"Lawrence Watt - Evans - One of the Boys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

On Wednesday, when he got home from work, he found a woman sitting on the stairs. He hesitated,
unsure whether to squeeze past silently, or to say something.

“Hello, Mr. Jenkins,” she said. There was something odd about the way she said it.

He blinked. “Hello,” he answered mildly. “How do you know my name?”

“Mrs. Almido told me,” she said, gesturing toward A-21.

Was that the woman’s name? “I didn’t know she knew it,” he remarked.

“She got it off the mailbox,” the woman on the stairs explained. “What’s the F stand for?”

“Frank,” he said, puzzled.

“Frank Jenkins,” she said, getting to her feet and dusting off her skirt. “I’m pleased to meet you.” She
held out a hand. “I’m Rosalie Dutton.”

Jenkins took her hand gently, being very careful not to squeeze. He noticed her coat lying on the steps, a
black coat that looked familiar.

And there was something about her face, too. He wasn’t good with faces, not good at all.

“Have I seen you somewhere?” he asked.

“You might have,” she admitted. “Listen, could we go up to your place?”

He hesitated. “Why?” he asked.

“To talk,” she said. “Just to talk.”

He frowned, trying to figure out what she wanted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“I think it is, Captain,” she said.

He stared at her.

“You want me to talk to the reporters, instead?” she demanded. Her voice was not very steady, he
noticed—but as usual, he didn’t know what to make of that.

Jenkins glanced quickly around the hallway. Nobody else was in sight, but there was no telling who might
be listening through the flimsy doors.
“All right,” he said. “Go on up.”

She smiled triumphantly—and nervously—and turned and ran up the stairs.

He came up more slowly, trying to think what he should do.

He really couldn’t settle on anything until he knew more, he decided as he stepped out onto the landing.