Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

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Kay nodded. Phillips said, "May we come in and talk to you for a few minutes. It's

about Michael Corleone."

She stood aside to let them in. At that moment her father appeared in the small side

hall that led to his study. "Kay, what is it?" he asked.

Her father was a gray-haired, slender, distinguished-looking man who not only was

the pastor of the town Baptist church but had a reputation in religious circles as a

scholar. Kay really didn't know her father well, he puzzled her, but she knew he loved

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her even if he gave the impression he found her uninteresting as a person. Though they

had never been close, she trusted him. So she said simply, "These men are detectives

frorn New York. They want to ask me questions about a boy I know."

Mr. Adams didn't seem surprised. "Why don't we go into my study?" he said.

Detective Phillips said gently, "We'd rather talk to your daughter alone, Mr. Adams."

Mr. Adams said courteously, "That depends on Kay, I think. My dear, would you rather

speak to these gentlemen alone or would you prefer to have me present? Or perhaps

your mother?"

Kay shook her head. "I'll talk to them alone."

Mr. Adams said to Phillips, "You can use my study. Will you stay for lunch?" The two

men shook their heads. Kay led them into the study.

They rested uncomfortably on the edge of the couch as she sat in her father's big

leather chair. Detective Phillips opened the conversation by saying, "Miss Adams, have

you seen or heard from Michael Corleone at any time in the last three weeks?" The one

question was enough to warn her. Three weeks ago she had read the Boston

newspapers with their headlines about the killing of a New York police captain and a

narcotics smuggler named Virgil Sollozzo. The newspaper had said it was part of the

gang war involving the Corleone Farnily.

Kay shook her head. "No, the last time I saw him he was going to see his father in the

hospital. That was perhaps a month ago."

The other detective said in a harsh voice, "We know all about that meeting. Have you

seen or heard from him since then?"

"No," Kay said.

Detective Phillips said in a polite voice, "If you do have contact with him we'd like you

to let us know. It's very important we get to talk to Michael Corleone. I must warn you

that if you do have contact with him you may be getting involved in a very dangerous

situation. If you help him in any way, you may get yourself in very serious trouble."

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Kay sat up very straight in the chair. "Why shouldn't I help him?" she asked. "We're

going to be married, married people help each other."

It was Detective Siriani who answered her. "If you help, you may be an accessory

(добавочный, вспомогательный; /здесь/ соучастник [∂k'ses∂ri]) to murder. We're

looking for your boy friend because he killed a police captain in New York plus an

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informer the police officer was contacting. We know Michael Corleone is the person who

did the shooting."

Kay laughed. Her laughter was so unaffected, so incredulous, that the officers were

impressed. "Mike wouldn't do anything like that," she said. "He never had anything to do

with his family. When we went to his sister's wedding it was obvious that he was treated

as an outsider, almost as much as I was. If he's hiding now it's just so that he won't get

any publicity, so his name won't be dragged through all this. Mike is not a gangster. I

know him better than you or anybody else can know him. He is too nice a man to do

anything as despicable (презренный [‘despık∂bl]) as murder. He is the most law-

abiding (законопослушный) person I know, and I've never known him to lie."

Detective Phillips asked gently, "How long have you known him?"

"Over a year," Kay said and was surprised when the two men smiled.

"I think there are a few things you should know," Detective Phillips said. "On the night

he left you, he went to the hospital. When he came out he got into an argument with a

police captain who had come to the hospital on official business. He assaulted that

police officer but got the worst of it. In fact he got a broken jaw and lost some teeth. His

friends took him out to the Corleone Family houses at Long Beach. The following night

the police captain he had the fight with was gunned down and Michael Corleone

disappeared. Vanished. We have our contacts, our informers. They all point the finger at

Michael Corleone but we have no evidence for a court of law. The waiter who witnessed

the shooting doesn't recognize a picture of Mike but he may recognize him in person.

And we have Sollozzo's driver, who refuses to talk, but we might make him talk if we

have Michael Corleone in our hands. So we have all our people looking for him, the FBI

is looking for him, everybody is looking for him. So far, no luck, so we thought you might

be able to give us a lead (подсказать что-то, направить нас по верному следу)."

Kay said coldly, "I don't believe a word of it." But she felt a bit sick knowing the part

about Mike getting his jaw broken must be true. Not that that would make Mike commit

murder.

"Will you let us know if Mike contacts you?" Phillips asked.

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Kay shook her head. The other detective, Siriani, said roughly, "We know you two

have been shacking up together. We have the hotel records and witnesses. If we let

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that information slip to the newspapers your father and mother would feel pretty lousy.

Real respectable people like them wouldn't think much of a daughter shacking up with a

gangster. If you don't come clean right now I'll call your old man in here and give it to

him straight."

Kay looked at him with astonishment. Then she got up and went to the door of the

study and opened it. She could see her father standing at the living-room window,

sucking at his pipe. She called out, "Dad, can you join us?" He turned, smiled at her,

and walked to the study. When he came through the door he put his arm around his

daughter's waist and faced the detectives and said, "Yes, gentlemen?"

When they didn't answer, Kay said coolly to Detective Siriani, "Give it to him straight,

officer."

Siriani flushed. "Mr. Adams, I'm telling you this for your daughter's good. She is mixed

up with a hoodlum we have reason to believe committed a murder on a police officer.

I'm just telling her she can get into serious trouble unless she cooperates with us. But

she doesn't seem to realize how serious this whole matter is. Maybe you can talk to

her."

"That is quite incredible," Mr. Adams said politely.

Siriani jutted his jaw. "Your daughter and Michael Corleone have been going out

together for over a year. They have stayed overnight in hotels together registered as

man and wife. Michael Corleone is wanted for questioning in the murder of a police

officer. Your daughter refuses to give us any information that may help us. Those are

the facts. You can call them incredible but I can back everything up."

"I don't doubt your word, sir," Mr. Adams said gently. "What I find incredible is that my

daughter could be in serious trouble. Unless you're suggesting that she is a" – here his

face became one of scholarly doubt – "a 'moll (любовница гангстера [mol]),' I believe

it's called."

Kay looked at her father in astonishment. She knew he was being playful in his

donnish (педантичный, высокомерный, чванный) way and she was surprised that he

could take the whole affair so lightly.

Mr. Adams said firmly, "However, rest assured that if the young man shows his face

here I shall immediately report his presence to the authorities. As will my daughter. Now,

if you will forgive us, our lunch is growing cold."

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70

He ushered the men out of the house with every courtesy and closed the door on their

backs gently but firmly. He took Kay by the arm and led her toward the kitchen far in the

rear of the house, "Come, my dear, your mother is waiting lunch for us."

By the time they reached the kitchen, Kay was weeping silently, out of relief from

strain, at her father's unquestioning affection. In the kitchen her mother took no notice of

her weeping, and Kay realized that her father must have told her about the two

detectives. She sat down at her place and her mother served her silently. When all

three were at the table her father said grace (молитва /перед едой/) with bowed head.

Mrs. Adams was a short stout woman always neatly dressed, hair always set. Kay

had never seen her in disarray (беспорядок /в одежде/; смятение [dıs∂'reı]). Her

mother too had always been a little disinterested in her, holding her at arm's length. And

she did so now. "Kay, stop being so dramatic. I'm sure it's all a great deal of fuss about

nothing at all. After all, the boy was a Dartmouth boy, he couldn't possibly be mixed up

in anything so sordid (грязный, низкий, подлый)."

Kay looked up in surprise. "How did you know Mike went to Dartmouth?"

Her mother said complacently (complacent [k∂m'pleısnt] – благодушный), "You

young people are so mysterious, you think you're so clever. We've known about him all

along, but of course we couldn't bring it up until you did."

"But how did you know?" Kay asked. She still couldn't face her father now that he

knew about her and Mike sleeping together. So she didn't see the smile on his face

when he said, "We opened your mail, of course."

Kay was horrified and angry. Now she could face him. What he had done was more

shameful than her own sin. She could never believe it of him. "Father, you didn't, you

couldn't have."

Mr. Adams smiled at her. "I debated which was the greater sin, opening your mail, or

going in ignorance of some hazard my only child might be incurring (to incur [ın'k∂:] –

подвергаться /чему-либо/; навлечь на себя). The choice was simple, and virtuous."

Mrs. Adams said between mouthfuls of boiled chicken, "After all, my dear, you are

terribly innocent for your age. We had to be aware. And you never spoke about him."

For the first time Kay was grateful that Michael was never affectionate in his letters.

She was grateful that her parents hadn't seen some of her letters. "I never told you

about him because I thought you'd be horrified about his family."

"We were," Mr. Adams said cheerfully. "By the way, has Michael gotten in touch with

you?"

Kay shook her head. "I don't believe he's guilty of anything."

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She saw her parents exchange a glance over the table. Then Mr. Adams said gently,

"If he's not guilty and he's vanished, then perhaps something else happened to him."