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

"I'll bet."
A barely heard chime from high behind the bar; some-one else had come in.
With apologies to Willie, Neil made his way over, forc-ing himself not to stare when he realized that the woman was
wearing the same dress as her friend, and the man was in a dark velvet tuxedo. This time he stood easily enough,
gracefully, and held out his hand.
"Hugh," he said, his voice professionally deep. "Hugh Davies. You, I take it, are the owner?"
Gleaming black hair combed straight back and tight from a high brow, Roman nose, cleft chin. Neil wondered how
much all that work had cost him.
"Neil Maclaren. Yes. This is mine."
Davies nodded to the womanтАФtold you so, my dear, I'm never wrong about things like thatтАФand took Neil's arm,
carefully guided him several steps toward the glass wall, so carefully, so skillfully, Neil found it difficult to take
offense.
"It's obvious I'm not from around here," the man said, slipping a cigarette from his inside jacket pocket, setting it
with a gold monogrammed lighter. "But I want you to know that what you have here, Mr. Maclaren, is a gold mine."
Neil waited.
"Potentially, of course."
Of course, Neil thought. And waited.
"I mean, it's just rustic enough to feel homey, you know what I mean? But it's not phony, either, it's not made of
clever plastic. People like me, we drive all the way out here, we see a place like this, we know we're going to have a
great meal, some good laughs, and we'll tell all our friends, you know what I mean?"
Neil watched the creek glint silver, shift to ink, shift to silver again. He didn't look at the man; he couldn't; he'd drop
to the floor, laughing. "New York," he said instead, "is almost two hours away the way the roads are. Nearly
seventy-five miles." He did look this time. "Nobody in their right mind is going to come all the way out here just for a
drink, a meal, and the hope of good times."
"And you're absolutely right," Davies agreed readily. Smoke blown at the ceiling. Hand brushing across his tie,
keeping it in line. "But they do come out every summer for the lakes and fishing, every winter for the skiing, am I
right?" He examined the room, watched a man come down the steps and head directly for the bar. "Aside from the
localsтАФDeerfield's what, a mile west, something like that?тАФseems to me you're not getting your fair share of the
trade." He turned to the woman for confirmation. "Am I right, Ceil? Don't you think I'm right?"
"Don't listen to him, Mr. Maclaren," she said with a trace of amusement, a shade of boredom, her face deep in
shadow, her bare arms pale as they rested on the table. "He's sweet, but he's a little dumb."
Davies laughed and shook his head.
Neil wasn't sure how to react. The man wasn't pushy or condescending, and he wasn't glib enough to be insulting.
Friendly enough to be serious; aloof enough to be teasing for no other reason than it was fun.
"Five million," he finally answered.
"What?"
The woman laughed. Deep in shadow.
"Five million and it's yours, lock, stock, and barrel." This time it was his hand that did the guiding. "Five million
dollars for ten prime acres, a fishing creek, seven cabins, this restaurant, the liquor license that goes with it. Out here,
that's a steal." He brought Davies to the bar, pointed to the newcomer busily emptying a snifter as if it were a shot
glass. "I'll throw in Nester here, too. See that pay phone on the wall beside the coatrack? Direct line to Nester's bookie
in Newark. Soon as he hits the big one, he'll buy you out and you'll double your investment, guar-anteed."
"Screw off, Maclaren," Brandt said, glaring, and grin-ning falsely.
Neil blew him a kiss and brought Davies home. "Think about it, okay? The next round's on the house."
"Thank you," the woman said. Face not quite clear. Pale arms. Chest not nearly as obvious as the other woman's. A
flare of something white near her throat. Pearl. Opal. "Ceil Davies. You've met my brother." She paused, leaned back.
"You've seen my sister. God help her, her name is Mandy."
Neil mumbled something he hoped sounded appropri-ate in whatever the hell kind of situation this was, shook
 Davies's hand again, and retreated to the steps. He could see that Brandt was in no mood for company just yet, didn't
want to listen to Julia's sarcasm anymore, and wasn't at all sure what to make of Davies and his sisters.