"Mallory, Michael - Just Because You're Paranoid" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mallory Michael)

She gave me a withering glare. "A tomato is a fruit."

"I knew that," I said, although I didn't. "Frankly, Ms. Keaney, what you're asking doesn't really sound all that challenging. Hiring a licensed investigator to get take-out seems unnecessary. Why not just have a friend do it?"

"First, it's not as easy as you think, trust me. Secondly, I don't want to put any personal friends at risk."

"Is the food really that bad?"

Her exasperated sigh would have done Oliver Hardy proud. "Just forget the whole thing," she said, rising and beginning to slither back into her tomato suit.

"Look, I'm sorry if --"

"No, forget it. I have to get back now anyway, before the managers get too suspicious. I just hope I wasn't followed here."

"Ms. Keaney, aren't you being a little too . . . how should I put this?"

"Paranoid?" she finished for me. "Let me tell you something about the Order of Hermetosophy: once the hierarchy has decided you're the enemy, they'll do whatever it takes to stop you."

"In other words, just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not out to get you."

"I'm wasting my time," she muttered. "Obviously you're not the right person to help me. Sorry to have disturbed you."

Okay, a woman dressed like a tomato interrupts my lunch, asks for help in some vague way, and gets mad when I ask the obvious question any investigator would, and yet I'm the one feeling embarrassed. Go figure. "Look, let me do this much for you," I said, opening the door for her to squeeze through, "I'll swing by Burger Heaven for dinner and casually check things out. How can I get in touch with you?"

"It's best you don't," she answered. "I'll get in touch with you." And without so much as a goodbye, she left.

Sheesh, things like this never happened to Barnaby Jones!

I had a hard time concentrating on work for the rest of the day, not that the work in question was all that exciting in the first place. Just a couple of insurance claims and a divorce case. A little before six I decided to wrap things up and head out. Like I'd promised Caitlin, I drove down to Burger Heaven.

The first thing I noticed was that there was no drive-through. The second was that the line of people waiting for food extended all the way out the door. The third was that it had the most enormous parking lot I'd ever seen for a fast food joint, which meant that despite the crowd, I had no trouble finding a parking space. Inside, the place actually smelled clean (I don't know how they managed that) and everywhere was the sound of canned harp music playing light rock standards, kitschy, but not unpleasant. A small army of young clerks in typically silly costumes -- white shirts with halo insignias, black cross-over ties, and those paper counterman hats that made one look like a full lieutenant in the Dork Brigade -- stood behind the counter. While waiting in line, I scanned the menu posted in lighted signs up above the workers' heads. It offered little in the way of variety: Heaven Burger, Jumbo Heaven Burger, Double Heaven Burger, and the super colossal Seventh Heaven Burger.

When my turn finally came, the cute, chipmunky young girl behind the register chirped: "Welcome to Burger Heaven, can I take your order?"

"Yeah, I'll have the Jumbo Heaven meal to go, please," I said.

"Sorry, sir, but we're not equipped to do take out," she said, cheerfully.

"Really?" I looked around and there were plenty of tables. Come to think of it, the place had twice as many tables as a normal burger place. "Okay, I guess I'll eat here."

The order came up in a flash and I carried it over to an empty table. The burger had an interesting smoky flavor, but other than that it was nothing to pray over. The fries were so-so, but the chocolate shake was the best I'd had in a long time. While I savored the shake I thought about Caitlin Keaney's claims, and decided they were groundless. Then I noticed the security cameras. To most patrons, they would have looked like decorations: round objects hanging from the ceiling that blended almost unnoticeably into the design of the restaurant. But I could tell what they really were. Furthermore, there were seven of them. Why does a fast food restaurant need seven security cameras?

I bussed my tray to the trash can and left, smiling back at the behemoth in a security guard costume who opened the door and entreated me to come back soon.

Once back at my apartment, I tried to put the whole bizarre matter out of my mind, but I couldn't. Even through the rerun of "I Dream of Jeannie" - my current passion - I was ogling Barbara Eden but thinking Caitlin Keaney.

The first thing I did when I arrived at the office the next morning was check my answering machine, hoping that Caitlin might have left a message, but in that I was disappointed. Well then, I'd just have to go down to Burger Heaven and talk to her there. And despite the fact that in some parts of L.A. walking is a punishable offense, I decided to hoof it.

I could see the costumed chorus from a block away, waving at passing cars and handing out fliers to people on the street. By the time I got up to them, the tomato doing a little soft shoe with the onion. Tapping her on the back of the costume, I said: "Pretty fancy dancing, lady." The tomato turned around and said, "Huh?"