p&c.brimstone-第28部分
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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。〃
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