1
Mystery girl
It all began on a beautiful spring morning in a village called Whistler, in Canada -- a pretty little village in the mountains of British Columbia.
There was a caf?in the village, with tables outside, and at one of the tables sat a young man. He finished his breakfast, drank his coffee, looked up into the blue sky, and felt the warm sun on his face. Nick Lortz was a happy man.
The waiter came up to his table. 'More coffee?' he asked. 'Yeah. Great,' said Nick. He gave the waiter his coffee cup.
The waiter looked at the camera on the table. 'On vacation?' he said. 'Where are you from?'
'San Francisco,' Nick said. He laughed. 'But I'm not on vacation -- I'm working. I'm a travel writer, and I'm doing a book on mountains in North America. I've got some great pictures of your mountain.'
The two men looked up at Whistler Mountain behind the village. It looked very beautiful in the morning sun.
'Do you travel a lot, then?' asked the waiter.
'All the time,' Nick said. 'I write books, and I write for travel magazines. I write about everything - different countries, towns, villages, rivers, mountains, 'The waiter looked over Nick's head. 'There's a girl across the street,' he said. 'Do you know her?'
Nick turned his head and looked. 'No, I don't.'
'Well, she knows you, I think,' the waiter said. 'She's watching you very carefully.' He gave Nick a smile. 'Have a nice day!' He went away, back into the caf?
Nick looked at the girl across the street. She was about twenty-five, and she was very pretty. 'She is watching me,' Nick thought. Then the girl turned and looked in one of the shop windows. After a cond or two, she looked back at Nick again.
Nick watched her. 'She looks worried,' he thought. 'What's she doing? Is she waiting for somebody?'
Suddenly, the girl smiled. Then she walked across the street, came up to Nick's table, and sat down. She put her bag down on the table. The bag was half-open.
'Hi, I'm Jan,' she said. 'Do you remember me? We met at a party in Toronto.' 'Hi, Jan,' said Nick. He smiled. I'm Nick. But we didn't meet at a party in Toronto. I don't go to parties very often, and never in Toronto.' 'Oh,' the girl said. But she didn't get up or move away.
'Have some coffee,' said Nick. The story about the party in Toronto wasn't true, but it was a beautiful morning, and she was a pretty girl. 'Maybe it was a party in Montr閍l. Or New York.'
The girl laughed. 'OK. Maybe it was. And yes, I'd love some coffee.'
When she had her coffee, Nick asked, 'What are you doing in Whistler? Or do you live here?'
'Oh no,' she said. 'I'm just, er, just travelling through. And what are you doing here?'
"I'm a travel writer,' Nick said, 'and I'm writing a book about famous mountains.'
'That's interesting,' she said. But her face was worried, not interested, and she looked across the road again.
A man with very short, white hair walked across the road. He was about sixty years old, and he was tall and thin. The girl watched him.
'Are you waiting for someone?' asked Nick.
'No,' she said quickly. Then she asked, 'Where are you going next, Nick?' 'To Vancouver, for three or four days,' he said.芦荟胶作用
'When are you going?' she asked.
'Later this morning,' he said. There was a letter in the top of the girl's
half-open bag. Nick could e some of the writing, and he read it becau he saw the word 'Vancouver' - ... and we can meet at the Empress Hotel, Victoria, Vancouver Island, on
'So she's going to Vancouver too,' he thought.
Suddenly the girl said, 'Do you like movies?''Movies? Yes, I love movies,' he said. 'Why?'
豇豆角的做法'I know a man, and he -- he loves movies, and going to the cinema,' she said slowly. 'People call him "Mr Hollywood".' She smiled at Nick. 'Can I call you "Mr Hollywood" too?'
Nick laughed. 'OK', he said. 'And what can I call you?'
She smiled again. 'Call me Mystery Girl,' she said.
' 'That's a good name for you,' said Nick.
Just then, the man with white hair came into the caf? He did not look at Nick or the girl, but he sat at a table near them. He asked the waiter for some breakfast, then he began to read a magazine.
The girl looked at the man, then quickly looked away again.
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'Do you know him?' Nick asked her.
'No,' she said. She finished her coffee quickly and got up. 'I must go now,' she said.
Nick stood up, too. 'Nice to -' he began.
But the girl suddenly took his face between her hands, and kisd him on the mouth. 'Drive carefully, Mr Hollywood. Goodbye' she said, with a big, beautiful smile. Then she turned and walked quickly away.翼成语
Nick sat down again and watched her. She walked down the road and into a big hotel.
'Now what,' thought Nick, 'was that all about?'
The man with white hair watched Nick and waited. After four of five minutes, Nick finished his coffee, took his books and his camera, and left the caf? His car was just outside the girl's hotel, and he walked slowly along the street to it.
亚洲三大半岛The man with white hair waited a cond, then quickly followed Nick.
From a window high up in the hotel, the girl looked down into the road. She saw Nick, and the man with white hair about fifty yards behind him. Nick got into his car, and the man with white hair walked quickly to a red car across the street. Five conds later Nick drove away in his blue car, and the red car began to follow him.
When the girl saw this, she smiled, then went to put some things in her travel bag.
2
A hand in the back
That evening, in his hotel room in Vancouver, Nick could not stop thinking about the girl in the Whistl
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er caf? Why did she come and sit with him? She didn't know him, and that story about a party in Toronto wasn't true. And she was worried about something. But what?
And that kiss! It was nice, of cour, but why did she do it? 'Maybe she liked my face,' Nick thought. 'Or my brown eyes. But I'm not going to e her again, so it doesn't matter. Forget it.'
He put some money in his pocket and went downstairs to the hotel restaurant. But there were no free tables, so he walked down to Gastown and found a restaurant there.
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After dinner, he went for a walk. Vancouver was a friendly city, and Nick liked walking through Gastown and Chinatown, looking in the shops and watching the people. It was nearly dark now, and it was a busy time of the evening. There were a lot of cars, and a lot of people.
After a time, Nick began to walk back to his hotel. He came to a busy street, and waited, with a small crowd of people, to go across. A tall woman in a blue dress stood next to him She turned and smiled at him.
'It's the first warm evening of spring,' she said. 'It's nice to be out, after the long cold winter.'
'Yeah,' said Nick. 'It's great. It's-'Suddenly, there was a hand in his back - and the hand pushed Nick i
nto the road. Nick fell on his face, in front of a big green car. People screamed.
But the green car stopped, only inches from Nick's head. The woman in the blue dress ran into the road and pulled Nick to his feet.
'Are you OK? What happened?' she said.
The driver of the green car shouted angrily at Nick, but Nick did not hear him. 'Somebody pushed me,' he said to the woman. 'I didn't fall - somebody pushed me!'
'Pushed you?' said the woman. "Who?' I didn't e anybody.'
Nick looked at the faces of the people near him, but he didn't know them. Then he saw a man's back. The man was tall and thin, and had very short white hair. he walked quickly away down the street, and did not look back.'Hey, you!' Nick shouted. 'Wait!'
But the man did not stop, and he was soon lost in the crowds.
'Did he push you?' asked the woman in the blue dress.
'I... I don't know,' Nick said.
'Do you know him?' she asked.
"I don't know his name, Nick said. 'But I know that short white hair. Now where did I e it before?'
The woman began to move away. 'I must get home, ' she said. 'Are you OK now?'
'Yeah, I'm OK.' Nick said. 'And thanks. Thanks for your help.'
'That's OK.' The woman smiled. 'Be careful now!'
Back in his hotel, Nick sat on his bed and thought. 'It was an accident. Nobody pushed me, it was an accident. Nobody wants to kill me. And there are hundreds of men in Vancouver with white hair.'
It was one o'clock in the morning, but Nick couldn't sleep. He listened to the cars in the road, and he looked at the night sky through his hotel room window. Then he sat at the table and tried to write some more of his book about mountains, but he couldn't think about his work. He got back into bed.
There were four of five magazines in the hotel room. They were not very interesting, but Nick sat in bed and and saw a photo of 'Mystery Girl'!
He looked at the picture very carefully. But, yes, it was her! Jan, the girl from the Whistler caf?
She was next to a man of about fifty or fifty-five, and they were in the garden of a big, expensive hou. They smiled at the camera, and they looked very happy.
Canadian millionaire, Howard Hutson, and his daughter, Meg, it said under the picture, at their home in Toronto. Meg Hutson! Not Jan. Not Mystery Girl. Meg Hutson, the daughter of a millionaire! Nick read it again.
Why did she come and sit with me in the caf?at Whistler?' he thought.
'Millionaires' daughters don't sit with strangers in caf閟, and then give them a big kiss when they leave! Why did she do it? What did she want?'
---
He thought back to the caf?in Whistler, and the girl next to him at the table. Then he remembered something. He remembered a man at a table near them in the caf? A tall thin man, about sixty years old.A man with very short white hair. Nick didn't sleep much that night.
3
A walk in the park
The next day was Thursday. Nick stayed in his hotel room and wrote about mountains all morning. then he drove to Stanley Park in the afternoon. He sat and read a book for an hour, then he went for a walk under the tall trees. There was nobody here. It was quiet, and he could walk and think. He thought about Meg Hutson, and about the man with white hair. Did he know
Meg Hutson? Did she know him? He remembered Meg Hutson's last words. Drive carefully, Mr Hollywood.
Why did she say that? Why did she call him Mr Hollywood? He didn't understand any of it.
Suddenly, he heard a noi.
He stopped. 'That was a gun!' he thought. 'There's somebody in the trees with a gun! There it is again!'
Then something hit the tree over his head.
'Somebody's shooting me!' Nick thought. He turned and ran.
And somebody began to run after him.
Nick ran through the trees. There was no sun in here, and it was half-dark. And there were no people. Nobody to help him.
'I must get to my car,' Nick thought. 'Find ' He ran on.
He could still hear the gunman behind him, so he ran faster. After three or four minutes, he stopped and listened.Nothing. It was all quiet.
Nick was afraid. 'What's happening?' he thought. 'Why is somebody shooting at me? First a hand pushes me in front of a car, and now somebody's shooting at me!'
He waited another cond or two, then walked quickly back to his car. He was very careful. He looked and listened all the time. But nobody came out of the trees, and nobody shot at him. Then he saw people - women with young children, some boys with a football, two men with a dog. He began to feel better. 'Nobody can shoot me now,' he thought. 'Not with all the people here.'
Ten minutes later, he was back at his car.
There was a letter on the window. Nick read it. It said:
I'm going to kill you, Mr Hollywood.
Nick drove to the nearest police station. He waited for half an hour, then a tired young policeman took him into a small room. Nick told his story, and the policeman wrote it all down.
'So what are you going to do?' asked Nick.
'Nothing,' said the policeman.
'Nothing!' said Nick. 'But somebody shot at me, and-'
'Mr Lords,' the policeman said tiredly. 'How many people are there in this town with guns?'
大陆歌手'I don't know,' said Nick. ''
'You didn't e the gunman. Was it a man, a boy, a woman? Colour of eyes? Long hair, short hair? You don't know, becau you didn't e anybody. Maybe it was an old girlfriend. Maybe somebody doesn't like travel books, MrLortz.' 'But what about the man with white hair in Whistler?' said Nick. 'The girl, Meg Hutson called me Mr Hollywood in the caf? and this man heard her. And now I get a letter to Mr Hollywood on my car. Who is this Mr Hollywood?'
'We all want answers to our questions, MrLortz,' the policeman said, 'but we
