"Hugh Lessig - Black Book, White Deaths" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lessig Hugh)

Woo had climnbed the roof the cop station and dumped everything he had into the prowler pool.
We hit the streets with our Waterfront Edition at 6 a.m. I had 10 quick front-page column inches connecting George Bupkis with Chow Fat, and tying both of them to the drugs in Harriett Hill's basement. By 7 a.m., the cops and the Coast Guard had cornered Chow Fat in a skiff trying to get out of the bay, so I had 20 inches for our Breakfast Edition. By 8:30 a.m., they had skunked the skiff with tear gas and set it on fire, and the San Francisco Herald finally made it out.
I put out 20 column inches for our main morning newsstand edition -- drugs, crooks, gas and fire. It purred like a low-slung Merc.
At 2 p.m., the divers fished a crispy critter from the water and said it was Chow. My editor wanted me to wait for the dental records. I pasted a back-door lead on top of my previous version, did a short write-thru, and emptied my notebook -- 35 inches for the main afternoon edition.
At 4 p.m., Harriett Hill walked out of prison a free woman. By then, Chow Fat was cold in the morge and rated a sidebar on page A-6. Harriett's smile was three columns wide underneath the big banner.
At 7:32 p.m., I called it a night and walked across the street to The Chinaman's Tooth. Woo was behind the bar acting like nothing happened. He was moving a little stiff, but then so was I.
He slid me a beer as I took a stool. I pointed to a ham sandwich on the menu. He went back and made it. He brought out the sandwich on a heavy white plate. He put down a fork and napkin.
He put down a placemat.
It had four columns of Chinese writing.
"Your sandwich, Mr. Smith," he said, and put down the plate.
I took a bite and savored it. I took a swig of my beer. "You know something, Woo," I said. "You'll have to teach me that lingo of yours sometime."
Woo thought about that. He almost said something, then a longshoreman came up and asked for a beer and he went to pour it for him.


Hugh Lessig, 41, is a newspaper reporter for the Daily Press in Newport News, Va. He lives in the state capital of Richmond, with his wife, Ann Marie. He writes about state government, politics and whichever elected official happens to commit news on a given day. Given his life's calling, he is a particular fan of reporter-detectives such as Frederick Nebel's "Kennedy of the Free Press."

Copyrights (c) 2000 Hugh Lessig