"Lumley, Brian - Necroscope - The Lost Years Volume 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

'As Ah said, Ah recognize him. He was in once, maybe twice a week. But it has tae be said, he did fancy Margaret'
'She didn't encourage him?"
B J. sighed -- patiently, lanson thought 'Mah girls are no like that, Inspector. Ah pay them tae work, not flirt. And just in case ye're wonderin' if this is a whorehouse, Ah can tell ye now it's no! Ah rim a wine bar, nothin' more than that*
'I never once thought differently,' lanson could afford to be truthful with her, for in fact he hadn't formed any opinions as yet As was his wont, however, he now pulled something right out of the blue. 'How about dogs?' he said, his eyes riveted to BJ.'s face.
She blinked, just once, and her expression registered surprise if not alarm. 'Dogs?'
'Do you have one, Miss Mirlu? A big dog? A guard-dog, maybe, to look after downstairs after you lock up?'
'I never considered it,' she shook her head. 'I've always thought the place was reasonably secure. Anyway, I don't especially like the smelly things!' And lanson had to smile, if only to himself. For while she'd retained her composure, that accent of hers had vanished into thin air.
'And your girls? Does one of them have a big dog? Margaret Macdowell, for instance?'
She shrugged. 'Not that they've ever brought here, no."
'So what is it that upset you when I mentioned dogs?'
'Eh?' She looked confused, startled. "What's that, ye say? Ah appeared upset?' And the accent was back again.
"You're not from these parts, are you?' lanson's smile was open this time.
'My, how ye jump about!' She managed to smile back at him,

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however tightly. 'One minute it's dogs, and the next ye're wonderin" where Ah come frae!'
Tour accent,' he told her. 'Me, I'm an Edinburgh man. But I try to keep my accent under control. I only fail when I'm excited. Not that I'm ashamed of it, you understand, but if s my nature to be precise. But .ye...are no frae Edinburgh. An' no amount o' "frae"s and "ye"s can convince me otherwise!'
'And is it part of your investigation, to discover my origins?' She was just a little bit angry now. 'Well, to put your mind at rest -- and so that we may get on -- I'm originally from the Highlands. My parents were from Garve and Strathpeffer, but we moved to London when I was a child. So you're right, my accent is phony -- or not quite phony, but necessary. My customers like to think I'm a "wee Jock," so if only for their sake I'm a wee Jock. Are you satisfied now? And if there's nothing else -- ' She made as if to stand up, but lanson caught her hand, applying just enough pressure to hold her in place.
'A policeman,' he explained, 'develops certain habits, not all of them good. I apologize, Miss Mirlu -- '
' -- BJ.,' she cut him off. Well, to my friends, anyway.'
' -- For my devious methods,' the Inspector continued. 'But you see, it looks like John Mof fat was killed by a large dog or hound. And I have to satisfy myself -- '
' -- That someone from here wasn't protecting her? Inspector, to my knowledge no one even dreamed such a thing might happen! Bad snow was forecast and I let Margaret go early. That's standard procedure if we're expecting bad weather; I always let the girls from outside the city off early. I myself called the taxi for Margaret, and it took her right off the doorstep.' (It was a lie, for in fact BJ. had already been on her way to Sma' Auchterbecky; she knew, however, that her girls would stand by her alibi to their last breath). Then, the next thing we know, the poor girl has been attacked.' She held up her hands. What else can I tell you? That"s all there is to it"
Well, not quite all,' lanson frowned. 'Her attacker was murdered -or should we say killed? -- after all. And murder is murder, BJ., whether it's done to or by a beast' That wasn't entirely correct, but it accurately described his feelings.
He tried a different tack. 'Could John Mof fat have known she'd be let off early?'
'He'd been in often enough, yes,' B J. answered. But suddenly she was frowning. 'A great hound,' she murmured. 'Someone with a big dog. Hmm! Like, how big?'
'Oh?' lanson leaned towards her again. 'And is there perhaps something I should know?'
'I don't know,' she said. 'I'm not sure.'

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Necroscope: The Lost Years -- Vol. II
Well tell me anyway, and 111 decide. Who is it you know who has a big dog, BJ.?'
'Oh, Ah dinnae ken him,' she fell almost naturally, with a sigh of relief, as it were, back into her brogue. 'Ah only wish Ah did, so's Ah could tell ye his name! All Ah know is, he watches man place.'
'He watches this place?' lanson's voice had tightened in a moment 'Someone has been watching you, and your girls? Someone with a dog?'
'It...it's probably nothin'. Ah mean, Ah hope it's nothin'!' B J. answered. 'Sometimes he has his dog with him, others he's on his own.' She stood up, said, 'Come on, Ah'll show ye.'
She took him upstairs to the top floor, her bedroom, then to a small window that looked down at a shallow angle on a recessed doorway across the road. That's where we saw him first' she said. 'Him and his dog, aye.' She was lying, about the dog at least but the Inspector couldn't know that
'How long ago?' he queried.
'Oh, years!' she answered. 'Ah used tae think it was maybe the father of one o' mah girls -- lookin' out for his daughter, if ye take mah meanin'. Or maybe a detective on the trail of a wayward husband...Ah mean, Ah'm bound tae get all sorts in here, tae ogle the girls and a'.'
'But this has been recurrent?' lanson was eager now.
'On and off, aye."
'Recently?'
'About a fortnight the last time.'
'But...why didn't you speak of this before? On the phone, for instance, or when I first mentioned a dog?'
She shrugged easily, maybe apologetically. 'It slipped mah mind. It didnae connect until now. Oh, Ah worried about the wee man at first but nothin' came o' it He watched but didnae try tae do anythin'. And we...sort o' got used tae him.'
We?'
'Me and the girls, aye. Oh, and there's somethin' else: he has been known tae follow them once or...once or twice!' Suddenly she gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes grew big and round. 'Do ye think...? Mah God! That wee man, and his big Alsatian!'
'Describe him,' lanson snapped. And as BJ. drew back from the force of his voice, in a gentler tone: 'Please, as best you can, tell me what he looks like.'
And she did...
Later, standing at the kerb outside the wine-bar, breathing the cold night air and feeling the slush turning to ice, the Inspector waited for
Brian Lumley