"Kate Wilhelm - Julian" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

"Your quiche is getting cold," he said. "I'm okay. Just don't do the Jewish
mother bit."

Carefully she put down her fork, gathered her purse and umbrella, and stood
up. "I have to run, Julian. See you around."

He watched her go, then finished his French Dip sandwich, ate her quiche,
which she had hardly touched, and went to his dorm to call home.

....

The next morning, Saturday, he flew to Cincinnati, and went straight to the
motel, which had been changed drastically by the addition of two new wings,
and a much larger pool, and tennis courts. It was now owned by a chain, and
the manager was unhelpful.

"I don't know anything about it back then," she said. She was in her forties,
with hard brown eyes and polished white hair that looked like plaster. "The
company bought it two years ago and remodeled, rebuilt, and I've been here
almost the whole time. Before that I don't know."

He counted his money and knew he could not afford to hang around until the
courthouse opened on Monday in order to check the record of sales of the
motel. On the flight back he brooded about his naivet├й in thinking that just
like that he could find out anything. He needed time, all summer if
necessary. He would find that woman who was not a woman, was not human at
all. He would find her, or it.
In Cincinnati he washed dishes and slept in a dormitory at the YMCA, and he
learned that the motel had changed hands four times in the past ten years.
The last owner lived in Atlanta.

In Atlanta the previous owner sent him to San Antonio where he was told about
a tornado that had wrecked the business eight years ago and killed Mrs. Gunn,
the wife of the owner then. Mr. Gunn had gone to a farm on the Ohio, near
Waterton.

....

"You were supposed to turn over the books when you sold the business," Julian
said. "But you didn't. Where are your books, Mr. Gunn?"

The old man blinked lazily and shrugged. "Damned if I know. So water-soaked
wasn't no reason to turn 'em over to no one. Roof got torn off, you know.
Whole damn roof, whoosh right off."

"You must have them somewhere," Julian said desperately, glancing about the
trailer where Timothy Gunn lived, on the rear of his son's property.

"Might be here somewhere," the old man agreed. "Wouldn't pay me to stir
around, get excited and hot hunting for 'em."