"Wildcards - 07 - Dead Mans Hand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

side. It was manned by a joker who was continuously dispensing dogs, making
change, and slapping mustard, catsup, sauerkraut, and relish on waiting buns
with his extra sets of arms. The derelict sitting on the curb was bloated and
alcoholic, but seemed to be a nat. He'd stationed himself next to the cart to
cadge coins while endlessly repeating his story to all who would listen. Brennan
nodded at Tripod and they joined the gawkers who were munching hot dogs and
listening to the old man.
"I was in the back when they brung her out. I was there all right. I got a nice
place to sleep right by the dumpster and t the ambulance woke me up. I was
scared. I didn't know what all the fuss was about, but pretty soon they brung
her out. I could see it was Chrysalis. I seen her a lot of times and it was her.
She was dead, all right." He lowered his voice and leaned forward to whisper
conspiratorially to his two dozen or so listeners. "Her head was squashed. Just
squashed. If it weren't for her invisible skin, you couldn't tell who it was.
Squashed, just like a watermelon dropped from a ten-story building." He nodded
with some satisfaction at his simile. "I was there all right. I saw her when
they brung her out...."
Brennan, impotent anger knotting his stomach, turned away from the cart as a cop
came up and hassled the vendor about his license. Sauerkraut Sam complained in a
loud voice with angry gesticulations of all his arms, but it didn't seem to get
him anywhere.
Brennan and Tripod stood silently for a moment, watching the cop run off the
hotdog vendor, who was wheeling his cart with four arms and still angrily
gesturing with the others.
Chrysalis had been killed by someone-an ace strong enough to smash her utterly.
That was at least a place to start an investigation. But Brennan knew he could
use more information. A lot more information.
"You seen Elmo or Sascha around?" Brennan asked Tripod, after the crowd that'd
been munching hot dogs and listening to the derelict had dispersed.
The joker shook his head. "They're gone, Mr. Y Ain't seen 'em, ain't heard of
'em all day."
Brennan sighed to himself. He knew, right away, that this was not going to be
easy. He took two twenties out of his pocket and surreptitiously dropped them on
the sidewalk.
Tripod's bare foot closed over them. His nimble toes picked them up and stuffed
them in one of the pockets he'd sewn on the bottom of his pant leg.
"Keep an eye out for them. For anything about the killing. You can get in touch
with me at the Victoria. I'm registered as Archer."
"Yessir." Tripod watched Brennan for a moment. "Good to see you again, Mr. Y"
"I wish I could say it was good to be back."
Tripod nodded once, then started down the street with his peculiar lurching
gait. Brennan watched him go, then turned back to the Palace. The crowd of
gawkers was still there. He wanted to get a good look at the crime scene, but
now obviously wasn't the time for that. He'd come back when it was quiet and
dark.
Now he had other avenues to explore. He wasn't convinced that Kien was actually
behind Chrysalis's death, but it was as good a place as any to start his
investigation. Kien, of course, wouldn't have done the killing himself, but the
Shadow Fists had plenty of hired muscle capable of doing the job. Wyrm, for
example, Kien's extraordinarily strong bodyguard, whom Brennan had witnessed