羊腿与谋杀 Lamb to the Slaughter

罗德·达尔/Roald Dahl

罗尔德·达尔（Roald Dahl，1916-1990），挪威籍的英国杰出作家、剧作家和短篇小说作家，作品流传于大人或小孩中，极为知名。他比较著名的作品有：《查理与巧克力工厂》（Charlie and the Chocolate Factory）、《詹姆斯与大仙桃》（James and the Giant Peach）、《玛蒂尔达》（Matilda）、《女巫》（The Witches）、《吹梦巨人》（The BFG）。

The room was warm and clean, the curtains drawn, the two table lamps alight-hers and the one by the empty chair opposite. On the sideboard behind her, two tall glasses, soda water, whiskey. Fresh ice cubes in the Thermos bucket.

Mary Maloney was waiting for her husband to come him from work.

Now and again she would glance up at the clock, but without anxiety, merely to please herself with the thought that each minute gone by made it nearer the time when he would come. There was a slow smiling air about her, and about everything she did. The drop of a head as she bent over her sewing was curiously tranquil. Her skin-for this was her sixth month with child-had acquired a wonderful translucent quality, the mouth was soft, and the eyes, with their new placid look, seemed larger darker than before. When the clock said ten minutes to five, she began to listen, and a few moments later, punctually as always, she heard the tires on the gravel outside, and the car door slamming, the footsteps passing the window, the key turning in the lock. She laid aside her sewing, stood up, and went forward to kiss him as he came in.

“Hello darling,”she said.

“Hello darling,”he answered.

She took his coat and hung it in the closer. Then she walked over and made the drinks, a strongish one for him, a weak one for herself;and soon she was back again in her chair with the sewing, and he in the other, opposite, holding the tall glass with both hands, rocking it so the ice cubes tinkled against the side.

For her, this was always a blissful time of day. She knew he didn’t want to speak much until the first drink was finished, and she, on her side, was content to sit quietly, enjoying his company after the long hours alone in the house. She loved to luxuriate in the presence of this man, and to feel-almost as a sunbather feels the sun-that warm male glow that came out of him to her when they were alone together. She loved him for the way he sat loosely in a chair, for the way he came in a door, or moved slowly across the room with long strides. She loved intent, far look in his eyes when they rested in her, the funny shape of the mouth, and especially the way he remained silent about his tiredness, sitting still with himself until the whiskey had taken some of it away.

“Tired darling?”

“Yes,”he said.“I’m tired.”And as he spoke, he did an unusual thing. He lifted his glass and drained it in one swallow although there was still half of it, at least half of it left. She wasn’t really watching him, but she knew what he had done because she heard the ice cubes falling back against the bottom of the empty glass when he lowered his arm. He paused a moment, leaning forward in the chair, then he got up and went slowly over to fetch himself another.

“I’ll get it!”she cried, jumping up.

“Sit down,”he said.

When he came back, she noticed that the new drink was dark amber with the quantity of whiskey in it.

“Darling, shall I get your slippers?”

“No.”

She watched him as he began to sip the dark yellow drink, and she could see little oily swirls in the liquid because it was so strong.

“I think it’s a shame,”she said,“that when a policeman gets to be as senior as you, they keep him walking about on his feet all day long.”

He didn’t answer, so she bent her head again and went on with her sewing;bet each time he lifted the drink to his lips, she heard the ice cubes clinking against the side of the glass.

“Darling,”she said.“Would you like me to get you some cheese?I haven’t made any supper because it’s Thursday.”

“No,”he said.

“If you’re too tired to eat out,”she went on,“it’s still not too late. There’s plenty of meat and stuff in the freezer, and you can have it right here and not even move out of the chair.”

Her eyes waited on him for an answer, a smile, a little nod, but he made no sign.

“Anyway,”she went on,“I’ll get you some cheese and crackers first.”

“I don’t want it,”he said.

She moved uneasily in her chair, the large eyes still watching his face.“But you must eat!I’ll fix it anyway, and then you can have it or not, as you like.”

She stood up and placed her sewing on the table by the lamp.

“Sit down.”he said.“Just for a minute, sit down.”

It wasn’t till then that she began to get frightened.

“Go on,”he said.“Sit down.”

She lowered herself back slowly into the chair, watching him all the time with those large, bewildered eyes. He had finished the second drink and was staring down into the glass, frowning.

“Listen,”he said.“I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What is it, darling?What’s the matter?”

He had now become absolutely motionless, and he kept his head down so that the light from the lamp beside him fell across the upper part of his face, leaving the chin and mouth in shadow. She noticed there was a little muscle moving near the corner of his left eye.

“This is going to be a bit of a shock to you, I’m afraid,”he said.“But I’ve thought about it a good deal and I’ve decided the only thing to do is tell you right away. I hope you won’t blame me too much.”

And he told her. It didn’t take long, four or five minutes at most, and she say very still through it all, watching him with a kind of dazed horror as he went further and further away from her with each word.

“So there it is,”he added.“And I know it’s kind of a bad time to be telling you, but there simply wasn’t any other way. Of course I’ll give you money and see you’re looked after. But there needn’t really be any fuss. I hope not anyway. It wouldn’t be very good for my job.”

Her first instinct was not to believe any of it, to reject it all. It occurred to her that perhaps he hadn’t even spoken, that she herself had imagined the whole thing. Maybe, if she went about her business and acted as though she hadn’t been listening, then later, when she sort of woke up again, she might find none of it had ever happened.

“I’ll get the supper,”she managed to whisper, and this time he didn’t stop her.

When she walked across the room she couldn’t feel her feet touching the floor. She couldn’t feel anything at all-except a slight nausea and a desire to vomit. Everything was automatic now-down the steps to the cellar, the light switch, the deep freeze, the hand inside the cabinet taking hold of the first object it met. She lifted it out, and looked at it. It was wrapped in paper, so she took off the paper and looked at it again.

A leg of lamb.

All right then, they would have lamb for supper. She carried it upstairs, holding the thin bone-end of it with both her hands, and as she went through the living-room, she saw him standing over by the window with his back to her, and she stopped.

“For God’s sake,”he said, hearing her, but not turning round.“Don’t make supper for me. I’m going out.”

At that point, Mary Maloney simply walked up behind him and without any pause she swung the big frozen leg of lamb high in the air and brought it down as hard as she could on the back of his head.

She might just as well have hit him with a steel club.

She stepped back a pace, waiting, and the funny thing was that he remained standing there for at least four or five seconds, gently swaying. Then he crashed to the carpet.

The violence of the crash, the noise, the small table overturning, helped bring her out of he shock. She came out slowly, feeling cold and surprised, and she stood for a while blinking at the body, still holding the ridiculous piece of meat tight with both hands.

All right, she told herself. So I’ve killed him.

It was extraordinary, now, how clear her mind became all of a sudden. She began thinking very fast. As the wife of a detective, she knew quite well what the penalty would be. That was fine. It made no difference to her. In fact, it would be a relief. On the other hand, what about the child?What were the laws about murderers with unborn children?Did they kill them both-mother and child?Or did they wait until the tenth month?What did they do?

Mary Maloney didn’t know. And she certainly wasn’t prepared to take a chance.

She carried the meat into the kitchen, placed it in a pan, turned the oven on high, and shoved t inside. Then she washed her hands and ran upstairs to the bedroom. She sat down before the mirror, tidied her hair, touched up her lops and face. She tried a smile. It came out rather peculiar. She tried again.

“Hullo Sam,”she said brightly, aloud.

The voice sounded peculiar too.

“I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.”

That was better. Both the smile and the voice were coming out better now.

She rehearsed it several times more. Then she ran downstairs, took her coat, went out the back door, down the garden, into the street.

It wasn’t six o’clock yet and the lights were still on in the grocery shop.

“Hullo Sam,”she said brightly, smiling at the man behind the counter.

“Why, good evening, Mrs. Maloney. How’re you?”

“I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.”

The man turned and reached up behind him on the shelf for the peas.

“Patrick’ve decided he’s tired and doesn’t want to eat out tonight,”she told him.“We usually go out Thursdays, you know, and now he’s caught me without any vegetables in the house.”

“Then how about meat, Mrs. Maloney?”

“No, I’ve got meat, thanks. I got a nice leg of lamb from the freezer.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know much like cooking it frozen, Sam, but I’m taking a chance on it this time. You think it’ll be all right?”

“Personally,”the grocer said,“I don’t believe it makes any difference. You want these Idaho potatoes?”

“Oh yes, that’ll be fine. Two of those.”

“Anything else?”The grocer cocked his head on one side, looking at her pleasantly.“How about afterwards?What you going to give him for afterwards?”

“Well-what would you suggest, Sam?”

The man glanced around his shop.“How about a nice big slice of cheesecake?I know he likes that.”

“Perfect,”she said.“He loves it.”

And when it was all wrapped and she had paid, she put on her brightest smile and said,“Thank you, Sam. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Maloney. And thank you.”

And now, she told herself as she hurried back, all she was doing now, she was returning home to her husband and he was waiting for his supper;and she must cook it good, and make it as tasty as possible because the poor man was tired;and if, when she entered the house, she happened to find anything unusual, or tragic, or terrible, then naturally it would be a shock and she’d become frantic with grief and horror. Mind you, she wasn’t expecting to find anything. She was just going home with the vegetables. Mrs. Patrick Maloney going home with the vegetables on Thursday evening to cook supper for her husband.

That’s the way, she told herself. Do everything right and natural. Keep things absolutely natural and there’ll be no need for any acting at all.

Therefore, when she entered the kitchen by the back door, she was humming a little tune to herself and smiling.

“Patrick!”she called.“How are you, darling?”

She put the parcel down on the table and went through into the living room;and when she saw him lying there on the floor with his legs doubled up and one arm twisted back underneath his body, it really was rather a shock. All the old love and longing for him welled up inside her, and she ran over to him, knelt down beside him, and began to cry her heart out. It was easy. No acting was necessary.

A few minutes later she got up and went to the phone. She know the number of the police station, and when the man at the other end answered, she cried to him,“Quick!Come quick!Patrick’s dead!”

“Who’s speaking?”

“Mrs. Maloney. Mrs. Patrick Maloney.”

“You mean Patrick Maloney’s dead?”

“I think so,”she sobbed.“He’s lying on the floor and I think he’s dead.”

“Be right over,”the man said.

The car came very quickly, and when she opened the front door, two policeman walked in. She know them both-she know nearly all the man at that precinct-and she fell right into a chair, then went over to join the other one, who was called O’Malley, kneeling by the body.

“Is he dead?”she cried.

“I’m afraid he is. What happened?”

Briefly, she told her story about going out to the grocer and coming back to find him on the floor. While she was talking, crying and talking, Noonan discovered a small patch of congealed blood on the dead man’s head. He showed it to O’Malley who got up at once and hurried to the phone.

Soon, other men began to come into the house. First a doctor, then two detectives, one of whom she know by name. Later, a police photographer arrived and took pictures, and a man who know about fingerprints. There was a great deal of whispering and muttering beside the corpse, and the detectives kept asking her a lot of questions. But they always treated her kindly. She told her story again, this time right from the beginning, when Patrick had come in, and she was sewing, and he was tired, so tired he hadn’t wanted to go out for supper. She told how she’d put the meat in the oven-”it’s there now, cooking”-and how she’d slopped out to the grocer for vegetables, and come back to find him lying on the floor.

Which grocer?”one of the detectives asked.

She told him, and he turned and whispered something to the other detective who immediately went outside into the street.

In fifteen minutes he was back with a page of notes, and there was more whispering, and through her sobbing she heard a few of the whispered phrases”……acted quite normal……very cheerful……wanted to give him a good supper……peas……cheesecake……impossible that she……”

After a while, the photographer and the doctor departed and two other men came in and took the corpse away on a stretcher. Then the fingerprint man went away. The two detectives remained, and so did the two policeman. They were exceptionally nice to her, and Jack Noonan asked if she wouldn’t rather go somewhere else, to her sister’s house perhaps, or to his own wife who would take care of her and put her up for the night.

No, she said. She didn’t feel she could move even a yard at the moment. Would they mind awfully of she stayed just where she was until she felt better. She didn’t feel too good at the moment, she really didn’t.

“Then hadn’t she better lie down on the bed?”Jack Noonan asked.

No, she said. She’d like to stay right where she was, in this chair. A little later, perhaps, when she felt better, she would move.

So they left her there while they went about their business, searching the house. Occasionally one of the detectives asked her another question. Sometimes Jack Noonan spoke at her gently as he passed by. Her husband, he told her, had been killed by a blow on the back of the head administered with a heavy blunt instrument, almost certainly a large piece of metal. They were looking for the weapon. The murderer may have taken it with him, but on the other hand he may have thrown it away or hidden it somewhere on the premises.

“It’s the old story.”he said.“Get the weapon, and you’ve got the man.”

Later, one of the detectives came up and sat beside her. Did she know, he asked, of anything in the house that could’ve been used as the weapon?Would she mind having a look around to see if anything was missing-a very big spanner, for example, or a heavy metal vase.

They didn’t have any heavy metal vases, she said.

“Or a big spanner?”

She didn’t think they had a big spanner. But there might be some things like that in the garage.

The search went on. She knew that there were other policemen in the garden all around the house. She could hear their footsteps on the gravel outside, and sometimes she saw a flash of a torch through a chink in the curtains. It began to get late, nearly nine she noticed by the clock on the mantle. The four men searching the rooms seemed to be growing weary, a trifle exasperated.

“Jack,”she said, the next tome Sergeant Noonan went by.“Would you mind giving me a drink?”

“Sure I’ll give you a drink. You mean this whiskey?”

“Yes please. But just a small one. It might make me feel better.”

He handed her the glass.

“Why don’t you have one yourself,”she said.“You must be awfully tired. Please do. You’ve been very good to me.”

“Well,”he answered.“It’s not strictly allowed, but I might take just a drop to keep me going.”

One by one the others came in and were persuaded to take a little nip of whiskey. They stood around rather awkwardly with the drinks in their hands, uncomfortable in her presence, trying to say consoling things to her. Sergeant Noonan wandered into the kitchen, come out quickly and said,“Look, Mrs. Maloney. You know that oven of yours is still on, and the meat still inside.”

“Oh dear me!”she cried.“So it is!”

“I better turn it off for you, hadn’t I?”

“Will you do that, Jack. Thank you so much.”

When the sergeant returned the second time, she looked at him with her large, dark tearful eyes.“Jack Noonan,”she said.

“Yes?”

“Would you do me a small favor-you and these others?”

“We can try, Mrs. Maloney.”

“Well,”she said.“Here you all are, and good friends of dear Patrick’s too, and helping to catch the man who killed him. You must be terrible hungry by now because it’s long past your suppertime, and I know Patrick would never forgive me, God bless his soul, if I allowed you to remain in his house without offering you decent hospitality. Why don’t you eat up that lamb that’s in the oven. It’ll be cooked just right by now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”Sergeant Noonan said.

“Please,”she begged.“Please eat it. Personally I couldn’t tough a thing, certainly not what’s been in the house when he was here. But it’s all right for you. It’d be a favor to me if you’d eat it up. Then you can go on with your work again afterwards.”

There was a good deal of hesitating among the four policemen, but they were clearly hungry, and in the end they were persuaded to go into the kitchen and help themselves. The woman stayed where she was, listening to them speaking among themselves, their voices thick and sloppy because their mouths were full of meat.

“Have some more, Charlie?”

“No. Better not finish it.”

“She wants us to finish it. She said so. Be doing her a favor.”

“Okay then. Give me some more.”

“That’s the hell of a big club the guy must have used to hit poor Patrick,”one of them was saying.“The doc says his skull was smashed all to pieces just like from a sledgehammer.”

“That’s why it ought to be easy to find.”

“Exactly what I say.”

“Whoever done it, they’re not going to be carrying a thing like that around with them longer than they need.”

One of them belched.

“Personally, I think it’s right here on the premises.”

“Probably right under our very noses. What you think, Jack?”

And in the other room, Mary Maloney began to giggle.

屋子里整洁而温暖，窗帘合着，桌上的两盏台灯亮着——其中的一盏放在她身边，另一盏在对面空着的椅子旁边。在她的身后，摆着一个餐具柜，上面放着两只高高的玻璃杯，还有苏打水，威士忌什么的，保温器皿中有几块新鲜的冰块。

玛丽·马勒尼正等着她的丈夫下班回家。

每隔一段时间，她都会抬头看一下钟表，不过神情并不着急。看时间只是为了让自己高兴一些，因为一想到每逝去一分钟，丈夫回家的时间就近一点，她就很高兴。她的周围有一种温和的、愉快的氛围，她的一举一动都那么不紧不慢。当她弓着身子做针线活时，低头的动作非常平静，平静得出奇。她已经有六个月的身孕了，皮肤开始呈现出一种奇妙的透明色泽，嘴角很柔软，眼睛里透露出平静，使那双眸子显得比更大、更黑了。当钟表的指针指向四点五十的时候，她开始侧耳倾听外面的声音，不一会儿的工夫，就听见车胎在屋外的沙砾上碾过的声音，甩上车门的声音，走过窗户的脚步声，钥匙在锁孔中转动的声音——这些声音总是那么准时。她放下手里的针线活，站起身，走到房门，送给丈夫一个吻。

“亲爱的，回来啦！”她说。

“嗯，亲爱的！”他答道。

她帮他脱掉外面的大衣，挂在衣橱里，然后走过来，倒好酒，把稍微浓烈的一杯给了丈夫，自己拿了一杯淡点的。不一会儿，她又坐到椅子上做她的针线活去了。而她的丈夫，坐在她的对面，双手拿着那高高的玻璃杯不断摇晃着，弄得冰块在杯壁上碰得丁丁当当直响。

对她来说，这个时间是一天中最幸福的时刻。她知道，在喝完第一杯酒之前，他不想说太多话。但是她非常知足，在一边安静地坐着。孤零零的一人在屋子里度过漫长的时光后，她现在格外享受他的陪伴，心里无比欣喜。有这个男人在身边，她就觉得很幸福，她实在是这种感觉了——只有他们两个人的时候，她能够感觉到他身上那股温暖的雄性热量包围着她，仿佛沐浴在阳光里一样。她爱他，爱他懒散地坐在椅子里的样子，爱他开门进来时的样子，爱他迈着大步慢悠悠地在房间里穿梭的样子。她爱他，爱他望着她时那种专注而深邃的眼神，爱他那逗趣的嘴形，特别是他那一副什么话也不说、略显困乏的样子。他就那么一声不吭地在那坐着，直到在威士忌的作用下消除一些疲倦为止。

“亲爱的，是不是很累？”

“是的，”他说，“我确实累了。”他一边说，一边做了一件颇不寻常的事情：举起手里的杯子，把剩下的酒一气饮干了——杯子里面原本还剩半杯酒，至少还有半杯。实际上，她没有抬头看他，但是对他刚刚做了什么心知肚明，因为当他放下杯子时，她听到冰块掉下去时撞击空杯底部的声音。他停了一会儿，然后身体向前倾，从椅子上站起来，慢慢走到一边，想给自己再倒一杯酒。

“让我来吧！”她从椅子上跳起来说道。

“你坐下，”他对她说。

当他倒完酒回来时，她注意到杯子里新添的酒透出深深的琥珀色，估计是威士忌的量多的缘故。

“亲爱的，需要我给你把拖鞋拿来吗？”

“不用。”

他开始小口小口地喝那深黄色的酒，她把目光转移到他身上。她看见酒液里有一些油乎乎的小漩涡，因为酒真的很浓烈。

“我觉得挺可惜的，”她开口说话了，“像你这样高级警察，他们竟然让你一天到晚地四处跑，没有多少时间休息，真是太可惜了！”

他对她刚才的一番话没有反应。于是，她又低下头继续做她的针线活；不过，每次他把酒杯举到唇边，到最后冰块撞在杯壁上的清脆响声她都能听到。

“亲爱的，”她说，“要不要我给你拿点奶酪来？因为今天星期四，是外出吃饭的日子，所以，我没准备晚饭。”

“不用了。”他回答道。

“如果你太累了，确实不想出去的话，”她继续说着，“现在时间还不算太晚，冰箱里面还有足够多的肉以及其他一些东西，在家里就可以吃，甚至连站都不要你站起来。”

她一直看着她，等他的回话，或者一个微笑，哪怕是轻轻地点一下头也行。但是，他没给她任何反馈的信息。

“不管怎么说，”她继续说着，“我先给你弄点奶酪和饼干来。”

“我什么都不想吃，”他开口了。

她那双大大的眼睛盯着他的脸，在椅子上不安地动了一下，“可是，你一定得吃饭！无论如何我要准备晚饭，就在家里，然后你再决定吃与不吃，到时候随你的便”。

她从椅子上站了起来，把手里的针线活放在桌子上的台灯旁边。

“你先坐下，”他说，“就一会儿时间，快坐下。”

直到这时，她才有点害怕。

“就这样，”他说，“坐下。”

她慢慢地弯下腰，又坐进椅子里，一直用她那双大眼睛注视着他，眼睛里显然是一种惶恐。他已经喝完第二杯酒了，正低头盯着那只玻璃杯，眉头紧锁。

“听我说，”他说，“有一些事情我必须让你知道？”

“什么事，亲爱的？到底发生什么事了？”

现在，他已经完全不动了，像僵在那里，耷拉着脑袋，身边的那盏台灯发出来的光只能照到他的上部分脸庞，嘴和下巴部分在阴影里。她注意到他的左眼角边上，一块小小的肌肉在**。

“我担心这件事会让你受打击。”他说，“但是，关于这件事，我已经想了很多，最后决定，我唯一能做的就是马上告诉你。希望你不要责怪我。”

于是他把整件事情告诉了她，没有花多少时间，最多四五分钟。在这期间，她都非常安静地坐着，望着他，听他一个词一个词地说下去，感觉他越来越远。她的脸上，分明是一种不知所措的惊恐表情。

“事情就是这个样子，”他补充说，“我知道，我现在把这件事告诉你可能不是时候，但实在没有别的办法了。当然，我会给你一些钱，并且保证有人照顾你。不过，真的没有必要为这件事情大惊小怪的，无论如何，我不希望你大吵大闹，那对我的工作没什么好处。”

最初的时候，她本能地不相信他说的每一个字，本能地否认整件事情。她想，也许他本来就没说过这一番话，这一切都是她想像出来的。或许，她当时继续做她手中的活，假装什么都没听见，那么，怎么说呢，当她再次醒来的时候，她也许会发现什么都没发生过。

“我把晚饭拿过来，”她好不容易说出来这几个字，不过音量像说悄悄话一样低。这一次，他没有阻止她。

她走过房间时，感觉自己好像不在地板，身体似乎飘了起来。她对一切事物都失去了感觉，唯一能感觉到的是一种轻微的恶心和呕吐感。现在，她所做的一切都好像是机械运动，一点感情都没有——下楼梯，进地窖，打开电灯开关和冰冷的冰箱，伸手在里面摸索，不加思索地把第一个触到的东西拿出来。这个东西用纸包着，于是，她将纸剥掉，看了看它。

一条羔羊腿。

就这样，她想，他们的晚餐是羔羊肉。她拿着它上了楼，双手紧攥住羊腿骨比较细的一端。走过客厅时，她看见他远远地直立在窗户旁边，背对着她。于是，她停了下来。

“看在上帝的份上，”他说，因为他察觉出她在身后，但是没有转过身面对她，“别给我做晚饭了，我马上要出去了。”

就在那一刻，玛丽·马勒尼径直走到他身后，毫不犹豫地把那只冷冻的羔羊腿抡到空中，使出全身力气向他砸下去，狠狠地砸在他的后脑勺上。

她倒不如用铁棍子来砸他。说实在的，铁棍子也许比这温柔一些。

她向后退了一步，呆在那里。有趣的是，他在原地保持站姿至少四五秒钟，轻轻晃动着，然后，砰一声倒在了地毯上。

他倒下去时的巨震和小桌子被撞翻的噪音，使她从失神中惊醒过来。她慢慢地恢复了平静，觉得身体很冷，对周围的一切很吃惊。她在那里站了一会儿，眼睛眨巴着注视他的尸体，双手还紧紧攥着那块滑稽的肉。

就这样，她告诉自己，是我把他杀了。

现在，她的头脑一下子变得非常清醒——这简直不敢想象。她开始快速思考，作为一名侦探的妻子，她很清楚等待她的将是怎样的惩罚。不过没关系，这对她来说已经不重要了。实际上，这种结局反而成为她的一种解脱方式。不过话又说回来，他们的孩子怎么办？法律怎么处决肚子里有孩子的杀人犯？莫非把他们母子两个都处决掉？还是要等到第十个月孩子生下来后再处决她？他们会怎么做呢？

玛丽·马勒尼对这些茫然不知。当然，她也不打算亲自尝试一下。

她把羊肉拿到厨房，放进平底锅里，打开高处的烤箱，将它放了进去。然后她洗了一下手，跑到楼上的卧室。她在镜子前面坐了下来，理了理蓬乱的头发，用手在双唇和脸上又拍又按。她试着露个笑脸，但是个相当古怪的笑脸。于是她又试了试。

“你好，塞姆，”她异常兴奋地大着嗓门说。

这声音听起来一样怪异。

“塞姆，请给我来一些土豆。对了，我还想要一听豌豆。”

这样说好多了。现在，她的笑脸和声音比较自然了。

她反复练习了几遍。然后跑下楼，拿起外套，从后门出去了。她穿过花园，一直来到大街上。

时间不到六点，杂货店的灯还亮着。

“你好，塞姆。”她高兴地说，朝柜台后面的男人堆起了笑脸。

“哎呀，晚上好，马勒尼夫人。最近还好吧？”

“嗯，请给我来一些土豆。对了，我还想要一听豌豆。”

柜台男人转过身，伸手取背后架子上的豌豆。

“帕特里克觉得很累，今晚不想出去吃了，”她告诉他说，“一般情况下，我们星期四都要到外面吃的，这你也知道。现在好了，他把我逮了个正着，家里一点蔬菜都没有。”

“要不再来点肉怎么样，马勒尼夫人？”

“不用了，家里还有肉，谢谢，我有一条非常棒的羔羊腿，冻在冰箱里呢。”

“哦，这样啊。”

“我不大喜欢烧冻的东西，塞姆，不过这次我倒想试试。你觉得这个主意怎样？”

“就我个人而言，”店家说道，“我觉得没什么区别。你要爱达荷土豆吗？”

“嗯，没错，这个挺好的，要两个。”

“还要点别的什么吗？”店家歪着头，愉快地望着她。“然后呢？您想饭后为他准备点什么？”

“这个——你觉得呢，有什么好建议吗，塞姆？”

男人环视了一下自己的店铺。“一大块鲜美的奶酪蛋糕怎么样？我知道他喜欢吃这个。”

“好极了，”她说道，“他是爱吃奶酪蛋糕。”

店主把东西包起来，她付完钱，露出平生最灿烂的一个微笑，说，“谢谢你，塞姆，晚安。”

“晚安，马勒尼夫人。欢迎下次再来。”

现在，她急匆匆地往家里赶时，不时地对自己说话，安慰自己，说是在回家的路上，要回家陪丈夫，因为丈夫正等着她回去做晚饭呢。她要努力把晚饭做好，尽最大的可能把饭菜做得香喷可口，好让累了一天的丈夫美美地吃一顿。如果她推开门意外发现什么不寻常的事情，也许是悲伤的事情，或者是可怕的事情，那么，她理所当然会被吓着，她会由于内心悲伤和恐惧而疯掉。提醒你一下，她不期望发现任何事。她仅仅是在外面买了些蔬菜，然后回到家里。这就是说，在星期四的晚上，帕特里克·马勒尼夫人在外面买了些蔬菜，然后回到家里，想为她的丈夫做一顿晚饭。

就这么定了，她暗自告诉自己。所有的事情都妥当地处理一下，然后顺其自然。一切完全按照往常进行，根本没必要伪装。

因此，当她穿过后门走进厨房时，她还轻松地哼着小曲儿，笑着。

“帕特里克！”她大声喊着，“亲爱的，你还好吗？”

她把包裹放在桌子上，径直往客厅走去。当她看见丈夫躺在地上，两条腿弯曲着，一只胳膊畸形地被压在身体下面时，真是被吓了一跳。所有往日的爱，以及她对他的眷恋之情，此时此刻都在她心里翻涌起来。于是，她来到他尸体旁边，靠着他跪了下来，昏天黑地哭了起来，哭声那么真切，撕心裂肺。她很容易做到这一点，没有必要伪装。

过了一会儿，她站起来，打算打个电话。她知道警察局的电话号码。电话接通后，那边的男子回话时，她叫了起来：“快！快来啊！帕特里克死了！”

“您是哪位？”

“马勒尼夫人。帕特里克·马勒尼夫人。”

“您的意思是帕特里克·马勒尼死了？”

“我觉得是的，”她一边哭泣，一边说道，“他一动不动地躺在地上，我感觉他死了。”

“我们立刻过去，”那个男人说。

警车很快赶过来了。她打开前门，两个警察走了进来。这两位她都认识——她基本上认识这个管辖区的所有警员们——她坐到椅子上休息一下，接着走到另一个警员奥迈利身边，他正蹲在尸体旁。

“他真的死了吗？”她哭着说。

“恐怕是的。发生什么事了？”

她简短地把自己的经历给他们讲了一遍：出门上杂货店买东西，回来后便发现他躺在地上。当她诉说的时候，应该说当她哭诉的时候，努南发现死者头部有一个凝固的小血块。于是，他指给奥迈利看，奥迈利立刻站了起来，快速来到电话旁打电话。

不一会儿，其他警方人员陆续来到现场。先到的是一个法医，紧接着是两名警探，她知道其中一位警探的姓名。后来又来了一个警局的摄影师，并对现场进行了拍照，还有一个检测指纹的人。这些人在尸体的周围小声的嘀咕着，并且问了她很多问题。不过，他们对她的态度一直都很好。她把她经历的一切又讲述了一次，这一次，她是从最开始说起：当帕特里克下班回来的时候，她正在做针线活。他说他累坏了，所以不想出去吃晚饭。接着她又告诉他们，她是怎样一步步把肉放进烤箱的——“瞧，就在那儿烤着，”——还有，她又是怎样从后门出去，然后来到杂货店里，买了些晚饭用的蔬菜，回到家之后却发现丈夫躺在了地上。

“哪家杂货店？”其中一个警探问道。

她如实地说了。随即，这个警探又转身朝另一个警探小声说了几句话。那个警探听完后立刻离开房间，不知跑到大街的什么地方去了。

十五分钟后，那个警探拿来一张纸，上面记录着什么，接着他们俩个小声说了很长时间，她在抽泣中隐约能听到些耳语——“……举止很正常……十分开心……想为丈夫做一顿可口的晚饭……豌豆……奶酪蛋糕……她……不可能……”

过了一会儿，摄影师和法医离开了，进来两个其他的人。他们把尸体放在担架上，抬出去了。接下来那个检测指纹的人也离开了。两个警探没有走开，另外的两个警察也留了下来。他们对她特别好，杰克·努南问她是否愿意到其他地方去走走，可以去她姐姐家，或者去和自己的妻子相处一会儿，他妻子会好好照顾她的，会让她踏踏实实地睡一个好觉。

她没有同意，哪都不想去。这会儿她觉得自己连动都动不了，就在原地安静地呆会儿，直到感觉好点为止，希望他们不要太介意。因为这件事情，她感觉身体不太舒服，可以说极其不舒服。

杰克·努南建议她到**躺一会儿，也许会好一些。

她没有采取这个建议，她说她只想在原来的地方呆着，只想在这把椅子里坐着不动。也许，过了一会儿，她感觉好些了，会走动走动。

于是，他们把她留在那里，开始忙自己的事情——搜索整个住宅。时不时地，一个探员会跑过来问她一些问题。有时，当杰克·努南从她跟前经过的时候，会像一个绅士，和她说上几句话。他告诉她，她的丈夫是由于后脑勺遭受很沉的钝器猛击而致死的，基本上可以肯定，凶手所用的凶器是一件大型的金属器具。他们正在寻找这个凶器。凶手可能已经把它随身带走了，但是也不能排除把它扔掉了，也有可能藏在这栋房子的某个地方。

“都是老一套了，”他说，“只要找到了凶器，就很容易抓到凶手。”

过了一会儿，其中的一个警探走到她身边坐了下来。他问她，房间里是不是有一些可以当作凶器的东西，如果她不介意的话，可以四处检查一下，看看有没有少了某些东西——比如，那种特别大的扳手，或者是很重的金属质地的花瓶。

她告诉他们，家里从来就没有那种很重的金属质地的花瓶。

“那是否有那种大型的扳手呢？”

她说也没有印象他们有过大的扳手。但是，她说这种东西应该能在车库里找到。

他们继续进行搜索。她知道，除了眼前的这些警察，还有其他的警察在院子里面，遍布整个宅子。她能清晰到听到他们的脚步声，听到他们踩在石子上面的声音。偶尔，她会透过窗帘的缝隙看见手电筒的闪光。夜色慢慢变深，她看见壁炉上方的钟表指针已经指向九点。搜查房间的那四个男人估计有些疲倦了，看起来有点恼火。

“杰克，麻烦你帮我拿杯喝的好不好？”努南警官再次在她身边走过时，她对他说。

“当然可以，这就给你拿，你是不是要这个威士忌？”

“没错，就是这个，谢谢。不过，一小杯就行了。我想，这也许能让我感觉好些。”

他把一小杯威士忌递给她。

“你何不也倒一杯呢，”她说，“你一定累坏了吧，喝一杯吧。一直以来，你对我都这么关心。”

“是这样，”他答道，“我们有严格规定，不许喝酒，不过稍微喝一点也无妨，这样好有力气干活。”

其他的警察也陆续走进屋，在她的鼓励下，他们都喝了一小口威士忌酒。他们在她周围站着，手里都拿着酒杯，可能是因为她在场的原因，所以有点拘谨，不自在。他们尽量对她说一些安慰的话。努南警官晃晃悠悠地走进厨房，但是很快又出来了，“我说，马勒尼夫人，你是不是忘了你们家的烤箱还开着呢，并且烤肉还在里边。”

“啊，天呐！”她叫道，“我还真把它给忘了，烤箱确实还开着呢！”

“我还是帮你把它关了吧，怎么样？”

“真让你费心了，那就麻烦你把它关了吧，太谢谢你了。”

当杰克·努南警官再次回来时，她用她那双又黑又大的眼睛望着他，眼睛里充满着泪水，“杰克·努南，”她说。

“怎么了？”

“你可不可以帮我一个小忙？——你，还有剩下的人，”她对屋里所有的人说。

“我们会尽力而为的，马勒尼夫人。”

“是这样，”她说，“你们今天都来到这里，还有亲爱的帕特里克的好友们，你们为了抓到杀害他的凶手费劲心血。我想，现在你们肯定饿得不行了，因为现在早已过了晚饭的时间了，并且，如果我继续让你们呆在房子里，而不好好地招待你们一下的话，我的丈夫帕特里克永远不会原谅我的，上帝保佑他的灵魂。我有一个想法，想让你们把烤箱里的烤羊肉吃掉，当作是晚餐吧。我想，羊肉应该刚好烤熟了，怎么样？”

“真是连做梦都梦不到的好事，”努南警官说。

“拜托你们了，”她乞求道，“你们就把它吃掉吧。就我本人而言，我不能碰这里的任何东西。当然，当他在的时候，情况是不一样的。但是你们不一样，你们可以随便碰屋里的东西。你们要是把羊肉吃了，那可真是帮了我的大忙了。吃完后，你们就有力气继续工作了。”

四名警察犹豫了很长一段时间，不过很明显，他们确实都已经非常饿了。经过她一番真诚地邀请后，他们急忙跑到厨房，为空****的肚子填东西去了。女人坐在原位上，听着他们在厨房里说笑着，他们的声音虽然很大，但是听不清说什么，因为嘴里塞满了烤熟的羊肉。

“多吃点，查理。”

“还是算了吧，别把人家的肉吃光了。”

“是她要我们吃光的，她不是说了吗，务必帮她这个忙。”

“那好吧，再给我来点。”

“歹徒肯定是用一根可以致人于死地的大型棒器杀害可怜的帕特里克的，”其中一个人说道，“法医说，他的头骨已经被击碎了，好像是被铁锤击过过一样。”

“所以说，这么大的凶器应该很容易找到的。”

“这正是我要说的。”

“不管是什么人，干完之后，都不会携带那么笨重的东西四处溜达。”

其中一个人打了个饱嗝。

“要我说呀，那凶器肯定就在这儿，就在宅子的什么地方藏着呢！”

“可能就在我们眼皮子底下。你说是吧，杰克？”

这时候，在另一房间里，玛丽·马勒尼笑了起来。

词汇笔记

sideboard['sa?d, b?rd]n.餐具橱，餐柜

The sideboard is filthy-can you give it a dust?

餐具柜很脏，你能把它擦干净吗？

placid['pl?s?d]adj.平和的，宁静的；温和的；满意的，满足的；平缓

She was a placid child who rarely cried.

她是个性情温和的孩子，很少哭闹。

punctually['p??kt???l?]adv.如期地，准时地；正点

My guest arrived punctually.

我的客人来得很准时。

swirl[sw?rl]n.（水，风等的）旋转，漩涡；＜美＞弯曲；涡状形；卷状的东西

He breathes out a swirl of cigarette smoke.

他吐出一串烟圈。

小试身手

每隔一段时间，她都会抬头看一下钟表，不过神情并不着急。

对她来说，这个时间是一天中最幸福的时刻。

她一直看着她，等他的回话，或者一个微笑，哪怕是轻轻地点一下头也行。

Mary Maloney was waiting for her husband to come him fromwork.

wait for：等待；＜非正＞注意；＜非正＞推迟（用餐）直到（某人）到达；观望形势后再作决定

Now and again she would glance up at the clock, but without anxiety……

now and again：时而，偶尔，有时