"Mel Gilden - Zoot Marlow 2 - Hawaiian UFO Aliens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilden Mel)

put them into a pocket. Everybody else milled around. I think some of them changed clothes, but the
difference was not apparent.
'Wanta go dancing, dude?' Whipper Will said.
'Not if you want to see progress on this case. Big day tomorrow.'
'Progress?' Thumper said, sounding surprised.
'It happens,' I said and shrugged.
Soon after, they all bubbled from the house. Some of them were carrying rabbits. 'Everybody likes
rabbits,' Hanger said. She was carrying a black one like a baby.
'Better you than me.'
'Huh?'
They left me alone with Bill and Captain Hook. It was so quiet, I could hear the surf banging its head
against the shore. Bill was no problem. He hooked himself into the Rotwang 5000 and played with
himself. I sat down in the living room with Farewell, My Lovely, but didn't get far with it because
Captain Hook was full of, 'Pick a card, any card.' Eventually I took refuge in Will and Bingo's bedroom.
For a while, I was afraid that Captain Hook would follow me. Time drifted by and he didn't. Maybe
he taught one of the rabbits how to pick a card. I was tempted to check, but I wasn't stupid enough to
actually do it.



CHAPTER 7
BAY CITY MANNERS
┬л^┬╗
Whipper Will and the others came in late, still laughing and singing. When I cracked my eyes, I saw
them doing little dance steps at each other. I waited them out and soon it got quiet again.
When I woke up the next morning, they were still asleep. Whipper Will and Bingo were snorting
romantically into each other's ears, and they didn't seem to be bothered by my getting dressed, eating,
and sneaking out with Bill.
 Sunshine had returned to Malibu and the Southland. Pacific Coast Highway was crowded, but I
didn't mind. The streets were dry, the Belvedere had a full tank of gas, and I had a temporary driver's
licence. I drove along the coast, the water looking like wrinkled cellophane beyond the white sand.
It was a little early yet for the snowcone and sand pail crowd, but a lot of supposed grown-ups were
out there, getting tanned before the rush. A small black Toyota truck, with its cab raised so high the
driver probably had a pilot's licence, was in such a hurry that it kept forcing narrow escapes on other
cars and attracting curses and horn blasts. Despite all the extra work it did, the truck got stopped one car
ahead of me at the big light at Sunset Boulevard. That was the kind of joke traffic played on drivers, but
a lot of them never got it until they really got it, knotting themselves around a light pole or, worse yet,
taking somebody else with them. That was another joke traffic played on drivers.
I had fewer fancy wheels to worry about as I rolled through Santa Monica and into Culver City. It
hadn't changed much since I'd been there last, and it wouldn't, not as long as landlords could rent
store-fronts without having to repaint them.
A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of a square, squat building with the words Acme Robot
Company painted over the brown door. The place was a lot livelier than it had been when Surfing
Samurai Robots had rolled over in its sleep onto their business. Trucks with the silly Acme logoтАФa robot
with a hat like a funnelтАФrumbled self-importantly out of the paved yard and through the open front gates.
Somewhere inside, machinery shrieked as it turned metal into robot parts.
One of the gates made the fourth wall of a cage for a skinny black dog that, at the moment, was very
busy sleeping. As I got out of my car the dog awoke, stretched, and barked at me. Bill and I looked at
the dog. An Acme truck went by, not taking much of the dog's attention.
'That's Benny,' I said. 'Any minute now, he'll do his trick for you.'