p&c.brimstone-第7部分

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　paper　from　his　jacket　pocket　and　laid　it　gently　on　the　table。　
　〃This　is　a　list　of　the　four　people　who　attended　Jeremy　Grove's　last　party；　and　the　name　and　number　of　the　priest　who　received　his　final　phone　call。　It's　as　good　a　place　to　start　as　any。　Considering　how　short　the　list　is；　there　are　some　rather　interesting　names　on　it。〃　He　pushed　the　paper　across　the　table。　
　D'Agosta　nodded。　The　burning　sensation　began　to　ebb　as　he　looked　at　the　names　and　addresses。　Something　began　to　stir　in　him：　the　old　excitement　of　working　a　case。　A　good　case。　
　〃How's　this　going　to　work；　with　me　being　on　the　Southampton　P。D。　and　all？〃　
　〃I　will　arrange　with　Lieutenant　Braskie　to　get　you　assigned　as　the　local　FBI　liaison　officer。〃　
　〃He'll　never　go　for　it。〃　
　〃On　the　contrary；　he　will　be　only　too　happy　to　get　rid　of　you。　And　in　any　case；　it　won't　be　presented　as　a　request。　Braskie；　as　you　pointed　out；　is　a　political　animal；　and　he　will　do　as　he　is　told。〃　
　D'Agosta　nodded。　
　Pendergast　checked　his　watch。　〃Almost　two。　e　on；　Vincent；　we've　got　a　long　drive　ahead　of　us。　Priests　dine　early；　but　we　might　just　catch　Father　Cappi　if　we　hurry。〃　
　　　
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　D'Agosta　felt　like　he'd　been　swallowed　by　Ahab's　white　whale；cushioned　as　he　was　in　the　white　leather　interior　of　a　'59　Rolls…Royce　Silver　Wraith。　Chauffeured；　no　less。　Pendergast　had　certainly　e　up　in　the　world　since　the　bad　old　days　of　the　museum　murders；　when　he　drove　a　late…model　Buick　from　the　Bureau　pool。　Maybe　a　relative　died　and　left　him　a　few　billion。　He　glanced　over。　Or　maybe　the　time　for　dissembling　had　simply　passed。　
　The　car　was　cruising　up　Route　9；　along　a　beautiful　stretch　of　the　middle　Hudson　Valley　north　of　Poughkeepsie　。　After　months　spent　among　low　sand　dunes　and　beach　scrub；　D'Agosta　found　the　lush　greenery　and　rolling　hills　a　relief　to　the　eyes。　Here　and　there；　old　mansions　could　be　seen：　set　far　back　from　the　road；　overlooking　the　river　or　tucked　in　among　copses　of　trees。　Some　had　signs　identifying　them　as　monasteries　or　retreats；　others　still　seemed　to　be　in　private　ownership。　Despite　the　warmth　of　the　day；　there　were　already　strong　traces　of　fall　coloring　in　the　trees　that　marched　up　the　gentle　slopes。　
　The　car　slowed；　then　slid　into　a　long　cobbled　driveway；　ing　at　last　to　a　noiseless　stop　beneath　a　red…brick　porte…cochère。　As　he　stepped　out　of　the　car；　D'Agosta　found　himself　before　a　rambling；　Flemish…style　mansion。　A　narrow　bell　tower　at　the　flank　of　the　building　appeared　to　be　a　later　addition。　Beyond；　well…tended　greensward　swept　down　toward　the　Hudson。　A　plaque　screwed　into　the　facade　announced　that　the　structure　was　built　in　1874　and　was　now　designated　a　historic　site　on　the　National　Register　of　Historic　Places。　
　Their　knock　was　answered　by　a　cowled　monk　in　brown　robes；　a　silken　rope　tied　around　his　waist。　Without　a　word；　he　ushered　them　into　an　elegant　interior　smelling　of　time　and　wax　polish。　Pendergast　bowed　and　presented　the　monk　with　a　card；　in　turn；　the　monk　nodded　and　beckoned。　They　followed　him　through　several　turnings　and　twistings　of　corridors　to　a　spartan　room；　whitewashed　and　bare　save　for　a　single　crucifix　and　two　rows　of　hard　wooden　chairs　along　opposite　walls。　A　single　window　near　the　exposed　rafters　let　in　a　bar　of　light。　
　The　monk　bowed　and　withdrew。　Moments　later；　another　figure　appeared　in　the　door。　He；　too；　was　dressed　in　a　monk's　habit；　but　when　he　drew　back　the　collar；　D'Agosta　was　surprised　to　find　a　man　well　over　six　feet；　broad…shouldered；　square…jawed；　with　black　eyes　that　sparkled　with　vigor。　In　the　background；　he　could　hear　the　faint　peal　of　bells　as　the　changes　began　to　ring　in　the　tower。　Somehow　it　gave　him　the　shivers。　
　〃I'm　Father　Bernard　Cappi；〃　the　man　said。　〃Wele　to　the　Hyde　Park　Carthaginian　Monastery。　Here　we're　under　a　vow　of　silence；　but　we　meet　in　this　particular　room　once　a　week　to　talk。　We　call　it　the　Disputation　Chamber；　because　this　is　where　we　piss　and　moan。　You　build　up　a　lot　of　resentments　in　a　week　of　silence。〃　He　swept　his　robes　back；　taking　a　seat。　
　〃This　is　my　associate；　Sergeant　D'Agosta；〃　Pendergast　said；　following　the　monk's　lead。　〃He　may　want　to　ask　questions　as　well。〃　
　〃Pleased　to　make　your　acquaintance。〃　The　priest　crushed　his　hand　in　greeting。This　is　no　gentle　lamb　of　God；　thought　D'Agosta。　He　eased　down　in　the　chair；　shifting；　trying　hard　to　get　fortable。　He　failed。　The　room；　despite　the　sunny　day　outside；　felt　cold　and　damp。　God；　he　would　never　make　a　good　monk。　
　〃I　sincerely　apologize　for　this　intrusion；〃　said　Pendergast。　
　〃Quite　all　right。　I　just　hope　I　can　be　of　help。　This　is　a　tragic　business。〃　
　〃We'll　take　as　little　of　your　time　as　possible。　Perhaps　we　should　begin　with　the　telephone　call。〃　
　〃As　I　told　the　police；　the　call　came　to　my　home　at　3：10　in　the　morning…the　answering　machine　registered　the　time…but　every　year　I　take　a　two…week　retreat　here；　and　so　I　wasn't　home　to　receive　it。　I　check　my　messages　upon　rising…it's　a　violation　of　the　rules；　but　I've　got　an　elderly　mother。　I　immediately　headed　out　to　Long　Island；　but；　of　course；　it　was　too　late。〃　
　〃Why　did　he　call　you？〃　
　〃That's　a　plicated　question　requiring　a　long　answer。〃　
　Pendergast　nodded　at　him　to　proceed。　
　〃Jeremy　Grove　and　I　go　way　back。　We　met　at　Columbia　as　students　many　years　ago。　I　went　on　to　the　priesthood；　and　he　went　to　Florence　to　study　art。　In　those　days；　we　were　both…well；　I　wouldn't　call　us　religious　in　the　usual　sense　of　the　word。　We　were　both　spirituallyintrigued　。　We　used　to　argue　to　all　hours　of　the　morning　about　questions　of　faith；　epistemology；　the　nature　of　good　and　evil；　and　so　forth。　I　went　on　to　study　theology　at　Mount　St。　Mary's。　We　continued　our　friendship；　and　a　few　years　later　I　officiated　over　Grove's　marriage。〃　
　〃I　see；〃　murmured　Pendergast。　
　〃Grove　stayed　in　Florence　and　I　visited　him　several　times。　He　was　living　in　a　beautiful　villa　in　the　hills　south　of　the　city。〃　
　D'Agosta　cleared　his　throat。　〃Where'd　he　get　his　money？〃　
　〃An　interesting　story；　Sergeant。　He　bought　a　painting　at　an　auction　at　Sotheby's　that　was　billed　as　being　by　a　late　follower　of　Raphael。　Grove　was　able　to　prove　it　as　the　hand　of　the　master　himself；　turned　around　and　sold　it　for　thirty　million　dollars　to　the　Met。〃　
　〃Nice。〃　
　〃Indeed。　Anyway；　while　living　in　Florence；　Grove　had　bee　quite　devout。　In　an　intellectual　kind　of　way；　as　some　people　do。　He　loved　to　engage　me　in　discussion。　There　is；　Mr。　Pendergast；　such　a　thing　as　a　Catholic　intellectual；　and　that　was　Grove。〃　
　Pendergast　nodded。　
　〃He　was　very　happily　married。　He　adored　his　wife。　And　then；　quite　abruptly；　she　left　him；　ran　off　with　another　man。　To　say　that　Grove　was　devastated　is　not　saying　enough。　He　was　destroyed。　And　he　focused　his　anger　on　God。〃　
　〃I　see；〃　Pendergast　replied。　
　〃Grove　felt　betrayed　by　God。　He　became　。　。　。　well；　you　certainly　couldn't　call　him　an　atheist　or　an　agnostic。　Rather；　he　picked　a　fight　with　God。　He　deliberately　embarked　on　a　life　of　sin　and　violence　against　God；　which　in　reality　was　a　life　of　violence　against　his　own　higher　self。　He　became　an　art　critic。　Criticism　is　a　profession　which　allows　one　a　certain　license　to　be　vicious　outside　the　bounds　of　normal　civilized　behavior。　One　would　never　tell　another　person　in　private　that　his　painting　was　a　revolting　piece　of　trash；　but　the　critic　thinks　nothing　of　making　the　same　pronouncement　to　the　world　as　if　he　were　performing　a　high　moral　duty。　There　is　no　profession　more　ignoble　than　that　of　the　critic…except　perhaps　that　of　the　physician　presiding　at　an　execution。〃　
　〃You're　right　there；〃　said　D'Agosta　with　feeling。　〃Those　who　can't　do；　teach；　and　those　who　can't　teach；　critique。〃　
　Father　Cappi　laughed。　〃Very　true；　Sergeant　D'Agosta。〃　
　〃Sergeant　D'Agosta　is　a　writer　of　mysteries；〃　explained　Pendergast。　
　〃Is　that　so！　I　love　detective　stories。　Give　me　a　title。〃　
　〃Angels　of　Purgatoryis　his　latest。〃　
　〃I'll　buy　it　immediately。〃　
　D'Agosta　mumbled　his　thanks。　For　the　second　time　that　day；　he　found　himself　feeling　embarrassed。　He　would　have　to　talk　to　Pendergast　about　sounding　off　about　his　abortive　writing　career。　
　〃Suffice　to　say；〃　the　priest　continued；　〃Grove　made　a　splendid　critic。　He　surrounded　himself　with　th