"David Marusek - The Wedding Album" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marusek David)

Ben held it to the light. It was labeled in AnneтАЩs flowing hand, Wedding Album-grouping 1, Anne
and Benjamin. "WhereтАЩd you get this?" he asked the boy.

"ItтАЩs not my fault," said Bobby.

"I didnтАЩt say it was, trooper. I just want to know where it came from."

"Puddles gave it to me."

"And who is Puddles?"
Mrs. Jamieson handed him a second chip, a commercial one with a 3-D label depicting a
cartoon cocker spaniel. The boy reached for it. "ItтАЩs mine," he whined. "Momma gave it to me."

Ben gave Bobby the Puddles chip, and the boy raced away. Ben hung his bowler on a peg next
to his jacket. "How does she look?"

Mrs. Jamieson removed BenтАЩs hat from the peg and reshaped its brim. "You have to be special
careful when theyтАЩre wet," she said, setting it on its crown on a shelf.

"Martha!"

"Oh, how should I know? She just showed up and locked herself in the media room."

"But how did she look?"

"Crazy as a loon," said the nanny. "As usual. Satisfied?"

"IтАЩm sorry," Ben said. "I didnтАЩt mean to raise my voice." Ben tucked the wedding chip into a pocket
and went into the living room, where he headed straight for the liquor cabinet, which was a
genuine Chippendale dating from 1786. Anne had turned his whole house into a freaking
museum with her antiques, and no room was so oppressively ancient as this, the living room.
With its horsehair upholstered divans, maple burl sideboards, cherry-wood wainscoting and floral
wallpaper, the King George china cabinet, Regency plates, and Tiffany lamps; the list went on.
And books, books, books. A case of shelves from floor to ceiling was lined with these moldering
paper bricks. The newest thing in the room by at least a century was the twelve-year-old scotch
that Ben poured into a lead crystal tumbler. He downed it and poured another. When he felt the
mellowing hum of alcohol in his blood, he said, "Call Dr. Roth."

Immediately, the doctorтАЩs proxy hovered in the air a few feet away and said, "Good evening, Mr.
Malley. Dr. Roth has retired for the day, but perhaps I can be of help."

The proxy was a head-and-shoulder projection that faithfully reproduced the doctorтАЩs good looks,
her brown eyes and high cheekbones. But unlike the good doctor, the proxy wore makeup:
eyeliner, mascara, and bright lipstick. This had always puzzled Ben, and he wondered what sly
message it was supposed to convey. He said, "What is my wife doing home?"

"Against advisement, Mrs. Malley checked herself out of the clinic this morning."

"Why wasnтАЩt I informed?"