"Charles Coleman Finlay - An Eye for an Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Finley Charles Coleman)

guy, Sean, throw me out of the house. I went into rehab after that....тАЭ
More rambling here, but the way it ends up is he gives me her addresses,
everything he knows about her, and transfers a few token bucks into one of my bank
accounts as a deposit. I have it set up so it looks like he bought something from me
on eBuy, so we can explain it away if it ever gets traced.
And thatтАЩs how we become business partners.
****
Truth is, I feel a little bit of sympathy for Beckett. Not that I lost my balls or
anything, but I had exactly one piece of bodmod done and it was for Diane.
I figured IтАЩd never have a real chance with her, being short as I was, a couple
inches shorter than her anyway, and her going for tall guys. So I cleaned out my
dadтАЩs bank accounts, what he had left, all for his retirement, and spent it getting four
inches added to my legs. Pretty tame stuff, compared to what people do these days.
Hurt like hell. Hell, it still hurts sometimes, and IтАЩve never quite gotten used to my
new height. Center of balance is all off and shit.
It was the last time I ever spoke to my dad. Once he quit calling me up and
cussing me out, that is. Served him right for getting fat and screwing things up with
mom.
Diane didnтАЩt even notice. When I saw her after the surgery, she paused for a
second, looking up into my face instead of down, then kept on talking and didnтАЩt
say a word about it.
ThereтАЩs no way for me to get back my money or give back the pain. So I have
to live without the one and with the other. But itтАЩs no big deal anymore.
BeckettтАЩs job looks it will be a big one, so I break it down into parts. Problem
with that is the more parts there are, the more parts there are to go wrong. First part,
the hardest part, is finding out where she has his balls. I canтАЩt steal them if I canтАЩt
find them.
 But the information he gave me is good. His ex lives in one of those old gated
communities on the cliffs along the river, the kind where they took down the gates a
long time ago and now just have these big decorative entryways. ItтАЩs quaint, if
twenty thousand square feet with a six-car garage can be called quaint.
I put on a shirt with a nametagтАФтАЭElizabeth,тАЭ which cracks me upтАФand a
ballcap, and carry around a meter-reader that I stole from a van that was unlocked
after I busted out the window and reached in to flip the handle. ThatтАЩs the thing
about Have neighborhoodsтАФthe Have-nots that make them run are pretty much
invisible. Look like youтАЩre there doing a job that nobody who lives there would ever
be caught dead doing and they never give you a second glance.
The first floor of her house is all windows and no window coverings, in order
to show off her possessions to the neighbors. The security systems in these houses,
with their live-in guards, make hiding stuff superfluous anyway. Walking by, I see a
pair of golden somethings sitting on a shelf in the living room like a pair of fancy
Hummel figurines. тАЬHumpty,тАЭ I mumble, тАЬIf thatтАЩs you and Dumpty, donтАЩt fall
before I get there, okay?тАЭ
I know itтАЩs not all going to be this easy. When I see somebody walking
around inside, I take the next step on impulse and go knock on the door. IтАЩm
looking down at the meter, clicking buttons, when the door opens.
тАЬYeah?тАЭ the guy says.
Whatever I was going to say, I forget it for a second when I see his face. HeтАЩs
obviously one of those old ultimate-fighting guys. His nose has been made flat so it
canтАЩt be broken, flaps hang down over his ears, and heтАЩs got thick leathery pads on