"Dennis Danvers - Circuit of Heaven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Danvers Dennis)

disentangled them. They were surprisingly fresh for the night she’d spent. She had started turning them
rightside out when she realized there were voices coming from her room.

She put her ear to the door, but couldn’t make out what was being said. though the tone and cadence
came through. There were two male voices, one deep and rich, the senator’s voice, but talking too fast,
making excuses she would guess, and the other voice, cutting through the senator’s like a nun bringing a
young sinner to his knees, with a few unhurried phrases as resonant as a bowed cello. She listened until
they seemed to be done, but couldn’t make out a word, listened hard for someone opening and closing
the door to the room, but there wasn’t a sound.

She dressed quickly and quietly and came back into the room. There was only Winston sitting on the
edge of the bed, fully dressed, his hair neatly combed. He rose to his feet and bowed slightly. He was
wearing a turn-of-the-century Italian suit, charcoal, almost black, with faint pinstripes. It hung perfectly,
showing no signs of having spent the night in a heap on the floor. “Good morning, Justine,” he said. His
smile was almost paternal. He’s as embarrassed as I am, she thought.

“Good morning. Would you like some coffee or something?” She went to the room service pad set into
the wall beside the bed.

“No thanks,” he said quickly. “I really must be going.” He smiled apologetically. “An important
committee meeting.”

“Hope you don’t mind, but I need some.” She pressed the little picture of a black cup of coffee, steam
lines rising out of it in neat squiggles. A panel slid open, and there was coffee. Like Star Trek, she
thought. She looked around the room, but there was no one else there, no sign anyone had been there.
The room door was right by the bathroom. If someone had left, she would’ve heard him. She blew on
the coffee until it was drinking temperature, then drank half of it. “Was somebody here? Were you talking
to somebody just now?”

“Talking?”

“Just now. I thought I heard you talking to somebody in here.”

He shook his head more emphatically. “No, I wasn’t talking to anyone.” He squared his shoulders and
shrugged with his hands. The chain around his wrist made a clicking noise. “I’m afraid I sometimes
discuss things out loud with myself. A silly habit. Actually, I was wondering if you might join me for a
dinner party this evening at my sister’s house in Front Royal. It’s my nephew’s birthday. I believe you
told me last night that you would be free this evening.”

She laughed. “I’ll have to take your word for what I said last night. I don’t remember much of it. What
else did I say?”

The question seemed to make him nervous. He spoke as if reciting—“You said you were a singer, that
you were only in town for a week and didn’t know anyone here, not even the musicians you’ll be
performing with. I thought, under the circumstances, you might like to meet some people.” He added
sympathetically, “It’s a bit disorienting at first.”

“Disorienting?”

“The Bin. You’re only just in.”