"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 04 - Art In The Blood E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

occupied until Gordy showed up.
He was puzzled to see me, maybe slightly wary as well, but when I stuck my hand
out he took it. He was a big mountain of a man with a solid, but not crushing
grip. He had no need to prove his strength against anyone, taking it for granted
people could figure it out for themselves.
" 'Lo, Fleming, what's up?"
"This and that. Got a quieter place than here?" I gestured at the band across
the dance floor below. They were just starting off another tune for the patrons.
He nodded, not one for much wordage, and led the way through a door marked
Private. The soundproofing did its job and we were in the casino room, up to our
eyeballs in stale smoke and the tight atmosphere of prolonged tension. Gordy
nodded to a couple of tough boys in tuxedos guarding the money cage and threaded
through the craps and roulette tables to the back exit. We took a short hall and
some stairs up to an office I remembered very well. The redecorating had gotten
this far with a new rug, paint, and paintings. His deceased boss's boats had
been replaced by green-and-brown pastorals. A canvas depicting a lush forest
covered a section of the wall where six slugs from a .38 had embedded themselves
one memorable night.
"Nice picture, huh?" he said, noticing my interest. There was a very slight
humor coming from his eyes. "I like to look at it."
"That's what they're there for." I noticed it was not an ordinary store-bought
print, but a real oil with a decent frame.
"Yeah."
He pointed at a deep leather chair and settled into a wide matching sofa, taking
up most of it. He wasn't fat, just big, and I knew from experience he could move
fast and light when he wanted to; the present slowness was all pan of his
camouflage. Large men were supposed to be slow and stupid, so Gordy cultivated
that image and thus kept a lot of people off balance. In his business an edge
always came in handy.
"Want anything?" he asked, meaning refreshments.
I shook my head and with some caution removed my dark glasses. From his reaction
I could tell my eyes were still quite red from the feeding.
"You look like you had a hell of a weekend."
"I did."
"You're not the social type; Fleming, at least for places like this and mugs
like me. You got a problem?"
"Yeah."
He apparently recalled the last time he'd seen my bloodied eyes. "Trouble with
Bobbi?"
"No."
"Another woman?"
I couldn't tell if he was being perceptive like Escott or if it was simply the
next logical question for him to ask. "Yeah, you could say that."
"What kind of trouble?"
"I killed her."
The news didn't exactly send him into a panic. "You need protection, a cleanup
job?"
"No, nothing like that."
He had one of those phlegmatic faces under his short-cropped blond hair, great
for poker or making people sweat. "You need to talk about it?"