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Known Devil
  • Текст добавлен: 17 октября 2016, 00:35

Текст книги "Known Devil"


Автор книги: Justin Gustainis



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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“No need. With daylight savings time gone, it gets dark around 5.00 nowadays. Polls close at nine. I’ll have plenty of time.”

After a while he said, “Think the Patriot Party’s gonna sweep?”

“A month ago, I’d have said ‘Sure.’ But with all the stuff that’s been happening…”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “You read the editorial in yesterday’s T-T?”

“Yeah – they practically called Slattery and his boys fascists.”

“They were practically right, too.”

“You think anybody gives much of a damn what the Times-Tribune says anymore?” I said.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” Karl took another sip of Type O. “Streets are pretty calm lately – the PP can’t bitch about that anymore. No car bombs the last two weeks. Supes have been quiet, too. Mostly.”

“Mostly – except for somebody staking that Kaspar guy.”

“I’m kinda glad we didn’t catch that one,” Karl said.

“Yeah, me, too.”

The creamer at Jerry’s comes in those little plastic containers, and I figured my coffee might just be drinkable if I added one more. Stirring it in, I said, “You hear the rumor about Ronnie Delatasso?”

“That he had his old man hit so he could take over the family business?”

“Makes a certain amount of sense, I guess. I mean, you look at a murder, what’s the first question you ask?”

Cui bono?”

Who benefits? – damn right. And Ronnie seems to be the main beneficiary of this particular homicide. I hear the Philly DA’s even talking about calling a grand jury.”

“Tell you the truth,” Karl said, “I wouldn’t care if it was the fucking Girl Scouts who hit the old man, long as Ronnie and his troops went back home for good.”

“Their war chest was probably running dry, anyway. Patton Wilson sure won’t be giving them any more money, and now that the Slide trade has dried up, thanks to Rachel and her…”

The front door opened, and a couple of gnomes walked into the diner.

I felt myself tense up. “Karl,” I said softly.

“I see ’em.”

The gnomes walked up to the counter, no weapons in sight. No conical hats, either. They were acting perfectly normal – for gnomes. I couldn’t hear what they said to Donna, but Karl could.

“We could have trouble here,” he said.

“What is it?” I slowly pushed the right side my sport coat back, for easier access to the Beretta.

“They want a couple of coffees,” he said. “One with cream and sugar, one just cream. And a toasted bagel, with butter. To go.”

“So what?”

“Donna just told them she’s out of bagels.”

We watched as Donna prepared two coffees, bagged them, took money from the gnomes, and made change. They left without even glancing at the other customers.

“Guess the bagel wasn’t such a big deal, after all,” Karl said.

“Good thing, too. I’ve never shot anybody over a…” The phone in my pocket began playing “Tubular Bells”. I checked the caller ID, and felt my stomach tighten. I told Karl, “I think I better take this.”

He looked at me. “Something wrong?”

“I’ll know in a minute.”

I touched an icon and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“So, a zombie walks into a bar,” a female voice said. “It’s more of a shamble, really, but he finally gets to the back and orders a Scotch and water. The bartender brings his drink and says, ‘That’ll be twenty bucks.’ So the zombie puts a twenty down on the bar and takes a sip of his Scotch. The bartender takes the money, rings up the sale, then says to the dead guy, ‘You know, we don’t get many zombies in here.’ The zombie shakes his head, which almost falls off, and says, ‘These prices… uhhhh… not surprised.’”

“Hi, Lacey,” I said. “I missed you, too.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Jeanne Cavelos, Director of the Odyssey Writing Workshop and sole proprietor of Jeanne Cavelos Editorial Services, provided her usual invaluable assistance when I ran into plot problems – which happened all too often.

Lee Harris, my editor at Angry Robot Books, deserves either sainthood or a knighthood for his patience with me – perhaps both. I’m not real tight with either God or Her Majesty, but I’m still going to see what I can arrange.

Miriam Kriss, my agent, provided invaluable advice and counsel – and no small amount of patience, either.

Linda Kingston made my life worth living. Seriously.

Terry Bear was always there for me.

ANGRY ROBOT

A member of the Osprey Group

Lace Market House,

54-56 High Pavement,

Nottingham

NG1 1HW

UK

Angry Robot / Osprey Publishing

PO Box 3985

New York

NY 10185-3985

USA

www.angryrobotbooks.com

Kill or cure

An Angry Robot paperback original 2014

Copyright © Justin Gustainis 2014

Justin Gustainis asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work.

UK ISBN 978 0 85766 295 8

US ISBN 978 0 85766 296 5

Ebook ISBN 978 0 85766 297 2

Cover design by Argh! Oxford

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any

means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or

otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by

way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or

otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in

any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is

published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and

incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or

localities is entirely coincidental.


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