"Barker, Clive - Books of Blood 06" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barker Clive)

What could he say but: 'Yes, of course I'll help.' That,
and: 'Call me Harry.'

He would be missed at Wing's Pavilion tonight. He had
occupied the best table there every Friday night for the
past six and a half years, eating at one sitting enough
to compensate for what his diet lacked in excellence
and variety the other six days of the week. This
feast - the best Chinese cuisine to be had south of
Canal Street - came gratis, thanks to services he had
once rendered the owner. Tonight the table would go
empty.
Not that his stomach suffered. He had only been
sitting with Swann an hour or so when Valentin came
up and said:
'How do you like your steak?'

13
'Just shy of burned,' Harry replied.
Valentin was none too pleased by the response. 'I hate
to overcook good steak/ he said.
'And I hate the sight of blood,' Harry said, 'even if it
isn't my own.'
The chef clearly despaired of his guest's palate, and
turned to go.
'Valentin?'
The man looked round.
'Is that your Christian name?' Harry asked.
'Christian names are for Christians,' came the reply.
Harry nodded. 'You don't like my being here, am I
right?'
Valentin made no reply. His eyes had drifted past
Harry to the open coffin.
'I'm not going to be here for long,' Harry said, 'but
while I am, can't we be friends?'
Valentin's gaze found him once more.
'I don't have any friends,' he said without enmity or
self-pity. 'Not now.'
'OK. I'm sorry.'
'What's to be sorry for?' Valentin wanted to know.
'Swann's dead. It's all over, bar the shouting.'
The doleful face stoically refused tears. A stone would
weep sooner, Harry guessed. But there was grief there,
and all the more acute for being dumb.
'One question.'
'Only one?'
'Why didn't you want me to read his letter?'
Valentin raised his eyebrows slightly; they were fine
enough to have been pencilled on. 'He wasn't insane,'
he said. 'I didn't want you thinking he was a crazy man,