"Cray, David - Little Girl Blue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cray David)

"I come recommended. Just like you." Foley opened the briefcase,
fished inside for a moment, then withdrew a snapshot and passed it
over. The photo was of a young boy, nude except for a San Diego Padres
baseball cap with a rounded brim. The boy had been posed with one hand
on a cocked hip; his mouth was slightly open, his legs slightly apart.
His blue eyes were so utterly without focus that he might have been
blind.

Carpenter's eyes narrowed as he drew a sharp breath. It was lust,
Foley knew, pure lust and not the cold wind that reddened the man's
cheeks and ears. Lust was flooding Carpenter's entire being.

"Tell me what you wanna do here, Wally?"

Carpenter pulled the lapels of his overcoat across his throat. "How
much tape you got?"

"Forty-five minutes." Foley smiled, then leaned down to tap the
shorter man's chest. "And it's all hot. Every frame."

"Shit." Carpenter's head swiveled from side to side. The nearest
pedestrian was two blocks away, but the line of cars pounding up Second
Avenue was relentless. They were coming from the Lincoln Tunnel,
making their way to the theater district for the Sunday matinees. To
Foley, the various traffic sounds, the rise and fall of the engines,
the squeal of brakes and the occasional tapped horn, the crunch of
wheels dropping into potholes or clanging over metal construction
plates, had the inevitability of surf, or of wind, as he imagined it,
through a field of wheat.

"Did you drive over?" Carpenter asked, his tone wistful.

"I don't own a car."

"Then we better go to mine." He took a step, muttered, "Ah, shit,"
then took another, then another.

OlGHING, WALLACE Carpenter reached beneath the seat of his Lexus to
retrieve a videotape wrapped in a Gristedes shopping bag. "Thirteen,"
he said. "Prepubescent girl. Not my bag,"

Foley exchanged tapes, then watched Carpenter settle into the Italian
leather seat. "A bit on the ancient side for my taste," he said, "but
no problem. I can always trade down. I got a guy takes the Bangkok
tour every three months. This'll be right up his alley." He paused,
then casually asked, "You ever do the tour?"

"I used to do Honduras, but I stopped about ten years ago. What I
heard, them kids all got AIDS." Carpenter put his hand into the stream
of air coming from the heater, then turned up the fan. "I got a wife,