preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第7节

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　paisley　silk　handkerchief　poking　out　of　his　pocket　was　a　nice　touch；　though　perhaps　a　bit　flamboyant；　but　then　again　he　was　a　famous　writer…almost　famous　anyway；　if　only　his　last　damn　book　had　inched　up　two　more　slots　it　would　have　made　the　list…and　he　could　get　away　with　such　touches。　He　turned　with　what　he　hoped　was　casual　elegance　and　arched　an　eyebrow　in　the　direction　of　the　ma？tre　d'；　who　immediately　strode　over　with　a　smile。
　Smithback　loved　this　restaurant　more　than　any　other　in　New　York　City。　It　was　decidedly　untrendy；　old…fashioned；　with　superb　food。　You　didn't　get　the　Bridge　and　Tunnel　crowd　in　here　like　you　did　at　Le　Cirque　2000。　And　the　Howard　Chandler　Christie　mural　added　just　the　right　touch　of　kitsch。
　〃Mr。　Smithback；　how　nice　to　see　you　this　evening。　Your　party　just　arrived。〃
　Smithback　nodded　gravely。　Being　recognized　by　the　ma？tre　d'　of　a　first…class　restaurant；　although　he　would　be　loath　to　admit　it；　meant　a　great　deal　to　him。　It　had　taken　several　visits；　several　well…dropped　twenties。　What　clinched　it　was　the　casual　reference　to　his　position　at　the　New　York　Times。
　Nora　Kelly　sat　at　a　corner　table；　waiting　for　him。　As　usual；　just　seeing　her　sent　a　little　electric　current　of　pleasure　through　Smithback。　Even　though　she'd　been　in　New　York　well　over　a　year；　she　still　retained　a　fresh；　out…of…place　look　that　delighted　him。　And　she　never　seemed　to　have　lost　her　Santa　Fe　tan。　Funny；　how　they'd　met　under　the　worst　possible　of　circumstances：　an　archaeological　expedition　to　Utah　in　which　they'd　both　almost　lost　their　lives。　Back　then；　she'd　made　it　clear　she　thought　him　arrogant　and　obnoxious。　And　here　they　were；　two　years　later；　about　to　move　in　together。　And　Smithback　couldn't　imagine　ever　spending　a　day　apart　from　her。
　He　slid　into　the　banquette　with　a　smile。　She　looked　great；　as　always：　her　copper…colored　hair　spilling　over　her　shoulders；　deep　green…brown　eyes　sparkling　in　the　candlelight；　the　sprinkling　of　freckles　on　her　nose　adding　a　perfect　touch　of　boyishness。　Then　his　gaze　dropped　to　her　clothes。　Now；　those　left　something　to　be　desired。　God；　she　was　actually　dirty。
　〃You　won't　believe　the　day　I　had；〃　she　said。
　〃Hum。〃　Smithback　adjusted　his　tie　and　turned　ever　so　slightly；　allowing　the　light　to　catch　the　elegantly　cut　shoulder　of　his　suit。
　〃I　swear；　Bill；　you　aren't　going　to　believe　it。　But　remember；　this　is　off　the　record。〃
　Now　Smithback　felt　slightly　hurt。　Not　only　had　she　failed　to　notice　the　suit；　but　this　business　about　their　conversation　being　off　the　record　was　unnecessary。　〃Nora；　everything　between　us　is　off　the　record…〃
　She　didn't　wait　for　him　to　finish。　〃First；　that　scumbag　Brisbane　cut　my　budget　ten　percent。〃
　Smithback　made　a　sympathetic　noise。　The　Museum　was　perpetually　short　of　money。
　〃And　then　I　found　this　really　weird　man　in　my　office。〃
　Smithback　made　another　noise；　slyly　moving　his　elbow　into　position　beside　his　water　glass。　Surely　she'd　notice　the　dark　silk　against　the　white　nap　of　the　tablecloth。
　〃He　was　reading　my　books；　acting　like　he　owned　the　place。　He　looked　just　like　an　undertaker；　dressed　in　a　black　suit；　with　really　white　skin。　Not　albino；　just　white。〃
　An　unfortable　feeling　of　déjà　vu　began　to　well　up　in　Smithback's　mind。　He　dismissed　it。
　〃He　said　he　was　from　the　FBI；　and　he　dragged　me　downtown；　to　a　building　site　where　they'd　uncovered…〃
　Abruptly；　the　feeling　returned。　〃Did　you　say　FBI？〃　No　way。　Not　him。　It　couldn't　be。
　〃Yes；　the　FBI。　Special　Agent…〃
　〃Pendergast；〃　Smithback　finished　for　her。
　Now　it　was　Nora's　turn　to　look　astonished。　〃You　know　him？〃
　〃Know　him？　He　was　in　my　book　on　the　Museum　murders。　That　book　of　mine　you　said　you　read。〃
　〃Oh　yeah；　right。　Right。〃
　Smithback　nodded；　too　preoccupied　to　be　indignant。　Pendergast　was　not　back　in　Manhattan　on　a　social　visit。　The　man　showed　up　only　when　there　was　trouble。　Or　maybe　he　just　seemed　to　always　bring　trouble　with　him。　Either　way；　Smithback　hoped　to　God　it　wasn't　trouble　like　the　last　time。
　The　waiter　appeared　and　took　their　orders。　Smithback；　who'd　been　anticipating　a　small　dry　sherry；　ordered　a　martini　instead。　Pendergast。　Oh；　God。　As　much　as　he'd　admired　the　man；　he　hadn't　been　sorry　to　see　him　and　his　black　suit　heading　back　to　New　Orleans。
　〃So　tell　me　about　him；〃　Nora　said；　leaning　back　in　her　chair。
　〃He's　　。　。　。〃　Smithback　paused；　feeling　uncharacteristically　at　a　loss　for　words。　〃He's　unorthodox。　Charming；　a　southern　aristocrat；　lots　of　dough；　old　family　money；　pharmaceuticals　or　something。　I　really　don't　know　what　his　relationship　is　with　the　FBI。　He　seems　to　have　free　rein　to　poke　into　anything　he　likes。　He　works　alone　and　he's　very；　very　good。　He　knows　a　lot　of　important　people。　As　far　as　the　man　personally；　I　don't　know　anything　about　him。　He's　a　cipher。　You　never　know　what　he's　really　thinking。　Christ；　I　don't　even　know　his　first　name。〃
　〃He　can't　be　that　powerful。　He　got　trumped　today。〃
　Smithback　arched　his　eyebrows。　〃What　happened？　What　did　he　want？〃
　Nora　told　him　about　their　hasty　visit　to　the　charnel　pit　at　the　construction　site。　She　finished　just　as　their　morel　and　black　truffle　quenelles　arrived。
　〃Moegen…Fairhaven；〃　said　Smithback；　digging　a　fork　into　the　mousse；　releasing　a　heavenly　aroma　of　musk　and　the　deep　forest。　〃Weren't　those　the　guys　that　got　in　trouble　for　ripping　down　that　SRO　without　a　permit…when　there　were　still　people　living　there？〃
　〃The　single…room　occupancy　on　East　First？　I　think　so。〃
　〃Nasty　bunch。〃
　〃Fairhaven　was　arriving　in　a　stretch　limo　just　as　we　left。〃
　〃Yeah。　And　in　a　Rolls；　you　said？〃　Smithback　had　to　laugh。　When　he'd　been　investigating　the　Museum　murders；　Pendergast　went　around　in　a　Buick。　The　conspicuousness　of　a　Rolls　had　to　mean　something…everything　Pendergast　did　served　a　purpose。　〃Well；　you　rode　in　style；　anyway。　But　this　really　doesn't　sound　like　something　Pendergast　would　be　interested　in。〃
　〃Why　not？〃
　〃It's　an　incredible　site；　but　it　is　over　a　hundred　years　old。　Why　would　the　FBI；　or　any　law　enforcement　agency；　be　interested　in　a　crime　scene　that's　ancient　history？〃
　〃It　isn't　an　ordinary　crime　scene。　Three　dozen　young　people；　murdered；　dismembered；　and　walled　up　in　a　subterranean　crawlspace。　That's　one　of　the　biggest　serial　killings　in　U。S。　history。〃
　Their　waiter　returned；　sliding　a　dish　in　front　of　Smithback：　steak　au　poivre；　cooked　rare。　〃Nora；　e　on；〃　he　said；　lifting　his　knife　eagerly。　〃The　murderer　is　long　dead。　It's　a　historical　curiosity。　It'll　make　a　great　story　in　the　paper…e　to　think　of　it…but　I　still　can't　see　why　the　FBI　would　take　an　interest。〃
　He　felt　Nora　glowering　at　him。　〃Bill；　this　is　off　the　record。　Remember？〃
　〃It's　almost　prehistoric；　Nora；　and　it　would　make　a　sensational　story。　How　could　it　possibly　hurt…？〃
　〃Off　the　record。〃
　Smithback　sighed。　〃Just　give　me　first　shot；　Nora；　when　the　time　es。〃
　Nora　smirked。　〃You　always　get　first　shot；　Bill。　You　know　that。〃
　Smithback　chuckled　and　sliced　a　tender　corner　off　his　steak。　〃So　what　did　you　find　down　there？〃
　〃Not　much。　A　bunch　of　stuff　in　the　pockets…some　old　coins；　a　b；　pins；　string；　buttons。　These　people　were　poor。　I　took　a　vertebra；　a　hair　sample；　and　　。　。　。〃　She　hesitated。　〃There　was　something　else。〃
　〃Out　with　it。〃
　〃There　was　a　piece　of　paper　sewed　into　the　lining　of　one　girl's　dress。　It　felt　like　a　letter。　I　can't　stop　thinking　about　it。〃
　Smithback　leaned　forward。　〃What'd　it　say？〃
　〃I　had　to　put　the　dress　back　before　I　could　take　a　closer　look。〃
　〃You　mean　it's　still　there？〃
　Nora　nodded。
　〃What　are　they　going　to　do　with　the　stuff？〃
　〃The　ME　took　away　the　bones；　but　they　said　they　were　going　to　bag　the　rest。　I　got　the　sense　they　were　eager　to　lose　track　of　the　stuff　in　some　warehouse。　The　quicker　they　can　get　rid　of　it；　the　less　chance　it'll　be　declared　an　archaeological　site。　I've　seen　developers　tear　up　a　site　just　to　make　sure　that　when　the　archaeologists　arrive　there's　nothing　left　to　examine。〃
　〃That's　illegal；　isn't　it？　Aren't　they　supposed　to　stop　if　it's　important？〃
　〃If　the　site's　gone；　how　can　you　prove　it　was　important？　Developers　destroy　dozens　of　archaeological　sites　in　America　in　just　this　way；　every　single　day。〃
　Smithback　mumbled　his　righteous　indignation　as　he　made　headway　into　the　steak。　He　was　famished。　Nobody　did　steak　like　Café　des　Artistes。　And　the　helpings　were　decent；　man…sized；　none　of　this　nouvelle　cuisine　crap；　the　tippy　little　structure　of　food　in　the　middle　of　a　giant　white　plate　splashed　with　Jackson　Pollock…like　dribbles　of　sauce　　。　。　。
　〃Why　would　the　girl　sew　the　letter　into　her　dress？〃
　Smithback　looked　up；　took　a　swig　of　red　wine；　another　bite　of　steak。　〃Love　letter；　perhaps？〃
　〃The　more　I　think　about　it；　the　more　I　think　it　could　be　important。　It　would　at　least　be　a　clue　to　who　these　people　were。　Otherwise；　we　may　never　find　out；　with　their　clothes　gone　and　the　tunnel　destroyed。〃　She　was　looking　at　him　earnestly；　her　entrée　untouched。　〃Damn　it；　Bill；　that　was　an　archaeological　site。〃
　〃Probably　torn　up　by　now；　like　you　said。〃
　〃It　was　late　in　the　day。　I　stowed　the　dress　back　in　the　alcove。〃
　〃They　probably　removed　it　with　the　rest　of　the　stuff；　then。〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。　I　stuffed　it　into　a　crevice　in　the　rear　of　the　alcove