"Christopher Moore - The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

almost every night. In addition, there were more pukers, more screamers, more
criers, and more unwanted advances stifled with slaps. Theo had been very
busy. So had Mavis Sand. Mavis was happy about it.
Estelle came through the doors in her paint-spattered overalls and
Shetland sweater, her hair pulled back in a long gray braid. Just inside, she
paused as the music and the smoke washed over her. Some Mexican laborers were
standing there in a group, drinking Budweisers, and one of them whistled at
her.
"I'm an old lady," Estelle said. "Shame on you." She pushed her way
through the crowd to the bar and ordered a white wine. Mavis served it in a
plastic beer cup. (She was serving everything in plastic lately. Evidently,
the Blues made people want to break glass -- on each other.)
"Busy?" Estelle said, although she had nothing to compare it to.
"The Blues sure packs 'em in," Mavis said.
"I don't much care for the Blues," said Estelle. "I enjoy Classical
music."
"Three bucks," said Mavis. She took Estelle's money and moved to the
other end of the bar.
Estelle felt as if she'd been slapped in the face.
"Don't mind Mavis," a man's voice said. "She's always cranky."
Estelle looked up, caught a shirt button, then looked up farther to find
Theo's smile. She had never met the constable, but she knew who he was.
"I don't even know why I came in here. I'm not a drinker."
"Something going around," Theo said. "I think maybe we're going to have a
stormy winter or something. People are coming out of the woodwork."
They exchanged introductions and Theo complimented Estelle on her
paintings, which he'd seen in the local galleries. Estelle dismissed the
compliment.
"This seems like a strange place to find the constable," Estelle said.
Theo showed her the cell phone on his belt. "Base of operations," he
said. "Most of the trouble has been starting in here anyway. If I'm here
already, I can stop it before it escalates."
"Very conscientious of you."
"No, I'm just lazy," Theo said. "And tired. In the last three weeks I've
been called to five domestic disputes, ten fights, two people who barricaded
themselves in the bathroom and threatened suicide, a guy who was going house
to house knocking the heads off garden gnomes with a sledgehammer, and a woman
who tried to take her husband's eye out with a spoon."
"Oh my. Sounds like one day in the life of an L.A. cop."
"This isn't L.A.," Theo said. "I don't mean to complain, but I'm not
really prepared for a crime wave."
"And there's nowhere left to run," Estelle said.
"Pardon?"
"People come here to run away from conflict, don't you think? Come to a
small town to get out of the violence and the competition in the city. If you
can't handle it here, there's nowhere else to go. You might as well give up."
"Well, that's a little cynical. I thought artists were supposed to be
idealists."
"Scratch a cynic and you'll find a disappointed romantic," Estelle said.
"That's you?" Theo asked. "A disappointed romantic?"