"Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Claire Moffatt 01 - Dark Satanic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Marion Zimmer)

He smiled easily, "I don't think so, Barby. I imagine she enjoys having the kitchen to herself once in a while, just as much as we enjoy being by ourselves. Just let me call. Back in a minute."
Barbara relaxed, sneaking a sip of Jamie's drink, thinking about her mother-in-law. She thought, whimsically, Ifs a good thing there aren't any witches, or Mother Melford would have had me hoodooed long before this.
It was so humiliating, not to get along with your mother-in-law. It made you feel like something out of -a third-rate TV play, a stock situation, not an intelligent woman at the final third of the twentieth century.
Jamie slipped back into the seat opposite. "Mother's fine," he said, "happy as a lark. She has a guest for dinner herself. It seems Dana Becker's back in town."
Barbara laughed weakly. "I told you it wasn't my day," she said, then elaborated on the amusing thought that had come to her while he was at the phone. "It's a good thing there are no witches, or Dana would have used some sort of witchcraft to land you. Lord knows, she did everything else."
He laughed a little, too. "Oh, come on, Barbara," he protested, "it's not like you to be catty, and that's all , past history. It isn't the poor girl's fault that Mother was bound and determined I was going to marry her instead of you. After all, I did marry you. And since she's a friend of Mother's, I expect we'll have to see her from time to time. And Dana likes you. She told me so."
I'll bet, Barbara thought, but she had sense enough to keep the remark to herself. She contented herself with saying, "Well, I don't begrudge mother her friends, as long as she can't try to marry you off to them anymore," and left it at that.
After all, she thought, sticking a fork in her salad, she had brought Dana to see them herself the first time. Dana had been sent to her by the model agency to model a new line of miniskirts, and had fainted on the floor. Barbara, who knew how the high-fashion models ruined their health with crash-dieting and Dexadrine, had sent for a cup of soup. In the conversation that followed, finding Dana intelligently interested in the technical side of photography, Barbara had invited her along on a date with Jamie, who was the most casual of dates then and not yet a prospective husband.
It had been a mistake, Barbara thought cynically, as most feminine kindnesses were mistakes. Jamie had discovered that Dana's mother was an old school-friend of his mother's. Dana paid a courtesy call, and, before Barbara knew it, Dana was a dear old friend of the family, a cherished protщgщe of Mrs. Melford. Barbara had soon realized, to her horror, that Mrs. Melford was firmly resolved on Dana for a daughter-in-law.
Jamie was no apron-string son, and he had held out steadfastly against his mother's storms, pleas, blandishments, and feminine wiles. Only Barbara realized what a long hard fight it was, and, when she and Jamie were safely married and Mother Melford had given in graciously and pretended to welcome Barbara, Barbara was not fooled at all. The older woman disliked her and had never forgiven her.
Dana had had the decency to leave the city, but now she was back. Barbara thought, angrily, If Mother Melford helps thatЕ that witch to break up my
marriage, I'll.. . I'll.. .She laughed abruptly and took a bite of her steak.
"What's funny, Barby?"
"I'll have to read Jock's book over again, if Dana's getting back, and get a love charm so she can't steal you from me!"
"Attagirl," Jamie said, laughing, and started to cut his steak.
They lingered over spumoni and black coffee, and it was nearing nine when a waiter approached the table, a little apologetically. "Mr. Melford? There is a telephone call for youЧJ believe quite urgent. You can take it here at the table if you would rather."
Jamie looked puzzled as the plug-in phone was brought and he picked up the receiver. "I hope Mother isn't sick; no one else would know I'm here," he commented, and spoke into the receiver.
The answering voice was wholly unfamiliar. "Mr. Melford? This is Emergency, at City General Hospital. We have a patient here who was brought in a short time ago, off the street. We have identified him as a Mr. Cannon, but we have no home address or next-of-kin for him, and the patient is incoherent and keeps calling for you. We found your home number in his wallet, and someone there said you could be reached here."
Jamie said, slowly, "I can give you his home addressЕ or would you rather that I call his wife? Of course, I'll come down if he wants me."
"That's for you to decide, Mr. Melford, but if you could telephone Mr. Cannon's wife, I would appreciate it very much. We're rather busy here."
"Could you tell me whatЧ" Jamie began, but the voice had already rung off. He replaced the receiver slowly. "I'll be damned!"
"Jamie, what's the matter?"
"Speaking of the devil," he said. "Poor Jock CannonЧhe's been ran over or mugged or something. That was the hospital calling. They didn't know his home address but he was carrying our number."
"Jamie, how awful!"
"I should go to the hospital," Jamie said distractedly. "They said he keeps asking for me. Poor, poor devil. I hope it's not too bad. Poor Bess. I should call herЕ"
"She'll be at her wit's end," Barbara said practically. "Why don't I call her, Jamie, maybe pick her up in a cab and go to the hospital with her? There isn't really much you can do there."
"Oh, well. After all, if he's in bad shapeЕ I don't know that they have any other relatives in the city, or even very close friends," Jamie said, and Barbara thought, loving him, how like him it was to put himself out for even an acquaintance. He hated hospitals, and yet here he was, ready to go there on a stormy whiter night just because a hurt man had mentioned his name. The least she could do was to relieve him of the problem of Bess. She leaned across the table and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"You go along then, darling; take a cab, it's quicker. And don't worry. People get knocked down every day and they're all right again. I'll call Bess and we'll be along presently."
He put on his coat, shrugging it around his shoulders with that inimitable gesture no woman can imitate, and went off, stopping briefly at the cashier's desk to pay the check. Barbara, reaching for her handbag, stiffened herself for the unwelcome task of telling a woman she did not know very well that her husband was hurt and might by dying for all she knew.
As she went to look up the number, it brushed her mind, like a small and unwelcome intruder, that only today Jock Cannon had complained of persecution and fear. Oh, rats, she told herself firmly, you're beginning to think like a detective-story writer. Things like that don't happen in real life. He skidded on the ice, or a hit-and-run driver knocked him down, or a thug conked him on the head for his walletЧand no nonsense, if you please. Things are bad enough without a lot of hysterical rubbish!
Chapter Three
There was an icy wind sweeping off the East River now, and the squally rain earlier in the day had turned to sleet. The steps of the hospital were slick and treacherous, and Jamie skidded, swore, and wondered how in the devil he got into these things.
He found the Emergency entrance, inquired, and heard that Mr. Cannon had been taken upstairs. A very young intern conducted him to the right elevator, and Jamie asked, "What kind of accident was it?"
"Why, I hadn't heard that it was an accident at all; I thought this was a heart-attack case," the intern said. "This elevator will take you right up to the seventh floor, Mr. Melford." Jamie was left wondering what other mix-ups there had been.
The hospital corridor was dark with night-lights and shadows, and a young nurse, her voice hushed to the hour, said that if he was Mr. Melford she could take him right to Mr. Cannon at once. She led him down silent echoing corridors and past closed doors into a room with the door ajar.
He saw at once that there was a screen around Jock Cannon's bed. They had Jock in an oxygen tent. He was lying against the pillows, his eyes closed, and Jamie thought he was asleep. He sat down uncomfortably in the one stiff chair beside the bed, wondering if Bess would get there in time, if Jock was very bad, if all this was necessary.
Jock moved uneasily on his pillow. His eyes flew open, but they were wild, unfocused; they did not see Jamie. He stirred inside the clear plastic of the tent and muttered "No, no. Let me go. Don't follow me. What do you want with me?"
Jamie leaned forward, feeling awkward. He took one of the limp hands that lay outside the oxygen tent on the coverlet and said, "Take it easy, old man. You'll be fine now."
"MelfordЧwhere's Melford," Cannon muttered. "Got to tell him! Jamie! Jamie!"
"I'm here, Jock," Jamie said clearly.
The wandering eyes focused briefly. Cannon said, "Thought you'd never get here. They got me! Jamie, they got me. I saw the knife hi the heart. I felt it! I had to tell you about the book. You've got to withdraw that book."
"Nonsense, man!" said Jamie heartily. "You already told me, don't you remember? But it's all right; you've forgotten, but it's all right. Just rest now, and get yourself well again. Bess will be here in a little while."
"Bess." He stirred uneasily and seemed to gasp for breath. His face twitched, seemed congested and dark. "They baptized itЧin my nameЕ felt the knife, and thenЕ my heart! My heart!"
Delirious, Jamie thought. He's still thinking about that foul letter he got. Damn those people, anyway. Jock muttered and moaned incoherently; a nurse came in, checked his pulse, and said in an undertone, "You must be very careful not to excite him, Mr. Meiford; he's very dangerously ill."
Jamie nodded and sat back in the chair. The nurse started to go away. Suddenly Jock struggled upright, clutching wildly at the supports of the oxygen tent. It wobbled; the nurse hurried back and steadied it. He gasped for breath, his face twitching and darkening almost to purple as he fought, clutching at Ms chest. Then he screamedЧa long, agonized sound.
"No! No! The knifeЕ the knifeЕ the demonЕ Д let me go! Let me go!"
The nurse said in her crisp, professional voice, "No one is hurting you, Mr. Cannon. You must lie still now, or we will have to put you in restraints." Jock did not hear; his arms thrashed wildly and the nurse reached over and pressed a bell, hard. Two other nurses came hurrying in; they took in the situation at a glance, and within a few minutes Jock lay trussed and motionless, struggling vainly against the wide straps binding him to the bed. A doctor came in and looked at the man sternly, then turned to Jamie. "Don't you know you mustn't excite him?"
Jamie opened Ms mouth to protest, but the nurse said firmly, "He didn't say a word, doctor; I was here. Mr. Cannon just began shouting."
"I don't like to give him any more sedation; I'm not sure his heart will stand it." The doctor frowned, bending over the motionless, gasping form with his stethoscope. After a long time he straightened and asked, "Did you manage to contact his wife, Mr. Melford?"
"My wife is bringing her to the hospital."