"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 172 - Let's Kill Ames" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

тАЬTwo days!тАЭ he shouted. тАЬTwo days, fair lady, and you have ignored my humble supplications.
IgnoredтАФhell! I haven't even been able to get you on the telephone.тАЭ He paused dramatically, registered
what he evidently thought was stricken grief, and then forgave me. тАЬBut your loveliness overwhelms me.
Such beauty wipes all rancor from my mind. I am reduced to a carpet, a slightly rum-soaked carpet, and
you may walk upon me if you wish.тАЭ He hiccoughed. тАЬWalk on me if you wish,тАЭ he repeated, and it
appeared for a minute that he was going to lie down so that I could.

That was Pulaski. Ham actor, amateur wolf, andтАФthis evening for a changeтАФrum pot. He did not
customarily drink, and he was showing it.

There was something on his mind that was driving him to drink.

I was sure of it before we were halfway through dinner.
He asked where we should dine, and I paid him off by naming the most expensive place in town.

тАЬHmm!тАЭ he said. тАЬI kiss twenty bucks goodbye.тАЭ

He would be lucky to get out with a check under thirty dollars. I ordered oysters Rockefeller, the sole
marguery, a green salad, planked steak, cr├кpes Suzette, and caf├й diablo. I ordered a daiquiri first, a
white wine for the fish, then champagne. He stuck to bourbon and a steak, and did not eat enough of his
steak to give the bourbon a fight.

I saw that the waiter kept the bourbon coming. My idea was to get Pulaski mellow, then touch him for
my hotel bill. Probably he would have to be pretty mellow to stand still for a touch like that.

Pulaski was a chemist employed, he claimed, by himself. I did not know that there were self-employed
chemists, and I still was not sure of it, but that is what Pulaski had said he was. He had a laboratory at
130 Washington StreetтАФhe saidтАФand he lived at 720 Ironwood Drive, in an apartment. He said. I was
pretty sure about the last, because I had telephoned him there a couple of times.

He was nothing much. A fellow I had met in Palm Beach, Florida, had been with this Pulaski in the army.
The other fellow had been a sergeant and Pulaski had been a second lieutenant, and the man in Palm
Beach had spent a lot of time saying what he would like to do to Pulaski, and what he would do to
Pulaski if he ever got to this city and had a chance to look him up. He had several things in mind for
Pulaski, including a stroll over Pulaski's face. The sort of a man who had made that kind of a second
lieutenant in the army sounded like an easy mark and I had given Pulaski a ring when I got to town.

But I hadn't come to town to find Pulaski. I had come concerning a business opening with a very sharp
and clever woman named Carolyn Lane, who was calling herself Lady Seabrook, and who had thought
up something nice and lucrative in cosmetics. She had an angel for it, but it was supposed to be turning
out so well that she was going to work the racket and not the angel. Just supposed to be. The D.A. told
the Grand jury about her the day I got there. They even put the angel in jail with her.

This town was a desert. Nothing had turned up, I was broke, and I didn't like Pulaski, but he was running
after me. That was all right. Pulaski was the kind you would enjoy trimming. He wouldn't sit on your
conscience.

I ordered Pulaski another bourbon.