"Roberts, Nora - A Matter of Choice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

Slade take his seat. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"A bit."

Like his father, Dodson thought again, managing not to smile. Except
that there'd been talk that the son's real interest lay in writing, not
in police work. Tom had always brushed that aside, Dodson remembered. My
boy's a cop, just like his old man. A damn good cop. At the moment
Dodson was banking on it.

"How's the family?" he asked casually while keeping those deceptive blue
eyes direct.

"Fine. Thank you, sir."

"Janice is enjoying college?" He offered Slade a cigar. When it was
refused, Dodson lit one for himself. Slade waited until the smoke stung
the air before answering. Just how, he wondered, did Dodson know his
sister was in college?

"Yes, she likes it."

"How's the writing?"

He had to call on all of his training not to reveal surprise at the
question. His eyes remained as clear and steady as his voice.
"Struggling."

No time for small talk, Dodson thought, tapping off cigar ash. The boy's
already itching to be gone. But being commissioner gave him an
advantage. He took another slow drag of the cigar, watching the smoke
curl lazily toward the ceiling. "I read that short story of yours in
Mirror," Dodson went on. "It was very good."

"Thank you." What the hell's the point? Slade wondered impatiently.

"No luck with the novel?"

Briefly, almost imperceptively, Slade's eyes narrowed. "Not yet."

Sitting back, Dodson chewed on his cigar as he studied the man across
from him. Had the look of his father, too, he mused. Slade had the same
narrow face that was both intelligent and tough. He wondered if the son
could smile with the same disarming charm as the father. Yet the eyes
were like his mother's--dark gray and thoughtful, skilled at keeping
emotions hidden. Then there was his record, Dodson mused. He might not
be the flashy cop his father had been, but he was thorough. And, thank
God, less impulsive. After his years on the force, the last three in
homicide, Slade could be considered seasoned. If an undercover cop
wasn't seasoned by thirty-two, he was dead. Slade had a reputation for