"Gischler, Victor - The Scent Of Jasmine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gischler Victor)

"Liddy, we've got to talk fast. Is there any reason they might think you killed your husband?" Besides the fact he was twenty years older than you and worth fourteen million dollars.

"Me?" If possible, her eyes grew bigger. "Why would I kill him?"

"Why would you have me follow him?"

"I --" she hesitated only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for somebody looking for the signs. "I was worried about him. He's been acting strange lately and I thought he was in trouble."

Sure.

Bill pushed his way into the room, his pot belly leading the way. Somewhere, he'd found another bearclaw, and through a mouthful of pastry he announced "Liddy Caruthers, please," to the room like he couldn't see her twelve feet away.

She stepped forward. "Right here, Detective."

"Miss, I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Oh." She turned her fragile kitten act up full volume. "Am I under arrest?"

"We'll see."

I cleared my throat pointedly, and Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Can I have a second of your time, Bill?"

Bill sent Liddy out to his squad car with a couple of uniforms before taking me aside. "You got two minutes, Samson. Make it good.”

It took another ninety minutes for the forensics boys to finish their sweep and for the coroner to whisk away Ike Caruthers in a black bag with a zipper down the front. I walked in on Art Weaver and Olivia Caruthers in the kitchen. She was fixing herself a pot of tea and Weaver was fruitlessly badgering her about something, but I wasn't there in time to see about what.

"Dammit," Weaver said, "I can't help you if you won't let me, Olivia."

The old lady frowned and added milk to her tea. "Oh, my. Oh, dear. Where's the sugar? I can't have tea without a few lumps of sugar."

Weaver rolled his eyes. "Olivia!"

"Lay off the lady, why don't you?" I stuck a cigar in my mouth and rifled my pockets for a match. "It's been a long day for everyone."

Weaver turned on me with venom. "Listen, friend. I've seen you skulking around here all day, and I don't even know who you are. But take some advice. Stay out of our business. I was a close friend of Ike's, and I mean to see his family comes out of this okay. Olivia, we'll talk more later." He left in the same huff he'd arrived in.

Mother Olivia spun her gaze around to me. She glanced only once at Weaver as he vanished through the kitchen door, and immediately her vacant stare became sharp as a laser. "What an insufferable little prick."

My jaw hit the floor, and I had to scramble to catch my cigar before it bounced off the linoleum.

The old lady smiled wickedly and with suddenly steady hands pulled a small silver flask from her purse. "You're surprised that I'm not as feeble as you first thought."

"Extremely."

Her laugh was a short, harsh bark. "I'm too old to be plagued by idiots," she said. "So I let my eyes glaze over and start talking about the good old days and people let me be. Would you care for a belt of Beefeater's, Mr. Samson?" She held up the flask after doctoring her tea.

"No thank you." I stuck the cigar in my mouth. "May I smoke?"