"Kathleen Ann Goonan - Angels and You Dogs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

"Of questions. I guess not. Ask him whatever you want, then. Damn, my
head. This always gives me a headache. All right, let's get this over with."
I had about fifteen more questions to ask Jack, but he placed one hand
over Ambrose's back and closed his eyes. His face and rumpled suit were
washed by the bare light bulb. His breathing deepened and slowed. A car
prowled by inside, and I wondered if I had locked my doors.
When he spoke, it was in a striking Southern accent. Similar to Lulu's,
but lacking that influential Little Havana childhood.
"Lulu, honey."
"I'm her friend, Evan."
"I know. I'm talkin' to the recorder." The voice was rich, slow, utterly
different from Jack's. I had to respect talent like that.
"She had to shoot again tonight." A tremble passed over Ambrose, then
stilled. Visions of Lulu as a serial killer tumbled through my mind. I
couldn't remember mentioning the shooting to Jack, but I must have. "I'm
tryin' to think what to tell her. To make it all right. What you think,
Hambone?" Ambrose started, but did not otherwise move. "We need to
keep her from goin' crazy again. That was dark. Too dark. She was
riverbound herself." Silence. Then, "Nobody died this time, mister?"
"No," I said, strangely drawn to answer. "Nobody died." Nobody but
me, but I was luminous now, so it was all right. "Lots of blood."
"Yeah. That would bring it all back, for sure. My poor girl."
"Bring what back?"
"The wreck and all. When she shot me. I drove off the bridge and into
Lake Pontchartrain. Made the evenin' news in six states."
"Was, uh, Hambone there?"
"He was just a pup. Good swimmer and all. Lulu and I were purely nuts
until she figured out that she could talk to me and I could talk to her.
Thanks to Hambone. You're her friend?"
"Yes. Evan."
"Well, you take good care of my girl. She's gonna be a mess for a spell
after this. Don't you try to talk her out of what you can hear with your own
ears is true. You'll kill her if you do. Tell Lulu that I love her for ever and
ever and not to worry."
"How old were you?"
There was a grin in the voice. "Nineteen, and a wild son of a bitch.
Damned sorry to go."
"Why did she shoot you?"
The voice laughed. "Lulu didn't mean to shoot me. She was tryin' to
shoot Jason Lewis Scumbag Parker, the just-released-from-serving-time
bank robber who hopped into our truck on Wisteria a block from First
Federal and told me to drive or die. I drove. Lulu was on the front seat
between us, and her Walthur was in her purse next to me. The last thing
she said was 'No!' It was a year before she spoke another living word.
Hospitals, bunch of drugs, the works. They kept telling her to accept that I
was gone and all that bullshit. But she didn't have to accept it. I'm always
here, and that's what matters. It'll be better this time. It's gonna be all
right." He paused. "Gotta go; this clown is closin' up shop. Tell Lulu to tell
her mama I love her and not to drink so goddamned much. Now, I want
you to help her out. Help her out as good as you know how. Thanks for