"The Stupidest Angel A Heartwarming Tale Of Christmas Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

"Give up the cash, you cheap son of a bitch," said Lena Marquez, who was

working the kettle that Monday, five days before Christmas. Lena was following

Dale Pearson, Pine Cove's evil developer, through the parking lot, ringing the

bejeezus out of him as he headed for his truck. On his way into the

Thrifty-Mart, he'd nodded to her and said, "Catch you on the way out," but

when he emerged eight minutes later, carrying a sack of groceries and a bag of

ice, he blew by her kettle like she was using it to render tallow from

building inspectors' butts and he needed to escape the stench.



"It's not like you can't afford a couple of bucks for the less fortunate."



She rang her bell especially hard right by his ear and he spun around,

swinging the bag of ice at her about hip level.



Lena jumped back. She was thirty-eight, lean, dark-skinned, with the delicate

neck and finely set jawline of a flamenco dancer; her long black hair was

coiled into two Princess Leia cinnabuns on either side of her Santa hat. "You

can't take a swing at Santa! That's wrong in so many ways that I don't have

time to enumerate them."



"You mean to count them," Dale said, the soft winter sunlight glinting off a

new set of veneers he'd just had installed on his front teeth. He was

fifty-two, almost completely bald, and had strong carpenter's shoulders that

were still wide and square, despite the beer gut hanging below.