"Linnea Sinclair - Rhapsody In The Key of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

тАЬCan they take him?тАЭ IagoтАЩs question drew my attention back to her.
I nodded. The тАЩdroids zipped TruedellтАЩs remains in a body bag and headed
back to the morgue.
Maybe the autopsy could tell them something. I sure as couldnтАЩt.
Granville however, offered Iago the hotelтАЩs records on Truedell. SheтАЩd pick
those up on her way downstairs, run his ID through CCIC for priors while the rest
of her squad searched the hotel for a man with a Racker 750.
тАЬI want to stay here a bit longer, go through his things,тАЭ I told Iago as Kieran
returned. She shrugged diffidently, her low opinions of PIs dropping lower due to
my lack of usable information, and barked out an order to a uniformed officer in the
hallway. She handed Kieran her card. тАЬIтАЩll be downstairs. Comm me if she gets
anything.тАЭ
Or comm me, anyway? That was unspoken, but I felt it, heard it. Saw her
undressing my husband in her mind.
Which was more than IтАЩd been able to get from Pavin TruedellтАЩs EIIs.
Why? I sat on the silk-covered sofa after she left, scrubbed at my eyes with
the heels of my hands. All the useless platitudes drifted by. IтАЩd been working too
hard. Taking too many cases. Kieran had been commenting, no, complaining about
that for several months now. You need some time off, heтАЩd said. But the usual
vacation spots didnтАЩt interest me. I hated crowds, hated the close packed density of
humanity that I could never totally shut out of my mind. It was why IтАЩd finally agreed
to come to Lunazula. The playground of the mega-wealthy who could afford the
rarity of privacy in this overcrowded quadrant of the galaxy. Only four large suites to
a floor. Private dining rooms, gaming rooms.
And a murder, for the first time, I couldnтАЩt solve. Might never be able to solve
again. Once in a lifetime. Because with something like this, there were no second
chances.
There are things worse than death. Being born not only psychic but also a
revenant means I exist in both worlds: that of the living and of the dead. ItтАЩs why
people donтАЩt touch me, why people donтАЩt like to talk to me for any longer than
necessary. My present existence is constantly tied to other peopleтАЩs pasts. Other
peopleтАЩs deaths.
Only Kieran understood. But then Kieran, for all of his forty-six years of life,
was technically over five hundred years old. That was one of his secrets his late wife
had carried to her grave. One of the many secrets he trusted me with. I understood
what it meant to have lived too long, to be weary.
And I was. But my weariness for the first time carried a new and chilling
edge.
I was a revenant, but when the revenant abilities fail it inevitably leads to a
brutal decaying of the mind, and insanity. ItтАЩs one of the few maladies the medical
labs in the Conclave havenтАЩt been able to cure. That and the common cold. All other
diseases, all other disabilities and infirmities had disappeared centuries ago.
Except for the sniffles and Revenant Regression Syndrome. RRS.
If thatтАЩs what this was, this inexplicable block IтАЩd felt when trying to read
TruedellтАЩs EIIs, then I might just go seeking one of those Racker 750s heтАЩd felt were
so useful as weapons. The small stunner I carried would hardly do any damage.
тАЬYouтАЩre tired.тАЭ Kieran folded his hands over mine with a gentleness that belied
his infamous title of the Butcher of Sinder Station. He shrugged off historyтАЩs
misstatement with a casualness I envied. I rarely forgot the responsibilities of my job,
what I was, or more importantly, what people believed me to be.