"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 09 - Lady Crymsyn E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

shut down before it's even open."
"You do what you gotta. The other guy can take care of himself."
"So long as he doesn't get any ideas about taking care of me for talking."
Gordy made an odd, abrupt sound I interpreted as his version of a laugh. "Like
that'll ever happen. I'll see what he knows about it. He won't be bothering you,
though."
"Thanks." If Booth Nevis had a murder to hide, he'd probably not say anything,
even to Gordy, but it was worth a try if it took the heat off of me.
I hung up and thought about calling my girl, Bobbi, but she'd be in the middle
of her set at the Red Deuces about now. She was their headline singer this week,
and Thursday a local radio station would be broadcasting the show. Maybe the
audience wouldn't be as big as some she'd reached, but she held the opinion that
every little bit of work that got her name in front of people helped. A couple
months back she'd done a successful performance on a national broadcast, which
had resulted in a few promising offers. The Red Deuces was a short engagement
for her, only a week, but it drew a swank clientele of show folk, the kind who
could help her career. Just the sort I wanted to attract to my own place.
Fat chance of that if I didn't handle this disaster with kid gloves.
Someone clumped his way upstairs and marched toward my office, which was the
only lighted room along the bare hall. I'd remembered to flick it on this time
for appearances' sake. He was yet another cop telling me I was to come with him.
I didn't ask why.
As though I couldn't find my own way, he guided me down to the main room. All
the lights were on here, with cops and reporters wandering around like they
owned the place. I hoped they weren't messing up the red velvet upholstery, that
was the job of future paying customers. My entrance stirred up the fourth
estaters, and once more I got blinded by a flashbulb going off. Several of them.
Jeez, but when I'd been working on that side of the fence I had no idea how
irritating the damn things could be. No wonder cursing people used to take
swings at us.
The cop hustled me past the mob. I gladly let him. Better to be in a basement
with a corpse than have a bunch of half-crazed reporters shouting questions that
I couldn't answer. During the rush I didn't see Escott. I wondered if I should
worry.
"Mr. Fleming, isn't it?"
At the foot of the steps, my vision still uncertain when I blinked, I came
face-to-face with Lieutenant Blair, mustache, smug smile, and all. For all the
dust down here his black suit looked quite untouched. And he damn well knew who
I was. "Yeah, Lieuteneant, how you doing?"
"Quite a bad business, don't you think?" He didn't bother to shake hands. The
cop leaned close and muttered something in Blair's ear before moving off.
Because of the noise and echoes I didn't catch much of it, just something about
me being in my office.
Looking past his shoulder, I could see he'd put my men to work on the wall, Leon
and a couple of others. Most of it had been pulled down, revealing the skeleton.
Her tattered and stained dress had been a blazing red once. Red sequins still
defiantly flashed tiny points of light under the harsh overheads. She'd died on
her knees, back bowed and head down as if praying. She'd probably been praying
very hard indeed there in the stifling dark. I repressed a shudder.
"Got anything to say about this?" Blair inquired.