"Eddings, David - High Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (High Hunt)

We wheeled into the parking lot of a beer joint and went inside, still talking. We ordered pitchers of draft and sat in a booth drinking and talking about liquor and women and the service. The tavern was one of those usual kind of places with lighted beer signs all along the top of the mirror behind the bar. It had the usual jukebox and the usual pinball machine. It had the uneven dance floor that the bartender had to walk across to deliver pitchers of beer to the guys sitting in the booths along the far wall. There were the solitary drinkers hunched at the bar, staring into their own reflections in the mirror or down into the foam on their beer; and there was the usual group of dice players at the bar, rolling for drinks. I've been in a hundred joints like it up and down the coast.

I realized that I was enjoying myself. Sloane seemed to be honestly having a good time; and Jack, in spite of the fact that he was trying his damnedest to impress me, seemed to really get a kick out of seeing me again. That unholy dead feeling I'd been fighting for the last months or so was gone.

"We got to get Dan some civilian clothes," Cal was saying. "He can't run around in a uniform. That's the kiss of death as far as women are concerned."

"I've got some civvies coming in," I said. "I shipped them here a month ago Ч parcel post. They're probably at the General Delivery window downtown right now."

"I've got to ran downtown tomorrow," Jack said. "I'll stop by and pick them up for you."

"Don't I have to get them myself?" I asked. "I mean, don't they ask for ID or anything?"

"Hell, no," Jack scoffed. "You can get anybody's mail you want at the General Delivery window."

"Kinda shakes a guy's faith in the Hew Hess Government," I said. "I mean, if you can't trust the goddamn Post Office Department Ч say, maybe we ought to take our business to somebody else."

"Who you got in mind?" Sloane asked.

"I don't know, maybe we could advertise Ч 'Deliver mail for fun and profit' Ч something like that."

"I'm almost sure they'd find some way to send you to Leavenworth for it," Jack said.

"Probably," I agreed. "They're awfully touchy about some things. I'd sure appreciate it if you could pick those things up for me though. If you can, dump them off at a cleaner's someplace. I imagine they're pretty wrinkled by now." I emptied my beer.

"Another round, Charlie," Sloane called to the barman. "Put your money away," he told me as I reached for my wallet. "This is my party."

About a half hour later, a kind of hard-faced brunette came in. She hurried across to the booth and sat down beside Cal. She glanced back at the door several times and seemed to be a little nervous. "Hi, Daddy," she said. She made it sound dirty.

"Hello there, baby," he said. "This is Alders' brother, Dan. Dan, this is Helen."

"Hi," she said, nodding briefly at me. "Hi, Jack."

I looked carefully at her. She had makeup plastered on about an inch thick. It was hard to see any expression under all that gunk. Maybe she didn't have any expression.

She turned back to Sloane with an urgent note in her voice. "Baby's got a problem, Daddy." It still sounded duty. I decided that I didn't like her.

"Well, tell Daddy." Sloane giggled self-consciously.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear for a moment. His face turned a little grim.

"OK," he said shortly, "wait in the car Ч drive it around in back."

She got up and went out quickly.

"Dumb bitch!" Sloane muttered. "She's been gettin' careless and her Old Man's suspicious. I'd better get her a room someplace until he cools off."

"Is he pretty steamed?" Jack asked. "You've got to watch yourself with that husband of hers, Cal. I hear he's a real mean mother."

"He just wants to clout her around a little," Sloane said. "See if he can shake a few answers out of her. I'd better get her out of sight. I'll have her swing me by your trailer lot, and I'll pick up my car. Then we'll ditch hers on a back street. I know a place where she can hole up." He stood up and put a five-dollar bill on the table. "Hate to be a party-poop but ЧФ He shrugged. "I'll probably see you guys tomorrow. Drink this up on me, OK?" He hurried across the dance floor and on out, his hat pulled down low like a gangster in a third-rate movie.