"Christopher Stasheff - Wizard in Rhyme 03 - The Witch Doctor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

aside and swat its builder-but the sun came out again, and the golden
cartwheel was so damned beautiful I just couldn't bring myself to do
it. Besides, I didn't really need to-I could look through it, and the
bedroom sure didn't have any place that was out of sight.
Room enough for a bed, a dresser, a tin wardrobe, and scarcely an
inch more. The bed was rumpled, but Matt wasn't in it.
I turned around, frowning, and scanned the place again. I
wouldn't
say there was no sign of Matt-as I told you, he wasn't big
on house
keeping, and there were stacks of books everywhere, nicely webbed
at the moment-but the pile of dirty dishes was no higher than it had
been, and he himself sure wasn't there.
I stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind me, chewing
it over. No matter how I sliced it, it came out the same-Matt had left
town.
Why so suddenly?
Death in the family. Or close to it. What else could it be?
So I went back to my apartment and started research. One of the
handy things about having some training in scholarship, is that you
know how to find information. I knew what town Matt came fromSepar
City, New Jersey-and I knew how to call long-distance information.
"Mantrell," I told the operator.
"There are three, Sir. Which one did you want?"
I racked my brains. Had Matt ever said anything about his
parents' names? Then I remembered, once, that there had been a
"junior" attached to him. "Matthew."
"We have a Mateo."
"Yeah, that's it." It was a good guess, anyway.
"One moment, please."
The vocodered voice gave me the number. I wrote it down, hung UP,
picked up, and punched in. Six rings, and I found myself hoping nobody
would answer.
"'Alio? I1
I hadn't known his parents were immigrants. His mother sounded
nice.
"I'm calling for Matthew Mantrell," I said. "Junior."
Mateo? Ees not 'ere."
"Just went out for a minute?" I was surprised at the surge of
relief I felt.
"No, no! Ees away-college!"
My spirits took the express elevator down. "Okay. I'll try him
there. Thanks, Mrs. Mantrell."
"Ees okay. You tell him call home, si?"
"Si," I agreed. "Good-bye." I hung up, hoping I would see him
indeed.
So. He hadn't gone home.
Then where?
I know I should have forgotten about it, shoved it to the back
of