"Goodis, David - Black Friday" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goodis David)

4

They could hear Rizzio banging around in the cellar and then they could hear him battling with the cot up to the second floor. Mattone entered the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of milk and some chocolate cookies. Frieda was with the movie stars again and eating an apple. Hart leaned against the back door and looked at the floor. Charley was standing in the middle of the kitchen and biting the inside of his mouth and looking at nothing. The kitchen was quiet except for the sound of energetic munching as Frieda ate the apple.
Someone was coming down from the second floor, coming through the house. She came into the kitchen, an extremely thin girl about five-two with extremely white skin and very black hair. Hart didn't have time to note the color of her eyes because just then Charley turned toward the door and told Hart to follow him.
They went through the house. It was just another quiet little row house in quiet Germantown. The cleanliness of the kitchen was extended through the rest of the house.
In the room where Rizzio put the cot, Hart saw two watercolors hanging on the wall; both were signed "Rizzio."
"They're very good," Hart said.
"Are you telling me they're good?" Rizzio said.
"Hurry up with that cot and get out of here," Charley said.
"I can't find anything wrong with them," Hart said.
Rizzio took hold of Charley's arm and said, "You hear that?"
"All right," Charley said, "one of these days I'll sponsor an exhibition. If you're finished with that cot, take a walk. Give me two cigarettes before you go," he added.
Rizzio obeyed and faced the wall and stared unhappily at his water-colors. Then he walked out of the room and closed the door. Charley handed a cigarette to Hart and then took a match out of his pocket and struck it on the sole of his shoe.
Charley seated himself on the edge of the wide bed and Hart sat on the edge of the cot.
Charley said, "You'll share this room with me and Rizzio."
Hart gazed contentedly at the window beside the cot. He said, "I'm first in line for the fresh air."
Charley smiled and said, "A crook tried to climb through that window a month ago. Rizzio hit him in the face and threw him out the window. We went down and picked him up out of the back yard, the alley part along this side of the house. He had a broken back and both legs were broken. Mattone ended it for him with a knife and then we put him in the car and rode to a quiet street and threw him in the gutter."
"Where did Renner sleep?" Hart said.
"Don't ask questions about Renner. Don't ask questions about anything. If I feel like telling you, I'll tell you. Renner slept in the back room with Paul and Mattone. There's three beds in the back room but I don't want you in there with Paul and Mattone. You wouldn't last long with them. I want you to stay away from them as much as you can-- until they get used to you. And now here's what we do. We take mansions on the Main Line. Every section where there's wealth. I think there's more wealth concentrated in the Philly Main Line than any city in the country. We don't load ourselves down. We take just enough to make a profitable little haul. Two or three burlap bags, never more than that, and it's mostly silverware and antiques. We got a fence connection in South Philly and he's been working with me for seventeen years, and we have a fairly good arrangement. What brought out that comment about Rizzio's water-colors?"
"They're good," Hart said.
"How do you know they're good?"
"It's just one man's opinion, but I know a little about it. I majored in fine arts at Pennsylvania."
"Do you do any painting yourself?"
"No, but I've done a lot of collecting. In New Orleans I had a very nice collection."
"What else did you do in New Orleans?"
"I loafed. I could afford to. My old man piled up about three million in beet sugar. He left it to my mother and when she died she left it to my older brother Haskell."
"Is that why you killed him?"
"Yes," Hart said. "I wanted the money."
"How many brothers altogether?"
"Three of us. Haskell, myself and Clement."
"Any sisters?"
"Two of them and they're both dead. They were students at Tulane and one night they were coming home from a dance and the car turned over a few times. I belong to a very happy family."
Charley was looking at Rizzio's water-colors. Charley said, "Was this Haskell married?"
"No."
"Clement?"
"Clement married when he was eighteen. Now they've got three children and it's one of those unusual marriages. I mean it's really a pleasant arrangement."
Charley leaned back on his elbows, the cigarette tight in his mouth and snapping up and down as he said, "Let's hear something about the killing."
"Well," Hart said, "I did it with a blackjack. I wanted to make it look like burglary. Haskell lived alone in a big home near Audubon Park. I went up there one night and got in through the back door without any of the servants seeing me. And I know they didn't see me get into his room. I hit him over the head with the blackjack and kept on hitting him until he was dead. Then I went through his room and took all his jewelry--he went in for diamond-studded watches and emerald cuff links and that sort of thing. He had fifteen hundred dollars in his wallet. I thought it was going to look like a genuine burglary, because I got away all right, and the room was messed up and so forth. But later I was worried. The police were putting too many things together. Besides, they had a witness who saw me near Audubon Park that night, and it knocked my alibi to bits. When I saw they were really closing in on me I took a walk."
Charley stood up, walked around the bed and placed himself in front of Rizzio's water-colors. Frowning at the paintings, he said, "I'm not sure, Al. Maybe we can use you right in on the jobs or maybe it would be better for you to go with Myrna and Frieda to get the leads. But I don't know about this painting business. I've always found it best to stay away from oils and that sort of thing. And the fence will have something to say about it. So we'll just let it ride for awhile, even though I've got the feeling your knowledge would come in handy."
"What do I do meanwhile?"
"Just stay here. I'll find things for you to do. You don't get bored easily, do you?"
"Not easily."
"You want to go to sleep now or do you want to come down and listen to the radio for awhile?"
"I think I'll go to sleep."
"All right, Al. I'll see you in the morning." Charley glanced again at Rizzio's paintings and then he walked out.
In the middle of an endless plain of soft snow there was a pool of black water. A man's head emerged from the pool and the man opened his mouth and began to shriek.
Hart opened his eyes and sat up. There was movement on the other side of the room, then the lights went on. Charley was there with his hand still near the light switch and Rizzio was getting out of bed. The shrieking came from the back room.
Mattone came rushing into the middle room and said, "Listen, that boy needs a doctor."
Charley followed Mattone out of the room. Ri.zzio inserted his feet into slippers and went out after them. Then Hart heard Charley saying, "You go back to bed," and a few moments later Rizzio re-entered the room and closed the door.
"Open the door," Hart said. "I want to hear what's going on."