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“perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk fragment: "How do you feel?" he whispered” (1 conversations)
toxic
3 turns
Feb 20, 2024 at 5:16 PM MSK
Russia
USER
perevedi na literaturnyi russkii iazyk fragment: "How do you feel?" he whispered gently. When she did not respond, he said, "What I mean is are you able to hear the explanation? You'll be asking for it soon enough." She slowly lifted her head and nodded. He could see that it was already beginning to gnaw at her. Sometimes, he had learned, it was easier to lay on the pain all at once, instead of paying it out with agonizing slowness. Besides, even the most cursory investigation would establish the facts, especially with this son of a bitch Martin wanting to make a federal case out of it. Returning to Martin, he said politely, "Could you wait in the outer office please, Mr. Martin?" "I demand--" Martin began. "You'll have ample opportunity," McCarthy said. Martin fumed. "I'm her lawyer." "Of course. That's her prerogative. After we talk to her, she can do what she wishes." Martin, confused, looked toward Mrs. Simpson. "It's all right, Dale." "Are you sure?" She nodded, and he walked, sulking, into the outer office. "It will only be a little while," McCarthy called after him with exaggerated politeness, often a weapon of intimidation. Across the room he could see Davis rising in his chair and lifting the plastic bag. He motioned toward Forbes. "Wally, please ask Mr. Davis to stay on for a moment," he said with formal seriousness. Davis turned, confused, frowning at McCarthy. "I hope you know what you're doing," Farnsworth said. "They have to be told. The rest is up to them." "Are you sure?" Farnsworth asked. "It's their lives. And it affects them both." He paused. "They have a right to know. But only them. What they do with the information is their business." Farnsworth nodded his consent. He led them into a small private office and closed the door, leaving Farnsworth to deal with the fuming Martin. To McCarthy, the man and the woman together looked like bewildered children. He introduced them to each other, and they nodded indifferently. From their reaction he was certain that neither of them had seen the other until that moment. Others might judge it differently, he thought. So much of police work was purely instinctive. Sliding behind a little metal desk, he directed them to two chairs placed in front of it. He did not like the configuration, but there was little choice. His eyes darted from face to face. Pain and shock had obliterated any signs of alertness. Both of them would have preferred to be alone, invisible. "Mr. Davis," McCarthy asked, his voice steady, businesslike, "is the name Orson Oscar Simpson familiar to you?" At the mention of her husband's name, the woman's jaw twitched. Am I really doing the right thing? McCarthy wondered. No, he decided. Only that which is necessary. He knew exactly the pain he was about to inflict.
CHATBOT
"Kak vy sebia chuvstvuete?" - tikho prosheptal on. Kogda ona ne otvetila, on skazal: "Ia khotel uznat', gotovy li vy slushat' ob'iasneniia? Vy skoro zakhotite ikh uslyshat'." Ona medlenno podniala golovu i kivnula. On videl, chto somneniia uzhe nachali ee raz'edat'. Inogda, po ego opytu, bylo legche nanesti bol' srazu, chem tianut' eto muchitel'no dolgo. Bolee togo, dazhe poverkhnostnoe rassledovanie ustanovit fakty, osobenno kogda etot podonok Martin khochet razdut' iz etogo federal'noe delo. Vozvrashchaias' k Martinu, on vezhlivo skazal: "Ne mogli by vy podozhdat' vo vneshnem ofise, mister Martin?" "Ia trebuiu..." - nachal Martin. "U vas budet dostatochno vozmozhnostei," - skazal Makkarti. Martin kipel ot zlosti. "Ia ee advokat." "Konechno. Eto ee pravo. Posle togo kak my s nei pogovorim, ona smozhet delat' vse, chto pozhelaet." Martin, smushchennyi, posmotrel na missis Simpson. "Vse v poriadke, Deil?" "Vy uvereny?" Ona kivnula, i on, dosaduia, napravilsia vo vneshnii ofis. "Eto zaimet vsego nemnogo vremeni," - vsled za nim s preuvelichennoi vezhlivost'iu kriknul Makkarti, kotoraia chasto sluzhila oruzhiem ustrasheniia. Cherez komnatu on uvidel, kak Devis podnimaetsia so svoego stula i podnimaet plastikovyi paket. On pomanil Forbsa. "Uolli, pozhaluista, poprosite mistera Devisa ostat'sia na minutu," - s formal'nym ser'eznym tonom skazal on. Devis obernulsia, smushchennyi, nedoumenno gliadia na Makkarti. "Nadeius', vy znaete, chto delaete," - skazal Farnsvort. "Im nuzhno rasskazat'. Ostal'noe za nimi." "Vy uvereny?" - sprosil Farnsvort. "Eto ikh zhizni. I eto kasaetsia ikh oboikh." On zamolchal. "U nikh est' pravo znat'. No tol'ko oni. Chto oni sdelaiut s etoi informatsiei, ikh delo." Farnsvort kivnul v znak soglasiia. On provel ikh v malen'kii chastnyi ofis i zakryl za soboi dver', ostaviv Farnsvorta razbirat'sia s vozmushchennym Martinom. S tochki zreniia Makkarti, muzhchina i zhenshchina vmeste vygliadeli kak ozadachennye deti. On poznakomil ikh drug s drugom, i oni bezrazlichno kivnuli. Po ikh reaktsii on byl uveren, chto ni tot, ni drugaia do etogo momenta ne videli drug druga. Drugie mogli by eto interpretirovat' inache, on podumal. Tak mnogo v politseiskoi rabote bylo chisto intuitivnym. Proidia za nebol'shoi metallicheskii stol, on ukazal im na dva stula, postavlennye pered nim. Emu ne nravilas' eta konfiguratsiia, no vybora bylo malo. Ego vzgliad metalsia ot litsa k litsu. Bol' i shok sterli vse priznaki bditel'nosti. Oboim iz nikh bylo by luchshe byt' v odinochestve, nevidimymi. "Mister Devis," - sprosil Makkarti, ego golos byl ustoichiv i delovit, - "znakomo li vam imia Orson Oskar Simpson?" Pri upominanii imeni ee muzha cheliust' zhenshchiny dernulas'. Deistvitel'no li ia delaiu pravil'no? - razmyshlial Makkarti. Net, reshil on. Tol'ko to, chto neobkhodimo. On tochno znal, kakuiu bol' on sobiralsia prichinit'.
USER
eshche fragment: Davis frowned, looked at the woman, and shook his head negatively. "Mrs. Simpson, is the name Lily Corsini Davis familiar to you?" Davis wrinkled his forehead. He turned his head toward the woman. McCarthy resisted telling them that any loose end could be exploited by insurance investigators, the airlines, law enforcement people, anyone looking for a cause other than an accident. People were known to go to great lengths to knock off a faithless spouse. In his gut, watching these two living victims, he was certain of their innocence, although he was trained to distrust such hunches. He had been wrong before. "I don't..." Mrs. Simpson began, then sighed. "Lily Corsini Davis," McCarthy repeated, watching the woman struggling to respond. Had there been a tremor of recognition? The woman lifted her head; her eyes drifted to Davis, then to McCarthy as she struggled to comprehend. "You knew Lily?" Davis asked, clearing his throat. "Lily?" "My wife." Mrs. Simpson frowned with uncertainty, her eyes squinting in confusion. "Mrs. Davis was also killed in the crash," McCarthy explained gently. They're in the dark, he decided, the old pain rising sharply. "I'm sorry," the woman said in a barely audible whisper. Sorry for Mrs. Davis or sorry for not knowing, McCarthy wondered. Or just sorry. Sorry for living. If the names were not familiar, then perhaps the faces would be. No, he decided firmly, I will not put them through that. Tell it straight, he directed himself. Like a professional. "They were traveling on a ticket"--McCarthy cleared his throat --"that purported them to be man and wife." "Man and wife," Davis repeated, suddenly alert as if struck by a sharp blow. The woman shook her head. "They were traveling under fictitious names," McCarthy continued, "Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Marlboro." He waited for a response. "Something is wrong," Davis said, rising to his feet. "Maybe..." He drew in his breath in a long pause. "It wasn't my wife," McCarthy completed the sentence, adding for himself: "Would you like to see the body again?" Instantly deflated, Davis shook his head and sat down again. "No mistaking her?" McCarthy asked gently. "There was a great deal of trauma." The reminder turned Davis dead white. McCarthy wondered if he would faint. Slowly, what little color could be mustered returned to his face. "It was she," he whispered. McCarthy turned to the woman. "No doubts, Mrs. Simpson?" The woman shook her head and tried to speak, then gave up. "It can't be," Davis said, with little resolve left. "I have the ticket," McCarthy said. "It could only be them." He watched their reactions. It was a cruel business. "The reason you were not notified earlier," McCarthy said crisply, "was that we didn't know." He directed his next remarks to the man. "Mrs. Davis's body has been here for four days, but she simply could not be identified. It was only when we found her handbag..." Swallowing hard, he felt himself faltering. "Mr. Simpson's body was one of the last to be recovered. Only the names of Mr. and Mrs. Marlboro were left on the passenger list."
CHATBOT
Devis nakhmurilsia, posmotrel na zhenshchinu i otritsatel'no pokachal golovoi. "Missis Simpson, imia Lili Korsini Devis vam chto-nibud' govorit?" Devis nakhmuril lob. On povernul golovu k zhenshchine. Makkarti uderzhal sebia ot togo, chtoby rasskazat' im, kakuiu-libo petliu mozhno ispol'zovat' strakhovymi rassledovateliami, aviakompaniiami, pravookhranitel'nymi organami, liubym, kto ishchet prichinu, otlichnuiu ot neschastnogo sluchaia. Izvestno, chto liudi shli na mnogoe, chtoby izbavit'sia ot nevernogo supruga. V glubine dushi, nabliudaia za etimi dvumia zhivymi zhertvami, on byl uveren v ikh nevinovnosti, khotia emu bylo prisushche ne doveriat' takim predchuvstviiam. On uzhe oshibalsia ran'she. "Ia ne..." - missis Simpson nachala, posle chego vzdokhnula. "Lili Korsini Devis," - povtoril Makkarti, nabliudaia za tem, kak zhenshchina boretsia s otvetom. Bylo li v ee reaktsii drozhanie uznavaniia? Zhenshchina podniala golovu; ee vzgliad upal na Devisa, zatem na Makkarti, pytaias' chto-to poniat'. "Vy znali Lili?" - sprosil Devis, otkashlivaias'. "Lili?" "Moia zhena." Missis Simpson nakhmurilas' ot neuverennosti, ee glaza szhalis' v nedoumenii. "Missis Devis takzhe pogibla v katastrofe," - ob'iasnil Makkarti ostorozhno. Oni v nevedenii, - reshil on, vnezapnaia bol' ostro podstupila. "Prostite," - shepotom edva slyshno proiznesla zhenshchina. Sozhaleet li ona o missis Devis ili sozhaleet o tom, chto nichego ne znaet, zadalsia voprosom Makkarti. Ili prosto sozhaleet. Sozhaleet o tom, chto zhiva. Esli imena im byli neznakomy, vozmozhno, znakomy budut litsa. Net, reshitel'no reshil on, ia ne budu ikh etomu podvergat'. Govori priamo, velel on sebe. Professional'no. "Oni puteshestvovali po biletu," - Makkarti otkashlialsia - "kotoryi udostoverial ikh kak muzha i zhenu." "Muzh i zhena," - povtoril Devis, vdrug prishedshii v bodrost', kak budto ego udarili ostrym udarom. Zhenshchina pokachala golovoi. "Oni puteshestvovali pod vymyshlennymi imenami," - prodolzhal Makkarti, "mister i missis Kalvin Marlboro." On dozhdalsia reaktsii. "Chto-to ne tak," - skazal Devis, vstavaia na nogi. "Vozmozhno..." On podyshal gluboko, delaia dlinnuiu pauzu. "Eto ne byla moia zhena," - zavershil za nego frazu Makkarti, dobaviv dlia sebia: "Khotite snova uvidet' telo?" Vnezapno poteriav vsiakuiu uverennost', Devis pokachal golovoi i snova sel. "Net oshibki?" - nezhno sprosil Makkarti. "Travm bylo mnogo." Eto napominanie sdelalo Devisa mertvenno blednym. Makkarti zadumalsia, ne poteriaet li on soznanie. Medlenno, skol'ko eto bylo vozmozhno, tsvet vernulsia na ego litso. "Eto ona," - prosheptal on. Makkarti obratilsia k zhenshchine. "Net somnenii, missis Simpson?" Zhenshchina pokachala golovoi i popytalas' chto-to skazat', no zatem sdalas'. "Tak ne mozhet byt'," - skazal Devis, pochti bez vsiakoi nastoichivosti. "U menia est' bilet," - skazal Makkarti. "Tol'ko oni mogli byt' tam." On nabliudal za ikh reaktsiei. Eto bylo zhestoko. "Prichina, po kotoroi vam ne soobshchili ran'she," - skazal Makkarti rezko, "v tom, chto my ne znali." On napravil svoi sleduiushchie zamechaniia k muzhchine. "Telo missis Devis nakhoditsia zdes' uzhe chetyre dnia, no ee nikak ne mogli identifitsirovat'. My smogli eto sdelat' tol'ko kogda nashli ee sumochku..." Glotaia kom v gorle, on pochuvstvoval, kak nachinaet slabet'. "Telo mistera Simpsona bylo odnim iz poslednikh, kotorye byli obnaruzheny. V spiskakh passazhirov ostavalis' tol'ko imena mistera i missis Marlboro."
USER
eshche fragment: "Are you saying..." Davis began. He tried to rise from his chair, then collapsed back into it. "I'm sorry," McCarthy said. The woman was shaking her head, as if she were denying the truth to herself alone. He felt compelled to put it to them again. "You had no knowledge of this, either of you?" He was certain of that, but he pressed on. "No hint, no clue, no knowledge of why..." "There must be some mistake," Davis said with little conviction left. He looked at the woman, whose glance had drifted toward him. "Could have been a company thing," he said, grasping at obviously flimsy possibilities. "A way to save expenses. Something like that. Besides"--the man waved his hand in the air--"it's only a ticket. Just a ticket." McCarthy let the man talk. "You just don't know Lily. It's not like her..." He wound down. "No," the woman said, her hands held tightly in her lap, the knuckles white. McCarthy allowed them a long silence, letting reality sink in. "There's more," he finally said, sighing. He was about to explode the last shred of hope. He reached into his pocket and brought out the man's key case and the woman's key ring. Both sets of eyes flickered with recognition. And fear. "Actually, there is nothing other than the ticket to connect them to each other. Just these." With a deliberate sense of spectacle, he removed one key from the man's set and one from the woman's. Then he held them together, placing them both between thumb and index finger. "A perfect fit." There was no reaction from either of them, as if the new blow were incapable of stunning them. "More than likely the keys to some place in which ... I doubt very much that they are the keys to your respective homes." The man and the woman looked at each other and turned away. I know exactly how you feel, McCarthy thought, feeling a stab in his bowels. "Look," he said gently, "everything here is circumstantial. I really don't want to pry into your personal lives. Frankly, I'm just trying to head off any problems for both of you." He looked at the woman. "Your husband's law partner was opening up a can of worms that would be better off left in the can. If he wants to be helpful, let him concentrate on the insurance claims." He checked himself. He had suddenly grown angry. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I believe any decisions to carry this further should be left entirely in your hands." I'm on your side, guys, he wanted to say. An ally. "Sergeant..." Mrs. Simpson began. She was obviously calling on all her reserves. "McCarthy." "Must I deal with this now?" "No. There's really nothing to be dealt with. I just felt that anything further must be left to you." Was it really magnanimity on his part? he wondered. Or a desire for others to suffer what he had suffered--to know the horror of betrayal? He stood up. "Have you understood what I have been saying?" he said gratuitously, officially. The woman nodded. "I suppose," the man sighed. "There was just no way to ignore it," McCarthy said quietly, deliberately trying to create an emotional distance. He replaced one of the keys on the woman's key ring and handed it to the man. Then he replaced the other key in the dead man's leather key case and gave it to the woman. "That's all I wanted to say," he said. "That's all?" Davis asked with forced sarcasm. The woman said nothing.
CHATBOT
"Vy khotite skazat'..." - nachal Devis. On popytalsia vstat' so svoego kresla, no zatem obrushilsia obratno v nego. "Prostite," - skazal Makkarti. Zhenshchina pokachivala golovoi, slovno otritsala pravdu pered samoi soboi. On pochuvstvoval neobkhodimost' snova utochnit'. "Vy oba ne znali ob etom?" On byl uveren v etom, no prodolzhil nastaivat'. "Ni podozrenii, ni predpolozhenii, ni znanii o tom, pochemu..." "Dolzhno byt', kakaia-to oshibka," - skazal Devis, ego uverennost' pochti uletuchilas'. On posmotrel na zhenshchinu, chei vzgliad skol'znul v ego storonu. "Mozhet byt', eto delo kompanii," - skazal on, skhvativshis' za iavno natianutye versii. "Sposob sekonomit' raskhody. Chto-to v etom rode. K tomu zhe," - muzhchina makhnul rukoi v vozdukhe, - "eto vsego lish' bilet. Prosto bilet." Makkarti pozvolil cheloveku govorit'. "Vy prosto ne znaete Lili. Eto ne pokhozhe na nee..." On zamolk. "Net," - skazala zhenshchina, ona szhimala ruki na koleniakh tak sil'no, chto kostiashki pobeleli. Makkarti pozvolil im dolgoe molchanie, pozvoliaia real'nosti proniknut' vnutr'. "Est' eshche," - v kontse kontsov skazal on, vzdykhaia. On byl na grani togo, chtoby razrushit' posledniuiu toliku nadezhdy. On dostal iz karmana portmone s kliuchami muzhchiny i sviazku kliuchei zhenshchiny. Vzgliady oboikh drognuli ot uznavaniia. I strakha. "Na samom dele, net nichego, krome bileta, chto sviazyvalo by ikh drug s drugom. Tol'ko eto." S osoznannym chuvstvom zrelishchnosti on vytashchil odin kliuch iz nabora muzhchiny i odin iz sviazki zhenshchiny. Zatem uderzhal ikh vmeste, zazhimaia mezhdu bol'shim i ukazatel'nym pal'tsami. "Ideal'no podkhodiat." Ot nikh ne posledovalo nikakoi reaktsii, kak budto novyi udar uzhe ne sposoben byl ikh oshelomit'. "Skoree vsego, eto kliuchi k kakomu-to mestu, v kotorom... Somnevaius', chto eto kliuchi k vashim sobstvennym domam." Muzhchina i zhenshchina posmotreli drug na druga i otvernulis'. Ia znaiu, chto vy chuvstvuete, - podumal Makkarti, pochuvstvovav rezkuiu bol' v zhivote. "Poslushaite," - skazal on miagko, "vse zdes' - lish' kosvennye uliki. Ia deistvitel'no ne khochu vtorgat'sia v vashu lichnuiu zhizn'. Chestno govoria, ia prosto pytaius' predotvratit' vozmozhnye problemy dlia vas oboikh." On posmotrel na zhenshchinu. "Vash delovoi partner muzha raskruchival klubok problem, kotorye bylo by luchshe ostavit' zavernutym. Esli on khochet byt' poleznym, pust' sosredotochitsia na strakhovykh pretenziiakh." On sderzhal sebia. On vdrug razozlilsia. "Prostite za priamotu, no ia schitaiu, chto liubye resheniia o prodvizhenii etogo dal'she dolzhny ostat'sia polnost'iu v vashikh rukakh." Ia na vashei storone, rebiata, - khotel skazat' on. Soiuznik. "Serzhant..." - nachala missis Simpson. Ochevidno, ona napriagala vse svoi rezervy. "Makkarti." "Dolzhna li ia zanimat'sia etim seichas?" "Net. Na samom dele, zdes' net nichego, chto nuzhno razreshat'. Ia prosto poschital, chto vse dal'neishee dolzhno ostat'sia na vashe usmotrenie." Byla li eto deistvitel'no ego velikodushie? Ili zhelanie, chtoby drugie ispytali to, chto on perezhil, - poznat' uzhas predatel'stva? On vstal. "Vy poniali, chto ia govoril?" - skazal on iz obiazannosti, ofitsial'no. Zhenshchina kivnula. "Polagaiu," - vzdokhnul muzhchina. "Prosto ne bylo sposoba ignorirovat' eto," - tikho skazal Makkarti, soznatel'no pytaias' sozdat' emotsional'noe rasstoianie. On vernul odin kliuch na sviazku kliuchei zhenshchiny i protianul ee muzhchine. Zatem on vernul drugoi kliuch v kozhanyi brelok umershego muzhchiny i dal ego zhenshchine. "Eto vse, chto ia khotel skazat'," - skazal on. "Eto vse?" - sprosil Devis s nasil'stvennoi ironiei. Zhenshchina ne skazala nichego.