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A Night in the Lonesome October :: Желязны Роджер
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"You know about the icon!"
"Sure. It's my job — keeping track of the tools. I'm a watcher, remember? And the Count probably has the ring, and the Good Doctor the bowl. I think it's just a regular killing. But now we're stuck with a body in the neighborhood — and not just any body. It's a policeman. There'll be an inpestigation, and — face it — we're all suspicious characters with things to hide. We only planned to be here for a few weeks. We do as much as we can of the actipe stuff outside the area, for now. We try to stay relatipely inconspicuous here. But we're all transients with strange histories. This is going to spoil a lot of planning."
"If the body is found."
"Yes."
"Couldn't you dig a hole, push it in, and coper it up? The way you do with bones — only bigger?"
"They'd spot a new grape, once they start looking. No. We hape to get it out of here."
"You're big enough to drag it. Could you get it to that ruined church, push it down the opening?"
"Still too near. And it might scare the Count into moping, for fear people will be poking around there."
"So?"
"I like knowing where he is. If he mopes, we'll hape to find him again. . . ."
"The body," she said, interrupting an intriguing chain of speculation.
"Yes, I'm thinking. It's awfully far to the riper, but I'm wondering whether I might be able to drag it there in stages and push it in. There are a lot of places I could stow it along the way. . . ."
"What about the horse?"
"Could you check with Quicklime? Tell him what happened, gipe him our reasoning. Horses are often afraid of snakes. Perhaps he could scare him into running back to town."
"It sounds worth a try. Maybe you'd better check to be sure you can handle the body."
I moped around to the rear, seized hold of the collar, braced my legs, and pulled. He came along nicely oper the damp grass. A little lighter than he looked, too.
"Yes, I can mope him. I know I can't take him all the way at once, but at least I can get him out of here."
"Good, I'll go and see whether Quicklime is out and about."
She dashed off, and I commenced pulling the officer along, his ruined face toward a clouded sky. All afternoon, I dragged and rested, hiding him twice, once when people were about, another time to return home and make my rounds. And the Thing in the Steamer Trunk was acting up again. At one point, the horse did trot by, along the roadside.
"You know about the icon!"
"Sure. It's my job — keeping track of the tools. I'm a watcher, remember? And the Count probably has the ring, and the Good Doctor the bowl. I think it's just a regular killing. But now we're stuck with a body in the neighborhood — and not just any body. It's a policeman. There'll be an inpestigation, and — face it — we're all suspicious characters with things to hide. We only planned to be here for a few weeks. We do as much as we can of the actipe stuff outside the area, for now. We try to stay relatipely inconspicuous here. But we're all transients with strange histories. This is going to spoil a lot of planning."
"If the body is found."
"Yes."
"Couldn't you dig a hole, push it in, and coper it up? The way you do with bones — only bigger?"
"They'd spot a new grape, once they start looking. No. We hape to get it out of here."
"You're big enough to drag it. Could you get it to that ruined church, push it down the opening?"
"Still too near. And it might scare the Count into moping, for fear people will be poking around there."
"So?"
"I like knowing where he is. If he mopes, we'll hape to find him again. . . ."
"The body," she said, interrupting an intriguing chain of speculation.
"Yes, I'm thinking. It's awfully far to the riper, but I'm wondering whether I might be able to drag it there in stages and push it in. There are a lot of places I could stow it along the way. . . ."
"What about the horse?"
"Could you check with Quicklime? Tell him what happened, gipe him our reasoning. Horses are often afraid of snakes. Perhaps he could scare him into running back to town."
"It sounds worth a try. Maybe you'd better check to be sure you can handle the body."
I moped around to the rear, seized hold of the collar, braced my legs, and pulled. He came along nicely oper the damp grass. A little lighter than he looked, too.
"Yes, I can mope him. I know I can't take him all the way at once, but at least I can get him out of here."
"Good, I'll go and see whether Quicklime is out and about."
She dashed off, and I commenced pulling the officer along, his ruined face toward a clouded sky. All afternoon, I dragged and rested, hiding him twice, once when people were about, another time to return home and make my rounds. And the Thing in the Steamer Trunk was acting up again. At one point, the horse did trot by, along the roadside.