"Laurell K. Hamilton - Anita Blake 12 - Incubus Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

lycanthropes, the answer was yes, Dolph had suddenly decided he’d be on duty and
not come to the wedding. He was having a personal problem with the monsters. His
son was about to marry a vampire, and that vampire was trying to persuade Dolph’s
son to join her in eternal life. To say that Dolph was not taking it well was an
understatement. He’d trashed an interrogation room, manhandled me, and damn near
gotten himself brought up on charges. I’d arranged a dinner with Dolph, his wife,
Lucille, their son, Darrin, and future daughter-in-law. I’d persuaded Darrin to put off
the decision to join the undead. The wedding was still on, but it was a start. His son
still being among the living had helped Dolph deal with his crisis of faith. Deal with it
enough that he was talking to me again. Deal with it enough that he called me in on a
case again.
His voice was brisk, almost normal, “Anita?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, cupping the phone with my hand. It wasn’t like every cop in
the place, which was most of the guests, wasn’t wondering who I was talking to, and
why.
“Got a body for you to look at.”
“Now?” I made it a question.
“The ceremony is over, right? I didn’t call in the middle of it.”
“It’s over. I’m at the reception.”
“Then I need you here.”
“Where’s here?” I asked.
He told me.
“I know the strip club area across the river, but I’m not familiar with the club
name.”
“You won’t be able to miss it,” he said, “it’ll be the only club with its own police
escort.”
It took me a second to realize that he had made a joke. Dolph didn’t make jokes
at murder scenes, ever. I opened my mouth to remark on it, but the phone was dead
in my hand. Dolph never had been much for good-byes.
Detective Arnet leaned in, and asked, “Was that Lieutenant Storr?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, “murder scene, gotta run.”
She opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something else, but I was
already moving up the table. I was going to give my apologies to Larry and Tammy,
then go look at a body. I was sorry to miss the rest of the reception and all, but I
had a murder scene to go to. Not only would I get away from Arnet’s questions, but
I wouldn’t have to dance with Micah, or Nathaniel, or anybody. The night was
looking up. I felt a little guilty, but I was glad somebody was dead.




3
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Staring down at the dead woman, it was impossible to be glad. Guilty, maybe, but
not glad. Guilty that even for a second I’d found the idea of someone’s death an
escape from an uncomfortable social situation. I wasn’t a child. Surely, to God, I
could have handled Jessica Arnet and her questions without hiding behind a murder.
The fact that I was more comfortable here staring down at a corpse than at the head
table at a wedding said something about me and my life. I wasn’t sure exactly what it
said, or meant. Something I probably didn’t want to look at too closely, though.