cpatricia.blacknotice-第57部分

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　　〃Stop　it！〃　I　raised　my　voice　and　threw　my　napkin　on　the　table　as　emotions　began　crashing　in　on　all　sides。
　　〃We　got　to　face　it〃　Marino　was　getting　emotional；　too。　〃How　do　you　know　。　。　。　I　mean；　what　if　the　letter　really　wasn't　written　several　years　ago？　What　if　it　was　written　now。。。？〃
　　〃No！　How　dare　you！〃　I　exclaimed　as　tears　filled　my　eyes。
　　I　pushed　back　my　chair　and　got　up。
　　〃Leave；〃　I　told　him。　〃I　won't　be　subjected　to　your　goddamn　UFO　theories。　What　do　you　want？　To　make　me　live　through　this　hell　all　over　again？　So　I　can　hope　for　something　when　I've　worked　so　hard　to　accept　the　truth？　Get　out　of　my　room。〃
　　Marino。　pushed　back　his　chair；　and　it　fell　over　as　he　jumped　to　his　feet。　He　snatched　his　pack　of　cigarettes　off　the　table。
　　〃What　if　he's　fucking　still　alive？〃　He　raised　his　voice；　too。　〃How　do　you　know　for　a　fact　he　didn't　have　to　disappear　for　a　while　because　of　some　big　thing　going　on　that　involves　ATF；　FBI；　Interpol；　shit；　maybe　NASA；　for　all　we　know？〃
　　I　grabbed　my　wine；　my　hands　shaking　so　badly　I　could　barely　hold　it　without　spilling；　my　entire　existence　ripped　open　again。　Marino　was　stalking　the　room　and　gesturing　wildly　with　his　cigarette。
　　〃You　don't　know　it　for　a　fact；〃　he　said　again。　〃All　you　saw　was　burned…up　bone　in　a　stinking　black　fire　hole。　And　a　Breiding　watch　like　his。　So　fucking　what！〃
　　〃You　son　of　a　bitch！〃　I　said。　〃You　goddamn　son　of　a　bitch！　After　all　I've　been　through；　and　then　you　have　to　。　。　。〃
　　〃You're　not　the　only　one　who's　been　through　it。　You　know；　just　because　you　slept　with　him　doesn't　mean　you　fucking　owned　him。〃
　　I　took　quick　steps　toward　him　and　caught　myself　before　I　slapped　him　hard　across　the　face。
　　〃Oh；　God；〃　I　muttered　as　I　stared　into　his　shocked　eyes。　〃Oh；　God。〃
　　I　thought　of　Lucy　striking　Jo；　and　I　walked　away　from　him。　He　turned　to　the　window　and　smoked。　The　room　was　overcast　with　misery　and　shame；　and　I　leaned　my　head　against　the　wall　and　shut　my　eyes。　I'd　never　e　even　close　to　violence　with　anyone　in　my　life；　not　anyone　like　this；　not　someone　I　knew　and　cared　about。
　　〃Nietzsche　was　right；〃　I　muttered　in　a　defeated　way。　〃Be　careful　who　you　choose　for　an　enemy　because　that's　who　you　bee　most　like。〃
　　〃I'm　sorry；〃　Marino　barely　said。
　　〃Like　my　first　husband；　like　my　idiot　sister；　like　every　out…of…control　cruel；　selfish　person　I've　ever　known。　Here　I　am。　Like　them。〃
　　〃No；　you　ain't。〃
　　My　forehead　was　pressed　against　the　wall；　as　if　I　were　praying；　and　I　was　grateful　we　were　in　shadows；　my　back　to　him；　so　he　could　not　see　my　anguish。
　　〃I　didn't　mean　what　I　said；　Doc。　I　swear　I　didn't。　I　don't　even　know　why　I　said　it。〃
　　〃It's　all　right。〃
　　〃All　I'm　trying　to　do　is　look　at　everything　because　there's　pieces　that　aren't　fitting　right。〃
　　He　walked　over　to　an　ashtray　and　stabbed　out　his　cigarette。
　　〃I　don't　know　why　we're　here；〃　he　said。
　　〃We're　not　here　to　do　this；〃　I　said。
　　〃Well；　I　don't　know　why　they　couldn't　have　exchanged　info　with　us　through　the　puter；　over　the　phone；　like　they　always　do。　Do　you？〃
　　〃No；〃　I　whispered　as　I　took　a　deep　breath。
　　〃So　it　started　sneaking　into　my　thoughts　that　maybe　Benton　。　。　。　What　if　there　was　something　going　on　and　he　had　to　be　a　protected　witness　for　a　while。　Change　his　identity　and　all　that。　We　didn't　always　know　what　he　was　into。　Not　even　you　always　knew；　because　he　couldn't　always　tell　you；　and　he　would　never　want　to　hurt　us　by　telling　us　something　we　shouldn't　know。　Especially　not　hurt　you　or　make　you　worry　about　him　all　the　time。〃
　　I　did　not　answer　him。
　　〃I'm　not　trying　to　stir　anything　up。　I'm　just　saying　it's　something　we　should　think　about；〃　he　lamely　added。
　　〃No；　it　isn't；〃　I　replied；　clearing　my　throat　and　aching　all　over。　〃It's　not　something　we　should　think　about。　He　was　identified；　Marino；　by　every　possible　means。　Carrie　Grethen　didn't　just　conveniently　kill　him　so　he　could　disappear　for　a　while。　Don't　you　see　how　impossible　this　is？　He's　dead；　Marino。　He's　dead：〃
　　〃Did　you　go　to　his　autopsy？　Did　you　see　his　autopsy　report？〃　He　wouldn't　let　it　go。
　　Benton's　remains　had　gone　to　the　Philadelphia　medical　examiner's　office。　I　had　never　asked　to　review　his　case。
　　〃No；　you　didn't　go　to　his　autopsy；　and　if　you　had；　I　would　have　thought　you　were　the　most　fucked…up　person　I've　ever　met；〃　Marino　said。　〃So　you　didn't　see　nothing。　You　only　know　what　you've　been　…told。　I　don't　mean　to　keep　hammering　you　with　that；　but　it's　the　truth。　And　if　anyone　wanted　to　cover　up　that　those　remains　weren't　his；　how　would　you　know　if　you　never　took　a　look？〃
　　〃Pour　me　some　Scotch；〃　I　said。
　　　
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　　I　turned　toward　Marino；　my　back　against　the　wall　as　if　I　didn't　have　the　strength　to　stand　on　my　own　two　feet。
　　〃Man；　you　see　how　much　whiskey　costs　over　here？〃　Marino　mented　as　he　closed　the　door　to　the　minibar。
　　〃I　don't　care。〃
　　〃Interpol's　probably　paying；　anyway；〃　he　decided。
　　〃And　I　need　a　cigarette；〃　I　added。
　　He　lit　a　Marlboro　for　me　and　the　first　hit　punched　my　lungs。　He　presented　me　with　a　tumbler　of　straight　single　malt　on　the　rocks　in　one　hand；　a　Beck's　beer　in　the　other。
　　〃What　I'm　trying　to　say；〃　Marino　resumed；　〃is　if　Interpol　can　do　all　this　secret　shit　with　electronic　tickets　and　ritzy　hotels　and　Concordes；　and　no　one　ever　meets　a　soul　who's　ever　talked　to　whoever　these　people　are；　then　what　makes　you　think　they　couldn't　have　faked　everything　else？〃
　　〃They　couldn't　have　faked　his　being　murdered　by　a　psychopath；〃　I　replied。
　　〃Yes；　they　could　have。　Maybe　that　was　the　perfect　timing。〃　He　blew　out　smoke　and　gulped　down　beer。　〃Point　is；　Doc；　I　think　anything　can　be　faked；　if　you　think　about　it。〃
　　〃DNA　identified　。　。　。〃
　　I　couldn't　finish　the　statement。　It　brought　images　before　me　I　had　suppressed　for　so　long。
　　〃You　can't　say　the　reports　were　true。〃
　　〃Enough！〃
　　But　the　beer　had　crumbled　what　walls　he　had；　and　he　would　not　stop　his　increasingly　fantastic　theories　and　deductions　and　wishful　thoughts。　His　voice　went　on　and　on　and　began　to　sound　far　away　and　unreal。　A　shiver　crept　over　me。　A　splinter　of　light　glinted　in　that　dark；　devastated　part　of　me。　I　desperately　wanted　to　believe　that　what　he　was　suggesting　was　true。
　　When　5：00　A。M。　came　around；　I　was　still　dressed…　and　asleep　on　the　couch。　I　had　a　hammering　headache。　My　mouth　tasted　like　stale　cigarettes　and　my　breath　was　alcohol。　I　showered　and　stared　for　a　long　time　at　the　phone　by　my　bed。　The　anticipation　of　what　I　had　decided　to　do　electrified　me　with　panic。　I　was　so　confused。
　　In　Philadelphia；　it　was　almost　midnight；　and　I　left　a　message　for　Dr。　Vance　Harston；　the　chief　medical　examiner。　I　gave　him　the　number　to　the　fax　machine　in　my　room　and　left　the　do　not　disturb　sign　on　the　door。　Marino　met　me　in　the　hall；　and　I　said　nothing　to　him　but　an　inaudible　good　morning。
　　Downstairs；　dishes　clattered　as　the　buffet　was　set　up　and　a　man　cleaned　glass　doors　with　a　brush　and　a　cloth。　There　was　no　coffee　this　early；　and　the　only　other　guest　awake　was　a　woman　with　a　mink　coat　draped　over　a　chair。　In　front　of　the　hotel；　another　Mercedes　taxi　awaited　us。
　　Our　driver　this　day　was　sullen　and　in　a　hurry。　I　rubbed　my　temples　as　motorcycles　sped　past　in　lanes　of　their　imagination；　weaving　between　cars　and　roaring　through　many　narrow　tunnels。　I　was　depressed　by　reminders　of　the　car　crash　that　killed　Princess　Diana。I　remembered　waking　up　and　hearing　about　it　on　the　news；　and　my　first　thought　was　we　tended　to　disbelieve　that　mundane；　random　deaths　can　happen　to　our　gods。There　is　no　glory　or　nobility　in　being　killed　by　a　drunk　driver。　Death　is　the　great　equalizer。　It　doesn't　give　a　damn　who　you　are。The　sky　was　dusky　blue。　Sidewalks　were　wet　from　washing　and　green　garbage　cans　had　been　set　out　along　the　streets。　We　bumped　over　cobblestones　at　the　Place　de　la　Concorde　and　drove　along　the　Seine；　which　we　could　not　see　most　of　the　time　because　of　a　wall。　A　digital　clock　outside　the　Gare　de　Lyon　let　us　know　it　was　seven…twenty；　and　inside　feet　shuffled　and　people　hurried　into　Relais　Hachette　to　buy　papers。 I　waited　behind　a　woman　with　a　poodle　at　the　ticket　counter；　and　a　sharp…featured；　well…dressed　man　with　silver　hair　jolted