"Molly Brown - Community Service" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Molly) like a typical cop off duty: jeans and a leather jacket, loose-fitting
enough to conceal a shoulder holster. He was alone. I was with about eight or nine others from the office. Other than the airborne cop at the bar, we were the only customers, but it was early yet. Things would pick up later, when the Armoured Vehicle Patrol changed shifts. Then the place would be a madhouse; those guys knew how to party. "Hey," Jimmy said as we all sat down at our usual table, "isn't that the guy who came nosing around this morning?" "He wasn't nosing around," I said. "He just took a wrong turn or something." "He could take a wrong turn with me anytime," one of the women said. "Whoever he is, he's absolutely gorgeous." I agreed with her, just to annoy Jimmy. "Never seen the guy before," Jimmy muttered, "now we see him twice in one day." He tapped his nose. "He's not from our area, and even if he was, since when do airborne cops come slumming it down in traffic? You ask me, there's something funny going on." "Funny like what?" I asked him. "I don't know. It's just a feeling I have." Then he turned away and started talking to Angela Greenman. Okay, I thought, two can play at that game. I got up and walked over to the bar, planting myself on the stool next to the airborne cop. I reached into my bag for a handful of credit chips and stacked them in front of me on the bar. "Buy you a drink?" There was a mirror behind the bar; I could see Jimmy and the others still seemed to me making a point of ignoring me. He got up, walked over to the holovid box and pressed some buttons. I sighed in dismay as a woman in a low-cut dress at least two sizes too small for her appeared on a tiny stage at the far end of the room, in full colour 3D. She began squirming and gyrating, her digitalized voice screeching inane lyrics at a decibel level that shook the walls. He had to be kidding; did he really think he was gonna make me jealous with a holovid? The airborne cop downed the last of his drink in one gulp, grimacing as if he was in pain. "Are you all right?" I asked him. "Headache," he said. I turned to call across the room, "Turn it down a little, will ya?" Jimmy didn't hear me. He was up on stage with the holovid, doing something that looked like a rain dance. There was a bowl of nuts on the bar. I popped a handful in my mouth. They were coated in salt, of course. As if the guy who owned Larry's really thought cops needed encouragement to drink. The airborne cop slid his empty glass across the bar. "My name's Rico Salvo. I work helicopters out of South Central. Does that offer of a drink still hold?" "Sure." "Then I'll have a triple Scotch," he said. "Neat." "Cheap date, aren't you?" I reached into my bag for more credit chips. "Hey, Freddie," I called down to the bartender. "One triple Scotch and one |
|
|