"William Mark Simmons - Undead 2 - Dead on My Feet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons William Mark)

"A client. Someone wishes to know if I am legitimate. De real ting." She still wasn't asking.
"You've checked me out," I said, deciding to drop sixty percent of the bluff.
She nodded.
 "And?"
She smiled. Her teeth were all white and even so that ruled out one ever-present concern. "You
made your appointment under de name of Jon Harker. Your driver's license, social security card, in fact
all of de right pieces of paper, plastic, and computer files say your name is Samuel Haim."
"Yes," I answered, interjecting just the right tone of "you've found me out."
"Even though 'Samhaim' is de ancient Celtic festival of de dead, its proper pronunciation is 'Sow-en.'
So you see, Mister . . ." she paused, arching an eyebrow, " . . . Haim . . . it is not a very good pun for all
de trouble dat you or someone else has gone to in leaving de proper paper trail."
I tried to say "I don't know what you're talking about" but my mouth wouldn't engage. Anyway, she
was on a roll: "You come to Louziana six month agoтАФsupposedly to open a blood bank here in
Monroe. Ot'er people run it for you. You do not keep office hours and you have money.
"You live on de west bank of de Ouachita River. Big house, tree stories, lots of property, fenced and
rigged with expensive security systems. You value your privacy. No record of any family. In fact, no
record of any ting prior to your appearance here.
"You suffer from insomnia, rarely go out in de day, and have no personal physician. In fact, you have
no life or healt' insurance. You do, however, have an interesting hobby: last mont' you opened a separate
office wit' 'After Dark Investigations' stenciled on de door. Now you are here."
I shrugged. "Not much nightlife in Northeast Louisiana."
"So why come here? Nawlins has all de nightlife someone like you could want."
"New Orleans already has blood banks."
"Nawlins also has vampires," she said mildly.
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Owner of a blood bank, pale skin, an affectation for sunglasses, nocturnal lifestyleтАФsome people
might tink that you were a vampire, yourself."
I blinked again. "I have a medical condition that makes me allergic to sunlight. I'm highly susceptible
to skin cancer."
"Of course. If you really were a vampire, you would hardly be able to roam about in de daylight. And
you have been seen to roam about in de daylight on several occasions."
It didn't seem necessary to point out that this was one of them. "You have an interesting sense of
humor," I said.
She dimpled without actually smiling. "Don' I? It is odd, however, dat with such a medical condition,
you have not found a personal physician or done business with any pharmacy since you have moved
here."
"You really have checked me out, haven't you?"
She smiled again. "I have clients, too, Mr. Haim. Your presence, here, has raised certain questions."
I felt a chill creeping up my spine. "I came here," I said, trying to keep my voice disarmingly pleasant,
"thinking that I was going to be the one asking the questions."
Her smile grew more pronounced and she reached across the table. "You have a client who is
wanting to know if I really am a true psychic with prescient abilities. Let me see if I can answer such
questions with a personal reading of your own. Give me your hand."
Essentially I had three choices: refuse and still try to get the answers I was hired to get, get up and
walk out now, or go along and risk that "Mama Samm" D'Arbonne was everything she was purported to
be. The first course of action was unlikely and the second would mean that I might as well give up my
newly chosen avocation and take up some less risky nocturnal pursuit.
Maybe needlepoint.
I put out my hand, the skeptic in me murmuring that a bona fide medium was about as likely
asтАФwhat? An actual vampire? A real-life werewolf? Too late: Mama Samm clasped my right hand in her