"Kim Newman - The Serial Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Newman Kim)

"Very well. She was, what would you call her, a gang boss? The Godmother, the press said in her obits.
Choked on a fishbone at her sixtieth birthday party. Just when тАж"
"I can guess," said Richard. "The same thing happened on The Northern Barstows to a character based on
her."
"'Lady Gulliver,' Cousin Dodgy Morrie's backer and Mavis Barstow's deadly enemy last year," said Barbara.
"Garrison I've never heard of. But there was a Texas tycoon called 'Chuck J. Gatling' on the Barstows.
Drowned in a grain elevator just after he tried to buy up a controlling interest in Barstow and Company."
Fred flipped his notebook. "I was iffy about listing Garrison as a curse victim. He died just like Gatling, but on
his own spread in Texas. He'd never visited Britain. He'd probably never heard there was a character like him
on some English TV show. But he's where I first tripped over the Thing."
"The Thing?" prompted Richard
"The Strange Thing. Actually, the Non-Strange Thing. Professor, we don't do regular police work. We look for
the unbelievable. What happened to Buck D. is all too believable. He annoyed some business rivals, and the
FBI say he was hit."
"Hit? I really must frown upon this Yankee slang, Frederick."
"Sorry, guv. You know what I mean. Hit. Assassinated. Killed. By a professional. High-priced, smooth, hard
to catch. In, out, and dead."
"He was rubbed out by a torpedo?" blurted Barbara. "Don't look so aghast, Richard. I teach a course on
Hollywood Gangster Cinema."
Richard shrugged.
"I like her," said Fred. "Can we keep her?"
"Entirely her decision," said Richard. "After much more of this, she may not want to keep us."
Barbara sipped coffee, enigmatic but adorable.
"I put Garrison to one side and came back at the others. The Thing is тАж whisper has it that they were hit
too."
This was not what Richard expected.
"Jamie Hepplethwaites was in hot water with almost everyone he ever met," said Fred. "He was under
investigation for race fixing, and rumour was that he was on the point of telling all. Which would have been
inconvenient for certain followers of the turf. The sort of enthusiasts who'd have no scruple about laying out
cold cash to put Jamie in a morgue drawer."
"Della Devyne is not a 'tarpaulin,'" said Richard.
"A torpedo, guv. No, I'm not saying she is. I'm just saying some big crims are puffing cigars and bragging that
they did for Jamie. Ditto Prince Ali, Queenie, and Sir Joe. The prince can't talk any more with his vocal cords
slashed, which is dead convenient for his uncle the king, who was not a big fan of Ali's international playboy
act. Queenie's Mancunian empire is being carved up by her old competition, which mostly consists of her
daughters."
"How Lear."
"Manchester CID say they hope the war of succession thins out the herd a bit. Unofficially."
"What about Keats? He's the only one of the victims who had any prior connection with the people who make
the show. He was on the board of Amalgamated Rediffusion."
"The more that comes up, the more the show looks like a complete blind alley. It's not just Sir Joe who went
missing but his secretary. Between them, they had ten months' worth of work on the Factories Regulation Bill
in their heads which is all out the window and back to the drawing board now. That means very happy
proprietors of Unregulated Factories. Guess what's being said about them?"
"That they paid to get the job done?"
Fred snapped his fingers. "Got it in one."
Richard whistled and sat back to think.
"I reckon it's a smokescreen," said Fred. "Our Mystery Murder-to-Order Limited is twisting the Barstows to
put a spin on their business, keeping the fuzz off their case while advertising a service to potential clients.
Jobs like Prince Ali, Queenie, and Sir Joe do not come cheap. This is not an envelope full of fivers to a couple