"Callahan 05 - Lady Sally's House 02 - Lady Slings the Booze v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

It wasn't wine at all. It was some kind of berry juice, a kind I didn't know, and it was very tasty for something nonalcoholic. Delicious, actually. I finished it thirstily, and set the glass down again. I thought about a cigarette, and decided against it.
"Well," I said, "you know why I'm here, Your Ladyship. And that makes one of us. I can't say I'm in any hurry at all to get down to business, but I do like to know what I'm goofing off on. Do you want to...excuse me-" I broke off and held up one finger, because just then the berry juice began to hit me. I closed my eyes momentarily, locked my knees and went inside, gauged the impact-about like an ounce of fine brandy, it felt like-made the necessary adjustments, and opened my eyes.again. "-to tell me about the job, or shall I just hang around the place until I de-douche it? Deduce it. Up to you, but the meter's running." There; I had it under control.
She looked impressed. I realized she had sandbagged me...and I had passed the test. "You're quite right, Mr. Quigley. Your time is valuable. Do sit down and we'll get right to it."
I pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it. "Call me Joe."
"Certainly, Joe. And I'm Sally."
"Yes, Your Ladyship."
"About the job, then, Joe..."
And then silence descended for maybe ten seconds.
Finally she frowned and finished her own berry juice. "What I want you to do, in essence, is to find the Little Man Who Wasn't There. Without letting any of my clients or artists know that he isn't." She blinked and glanced down at her glass. "I'm sorry, that's not very clear-"
It was more or less what I'd been expecting to hear. "Sounds straightforward to me," I said. "Can you give me any leads on exactly where he ishn't? Isn't?"
She blinked again, and then rallied. "Well, I can give you some specifics on where he hasn't been so far. But of course there's no way of knowing where he won't appear next. More elixir?"
"You'd need three words to say anything sweeter," I said, and accepted another few fingers. "Okay, I'm in. What's my cover?"
"Well," she said apologetically, "I'm afraid you'll simply have to pass as a new artist. If you think you're up to it.

"NOW wait just a damn minute!" I said.
She looked surprised. "Do you have a problem with that? From what...our mutual friend said, I'm afraid I took the liberty of assuming you'd-"
"In the first place, what the hell do you mean by that crack about, '...if I'm up to it...'?"
"Ah, I see. Pardon me, I misspoke myself. I meant to say, '...up for it...' I'm always getting my propositions mixed-damn it, there I go again: I meant prepositions. Blame it on the elixir. Reminds me of the time I came before a judge who was fond
of...uh...English studies, and managed to end my sentence with a proposition. Be that as it may, Joe-"
"And in the second place-" I tried to interrupt.
"-the job pays fairly well," she went on. "Over and above your regular two hundred a day and expenses, of course."
"What the hell do you think I am?" I demanded.
She looked confused. "In the words of the ancient jape, I thought we had settled that, and were dickering over the price."
"Listen here, Your Ladyship: I'm a private dick, you understand the distinction? Find yourself another boy!"
"One of my specialties, as the bishop confided to the actress. Come now, Joe-be honest with me: have you really never once fantasized about turning pro some day? Developing the talent God gave you? Never felt that by all rights they ought to have to pay you for it? I warn you that if you say no, I shall be forced to assume some tragic accident has cost you certain standard male equipment-"
"Jesus, Lady-"
"-your ego, I mean. You haven't ever thought about it?"
I made the instant subconscious decision to be candid. Maybe I didn't care if I offended her any more, or maybe I just didn't want to lie to her. "Sure I have," I said. "That's why I don't want any part of it. In the first place I'd hate the impersonality, the commercialism, and in the second place I'd hate the constant pressure to get it up, and speaking of that you know just as well as I do what kind of women have to pay for it, and as for crabs and clap and so on I altuady took that class, thank you, and most of all if I was to start charging for it, at fair market value, there wouldn't be a woman in Brooklyn who could afford it!"
I broke off, even though I had a few more points to make because she was staring at me, apparently dumbfounded.
After a few seconds of silence, she managed to find some words. "Joe, are you familiar with the phenomenon Samuel Delany calls 'rupture'?"
"Hey, I never get that carried away."
"There it goes again. Rupture occurs when you think you are in the middle of a conversation with someone...and suddenly discover that you've merely been making noises at each other, that there is a previously unsuspected chasm between you beside which the Marianas Trench is a pothole. We have come to a point of rupture, Joe. You don't know what I mean, and I'm not sure I understand what you said. I think we must be using different maps."
"Oh yeah?"
"Either that, or you're a real jackass."
I did what PIs always do when insulted: shrugged, and went for a wisecrack. "Not much point in being a fake jackass, is there?"
"Ask the man who sent you here."
That reminded me that The Man would be upset with me if I blew this commission-and he had succeeded in scaring the shit out of me. "Touchщ. Okay, let's rewind to where we went wrong and start over. What were you really asking me to do, when I thought you wanted me to 'Rent-A-'Rection'?"
She shook her head. "It won't help, I tell you. We've got different maps. The street I'm pointing to doesn't exist on yours."
"Okay. How do I get one of your maps?"
"You'll just have to draw your own, I'm afraid."
I sighed. "Look, Lady, I'm not trying be to difficult. But how the hell am I supposed to do that?"
Priscilla spoke up. "Map-making isn't hard. Just tricky."
"I'm listening," I said politely.
"Four stages. The obvious three are: look around you carefully, record what you see, and integrate it. It's the very first part that'll trip you up, and it's the most important of all."
"It's the whole thing," Lady Sally corrected. "The other three happen automatically; you couldn't stop 'em if you tried-once you do the first thing."
Damn it, the PI isn't supposed to be the straight man. "Which is?"
"Throw out all the old maps you already have in the glove compartment," Priscilla said.
Lady Sally nodded. "Forget all the reports of earlier explorers. You can't discover America if you keep shying away from the edge of the world. And if you do find it, you'll waste years asking to be taken to Kublai Khan."
I brought my glass to my lips...looked at it, and set it down. I reached for my deck of Luckies...realized a teenager's bedroom wouldn't have any ashtrays, and put it away. "Look," I said finally, "the dialogue is getting so clever here I'm starting to lose it. Let me see if I can put it in English, okay? What I think I'm hearing is: you got some kind of sneak thief in the joint; you want me to nail him; naturally you want it done discreet; so you want me to pose as a prostitute while I run him down; you don't believe I know what that involves here; so you want me to keep an open mind and scope the place before I make up my mind. Is that close?"
"Reasonably close," Lady Sally agreed. "We can fine-tune it as we go along. If we do."