"park_9781436290630_oeb_c02_r1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robert B Parker- [Spenser 36] - Rough Weather)

“You know, of course, who Heidi Bradshaw is,” Susan said.

“My client.”

“Besides that,” Susan said.

“She’s famous,” I said.

“Do you know for what?”

“Besides being my client?” I said.

“Besides that,” Susan said.

“I guess she’s famous for being famous,” I said.

The room was large and not loud. The tables were well spaced. There were windows where you could look out at Copley Square. The service was good. I was paying with a small part of Heidi Bradshaw’s swell advance. . . . And I was with the girl of my dreams.

“She has been married to some of the richest men in the world,” Susan said.

“And profited from each marriage,” I said.

“Any girl would,” Susan said. “How did she find you.”

“Maybe she Googled stud on the Internet?”

“I’ve tried that,” Susan said. “You’re not listed.”

“Damn,” I said.

“So, how did they end up with you?”

“Somebody called somebody,” I said. “And one thing led to another?”

“Okay, and if it worked that way, what would be the basis for recommending you?”

“I’m a great husband substitute?” I said.

“Probably not,” Susan said.

“That I’m a tough guy, and I own a gun?” I said.

“Probably so,” Susan said.

We were quiet for a moment. Susan had some sort of exotic fish. She took a small bite. Susan always took small bites. She ate slowly, and rarely ate all of what she ordered. I had pasta, all of which I guzzled.

“I thought of that,” I said.

“Me, too,” Susan said.

“So why do you hire a guy with a gun to hang around your party?”

“Because you’re afraid,” Susan said.

“Even though the island has its own security.”

“Even though,” Susan said.

“Maybe you’re afraid of the security,” I said.

“Maybe she thinks they’re incompetent.”

“For crissake,” I said. “It’s her island. They are her security.”

Susan shrugged and nibbled on her fish. I finished the last meatball. Susan took a small sip of wine.

“Well, whatever the reason,” she said. “She feels the need to augment it.”

“With one guy?”

“Apparently,” Susan said. “Which is why the one guy is you.”

“Shucks,” I said.

“Which means they went looking for you,” Susan said. “Or someone like you.”

“Which means maybe I should bring two guns?”

“One should be enough,” Susan said. “You are, after all, bringing me.”

“You know, of course, who Heidi Bradshaw is,” Susan said.

“My client.”

“Besides that,” Susan said.

“She’s famous,” I said.

“Do you know for what?”

“Besides being my client?” I said.

“Besides that,” Susan said.

“I guess she’s famous for being famous,” I said.

The room was large and not loud. The tables were well spaced. There were windows where you could look out at Copley Square. The service was good. I was paying with a small part of Heidi Bradshaw’s swell advance. . . . And I was with the girl of my dreams.

“She has been married to some of the richest men in the world,” Susan said.

“And profited from each marriage,” I said.

“Any girl would,” Susan said. “How did she find you.”

“Maybe she Googled stud on the Internet?”

“I’ve tried that,” Susan said. “You’re not listed.”

“Damn,” I said.

“So, how did they end up with you?”

“Somebody called somebody,” I said. “And one thing led to another?”

“Okay, and if it worked that way, what would be the basis for recommending you?”

“I’m a great husband substitute?” I said.

“Probably not,” Susan said.

“That I’m a tough guy, and I own a gun?” I said.

“Probably so,” Susan said.

We were quiet for a moment. Susan had some sort of exotic fish. She took a small bite. Susan always took small bites. She ate slowly, and rarely ate all of what she ordered. I had pasta, all of which I guzzled.

“I thought of that,” I said.

“Me, too,” Susan said.

“So why do you hire a guy with a gun to hang around your party?”

“Because you’re afraid,” Susan said.

“Even though the island has its own security.”

“Even though,” Susan said.

“Maybe you’re afraid of the security,” I said.

“Maybe she thinks they’re incompetent.”

“For crissake,” I said. “It’s her island. They are her security.”

Susan shrugged and nibbled on her fish. I finished the last meatball. Susan took a small sip of wine.

“Well, whatever the reason,” she said. “She feels the need to augment it.”

“With one guy?”

“Apparently,” Susan said. “Which is why the one guy is you.”

“Shucks,” I said.

“Which means they went looking for you,” Susan said. “Or someone like you.”

“Which means maybe I should bring two guns?”

“One should be enough,” Susan said. “You are, after all, bringing me.”