马龙探案卷四 之 正确的凶案 六
丹尼尔?冯?弗拉纳根从早上九点得知 “消息灵通人士” 说马龙所谓的病让他整晚都在赌场玩扑克和轮盘赌后，就一直在慢慢发脾气。当他派克鲁切茨基去把马龙带来时，他的脾气正越变越糟。当律师和杰克?贾斯特走进他的办公室时，他的脸已经变成了一种不祥的深紫红色。
Daniel von Flanagan had been losing his temper by slow degrees ever since nine in the morning when he had learned from “well-informed sources” that Malone’s alleged illness had permitted him to spend the evening playing poker and roulette at the Casino. The temper was progressing nicely when he dispatched Kluchetsky to bring Malone in. By the time the lawyer and Jake Justus walked into his office, his face had attained an ominous, deep mulberry shade.
“真行啊。” 马龙生气地厉声说道，抢在他前面发作。“你就不能等我自己来。你非得派这个大块头来把我叫醒，把我从床上拖起来。”
“A fine thing,” Malone snapped crossly, beating him to the draw. “You couldn’t wait till I came in by myself. You had to send this big lug over to wake me up and drag me out of bed.”
克鲁切茨基瞪着他。“我猜你总是穿着衣服睡觉。” 他不友好地说，“还有你的帽子和大衣。”
Kluchetsky glared at him. “I suppose you always sleep in your clothes,” he said nastily, “and your hat and overcoat.”
“当然。” 马龙同样不友好地告诉他。“我不得不这样。我得准备好以防某个笨警察闯进来非要我去某个地方。” 他愤怒地看着桌子对面的冯?弗拉纳根。“还有你 ——” 他突然停了下来。
“Sure,” Malone told him, just as nastily. “I have to. I need to be prepared for having some dumb cop break in and insist on my going somewhere.” He looked indignantly across the desk at von Flanagan. “And you—” he paused suddenly.
令人惊讶的是，冯?弗拉纳根的脸已经恢复到正常的亮粉色，并且满脸笑容。
Von Flanagan’s face had, amazingly, faded to its normal bright pink and was wreathed in smiles.
“杰克?贾斯特！” 他高兴地说。“你正是我想见的人。”
“Jake Justus!” he said happily. “You’re exactly the guy I wanted to see.”
杰克惊讶而困惑地看着他。“我还以为你想见的是马龙。”
Jake looked at him in bewildered surprise. “I thought it was Malone you wanted to see.”
“马龙！” 这位警官做了一个单臂的手势，似乎在问究竟谁会想见马龙。“我一直盼着你能出现。” 他从办公桌抽屉里拿出一本虽小但看起来很厚重的书。“我买了这本书，还有其他一些，我想让你告诉我这本书好不好。”
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“Malone!” The police officer made a one-armed gesture that seemed to ask who the hell would ever want to see Malone. “I’ve been wishing you’d show up.” He reached in his desk drawer and took out a small but ponderous-looking book.
杰克伸手拿过书。是 H.F. 哈灵顿所着的《新闻工作要点》。
Jake reached for the book. It was Essentials of Journalism, by H. F. Harrington.
“当然是本好书，” 他说着把书扔回桌上，“但里面有不少四个音节的词。”
“Sure it’s a good book,” he said, tossing it back on the desk, “but it’s got quite a few four-syllable words in it.”
冯?弗拉纳根把书放回抽屉，双手抱在脑后，危险地向后靠在椅子上。“是这样，杰克。我从来不想当警察。我从来就不喜欢当警察。没有哪一天我不想自己要是个高级殡仪承办人就好了，就像我一直期望的那样。嗯，市议员欠我一个亲戚钱，所以我就当了警察。但我讨厌警察。我甚至还去法庭把我的名字从普通的弗拉纳根改成了冯?弗拉纳根，这样就不那么像警察的名字了。”
Von Flanagan replaced the book in the desk drawer, clasped his hands behind his head, and leaned perilously far back in his chair. “It’s like this, Jake. I never wanted to be a cop. I’ve never liked being a cop. There never was a day when I didn’t wish I’d been a high-class undertaker, like I’d always meant to be. Well, the alderman owed one of my relatives money, so I got to be a cop. But I hate cops. I even went to court and changed my name from just plain Flanagan to von Flanagan, so it wouldn’t sound so much like a cop’s name.”
杰克恭敬地默默听着。他对这段叙述倒背如流。
Jake listened in respectful silence. He knew the recital by heart, backwards, forwards, and sideways.
冯?弗拉纳根脸上露出幸福的表情。“现在，” 他高兴地说，“我要退休了。随时都有可能。也许等我把这个案子从我的办公桌上处理掉就行。等我退休了，我要在某个地方买一份乡村报纸，然后当编辑。我肯定会这么做，上帝作证！” 他用一只巨大的拳头猛击一下桌子，发出的砰的一声让房间里的所有东西都晃动起来。
A beatific expression came over von Flanagan’s face. “Now,” he said happily, “I’m gonna retire. Any day now. Maybe as soon as I can get this case off my desk. And when I retire, I’m gonna buy me a country newspaper someplace and be an editor. That’s what I’m gonna do, by God!” He brought one enormous fist down on his desk with a thump that set everything in the room rattling.
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“说得好，说得好。” 杰克无力地说道。
“Hear, hear,” Jake said inadequately.
“现在，我对这行一无所知，” 冯?弗拉纳根接着说，“但是从一些我认识的记者那里 —— 无意冒犯，杰克 —— 我觉得这没什么难学的。你知道，” 他坦白道，“我一直都有点想当记者。几乎和想当殡仪承办人一样强烈。除了警察，什么都行。”
“Right now, I don’t know nothing about the business,” von Flanagan went on, “but from some of the reporters I’ve known—no offense, Jake—I don’t think it would be so much to learn. You know,” he confessed, “I’ve always had a kind of yen to be a newspaperman. Almost as much as to be an undertaker. Anything but a cop.”
突然，他砰的一声把椅子前腿重重地放了下来。“当警察也没那么糟糕。是被提拔成凶杀组组长这件事让我很恼火。每个人都想给我找麻烦。” 他的声音开始变大。“就说这个在新年前夜被杀的人。他被刺的时候就不能正好倒在他被刺的地方吗，这样我们就能对犯罪现场有个概念了？不，他非得在整个商业区到处走，最后死在乔天使酒吧。他就不能带个驾照，或者俱乐部会员卡，或者任何能表明他身份的东西吗？不。一样都没有。他被刺之前就不能老老实实地待在一个地方吗，这样我们也许就能知道谁在他周围晃悠了？不，他满城市地找马龙。” 他的声音已经变成了愤怒的咆哮。他指责地看着这个小律师。“然后这个混蛋还得隐瞒信息不告诉我。”
Suddenly he brought the front legs of his chair down with a loud bang. “It wouldn’t be so damned bad being a cop. It’s being promoted to be head of the homicide squad that makes me sore. Everybody tries to make it hard for me.” His voice began to grow louder. “Take this guy that was killed on New Year’s Eve. Could he have fell down dead right where he was when he was stabbed, so’s we’d have some idea of the scene of the crime? No, he has to walk all over the Loop and finally die in Joe the Angel’s bar. Could he have carried a driver’s license, maybe, or a club card, or anything that would tell who he was? No. Not one damned thing. Could he have stayed put in one place before he was stabbed, so’s we might of known who was hanging around him? No, he goes all over town looking for Malone.” His voice had bee an angry roar. He looked accusingly at the little lawyer. “Then this son of a bitch has to go and hold out information on me.”
他往后一靠，被这些不公平的事气得说不出话来。
He sat back, rendered speechless by these injustices.
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“我没有隐瞒信息。” 马龙愤慨地说。“我没什么可隐瞒的。你对这个人的了解比我还多。”
“I’m not holding out information,” Malone said indignantly. “I haven’t any to hold out. You know more about this guy than I do.”
“见鬼。” 冯?弗拉纳根咆哮道，“我甚至还不知道他是谁呢。你曾经认为像那样一个穿着讲究、长得帅的人会有一些朋友出现并认出他来。”
“Hell,” von Flanagan growled, “I don’t even know who he is yet. You’d think a well-dressed, good-looking guy like that would have some friends who’d turn up and identify him.”