"Robert F. Young - Hologirl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

applicants filling out application forms, or just sitting. I got a form from a pile on the desk and headed for
one of the empty chairs, Cecily Sturmi Kurilman's gaze cold upon my back.
While filling in the blanks, I filled myself in on the other applicants with periodic coups d'oeils.
Soi-disant Zing, Zest and Zowiers came in diverse packages. One of the applicants had legs like a rhino;
another, a face like a pizza. A third was pot-bellied and brought to mind a retired hooker. There were
three or four dishes, however, that my client Sespol would have gone down on at first sight. Law of
averages.
Some of the questions on the application form mystified me: How do you spend your evenings? Do
you go out often? If so, where? Are you in any way associated with the following? тАФ The Amour
Arms, The Halcyon Hotel, The Tryst Inn. I answered them with Watching 3V, No, Nowhere and No
respectively. Farther up the page I'd already entered my professional alias тАФ Nancy Drew тАФ and
supplied the address of my apartment, which I rent under that name. There was no request for a phone
number тАФ odd indeed in these days of monthly mail-delivery. When I finished I gave the completed form
to Ms. Kurilman, who rolled it up, placed it in a cylinder and dropped the cylinder into the mouth of a
pneumo-tube. "Please be reseated, Ms. Drew. Mr. Kurilman will see you as soon as it's your turn."
I killed time trying mentally to divvy up Sespol's $700 advance among my creditors in such a way as
to leave enough to buy a new set of tires for my Blue Jay. Meanwhile, the applicants who were ahead of
me were successively processed by Mr. Kurilman. I noticed after a while that the one who entered the
inner door was never the next to leave by it, but the one after, and from this I deduced that a sort of
intermediate waiting-room existed between the room in which I sat and the room where Kurilman was
conducting the interviews (Sespol had told me that the suite comprised six rooms altogether). It turned
out to be a cozy little vestibule containing a single comfy-chair and a winged mirror similar to those found
in boutiques. When, instinctively, I stepped between the wings, a subdued but penetrating light with no
apparent source obligingly came on and bathed me from all angles. In its flattering radiance I pirouetted,
gave my bangs a pat and ascertained that my nipples, which I'd painted orange for the occasion,
protruded from their pap holes at precise 90-degree angles.
At length the inner inner-door opened, and the applicant who'd preceded me came out. A
pink-periwigged little man somewhere in his 40s beckoned me to enter. ("Nancy Drew, is it? I'm
delighted to meet you, Nancy." "Thank you, sir. I'm delighted to meet you, too." Etc.) After looking me
over and swallowing (the ones from 16 to 60 swallow; those over 60 salivate), he opened a tattered
transcript of The Duchess of Malfi seemingly at random, handed it to me and told me to read the
duchess' lines.
(Duch.) "I would have you lead your fortune by the hand unto your marriage-bed...."
Between lines, I saw him stealthily snake my handkerchief out of my handbag and stuff it into his coat
pocket.
When I finished, he said, "You read that very well, Ms. Rinehardt." He took back the transcript. "I
like your carriage too." A second swallow, a final once-over. "We'll be in touch."
How? I wondered. By carrier pigeon?

Officially there's no such thing as a master data bank containing up-to-date histories of all private
citizens over age 21 and connected like a monstrous macrocosmic spiderweb to every precinct comp in
the country. But any private eye worth his or her salt knows better and has at his/her fingertips a precinct
employee who can, and will for the right dollar, come up with all he/she needs to know about anyone
he/she wants to know it about.
My contact is a male Caucasian, code-name "Gloria," employed at Precinct 2. He got me the
following data on Amos Kurilman (material irrelevant to the Kurilman case omitted):

B. Wichita, Kan., Jun. 2, 1978.
Educ. Majored Bus. Rel., Gray's University.
 Marital hist. Married Cecily Sturmi, Feb. 6, 2008; no offspring.