"Ron Goulart - The Curse Of The Demon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

"No, no, nothing like that, no." She gave a very unconvincing laugh. "It's,
actually, a legacy.' Something I inherited. Just, in fact, this afternoon."

He stood up, watching the bag. "Somebody left you what's in there in a will?"

"Not to me exactly." She took another careful step backward. "Apparently,
according to the attorney who delivered it -- a very nice old gentleman named
Chester A. Tripple. He was ninety-three."

"Was?"

"Well, yes. He died in my living room shortly after stopping by. On that Morris
chair we got at the garage sale in Glendale last summer. Ruined the darn chair."

"How did he ruin it, Nancy?"

"He didn't, poor old fellow. It was the flames that did most of the damage."

"This venerable old attorney caught fire, did he?"

"The chair caught fire after the lightning bolt hit Mr. Tripple. Funny thing
about that. What I mean is, it is a stormy day and all but there hadn't been any
thunder or lightning to speak of. Then -- wham! -- this huge bolt of sizzling
blue lightning seemed to come in under my front door and hit old Mr. Tripple
smack in the chest. He said, 'Good gracious, the curse of the demon!' and that
was it for him. Some lightning spilled over and smacked my chair." Nancy paused,
taking a slow deep breath. "I've really, Dan, had one heck of an afternoon. Did
you ever try to explain to 911 that you had an old gentleman struck by lightning
in your living room? I put the fire out myself with that little extinguisher we
bought at the flea market that time, but then the landlady came up just as the
ambulance and the police got there and she complained about the damage to her
rug."

Dan requested, "Explain to me about how you came to inherit this thing."

"Well, according to poor old Mr. Tripple -- he was very spry and lucid for
someone so along in years -- at least in the five or six minutes before the
lightning got him -- according to this lawyer, who'd journeyed all the way from
the Midwest to track me down and present me with the chest, a distant cousin of
mine died about eight or nine years ago. He left his various belongings to his
next of kin. The thing is, Mr. Tripple had been having a heck of a rough time
getting any of the heirs to accept things. It seems this Elijah Higgardy --
that's my cousin and I never heard of him until today -- it seems he had a
reputation for being...um...eccentric."
"Eccentric how?"

"Mr. Tripple was about to go into details when the lighting bolt struck,"
replied Nancy. "I think, however, that he must have dabbled in sorcery and black
magic." Reaching inside her raincoat, she produced a wrinkled, dirt-smeared