"Charles L. Grant - Raven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Charles L)

"Mouse."
A glance toward the shoe box. Another customer for the graveyard his cook kept across the creek. The little man
never let a dead creature rot or become a scavenger's meal; if he saw it, no matter what state it was in, it was buried.
Ennin turned, his lips parted slightly in what passed for his smile. Not much taller than five feet, barely wider than a
shadow. His face too long for his height and always three days without a shave. Tiny eyes. Tiny feet. Dressed in
white that somehow, despite the cooking, the cleaning, the digging, the work, was never stained.
"Damn cold, Mr. Maclaren," he said, briskly drying his hands on his apron. "Damn cold."
"WillieтАФ" He stopped; it was no use. Willie Ennin would leave a banquet for the president if an animal needed a
grave. "Never mind."
The cook grinned and pointed to the island, bread and lunch meat, lettuce and chopped onions. "Going to be
crowded tonight," he announced. "Gotta be ready."
"You think so, huh?"
Ennin frowned as if Neil ought to know better than to ask. "Sure. Can feel it in the air, Mr. Maclaren. Folks are going
to be cold, they're going to be hungry, they're going to want one of my famous sandwiches before going home." He
spread his hands. "Ain't that right?"
"If you say so."
"I'm always right, Mr. Maclaren." He eased Neil away from the work space without actually touching him. "If I
wasn't right, we wouldn't have this place anymore, people wouldn't come, they wouldn't eat, I'd have to buy my own
meals, you'd have to go back chasing the bad guys."
"Speeders, Willie, speeders," he corrected with a laugh, a hand on the man's shoulder before heading for the door.
"The worst guy I ever caught was some idiot from Virginia doing a hundred and thirty on the Turnpike."
"He could've killed somebody," Ennin said simply.
Neil didn't answer.
There was never an argument with Willie Ennin. For him, life was divided into things that were eaten, things that got
eaten unless he buried them first, and the Lone Ranger. It was sometimes frustrating as hell, but just as often, he
wondered if that wasn't the way to go. Simplify the hell out of things and let the world leave you alone.
And why not?
He sat two stools from the corner, so he could watch the room, be the host if he had to, and at the same time see
movement through the plants in case someone came in for a meal, or if Havvick was ready to leave.
Why not? There were worse ways to live.
"Philosophy with Willie," Julia guessed, drifting toward him, slipping an empty glass into soapy water. The book
was gone; she was back on duty.
He smiled. "How can you tell?"
"It's that look." She blew hair out of her eye. "The one that reminds you that there's a death penalty in this state." A
glass of water with a lemon twist placed on a cork mat. "Drink up, boss. It's good for what ails you."
One of the women stood up, and he said, "Oh my."
"Sexist," Julia whispered.
Although the lights were kept deliberately dim and aimed away from the booths toward the bar, it was still sufficient
for him to see that what she wore, and what there was of it, wasn't designed for the seasonтАФa knit dress that almost
made it to her knees, short sleeves, a neckline that, on a woman with a smaller bust, would have been just about right.
She hurried past toward the ladies' room, nodding once to him, hair bobbed several decades out of style.
Neil drank quickly and fanned himself with one hand.
Julia scowled.
He grinned, drank again, and glanced outside. Shivered. The glass looked too thin, the air too damn cold.
A burst of muffled laughter from over in the corner-When he looked, the man was trying mightily to get out from
around the booth's table, his companion convulsing each time he failed and fell back.
"They were smashed when they came in," Julia said. "Swear to God."
He didn't think they were drunk, and the more he watched, the more he was convinced. The man was acting,
playing the fool, and playing now to him as he tried to wave him over and nearly toppled his glass of beer.
"Oh my, don't you know 1 just live for days like this," he said as he stood and handed her his empty glass.