"Donald E Westlake - Bank Shot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Westlake Donald E)

Someplace to get inside for a little while. Walking along the street like this, he

didn't have a chance. But there was nothing as far as the eye could see, nothing

but houses and lawns and tricycles. Like the Arab who fell off his camel in

Lawrence of Arabia, Dortmunder just kept walking, even though he was

doomed.

A purple Oldsmobile Toronado with MD plates roared by, heading in the

direction he was coming from. Dortmunder thought nothing of it until he heard

the brakes squeal back there, and then his face lit up and he said, "Kelp!"

He turned to look, and the Oldsmobile was making a complicated U-turn,

backing and filling, making little progress. The driver could be seen spinning the

wheel madly, first in one direction and then the other, like a pirate captain in a

hurricane, while the Oldsmobile bumped back and forth between the curbs.

"Come on, Kelp," Dortmunder muttered. He shook the attachщ case a little,

as though to help straighten the car out.

Finally, the driver lunged the car up over the curb, and in a sweeping arc over

the sidewalk and back down, and slammed it to a stop in front of where

Dortmunder was standing. Dortmunder, whose enthusiasm had already faded

somewhat, opened the passenger door and slid in.

"So there you are," Kelp said.

"There I am," Dortmunder said. "Let's get out of here."

Kelp was aggrieved. "I been looking all over for you."

"You aren't the only one," Dortmunder said. He twisted around to look out

the rear window; nothing yet. "Come on, let's go," he said.

But Kelp was still aggrieved. "Last night," he said, "you told me you were

gonna be today in Ranch Cove Estates."