"Charlaine Harris - Sookie Stackhouse 03 - Club Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harris Charlaine)

worried when he saw the insignia. "Werewolf," he said tersely. That explained a lot.

The weather was too chilly for a man wearing only a vest, if he wasn't a vampire. Weres ran a
little hotter than regular people, but mostly they were careful to wear coats in cold weather, since Were
society was still secret from the human race (except for lucky, lucky me, and probably a few hundred
others). I wondered if the dead man had left a coat out in the bar hanging on the hooks by the main
entrance; in which case, he'd been back here hiding in the men's room, waiting for me to appear. Or
maybe he'd come through the back door right after me. Maybe his coat was in his vehicle.

"You see him come in?" I asked Bubba. I was maybe just a little light-headed.
"Yes, ma'am. He must have been waiting in the big parking lot for you. He drove around the
corner, got out of his car, and went in the back just a minute after you did. You hightailed it through the
door, and then he went in. And I followed him. You mighty lucky you had me with you."

"Thank you, Bubba. You're right; I'm lucky to have you. I wonder what he planned to do with
me." I felt cold all over as I thought about it. Had he just been looking for a lone woman to grab, or did
he plan on grabbing me specifically? Then I realized that was dumb thinking. If Eric had been alarmed
enough to send a bodyguard, he must have known there was a threat, which pretty much ruled out me
being targeted at random. Without comment, Bubba strode out the back door. He returned in just a
minute.

"He's got him some duct tape and gags on the front seat of his car," Bubba said. "That's where
his coat is. I brought it to put under his head." He bent to arrange the heavily padded camouflage jacket
around the dead man's face and neck. Wrapping the head was a real good idea, since the man was
leaking a little bit. When he had finished his task, Bubba licked his fingers.

Sam put an arm around me because I had started shaking.
 "This is strange, though," I was saying, when the door to the hall from the bar began to open. I
glimpsed Kevin Pryor's face. Kevin is a sweet guy, but he's a cop, and that's the last thing we needed.

"Sorry, toilet's back-flowing," I said, and pushed the door shut on his narrow, astonished, face.
"Listen, fellas, why don't I hold this door shut while you two take this guy and put him in his car? Then we
can figure out what to do with him." The floor of the hall would need swabbing. I discovered the hall door
actually locked. I'd never realized that.

Sam was doubtful. "Sookie, don't you think that we should call the police?" he asked.

A year ago I would have been on the phone dialing 911 before the corpse even hit the floor. But
that year had been one long learning curve. I caught Sam's eye and inclined my head toward Bubba.
"How do you think he'd handle jail?" I murmured. Bubba was humming the opening line to "Blue
Christmas." "Our hands are hardly strong enough to have done this," I pointed out.

After a moment of indecision, Sam nodded, resigned to the inevitable. "Okay, Bubba, let's you
and me tote this guy out to his car."

I ran to get a mop while the menтАФwell, the vampire and the shape-shifterтАФcarried Biker Boy
out the back door. By the time Sam and Bubba returned, bringing a gust of cold air in their wake, I had
mopped the hall and the men's bathroom (as I would if there really had been an overflow). I sprayed
some air freshener in the hall to improve the environment.
It was a good thing we'd acted quickly, because Kevin was pushing open the door as soon as I'd