"Night Warriors - 02 - Death Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Masterton Graham)

John nodded. СI haven't checked every room downstairs, and I haven't checked the cellar, but as soon as we heard the noise we came running straight up here, and I really don't see how
Sergeant Clay leaned sideways, his hands still in his pockets, so that he could see out the bedroom door. 'Officer Mulroony,' he said. 'Would you be good enough to search the ground floor - cellar, too?'
The officer stopped scribbling in his notepad, tapped his pencil on the peak of his cap in salute, and went downstairs.
Sergeant Clay said, 'Officer Sabido, would you be good enough to go down to my car and bring me my Polos?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Your Polos?' asked John. 'What are your Polos?'
They're little round mints like Life Savers. I have a friend who brings them across from England. You can stick the tip of your tongue through the hole in the middle, and apart from the fact that I was called away from a double-hot chilli to go and I'm going to be breathing it at you every time I ask you a question, they help me to think.'
John glanced at Jennifer in bewilderment.
'You'd prefer it if I smoked a pipe and played the violin?' Sergeant Clay asked him with perfect politeness.
At that moment, Detective Clay began to sniff even more deeply, holding his breath for long, quivering moments and then exhaling.
'What's gotten into him?' asked John.
Sergeant Clay laid a hand on his twin's shoulder and said, 'He's very sensitive to different smells, you know what I mean? He can tell you what brand of cigarette you smoke just by sniffing your hair. He can tell what spices you've been eating, anything from bell peppers to fenugreek, and everything in between. He can tell if you've recently been close to animals, and what kind. He can smell something now.'
Detective Clay carefully reached over and grasped the corner of the ripped-open comforter. He hesitated for a moment, still breathing deeply, then suddenly whipped it off the bed.
On the sheet underneath, a huge wet stain was spreading, smelling faintly acrid and tinged with yellow at the edges.
'Oh, my God,' said Jennifer, and clamped her hand over her mouth.
'I'm sorry ma'am,Т said Sergeant Clay gently. 'We often get this kind of vandalism. For some of these sickos, breaking into somebody's bedroom is pretty much like rape once-removed. You're lucky they didn't do anything worse.'
'You mean I'm lucky that they only pissed on my marriage-bed, instead of shitting on it?' Jennifer demanded, her voice scratchy with shame and fury. Shame - almost as if this disgusting desecration were her doing.
John held her close. 'It's okay, Jenny. We'll get rid of it and start fresh. New bed, new sheets, new carpet.'
'It's not the same,' Jennifer wept. 'It's my marriage-bed. It meant so much.'
Detective Clay leaned over the bed and kept on sniffing, his eyes closed.
'One person, or more than one, what do you think?' Sergeant Clay asked him.
Detective Clay kept his eyes closed and didn't answer, but raised his hand to indicate that he was still concentrating.
'Any alcohol? Unusual foods? Coffee? Tea?' Sergeant Clay asked.
Still Detective Clay kept on sniffing.
'Come on, Norman, was it a man or a woman? Or both?' Sergeant Clay turned to John and Jennifer and said, 'He can usually tell that, too. It's something to do with the proteins in the urine.'
Quite abruptly, Detective Clay went up to his twin and whispered something in his ear. Sergeant Clay blinked, frowned, and said, 'Are you sure?'
'What is it?' Jennifer wanted to know. 'What can he smell?'
Sergeant Clay rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'I don't know, ma'am; I think he's making some kind of mistake.'
'Does he often make mistakes?' asked John.
Sergeant Clay shook his head. 'Never. Never known him to make a mistake.'
'So why do you think he's making a mistake this time?'
'Well, sir, because he says this is urine right enough, and plenty of it. But whoever did it must've had a bladder that was five times the usual capacity, and whoever did it wasn't human.'
'You bet they weren't human,' John agreed.
'No, sir, you don't quite understand me. Whoever did this genuinely wasn't human.'
John stared at him, baffled. 'You mean an animal did this?'
Sergeant Clay stared back at him with a concentrated frown. Behind him, his twin frowned, too.
Then what?' John demanded. 'If it wasn't human, and if it wasn't an animal - what?'










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