"Evanovich, Janet - Stephanie Plum 05 - High Five 2.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evanovich Janet)

УListen, I got a lot of work to do,Ф Briggs said, closing his door. УI gotta go.Ф

УHold it!Ф I said. УYou canТt just ignore an order to appear in court.Ф

УWatch me.Ф

УYou donТt understand. IТm appointed by the court and Vincent Plum to bring you in.Ф

УOh, yeah? How do you expect to do that? You going to shoot me? You canТt shoot an unarmed man.Ф He stuck his Iw~ds Out. УYou gonna cuff me? You think you can drag me out of my apartment and down the hail without looking like an idiot? Big bad bounty hunter picking on a little person. And thatТs what weТre called, Toots. Not midget, not dwarf, not a freaking Munchkin. Little person. Get it?Ф

My pager went off at my waist. I looked down to check the read-out and slam. Briggs closed and locked his door.

УLoser,Ф he called from inside.

Well, that didnТt go as smoothly as IТd hoped. I had a choice now. I could break down his door and beat the bejeezus out of him, or I could answer my motherТs page. Neither was especially appealing, but I decided on my mother.

My parents live in a residential pocket of Trenton nicknamed the Burg. No one ever really leaves the Burg.


You can relocate in Antarctica, but if you were born and raised in the Burg youТre a Burger for life. Houses are small and obsessively neat. Televisions are large and loud. Lots are narrow. Families are extended. There are no pooper-scooper Jaws in the Burg. If your dog does his business on someone elseТs lawn, the next morning the doo-doo will be on your front porch. Life is simple in the Burg.

I put the Buick into gear, rolled out of the apartment building lot, headed for Hamilton, and followed Hamilton to St. Francis Hospital. My parents live a couple blocks behind St. Francis on Roosevelt Street. Their house is a duplex built a time when families needed only one bathroom and dishes were washed by hand.

My mother was at the door when I pulled to the curb. My grandmother Mazur stood elbow to elbow with my mother. They were short, slim women with facial features that suggested Mongol ancestors... probably in the form of crazed marauders.

УThank goodness youТre here,Ф my mother said, eyeing me as I got out of the car and walked toward her. УWhat are those shoes? They look like work boots.Ф

УBetty Szajak and Emma Getz and me went to that male dancer place last week,Ф Grandma said, Уand they had some men parading around, looking like construction workers, wearing boots just like those. Then next thing you knew they ripped their clothes off and all they had left was those boots and these little silky black baggie things that their ding-dongs jiggled around in.Ф

My mother pressed her lips together and made the sign of the cross. УYou didnТt tell me about this,Ф she said to my grandmother.

УGuess it slipped my mind. Betty and Emma and me were going to bingo at the church, but it turned out there wasnТt any bingo on account of the Knights of Columbus was holding some to-do there. So we decided to check out the men at that new club downtown.Ф Grandma gave me an elbow. УI put a fiver right in one of those baggies!Ф

УJesus H. Christ,Ф my father said, rattling his paper in the living room.

Grandma Mazur came to live with my parents several years ago when my grandpa Mazur went to the big poker game in the sky. My mother accepts this as a daughterТs obligation. My father has taken to reading Guns & Ammo.

УSo whatТs up?" I asked. УWhy did you page me?Ф

УWe need a detective,Ф Grandma said.

My mother rolled her eyes and ushered me into the kitchen. УHave a cookie,Ф she said, setting the cookie jar on the small Formica-topped kitchen table. УCan I get you a glass of milk? Some lunch?Ф

I lifted the lid on the cookie jar and looked inside. Chocolate chip. My favorite.

УTell her,Ф Grandma said to my mother, giving her a poke in the side. УWait until you hear this,Ф she said to me. УThis is a good one.Ф

I raised my eyebrows at my mother.