"Charles L. Grant - Temperature Days on Hawthorne Street" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Charles L)

raised in question. "Yeah, yeah," Syd admitted. "We've been picking up a few things here a
there ourselves. Like you, we figured it was some kind of joke but … what the hell, right? I
don't ask questions, and I get what I want. There was a set of golf clubs, a pair of shoes and
what else, dear?"
Aggie, her husband's twin, pointed at her mouth with her fork apologetically. Syd snapp
his fingers. "Of course, how could I forget. Silverware! Aggie was complaining about the s
we use in the kitchen, and when I got my clubs, she snuck in a note for the knives and forks.
Damn, but didn't we get real silver."
 Aggie grinned, and Ruth only stared at her coffee.
Fritz placed his utensils on his empty plate and leaned back, his fingers tucking inside o
his belt. "I asked for money."
The women looked at him. Syd laughed, and Gerry only shook his head, not surprised th
the block's resident investment broker would be the one to get practical with their dawn gen
"How much?" he asked. "That is, if you don't mind me getting personal."
"Let's just say substantial, and I received every dime."
"Well, didn't you ask him where he got it?"
Fritz grinned at Ruth and shook his head. "I don't ask, my dear, I just take. The money w
in large bills, and when I took it to the bank, it was good. As long as I don't see his face in t
post office, what do I care how he operates, as long as he keeps up the good work."
"Besides," Syd added, "how could you know him? None of us have ever seen him."
It had been like moving into another country, Gerry recalled thinking when he and Ruth
deserted the city and the routine of the neighborhood settled over them like a worn and
welcome sweater. The mailman knocked at every door and knew all the streets by name; a
policeman walked the beat three times daily and was covered by a patrol car whose brace
blue was as familiar as the century-old maple on the corner. Through traffic was negligible
and the street was covered with markings for baseball and hopscotch and spur-of-the-mome
games comprehensible only to the young. And the milkman, who might have used a fly-bitte
horse for all the inhabitants knew, passed each dawn, and only the early-risers and insomni
heard the clatter of empty bottles as he left each back door more silent than shadow.
No one tried to wake early enough to see him; an unspoken warning about breaking thei
charm.
As June released summer, children, and, sporadically, husbands, Gerry thought he notic
increasing reluctance to try their luck again. Indeed, they all seemed rather guilty about
suspecting their good fortune and began ordering more dairy products than most of them cou
use. Then Syd, after drinking himself into melancholy on Gerry's porch, asked for a raise, a
two days later he was promoted.
"Now that was definitely a coincidence," Gerry said. "I can understand a guy trying to p
up an extra buck peddling goods from God knows where, but there's no way a stupid milkm
can get a guy a raise like that."
Ruth immediately agreed, but her face was drawn, and he didn't learn until it was too la
that she had finally contributed her own request. It was a Saturday morning when he backfir
into the driveway and saw the sleek and gleaming automobile parked in front of the house. I
the kitchen, Ruth was crying at the table. Confused, since there didn't seem to be any compa
in the house, he cradled her softly while she explained that she could no longer stand the da
wait for the call from the police saying he and their twelve-year-old car had died in the traf
"I thought about Syd, Gerry, and I was scared, but I put a note in, and this morning this m
comes up with a receipt saying we won this car, and we have to pay the taxes but we have
week from this Monday, and I wish it was gone because I'm frightened."
Ridiculous, Gerry thought, coincidence. But nevertheless, he went to bed early and set t
alarm for an hour before dawn, thinking the hell with the charm if it was going to do this to