"Edghill,.Rosemary.-.SS.Collection.-.Murder.By.Magic.v1.0.txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Edghill Rosemary)

I was morosely contemplating the quaking clothes dryer from a spindle-legged chair when the Dog Woman arrived. She lugged a cheap plastic clothes basket heaped with muddy towels. Mrs. Landry's apartment complex hosted a small laundry room containing one dryer, one washer, and three chairs. Most everyone drove down the street to a Laundromat, but I'd always felt the Landry Laundry was good enough for me. Apparently for the Dog Woman, too.
She glanced at me as she came in, noted the washer was available, and dumped her load inside. I watched her go through the motions of measuring detergent and setting the washer dials. Once done, she turned to face me. "I hope the dogs haven't bothered you lately."
I shook my head. "You were right. Now that they're settled in, they don't bark much." I couldn't help but notice she was bare-legged and bare-armed again, this time in ancient cutoffs and a paw-printed sleeveless T-shirt. I hadn't seen her in weeks, though I did hear the screen door slam from time to time and her voice in conversation with the dogs outside. One-sided. "You think a lot of those critters."
My neighbor's eyebrows arched. "Sure. They're good company. Smart, interactive . . ." She stopped. "You're not particularly interested, are you? Don't you like dogs?"
I sighed. "They're okay."
Her eyes examined me. "Mrs. Landry said you were divorced."
"Yeah. So?" I wondered if she was considering hitting on me. Then decided it was a pretty stupid thought: I didn't look like much of a catch.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's difficult."
Piece of Mind / 9
I grunted. "You divorced, too?"
"No. Never been married." Something in my expression must have told her something. "And no, I'm not gay. It's just not always easy meeting an understanding man in my line of work."
"Research," I said neutrally.
She shrugged. "More or less."
Unless she was some kind of sex surrogate, I couldn't see what kind of research might scare a man off. She wasn't hard to look at. "Maybe it's the dogs," I muttered.
"What?"
I hadn't mean to say it aloud. "Well, some men don't like dogs."
"And some dogs don't like men." She smiled as I glanced up sharply. "What goes aroundЧ"
"Чcomes around," I finished, and pushed out of the chair. My load was done drying. It was a simple thing to pull clothes out of the hot barrel and dump them into my plastic basket. Why fold?
"Mrs. Landry told me you used to be a cop."
My jaw tightened, but I kept stuffing clothing into the basket. "Yep."
"But now you're a private detective."
"Just like Magnum," I agreed; too often I watched the reruns on daytime TV " 'Cept I don't look much like Tom Selleck, and I lost the Ferrari in the divorce."
That did not elicit a smile. "She said you told her you walked away after a bad case. Quit the LAPD."
It was a night I'd downed far too many beers, and Mrs. Landry had knocked on my door to ask if I could help her with a leaky pipe underneath her kitchen sink. I'd managed to get the leak stopped, but in the meantime I'd talked too much.
"It was time," I said dismissively.
Brown eyes were very serious. "It must have been a difficult decision."
I grinned crookedly as I gathered up the briming basket. "You don't know the half of it."
She waited until I was at the door of the tiny laundry room. "Then maybe you should tell me."
I stopped. Turned. "What?"
"The half I don't know."
"Hell, lady, I don't know the half of it. 1 just knew I had to get out."
Her eyes drilled into me. For some reason, I couldn't move. Her voice sounded odd. Pupils expanded. "She said you saw in black and white. Your wife."
I stared at her, stunned.
Her tone was almost dreamy. "That you had no imagination."
I wanted to turn my back, to walk away. But couldn't.
"That you lived too much inside your head."
Finally, 1 could speak. "Among other things." My voice was rusty. "Are you one of her women friends?"
She smiled oddly. "I've never met her."
"Then how in the hell do you know what she said?"
She blinked. It wasn't one of those involuntary movements, like a heartbeat, but something she did on purpose. As if she flipped a switch insider her head. "Have you ever had any pets?"
It broke the mood. I shrugged, turned to go. "Not since I was a kid."
"Wait." the crack in her voice stopped he. I swung back. She was staring at me fixedly again, pupils still dilated, and said in an eerily distant voice, "Your father killed your dog."
I felt a frisson slide down my spine. "ListenЧ"
"Your father killed your dog."
"Because the dog had been hit by a car," I said sharply. "He was badly hurt and in pain. My father had no choice."
"So were you," she said. "In pain. You knew what he was feeling. You felt what he was feeling. The dog. You saw the accident."
I shook my head. "I wasn't there."
"Yes, you were."
"I was on my way home from school. I didn't see it."
The color had drained out of her face. She put out a hand to steady herself against the washing machine.