"George R. R. Martin - WC 3 - Jokers High" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

Elouette did. Cordelia (she said) had given little warning. The girl had not
come down for breakfast the morning before. Makeup, clothing, money, and an
overnight bag were also gone. Her father had checked with Cordelia's friends.
There weren't many. He called the parish sheriff. The patrols got the word. No
one had seen her. The law's best guess was that Cordelia had hitched a ride out
on the blacktop.
The sheriff had shaken his head sadly. "Gal looks like that," he'd said, "well,
we got cause to worry." He'd done what he could, but it had all taken precious
time. It had finally been Cordelia's father who'd come up with something. A girl
with the same face ("Purtiest little thing I seen in a month," the ticket clerk
had said) and long, luxuriant, black hair ("Black as a new-moon bayou sky," said
a porter) had boarded a bus in Baton Rouge.
"It was Greyhound," Elouette said. "One-way fare to New York City. By the time
we found out, the police said it wasn't none too practical to try and stop it in
New Jersey." Her voice shook slightly, as though she wanted to cry.
"It'll be okay," said Jack. "When's she supposed to get here?"'
"About seven," Elouette said. "Seven vour time." "Merde." Jack swung his legs
off the bed and sat up in the darkness.
"Can you get there, Jack? Can you find her?"
"Sure," he said. "But I gotta leave now for Port Authority, or I won't make it
in time."
"Thanks be," Elouette said. "Call me after you've met her?"
"I will. Then well figure out what to do next. Now I go, okay?"
"Okay. I'll be right here. Maybe Robert will be back too." Trust filled her
voice. "Thanks, Jack."
He put down the phone and stumbled across the room. He found the wall switch and
finally was able to see in the windowless room. Yesterday's work clothes were
strewn over the rough slab bench to one side. Jack pulled on the well-worn jeans
and green cotton shirt. He grimaced at the fragrant work socks, but they were


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all he had. Today being his day off, he'd planned to spend it at a laundromat.
He laced the steel-toed leather boots quickly, catching every other pair of
eyelets.
When he opened the door leading into the rest of his home, Bagabond, the two
huge cats, a passel of kittens, and a goggle-faced raccoon were all there in the
doorway, silently staring at him. In the dimness of the lamp-lit living room
beyond, Jack made out the gleam of Bagabond's dark brown hair and even darker
eyes, her high, shadowed cheekbones, the lightness of her skin.
"Jesus, Mother Mary!" he said, stepping back. "Don' scare me like that." He took
a deep breath and felt the tough, grainy hide on the back of his hands become
soft again.
"Didn't mean to," said Bagabond. The black cat rubbed up against Jack's leg. His
back nestled along the man's kneecap. His purr sounded like a contented coffee
grinder. "Heard the phone. You okay?"
"I'll tell you on the way to the door." He gave Bagabond a precis as he stopped
in the kitchen to decant the last of Yesterdays coffee sludge into a foam cup he