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

I'll look for your car, then." She flipped the phone shut. "He's on his way."

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Theophilus Crowe's mobile phone played eight bars of "Tangled Up in Blue" in

an irritating electronic voice that sounded like a choir of suffering

houseflies, or Jiminy Cricket huffing helium, or, well, you know, Bob Dylan

anyway, by the time he got the device open, five people in the produce section

of the Thrifty-Mart were giving him the hairy eyeball hard enough to wilt the

arugula right there in his cart. He grinned as if to say, Sorry, I hate these

things, too, but what aw you gonna do? then he answered, "Constable Crowe,"

just to remind everyone that he wasn't dickmg around here, he was THE LAW.



"In the parking lot of the Thrifty-Mart? Okay, I'll be right there "



Wow, this was convenient. One thing about being the resident lawman in a town

of only five thousand people you were never far from the trouble. Theo

parked his cart on the end of the aisle and loped by the registers and out the

automatic doors to the parking lot (He was a denim- and flannel-clad praying

mantis of a man, six-six, one-eighty, and he only had three speeds, amble,

lope, and still). Outside he found Lena Marquez doubled over and gasping for

breath. Her ex-husband, Dale Pearson, was stepping into his four-wheel-drive