck　Manual　。　I　will　send　over　the　case　file　for　your　perusal。〃　
　〃As　you　wish。〃　The　doctor　departed　with　the　SOC　man；　leaving　them　alone　with　the　body。　
　D'Agosta　removed　his　notebook　and　pen。　Nothing　was　ing　into　his　head；　but　he　needed　a　way　to　take　his　eyes　off　the　scene；　and　this　was　it。　He　roused　himself　and　wrote；October　23；　2：20　a。m。；　842　Fifth　Avenue；　Apt。　17B；　Cutforth。　The　pen　faltered　as　he　tried　to　breathe　only　through　his　mouth。　From　now　on；　he　was　going　to　carry　a　jar　of　Vicks　VapoRub　with　him　always。　On　dates。　On　vacation。　Out　for　bowling。　Always。　
　He　heard　murmured　voices　in　the　living　room：　detectives　from　Homicide。　They'd　been　interviewing　a　maintenance　worker　outside　the　hall…away　from　the　stench…and　D'Agosta　had　been　thankful　to　duck　past　them　on　entering　the　apartment。　He　didn't　want　any　of　his　old　pals　seeing　him　with　the　Southampton　P。D。　patch　and　sergeant　stripes　on　his　shoulder。　
　His　gaze　focused　back　on　the　page　of　his　notebook。　His　mind　wasn't　working。　He　gave　up　and　raised　his　eyes。　
　Pendergast　seemed　to　have　overe　his　revulsion　and　was　now　on　his　hands　and　knees；　examining　the　corpse。　Like　the　SOC　guy；　he　had　a　glass　test　tube　and　a　pair　of　tweezers　in　his　hands…where　did　he　keep　all　that　stuff　in　such　a　narrow…tailored　suit？…and　was　putting　something　into　it；　moving　around　with　great　care。　Then　he　moved　toward　a　wall；　where　he　stopped　to　examine　a　scorched　area　with　a　magnifying　glass。　He　spent　so　much　time　staring　at　it　that　D'Agosta　began　to　stare；　too。　The　paint　of　the　scorched　patch　was　browned　and　bubbled。　There　was　no　hoofprint　that　he　could　see；　but　as　he　stared　a　creeping　sensation　began　to　tickle　its　way　up　his　spine　and　dig　into　his　scalp。　It　was　blurry；　indistinct；　but…damn…was　it　just　like　those　inkblot　tests；　all　in　his　mind？　
　Pendergast　suddenly　turned　and　caught　his　eye。　〃You　see　it；　too？〃　
　〃I　think　so。〃　
　〃What　exactly　do　you　see？〃　
　〃A　face。〃　
　〃What　kind？〃　
　〃Ugly　as　shit；　thick　lips；　big　eyes；　with　a　mouth　open　as　if　to　bite。〃　
　〃Or　swallow？〃　
　〃Yeah；　more　like　swallow。〃　
　〃It's　uncannily　reminiscent　of　Vasari's　fresco　of　the　devil　swallowing　sinners。　The　one　inside　of　the　cupola　of　the　Duomo。〃　
　〃Yeah？　I　mean；　yeah。〃　
　Pendergast　stepped　back　thoughtfully。　〃Are　you　familiar　with　the　story　of　Dr。　Faustus？〃　
　〃Faustus？　You　mean；　Faust？　The　guy　who　sold　his　soul　to　the　devil？〃　
　Pendergast　nodded。　〃There　are　any　number　of　variants　of　the　story。　Most　e　down　to　us　in　manuscript　accounts　written　in　the　Middle　Ages。　While　each　account　has　its　unique　characteristics；　they　all　involve　a　death　similar　to　that　of　Mrs。　Mary　Reeser。〃　
　〃The　case　you　mentioned　to　the　M。E。　just　now。〃　
　〃Exactly。　Spontaneous　human　bustion。　The　medievals　called　itthe　fire　within　。〃　
　D'Agosta　nodded。　His　brain　felt　like　lead。　
　〃Here；　with　Nigel　Cutforth；　we　seem　to　have　a　classic　example。　Even　more　so　than　with　Grove。〃　
　〃Are　you　telling　me　you　think　the　devil　claimed　this　guy？〃　
　〃I　offer　the　observation　without　attaching　any　hypothesis。〃　
　D'Agosta　shook　his　head。　The　whole　thing　was　creepy。　Seriously　creepy。　He　felt　his　hand　stealing　toward　his　cross　again。　Itcouldn't　be　the　work　of　the　devil　。　。　。　could　it？　
　〃Good　evening；　gentlemen。〃　The　voice　came　from　behind：　female；　a　rich　contralto；　calm；　efficient。　
　D'Agosta　turned　to　see　a　woman　framed　in　the　doorway；　dressed　in　a　gray　pinstripe　suit　with　captain's　bars　on　the　collar　of　her　white　shirt。　Several　detectives　were　visible　behind　her。　He　took　in　the　features：　petite；　thin；　large　breasts；　glossy　black　hair　framing　a　pale；　almost　delicate　face。　Her　eyes　were　a　rich　blue。　She　looked　no　more　than　thirty…five：　amazingly　young　for　a　full　captain　in　the　Homicide　Division。　She　looked　familiar。　He　knew　her。　The　sick　feeling　returned。　Maybe　he'd　been　a　little　premature　in　congratulating　himself　that　he　wouldn't　run　into　any　of　his　old　buddies。　
　〃I'm　Captain　Hayward；〃　she　said　briskly；　looking　at　D'Agosta　a　little　too　intently　for　fort…recognizing　him　too；　it　seemed。　〃I　know　you　already　presented　credentials　at　the　door；　but　may　I　see　them　again？〃　
　〃Certainly；　Captain。〃　Pendergast　had　his　badge　out　in　one　elegant　movement。　
　Hayward　took　it；　examined　it；　looked　up。　〃Mr。　Pendergast。〃　
　Pendergast　bowed。　〃It's　a　pleasure　to　see　you　again；　Captain　Hayward。　May　I　congratulate　you　on　your　return　to　the　force；　and　most　particularly　on　making　captain？〃　
　Hayward　let　that　pass　without　ment　and　turned　back　to　D'Agosta。　He　had　removed　his　shield　for　her；　but　she　wasn't　looking　at　it。　She　was　looking　at　him。　
　The　name　brought　it　all　back：　Laura　Hayward；　who'd　been　a　transit　cop　back　in　his　former　life；　going　to　school　at　the　time；　writing　some　book　on　the　underground　homeless　in　Manhattan；　working　toward　a　graduate　degree　or　something。　They　had　worked　together　briefly　on　the　Pamela　Wisher　case。　That　was　when　she　was　the　sergeant　and　he　a　lieutenant。　He　felt　his　gut　sink。　
　〃And　you　must　be　Lieutenant　Vincent　D'Agosta。〃　
　〃Sergeant　Vincent　D'Agosta　these　days。〃　He　felt　himself　coloring。　He　really　didn't　feel　like　making　more　explanations。　It　was　a　frigging　disgrace　and　there　was　no　way　around　it。　
　〃SergeantD'Agosta？　No　longer　NYPD？〃　
　〃Southampton　P。D。　You　know；　as　in　Long　Island。　I'm　t