"Dan Simmons - Joe Kurtz 03 - Hard As Nails" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons Dan)

"I tracked down a former high school football captain this morning in North
Tonawanda," said Kurtz, "to hand him a handwritten letter from his former
cheerleader girlfriend."
O'Toole looked up from her notes and removed her tortoiseshell glasses. "Did
the football hero still look like a football hero?" she asked, showing only the faintest
trace of a smile.
"They were both from Kenmore West's Class of '61," said Kurtz. "The guy was
fat, bald, and lived in a trailer that's seen better days. It had a Confederate flag hung
on the side of it and a clapped-out '72 Camaro parked outside."
O'Toole winced. "How about the cheerleader?"
Kurtz shrugged. "If there was a photo, it was in the sealed letter. But I can
guess."
"Let's not," said O'Toole. She put her glasses back on and glanced back at her
form. "How is the WeddingBells-dot-com business going?"
 "Slowly," said Kurtz. "Arlene has the whole Internet thing set upтАФall the contacts
and contracts with dressmakers, cardmakers, cakemakers, musicians, churches and
reception halls set in placeтАФand money's coming in, but I'm not sure how much. I
really don't have much to do with that side of the business."
"But you're an investor and co-owner?" said the parole officer. There was no hint
of sarcasm in her voice.
"Sort of," said Kurtz. He knew that O'Toole had seen the articles of
incorporation during a visit the parole officer had made to their new office in June. "I
roll over some of my income from SweetheartSearch back into WeddingBells and
get a cut in return." Kurtz paused. He wondered how the felons and shankmeisters
and Aryan Brotherhood boys in the exercise yard at Attica would react if they heard
him say that. The D-Block Mosque guys would probably drop the price on his head
from $15,000 to $10,000 out of sheer contempt.
O'Toole took off her glasses again. "I've been thinking of using Mrs. DeMarco's
services."
Kurtz had to blink at that. "For WeddingBells? To set up all the details of a
wedding online?"
"Yes."
"Ten percent discount to personal acquaintances," said Kurtz. "I mean, you've
met Arlene."
"I know what you meant, Mr. Kurtz." O'Toole put her glasses back on. "You still
have a room atтАж what is the hotel's name? Harbor Inn?"
"Yes." Kurtz's old flophouse hotel, the Royal Delaware Arms near downtown,
had been shut down in July by the city inspectors. Only the bar of the huge old
building remained open and the word was that the only customers there were the
rats. Kurtz needed an address for the parole board, and the Harbor Inn served as
one. He hadn't gotten around to telling O'Toole that the little hotel on the south side
was actually boarded up and abandoned or that he'd leased the entire building for
less than the price of his room at the old Delaware Arms.
"It's at the intersection of Ohio and Chicago Streets?"
"Right."
"I'd like to drop by and just look at it next week if you don't mind," said the
parole officer. "Just to verify your address."
Shit, he thought. "Sure," he said.
O'Toole sat back and Kurtz thought that the short interview was over. The
meetings had been getting more and more pro forma in recent months. He wondered