"Gischler, Victor - The Royal Crown Killer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gischler Victor)

THE ROYAL CROWN KILLER
By Victor Gischler

Looking out the window of the dingy little motel room was part of my job, but
it also distracted me from the long, tan set of legs attached to the blonde
bombshell on the bed. I had to stay focused. If she caught a bullet or slipped
under a cement truck, I simply wouldn't get paid. So I kept an eye on the
street and the parking lot, hoping I wouldn't see anything.
"You're a curious sort, Mr. Samson," she said. "You've hardly said two words.
Most men would cut off an arm to be alone with me." A sneaky smile spread
across her heart-shaped face, and she popped another chocolate in her mouth.
She'd gone through most of the box.
I grinned at her. "Call me Conner."
"Conner." She said my name like it was the best thing that had ever come out
of her mouth.
Naomi Spain had learned all of her come-hither dialog straight out of the
gold-digger's handbook. She was Jimmy Tune's squeeze, and the Pensacola Police
Department had convinced her to rat out her crime boss boyfriend. That's why
I'd pulled babysitting duty. Normally, Naomi would be guarded by plain-clothes
cops instead of a third-rate private eye. But Detective Sergeant Frank Morgan
was a pal of mine, and I sure needed a paycheck.
A knock on the front door.
I went to the peephole, looked. It was the brunette from the front office,
Laurie, a frumpy, bored motel clerk. She carried a wad of towels, but I didn't
answer. Frank had said nobody in or out.
Frank was the boss.
Laurie got tired of waiting and left.
"Who was that?" asked Naomi.
"Nobody important."
After three days crowded in the motel room it was hard not to look at Naomi.
Her butt was round. Her eyes deep green. When she bent to rub lotion on her
legs, her breasts hung in her loose tank-top like a ponderous invitation.
The phone rang. I answered with the code word.
"Porcupine."
"Jackrabbit," said Frank Morgan.
This cloak-n-dagger shit was wearing thin.
"Listen, Conner," said Frank. "I've got bad news. The grapevine says Jimmy
Tune wants blondie just as dead as possible. He's contacted some top-notch
heat to come deep-six his girlfriend."
"You always have such good news for me."
"Ever heard of the Royal Crown killer?"
"Hell, no."
"A hit man. Nobody knows who he is or what he looks like. They only say that
he's a cola addict. Drinks RC around the clock."
I sighed, glanced at Naomi to see if she could hear, then talked low into the
phone. "Dammit, Frank, why don't you just send over a couple squad cars. I
feel naked over here all by my lonesome."
"You know I can't do that, pal. There's a rat in the department someplace.
Somebody's on the take. Nobody knows where you are except me and the district