《No Country for Old Men》第29章

er　to　the　wardrobe　and　opened　the　doors　and　looked　in　and　closed them　again。
he　went　into　the　bathroom。　he　ran　his　forefinger　around　the　sink。　a　washcloth　and handtowel　had　been　used　but　not　the　soap。　he　ran　his　finger　down　the　side　of　the　tub and　then　wiped　it　along　the　seam　of　his　trousers。　he　sat　on　the　edge　of　the　tub　and tapped　his　foot　on　the　tiles。
the　other　room　was　number　227。　he　went　in　and　closed　the　door　and　turned　and　stood。
the　bed　had　not　been　slept　in。　the　bathroom　door　was　open。　a　bloody　towel　lay　in　the floor。
he　walked　over　and　pushed　the　door　all　the　way　back。　there　was　a　bloodstained washcloth　in　the　sink。　the　other　towel　was　missing。　bloody　handprints。　a　bloody handprint　on　the　edge　of　the　showercurtain。　i　hope　you　havent　crawled　off　in　a　hole somewhere；　he　said。　i　sure　would　like　to　get　paid。
he　was　abroad　in　the　morning　at　first　light　walking　the　streets　and　making　notes　in　his head。　the　pavement　had　been　hosed　off　but　you　could　still　see　bloodstains　in　the concrete　of　the　walkway　where　moss　had　been　shot。　he　went　back　to　main　street　and started　again。　bits　of　glass　in　the　gutters　and　along　the　sidewalks。　some　of　it windowglass　and　some　of　it　from　curbside　automobiles。　the　windows　that　had　been shot　out　were　boarded　up　with　plywood　but　you　could　see　the　pocks　in　the　brickwork　or the　teardrop　smears　of　lead　that　had　e　down　from　the　hotel。　he　walked　back　to　the hotel　and　sat　on　the　steps　and　looked　at　the　street。　the　sun　was　ing　up　over　the aztec　theatre。　something　caught　his　eye　at　the　second　floor　level。　he　got　up　and walked　down　and　crossed　the　street　and　climbed　the　stairs。　two　bulletholes　in　the windowglass。　he　tapped　at　the　door　and　waited。　then　he　opened　the　door　and　went　in。
a　darkened　room。　faint　smell　of　rot。　he　stood　until　his　eyes　were　accustomed　to　the dimness。　a　parlor。　a　pianola　or　small　organ　against　the　far　wall。　a　chifforobe。　a rockingchair　by　the　window　where　an　old　woman　sat　slumped。
wells　stood　over　the　woman　studying　her。　shed　been　shot　through　the　forehead　and　had tilted　forward　leaving　part　of　the　back　of　her　skull　and　a　good　bit　of　dried　brainmatter stuck　to　the　slat　of　the　rocker　behind　her。　she　had　a　newspaper　in　her　lap　and　she　was wearing　a　cotton　robe　that　was　black　with　dried　blood。　it　was　cold　in　the　room。　wells looked　around。　a　second　shot　had　marked　a　date　on　a　calendar　on　the　wall　behind　her that　was　three　days　hence。　you　could　not　help　but　notice。　he　looked　around　the　rest　of the　room。　he　took　a　small　camera　from　his　jacket　pocket　and　took　a　couple　of　pictures of　the　dead　woman　and　put　the　camera　back　in　his　pocket　again。　not　what　you　had　in mind　at　all；　was　it　darling？　he　told　her。
moss　woke　in　a　ward　with　sheeting　hung　between　him　and　the　bed　to　his　left。　a shadowshow　of　figures　there。　voices　in　spanish。　dim　noises　from　the　street。　a motorcycle。　a　dog。　he　turned　his　face　on　the　pillow　and　looked　into　the　eyes　of　a　man sitting　on　a　metal　chair　against　the　wall　holding　a　bouquet　of　flowers。　how　are　you feeling？　the　man　said。
ive　felt　better。　who　are　you？
my　name　is　carson　wells。
who　are　you？
i　think　you　know　who　i　am。　i　brought　you　some　flowers。
moss　turned　his　head　and　lay　staring　at　the　ceiling。　how　many　of　you　people　are　there？
well；　id　say　theres　only　one　youve　got　to　worry　about　right　now。
you。
yes。
what　about　that　guy　that　e　to　the　hotel。
we　can　talk　about　him。
talk　then。
i　can　make　him　go　away。
i　can　do　that　myself。
i　dont　think　so。
youre　entitled　to　your　opinions。
if　acostas　people　hadnt　shown　up　when　they　did　i　dont　think　you　would　have　made　out so　good。
i　didnt　make　out　so　good。
yes　you　did。　you　made　out　extremely　well。
moss　turned　his　head　and　looked　at　the　man　again。　how　long　have　you　been　here？
about　an　hour。
just　settin　there。
yes。
you　dont　have　much　to　do；　do　you？
i　like　to　do　one　thing　at　a　time；　if　thats　what　you　mean。
you　look　dumbern　hell　settin　there。
wells　smiled。
why　dont　you　put　them　damn　flowers　down。
all　right。
he　rose　and　laid　the　bouquet　on　the　bedside　table　and　sat　back　in　the　chair　again。
do　you　know　what　two　centimeters　is？
yeah。　its　a　measurement。
its　about　three　quarters　of　an　inch。
all　right。
thats　the　distance　that　round　missed　your　liver　by。
is　that　what　the　doctor　told　you？
yes。　you　know　what　the　liver　does？
no。
it　keeps　you　alive。　do　you　know　who　the　man　is　who　shot　you？
maybe　he　didnt　shoot　me。　maybe　it　was　one　of　the　mexicans。
do　you　know　who　the　man　is？
no。　am　i　supposed　to？
because　hes　not　somebody　you　really　want　to　know。　the　people　he　meets　tend　to　have very　short　futures。　nonexistent；　in　fact。
well　good　for　him。
youre　not　listening。　you　need　to　pay　attention。　this　man　wont　stop　looking　for　you。
even　if　he　gets　the　money　back。　it　wont　make　any　difference　to　him。　even　if　you　went to　him　and　gave　him　the　money　he　would　still　kill　you。　just　for　having　inconvenienced him。
i　think　i　done　a　little　more　than　inconvenience　him。
how　do　you　mean。
i　think　i　hit　him。
why　do　you　think　that？
i　sprayed　double　ought　buckshot　all　over　him。　i　cant　believe　it　done　him　a　whole　lot　of good。
wells　sat　back　in　the　chair。　he　studied　moss。　you　think　you　killed　him？
i　dont　know。
because　you　didnt。　he　came　out　into　the　street　and　killed　every　one　of　the　mexicans　and then　went　back　into　the　hotel。　like　you　might　go　out　and　get　a　paper　or　something。
he　didnt　kill　ever　one　of　them。
he　killed　the　ones　that　were　left。
you　tellin　me　he　wasnt　hit？
i　dont　know。
you　mean　why　would　you　tell　me。
if　you　like。
is　he　a　buddy　of　yours？
no。
i　thought　maybe　he　was　a　buddy　of　yours。
no　you　didnt。　how　do　you　know　hes　not　on　his　way　to　odessa？
why　would　he　go　to　odessa？
to　kill　your　wife。
moss　didnt　answer。　he　lay　on　the　rough　linen　looking　at　the　ceiling。　he　was　in　pain　and it　was　getting　worse。　you　dont　know　what　the　hell　youre　talkin　about；　he　said。
i　brought　you　a　couple　of　photographs。
he　rose　and　laid　two　photos　on　the　bed　and　sat　back　down　again。　moss　glanced　at　them。
what　am　i　supposed　to　make　of　that