"Edward L. Ferman - Best From F&SF, 23rd Edition" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ferman Edward L)

pretty easy to walk through one of them if you thought it was open. "Are all the apartments alike? Those
terrace doors?"
He nodded. "Ticky-tacky."
"Thanks again."
"Don't mention it." He opened the door for me and then closed it behind me. I sighed and walked
across to 408. I tang the bell. It didn't play anything, just went bing-bong.
David (or Murray) was about twenty-five, redheaded, and freckled. He had a slim, muscular body
which was also freckled. I could tell because he was wearing only a pair of jeans, cut off very short, and
split up the sides to the waistband. He was barefooted and had a smudge of green paint on his nose. He
had an open, friendly face and gave me a neutral smile-for-a-stranger. "Yes?" he asked.
I showed him my ID. Instead of going pale, he only looked interested, "I was told by the man in 409
you might be able to tell me something about Andrew Detweiler."
"Andy?" He frowned slightly. "Come on in. I'm David Fowler." He held out his hand.
I shook it "Bert Mallory." The apartment couldn't have been more different from the one across the
hall. It was comfortable and cluttered, and dominated by a drafting table surrounded by jars of brushes
and boxes of paint tubes. Architecturally, however, it was almost identical. The terrace was covered with
potted plants rather than naked muscles. David Fowler sat on the stool at the drafting table and began
cleaning brushes. When he sat, the split in his shorts opened and exposed half his butt, which was also
freckled. But I got the impression he wasn't exhibiting himself; he was just completely indifferent.
"What do you want to know about Andy?"
"Everything."
He laughed. "That lets me out. Sit down. Move the stuff."
I cleared a space on the couch and sat. "How did Detweiler and Maurice get along?"
He gave me a knowing look. "Fine. As far as I know. Maurice liked to pick up stray puppies. Andy
was a stray puppy."
"Was Detweiler a hustler?"
He laughed again. "No. I doubt if he knew what the word means."
"Was he gay?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
He grinned. "Haven't you heard? We can spot each other a mile away. Would you like some
coffee?"
"Yes, I would. Thank you."
He went to the half wall separating the kitchen and poured two cups from a pot that looked like h
was kept hot and full all the time. "It's hard to describe Andy. There was something very little-boyish
about him. A real innocent. Delighted with everything new. It's sad about his back. Real sad." He handed
me the cup and returned to the stool. "There was something very secretive about him. Not about his
feelings; he was very open about things like that."
"Did he and Maurice have sex together?"
"No. I told you it was a stray-puppy relationship. I wish Murray were here. He's much better with
words than I am. I'm visually oriented."
"Where is he?"
"At work. He's a lawyer."
"Do you think Detweiler could have killed Maurice?"
"No."
"Why?"
"He was here with us all evening. We had dinner and played Scrabble. I think he was real sick, but
he tried to pretend he wasn't. Even if he hadn't been here, I would not think so."
"When was the last tune you saw him?"
"He left about half an hour before they found Maurice. I imagine he went over there, saw Maurice