"Hebbler, Lois - The Alley" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hebbler Lois)

machine. There are still a couple of pipes sticking out of the cement to
give credit to our theory. No matter though, because it's now our cozy
little hideaway, complete with a brick ceiling and three walls.
I heard a rustling noise close to the mouth of the alley. Herbie heard
it too, because he stopped chewing.
I took a quick peek and saw Lottie standing in the entrance. She wore a
pink towel wrapped around her head, the same threadbare cotton dress she
always had on, droopy once-white socks and mismatched hightop tennis
shoes with no laces.
"Hey, Spider, I know you're back there. Come out. I need to talk to
you."
She never came around unless she wanted something so I didn't answer
her. She doesn't like alleys, and I figured if I kept silent she'd
eventually go away. On the other hand, if she'd asked permission to pay
a visit like a respectable person instead of giving orders, I might have
spoken to her. Sometimes, when I'm in the mood and the music isn't
playing, I like to talk to someone other than Herbie. But she had just
displayed her lack of manners, so no turning back. And no guilty
feelings about it either.
"You come out here and let me talk to you. I got something to tell you
that's real important. And I ain't going away or shutting up 'til you
do."
Good as her word, she kept up a steady word barrage, yammering away at
the top of her lungs.
I bumped my head against the wall several times in order to stop the
John Philip Sousa marching band music that started bouncing around in my
skull. I needed to think. She was going to attract the cops. They didn't
like disturbances that called the taxpayers' attention to this part of
town.
I ran my hands through my hair, even pulled out a few clumps of it,
thought about putting my fingers in my ears, changed my mind, then I
started wishing the law would come. They'd haul her off to jail for
drunk and disorderly and Herbie and I wouldn't have to put up with her
for a while. I began to sway to the music that started up in my head
again. This time it was "Getting To Know You" from "The King and I". A long time ago, in my other life, I had the pleasure of seeing it on Broadway.
It's a damned good musical, with or without Mr. Brynner.
I enjoyed a stanza or two while I waited for Lottie to get carted away.
Nothing happened. She just kept yelling. I thought about maybe paying
some taxes again one of these days. Then the cops would have to come
shut her up.
After a few more minutes of listening to her ceaseless prattle, I looked
over at Herbie. He didn't have to say a thing. But I knew what he was
thinking. Like I said earlier, I can read minds.
I stepped out into the alley where she could see me. "What do you want,
Lottie? If you have something to tell me, be polite about it and come
pay a proper visit." Then I ducked back in far enough so I could see but
not be seen.
She wrung her hands and paced back and forth on the sidewalk near the
entrance. Behind her I saw that rat-faced Luther scoot on by. He was
holding a brown paper sack squeezed tight around a bottle, probably