"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Death on D Street" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

The prettiness was gone now, leached out of her with the blood. “It might be better to forget about it.”

“Will you say that when this same maniac slits some other girl's throat? Or what if he attacks a real
citizen, someone you care about? What then?”

There was an edge to Doc's words that I had never heard before. “You got a personal stake in this,
Doc?”

His gaze slipped away from mine. “I don't ever want to see a mess like this again.”

“Chances are it was a drifter.”

“Who got invited into the back parlor?”

“All right. Maybe it was someone who knew her. Maybe even a relative. Lord knows Lucinda wouldn't
want a colored man in her waiting room.”

Doc looked at me. His gaze was clear and direct. “Is this about Jeanne's profession, Will? Or her
color?”

My cheeks heated up. “I'm just trying to take care of this with a minimum of fuss.”

“Fuss? We got a dead woman lying at our feet. Someone damn near sliced her head off and you're
worried about fuss?”

“Yes,” I said. “It's my job to keep things calm in Hope's Pass.”

Doc's cheeks were an ugly red. “You ignore this, Will, and I'll kick up a fuss like you never seen
before.”

I turned to him, careful to keep my feet away from the blood smeared on the floor. “What was Jeanne to
you, Doc?”

“A person,” he snapped, and walked out of the room.
****

I'd never been shamed into an investigation before, and truth be told, it didn't make me enthusiastic about
it. Still, I'd prove to Doc that I could solve this—or at least make sure whoever'd done this was long
gone.

First, I gave the scene one more once-over. A silver tray lay near the kitchen door. Two glasses lay on
the rug. One still had a bit of whisky inside. The smell of blood overpowered the smell of alcohol, which
was why I hadn't noticed it when I'd first come in.

The couch's cushions were untouched, except for Doc's bag, which he had left behind. I peered in it and
saw nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, except for the body and the blood, the room was neat. Lucinda
always had a penchant for clean.
There were no footprints in the blood on the floor, no handprints on the wall. Whoever had done this
had been careful. There was also no break in the spatter, so he hadn't gone at her from the front.