"Crais, Robert - Elvis Cole 08 - L.A. Requiem 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Crais Robert)

We left Pike's Jeep by a fire hydrant and walked into a courtyard burgeoning with hand-painted clay pots that overflowed with gladiolas. Apartment number 3 belonged to Marisol Acuna, but Pike didn't come with me to the door. We knew from Mrs. Acuna that Karen's apartment was on the second floor.

A heavy woman in her late fifties stepped out of a ground-floor apartment. "Are you Mr. Cole?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Acuna?"

She glanced at Pike. He was already climbing the stairs. "She hasn't come home. Let me get the key, and I'll let you inside."

"Frank gave us a key, ma'am. You should wait down here."

A line appeared between her brows, and she glanced at Pike again. "Why don't you want me up there? You think something bad is up there?"

"No, ma'am. But if Karen comes home I'd hate to have her walk in on a couple of strange men. You keep an eye out. If she comes while we're up there you can tell her what's going on and bring her up." What a fine and wonderful lie.

Pike wasn't waiting for me. Karen's door opened.

I gave Mrs. Acuna a final smile, then took the stairs three at a time, slipping into Karen's apartment behind Joe. He stood in the center of the living room, holding up a finger to stop me, his gun hanging loose in his right hand. Pike carries the Colt Python .357 magnum with a four-inch barrel. Firing a heavy bullet, it will generate almost six hundred foot-pounds of energy and can punch its way through an engine block. Pike uses the heavy bullet.

He went through a short hall into the apartment's only bedroom, then reappeared almost instantly, the Python now gone.

"Clear."

Sometimes you just have to shake your head.

I said, "Can we spell 'paranoid'?"

Karen Garcia's apartment was furnished well beyond the rent she paid. An overstuffed leather couch with two matching chairs dominated the living room. A modern desk was positioned under two casement windows so that she had a view of the street; psychology texts were shelved on the desk, along with three Tami Hoag novels, a Nunzilla, and an AT&T telephone/answering machine combo. The red message light was blinking. A framed snapshot of Karen wearing a silly crown and holding a glass of wine was tacked beside the window. She was barefoot, and smiling.

I said, "You want the messages or the rest of the place?"

"Rest of the place."

All of Karen's messages were from her father except the one from me and one from a man named Martin, asking if she wanted to go to a quebmdita. Martin had a Spanish accent, and a mellow voice. After the messages, I went through the drawers, and found a Rolodex. We would bring it to Frank to see whom he knew, and, if we had to, we would phone every name to see if we could find someone who knew where Karen was.

Pike reappeared from the bedroom. "Jeans on the bed, sandals on the floor. Her toothbrush is still in the bathroom.

Wherever she went, she wasn't planning on staying." You take your toothbrush, you're thinking you'll stay the night. You leave it, you're coming home.

"Okay. She changed into her running things and left the other stuff, figuring to change back later."

"That's my call."

"You see any notes, maybe a calendar that says her plans?"

I thought he was about to answer when Pike held up his finger again, then took three fast steps toward the door. "Someone's coming."

"Mrs.Acuna."

"Someone bigger."