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

"Fantastic," he said. "Oh, one other thing." He flashed the shark's smile. "If she suffers," he said, "that's perfectly all right with me."

*******

She didn't suffer.

I did it with a knife. I told her I was a burglar and that she wouldn't be hurt if she cooperated. It was not the first lie I ever told in my life. She cooperated, and when her attention was elsewhere I stabbed her in the heart. She died with an expression of extreme puzzlement on her none-too-pretty face, but she didn't suffer, and that's something.

Once she was dead I went on playing the part of the burglar. I ransacked the house, throwing books from their shelves and turning drawers over and generally making a dreadful mess. I found quite a bit of jewelry, which I ultimately put down a sewer, and I found several hundred dollars in cash, which I did not.

After I'd dropped the knife down another sewer and the white cotton gloves down yet a third sewer, I called the police. I said I'd heard sounds of a struggle coming from a particular house, and I supplied the address. I said that two men had rushed from the house and had driven away in a dark car. No, I could not identify the car further. No, I had not seen the license plate. No, I did not care to give my name.

*******

The following day I spoke to Vivian briefly on the telephone. "Things are going well," I said.

"I'm so glad, darling."

"Things are going to work out for us," I said.

"You're wonderful. You know that, don't you? Absolutely wonderful."

On Saturday we played a mere three games of handball. He won the first, as usual, but astonishingly I beat him in the second game, my first victory over him, and I went on to beat him again in the third. It was then that he suggested that we call it a day. Perhaps he simply felt off his game, or wanted to reduce the chances of someone's noticing the two of us together. On the other hand, he had said at our first meeting that he liked to win. Conversely, one might suppose that he didn't like to lose.

Over a couple of beers he said, "Well, you did it. I knew you'd do it and at the same time I couldn't actually believe you would. Know what I mean?"

"I think so."

"The police didn't even hassle me. They checked my alibi, of course-they're not idiots. But they didn't dig too deep because they seemed so certain it was a burglary. I'll tell you something, it was such a perfectly faked burglary that I even began to get the feeling that that was what happened. Just a coincidence, like. You chickened out and a burglar just happened to do the job."

"Maybe that's what happened," I suggested.

He looked at me, then grinned slyly. "You're one hell of a guy," he said. "Cool as a cucumber, aren't you? Tell me something. What was it like, killing her?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Hell of a guy. You realize something? You have the advantage over me. You know my name. From the newspapers. And I still don't know yours."

"You'll know it soon enough," I said with a smile. "From the newspapers."

"Fair enough."

I gave him a slip of paper. Like the one he'd given me, it had an address block-printed in pencil. "Wednesday would be ideal," I said. "If you don't mind missing your poker game."

"I wouldn't have to miss it, would I? I'd just get there late. The poker game gives me an excuse to get out of my house, but if I'm an hour late getting there my wife'll never know the difference. And even if she knew I wasn't where I was supposed to be, so what? What's she gonna do, divorce me and cut herself out of my money? Not likely."

"I'll be having dinner with a client," I said. "Then he and I will be going directly to a business meeting. I'll be tied up until fairly late in the evening-eleven o'clock, maybe midnight."

"I'd like to do it around eight," he said. "That's when I normally leave for the poker game. I can do it and be drawing to an inside straight by nine o'clock. How does that sound?"