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

I kept focused on his empty eyes. "As for the mess you've got here, I don't have anything useful to give you. Believe it."
"BelieveЕ"
"That's right. Now everything I've told your men is the truth. I've no reason to lie, so you've got no reason to stall around here any longer. Get whatever you need to help you with your case, then get out."
"I'll do that."
"Oh, and don't forget that you like me. We're old pals, you know."
"I know."
An idea struck me as I anticipated a possible future need. "And the same goes for Charles Escott. If either of us calls you up wanting information on this or any other case, it will be your pleasure to help. Got that?"
"Got it."
"Good." I broke off with the fish-eye work and gave him a chance to recover. There was no telling how long my suggestions would last with him, especially the ones that went against his nature, but they should be solid for a few weeks, maybe even a few months before completely fading. Sooner or later he'd reassert himself and be as annoying as ever. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Lieutenant?" I asked, as Jack Armstrong as I could make it without sounding too asinine.
Blair blinked once or twice, his posture relaxing somewhat, the way you do in a friend's company. "I think that about covers it."
"Your best bet will be to check on the original owners. I got the lease through Greener Pastures Real Estate. Try them."
"Thank you, I will."
"I'd also like you to keep the press off my back."
"Wouldn't we all?" he said, and this time his smile actually reached his eyes. "I'll give a statement and tell them to get lost."
"I'd appreciate that. Your men find out anything about her?" I nodded toward the alcove.
"Not really, only that she was young, probably pretty brunette, well-off, with a strong need for attention. And the motive wasn't robbery."
"How do you get all that?"
"That dress, cut low in the back and the front as far as I can tell. Not many old, ugly women wear those. There's still some bits of hair left on her head, and she's wearing a gold necklace, matching bracelet, and some rings. They're real, not dime-store. The killer left them behind."
So, Blair was good at his job after all. "Need for attention?"
"Women are funny about what colors they wear. Only the ones who want to be noticed would go near a red like that."
Now I was impressed. I filed it all away to tell Escott later. Where the hell was he, anyway? "Your people going to be here much longer?"
"A couple hours. I don't want your workmen in the area until we're finished. I'll be sending people in tomorrow for more pictures and to pick up all those bricks."
I didn't mind him cleaning away the rubble, but asked why.
"In case she or her killer left some kind of clue. There might be other hair, fibers, or something else stuck in the mortar that could be useful."
He was starting to sound like my partner. "How long will that hold up my labor?"
"No telling. You'd better work on some other area of the club for the time being."
Damn. I was afraid he'd say something like that. "Look, I have to have at least half the basement finished by the end of the week. Monday I got people coming in to install the heating and air-conditioning andЧ"
"You're putting in air-conditioning?" He seemed intrigued.
"Yeah, the movie theaters don't do so bad by it, and once I get three hundred people in upstairs it's gonna be hot here even in the winter. The whole shebang goes in on this side of the basement. Will that be all right with you?" I could have made it all right with him, but I didn't want to interfere with the process of an investigation. My only angle was making sure he wasn't throwing his weight around just to show he could do it.
He thought it over. "Let my people check over this end tomorrow, then you should be able to go ahead. Unless they find something, that is." I agreed to that and wished him luck. He'd need it. "You think you'll turn up anything after all this time?"
"Maybe. We'll find out who was a regular when the place was open, and take it from there. Something as ugly as this is going to leave a hell of a messy trail."
"Why do you say that?"
He leveled a long stare at the other end of the room, where a knot of his men lingered around the alcove. "Because anyone who went to the trouble of walling that poor girl up alive did it as an object lesson. Those kinds of lessons are no good unless you tell others about it. We might not find solid proof against the person who did it, but we'll probably get a likely suspect."
"Huh. Well, if it goes that far, gimme a call. I'd like to know who it is."
He shot me a funny look. "Mr. Fleming, that would be a breach ofЧ"
"BlairЧ" I focused hard on him again. "I said gimme a call if you find your man. Remember, it'll be a pleasure for you to help me or Escott."
He blinked, maybe even felt a little dizziness from the pressure I was putting on him. "Yes, of course I will."
I released him. He couldn't have known I was trying to do him a favor. If he found a suspect, then I could get a confession. That girl had died in a manner so hideous I shied away from even thinking about it. Putting her killer's neck in a noose seemed little enough punishment for the crime, but I'd gladly do it, given the opportunity.
"You know where to find me," I said, hoping to wind things up.
"YesЕ ah, that's all for now." His departing smile was brief and tinged with puzzlement, but this time he did shake hands before going off to check on his men.
We were old pals, after all.
For one whole second I debated running the gauntlet with the reporters again, then took the back way out. Leon Kell caught my eye, though, so I went over to hear what he wanted.
"What a job it was," he said. "They had me and the guys tearing that whole thing out one brick at a time by hand with only hammers and chisels to break up the mortar. We coulda done it in a couple of minutes with picks if they'd let us, but they wanted to take pictures."
"It has something to do with preserving the evidence."
"They got plenty of it and then some. The questions they askedЧlike how old the mortar was. As if I should know such things. It wasn't even good mortar."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Had too much sand in it, made it soft. Guess it's just as well, or we'd still be taking it down."
"What else did you think of the workmanship?"
"It was okay, but I seen better. Whoever put it up knew enough about bricklaying to get the job done, but I wouldn't want him working on no house of mine."
"Maybe he didn't have enough light to see by," I said speculatively.