"Robert Reed - The Myrtle Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

saying, "Come in," as the door unsealed with a menacing kla-chunk.

These were clever, malicious times.

What if she'd just invited a thief into her home?

Yet Mr. Turnbull didn't appear the least bit criminal. Looking nowhere but at
her, his eyes showed nothing but a bloodless, professional interest. And she
still couldn't relax, blurting out, "My husband's going to be home soon. Maybe
any minute."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you need me to show you the library?"

The face only hinted at amusement. "It would help, yes."

Then from behind: "Mom? Who is it?"

Harry came charging out of the basement. Her son was wearing shorts and an
unflattering mesh shirt, and he was sweating, a large orange ball in his hands
and his breathing damp and fast. In a secret way, she was glad the library was
broken. Her son needed this exercise. She knew it as surely as she knew she
should do it too, but then again, he was young enough to change his ways. A
vigorous game in the playroom was a good thing. Harry had inherited her
fat-hoarding genes, and that was just another thing to make her lie awake in
fear.

"You're the myrtle man," said Harry.

"I am," the invader confessed.

Amy motioned. "It's just upstairs." She took the first few stairs, then paused
and looked over her shoulder.

"I'm following," the myrtle man promised. "Lead on."

"So where's your cable?" asked Harry, something suspicious in the tone.
"You're
supposed to bring in a glass cable, and stuff."

"I will. My stuff's in my truck."

Harry waited for an instant, then said, "I found the myrtles."

"Did you?"

"Well, a bunch of them."

"So," the man asked, "what's the shape of the world?"