"Mike Resnick - Velvet Comet 2 - Eros At Zenith" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"Yes, sir," said Oglevie.
"Then why carry it through the Mall when we're trying to hush this thing up?"
"Because the infirmary doesn't have the facilities to store dead bodies, sir," replied
Oglevie. "I assure you we were very discreet."
"I'll just bet," muttered Crane. He turned back to Oglevie. "Have they performed an
autopsy yet?"
"We were awaiting your instructions, sir."
"First thing you've done right so far," said Crane. "Well, it's waited this long; I suppose it
can wait another hour. Take me to the Black Pearl."
"The Black Pearl, sir?" repeated Oglevie.
"She's in charge of this place, isn't she?"
"Yes. But my orders were to—"
"I'm giving you new orders," said Crane firmly.
"She's quite busy, sir," protested Oglevie.
"She'll see me ."
"But—"
"I haven't got all day," said Crane, heading off toward a slidewalk. "If you won't take me
to her, I'll have to find her myself."
"Just a moment, sir," said Oglevie in resignation.
Crane stopped and turned to him.
"That slidewalk goes to the Home," explained the security man.
"The Home?" repeated Crane.
"The crews' quarters. You want the Resort," he said, heading across the parquet flooring
toward the other slidewalk. "If you'll follow me, sir."
Crane fell into step behind him, and a moment later was gliding silently past the
exclusive shops that catered to the refined and cultivated tastes of the Comet's clientele.
There were softly-lit jewelry stores specializing in gems totally unknown to human
worlds, tasteful art galleries offering the finest work of a dozen different races, stylish
dress designers whose offerings ranged from the bizarre to the unique, haber-dashers
who would create a complete wardrobe before the patron's stay aboard the Comet was
over, exquisite antique shops (one of which actually displayed a shelf of leather-bound
books from Earth itself), a dozen exclusive lingerie shops dealing in the erotic and the
merely exotic, half a dozen branches of well-known brokerage houses, a tobacco shop
that stocked the finest cigars of a hundred worlds, an incredibly expensive florist that
imported fresh flowers daily from Deluros VIII, and literally hundreds of other shops and
boutiques.
Crane watched the shops glide by until his initial fascination wore off, then began
scrutinizing the shoppers, trying, for his own amusement, to separate the prostitutes of
both sexes from the patrons. Sometimes, especially when the patron was showing signs
of age, it was a simple matter; but frequently, to his surprise, it was not. Most of the
people he observed were dressed tastefully, and even those wearing revealing apparel
seemed more elegant than blatant. Most of them seemed happy and content, and he
concluded that this was perhaps the one place they could relax without the continual fear
of robbery, kidnapping, or worse.
Which brought him back to business.
"Have you turned up any fingerprints?" he asked Oglevie.
"Not yet, sir. It looks like a careful, professional job."
"Any trace of the murder weapon?"
"None."
"I thought your security system was supposed to be tamperproof," said Crane. "Has