"Carl Hiaasen - Hoot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hiaasen Carl)

off, was it?"
"Sure it was." Roy wondered if she was going to accuse him of something else,
like stealing the lunch money out of her backpack.
"You're lying." The girl boldly seized the other side of his lunch tray, to
prevent him from leaving.
"Let go," Roy said sharply. "I'm late."
"Take it easy. There's six minutes to the bell, cowgirl." She looked as if she
wouldn't mind socking him in the stomach. "Now tell the truth. You were chasing
somebody, weren't you?"
Roy felt relieved that he wasn't being blamed for a serious crime. "Did you see
him, too? That kid with no shoes?"
Still gripping Roy's tray, the girl took a step forward, backing Roy up.
"I got some advice for you," she said, lowering her voice.
Roy glanced around anxiously. They were the only ones left in the cafeteria.
"You listening?" The girl shoved him once more.
"Yeah."
"Good." She didn't stop pushing until she had Roy pinned to the wall with his
lunch tray. Glaring balefully over the top of her red-framed eyeglasses, she
said, "From now on, mind your own damn business."
Roy was scared, he had to admit. The edge of the tray was digging into his rib
cage. This girl was a bruiser.
"You saw that kid, too, didn't you?" he whispered.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about. Mind your own business, if you know
what's good for you."
She let go of Roy's tray and spun on her heels.
"Wait!" Roy called after her. "Who is he?"
But the curly-haired girl didn't answer or even look back. Stalking off, she
simply raised her right arm and reproachfully wagged a forefinger in the air.

THREE
Officer Delinko shielded his eyes against the noon glare.
"Took you long enough," said Curly, the construction foreman.
"There was a four-car pileup north of town," the police officer explained, "with
injuries."
Curly huffed. "Whatever. Anyways, you can see what they done."
Again the trespassers had methodically removed every survey marker and filled in
the stake holes. Officer Delinko wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he
was beginning to suspect that this wasn't the random work of juvenile
pranksters. Perhaps somebody had a grudge against Mother Paula and her
world-famous pancakes.
"This time you got a actual vandalism to report," Curly said pointedly. "This
time they messed up some private property."
He led Officer Delinko to the southwest corner of the site, where a flatbed
truck was parked. All four tires were flat.
Curly raised the palms of his hands and said, "There you go. Each a them tires
is worth a hundred and fifty bucks."
"What happened?" the policeman asked.
"The sidewalls was slashed." Curly's shiny head bobbed in indignation.
Officer Delinko knelt down and studied the truck's tires. He couldn't see any
knife marks in the rubber.