"Block, Lawrence - CMS - Strangers On A Handball Court" - читать интересную книгу автора (Block Lawrence)

My eyes widened. "That's brilliant," I whispered back. "It's absolutely brilliant."

"You'd have thought of it yourself in another minute," he said modestly. "The conversation was headed in that direction."

"Just brilliant," I said.

We sat that way for a moment, our elbows on the table, our heads separated by only a few inches, basking in the glow generated by his brilliant idea. Then he said, "One big hurdle. One of us has to go first."

"I'll go first," I offered. "After all, it was your idea. It's only fair that I go first."

"But suppose you went first and I tried to weasel out after you'd done your part?"

"Oh, you wouldn't do that."

"Damn right I wouldn't, friend. But you can't be sure of it, not sure enough to take the short straw voluntarily." He reached into his pocket and produced a shiny quarter. "Call it," he said, tossing it into the air.

"Heads," I said. I always call heads. Just about everyone always calls heads.

The coin landed on the table, spun for a dramatic length of time then came to rest between Sigma Nu and Delta Kappa Epsilon.

Tails.

*******

I managed to see Vivian for a half hour that afternoon. After the usual complement of urgent kisses I said, "I'm hopeful. About us, I mean. About our future."

"Really?"

"Really. I have the feeling things are going to work out."

"Oh, darling," she said.

The following Saturday dawned bright and clear. By arrangement we met on the handball court, but this time we played only half a dozen games before calling it a day. And after we had toweled off and put on shirts, we went to a different bar and had but a single beer apiece.

"Wednesday or Thursday night," he said. "Wednesday I'll be playing poker. It's my regular game and it'll last until two or three in the morning. It always does, and I'll make certain that this is no exception. On Thursday, my wife and I are invited to a dinner party and we'll be playing bridge afterward. That won't last past midnight, so Wednesday would be better-"

"Wednesday's fine with me."

"She lives alone and she's almost always home by ten. As a matter of fact she rarely leaves the house. I don't blame her, it's a beautiful house." He pursed his lips. "But forget that. The earlier in the evening you do the job, the better it is for me-in case doctors really can determine time of death-"

"I'll call the police."

"How's that?"

"After she's dead I'll give the police an anonymous phone call, tip them off. That way they'll discover the body while you're still at the poker game. That lets you out completely."

He nodded approval. "That's damned intelligent," he said. "You know something? I'm thrilled you and I ran into each other. I don't know your name and I don't want to know your name, but I sure like your style. Wednesday night?"

"Wednesday night," I agreed. "You'll hear it on the news Thursday morning, and by then your troubles will be over."