"Higgins, Jack - Prayer For The Dying" - читать интересную книгу автора (Higgins Jack)

Fallon judged her to be in her late twenties with black shoulder-length hair and a grave, steady face. One of those plain faces that for some strange reason you found yourself looking at twice.

He got ready to explain himself as she approached, but she stared straight through him as if he wasn't there. And then, as she went by, he noticed the occasional tap with the stick against the end of a tomb - familiar friends.

She paused and turned, a slight, uncertain frown on her face. Is anyone there?" she called in a calm, pleasant voice.

Fallon didn't move a muscle. She stayed there for a moment longer, then turned and continued along the path. When she reached a small door at the end of the church, she took out a yale key, opened it and went inside.

Fallon went out through the side gate and round to the main entrance. When he pushed open the door and went inside he was conscious of the familiar odour and smiled wryly.

"Incense, candles and the holy water," he said softly and his fingers dipped in the bowl as he went past in a kind of reflex action.

It had a sort of charm and somewhere in the dim past, some-body had obviously spent a lot of money on it. There was Victorian stained glass and imitation medieval carvings everywhere. Gargoyles, skulls, imagination running riot.

Scaffolding lifted in a spider's web to support the nave at the altar end and it was very dark except for the sanctuary lamp and candles flickering before the Virgin.

The girl was seated at the organ behind the choir stalls. She started to play softly. Just a few tentative chords at first and then, as Fallon started to walk down the centre aisle, she moved into the opening of the Bach Prelude and Fugue in D Major. ^"

And she was good. He stood at the bottom of the steps, listening, then started up. She stopped at once and swung round.

"Is anyone there?"

Tm sorry if I disturbed you," he told her. "I was enjoying listening."

There was that slight, uncertain smile on her face again. She seemed to be waiting, so he carried on. "If I might make a suggestion?"

"You play the organ?"

Yes I do. Look, that trumpet stop is a reed. Unreliable at the

best of times, but in a damp atmosphere like this - " he shrugged. "It's so badly out of tune it's putting everything else out. I'd leave it in if I were you."

"Why, thank you," she said. "I'll try that."

She turned back to the organ and Fallon went down the steps to the rear of the church and sat in a pew in the darkest corner he could find.

She played the Prelude and Fugue right through and he sat there, eyes dosed, arms folded. And his original judgment still stood. She was good - certainly worth listening to.

When she finished after half an hour or so, she gathered up her things and came down the steps. She paused at the bottom and waited, perhaps sensing that he was still there, but he made no sign and after a moment, she went into the sacristy.

And in the darkness at the back of the church, Fallon sat waiting.

3

Miller

Father da Costa was just finishing his second cup of tea in the cemetery superintendent's office when there was a knock at the door and a young police constable came in.

"Sorry to bother you again, Father, but Mr.. Miller would like a word with you."