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The Lunatic Cafe :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 193 из 234We'd automatically gone into good cop, bad cop. Guess which one I was.
He blinked at me. "Well, yes. I suppose so."
He didn't ask if she was all right this time. He just looked at me with his soulful eyes.
"You love your wife?"
"Yes, of course. What kind of question is that?" He looked less sad and more angry now.
"Ronnie," I said softly.
She took the pictures out of her purse and gave them to him. The front picture showed him embracing the dark-haired woman. Peggy Smitz had been a blond.
Color crept up his face. Not so much red as purplish. He slammed the pictures down on the coffee table without looking at the rest. They slid across the table, images of him and the woman in various states of undress. Kissing, groping, nearly doing it standing up.
His face went from red to purplish. His eyes bulged. He stood up, his breath coming in fast, harsh gasps. "What the hell are these?"
"I think the pictures are self-explanatory," I said.
"I hired you to find my wife, not to spy on me." He turned on Ronnie, towering over her. His big hands balled into even bigger fists. The muscles in his arms bulged, veins standing out like worms.
Ronnie stood up, using her five feet and nine inches to good advantage. She was calm. If she was worried about facing down a man that outweighed her by a hundred pounds, it didn't show.
"Where's Peggy, George?"
He glanced at me, then back to Ronnie. He raised a hand as if he would strike her.
"Where'd you hide the body?"
He whirled on me. I just sat there and looked at him. He'd have to come over or around the coffee table to get to me. I was pretty sure I could be out of reach. Or have a gun. Or put him through a window. That last was sounding better and better.
"Get out of my house."
Ronnie had stepped back out of reach. He stood there like a purple-faced mountain, swaying between us.
"Get out of my house."
"Can't do that, George. We know you killed her." Maybe know was too strong a word, but "we're pretty sure you killed her" didn't have the right ring. "Unless you really plan to start swinging, I'd sit down, Georgie-boy."
"Yes, by all means sit down, George." I didn't look behind me to see where Raina was. I didn't think George would really hurt me, but better to be cautious. Taking my eyes off a guy who weighed over two hundred pounds sounded like a bad idea.
He stared at Raina. He looked confused. "What the hell is this?"
Ronnie said, "Oh, my God.
He blinked at me. "Well, yes. I suppose so."
He didn't ask if she was all right this time. He just looked at me with his soulful eyes.
"You love your wife?"
"Yes, of course. What kind of question is that?" He looked less sad and more angry now.
"Ronnie," I said softly.
She took the pictures out of her purse and gave them to him. The front picture showed him embracing the dark-haired woman. Peggy Smitz had been a blond.
Color crept up his face. Not so much red as purplish. He slammed the pictures down on the coffee table without looking at the rest. They slid across the table, images of him and the woman in various states of undress. Kissing, groping, nearly doing it standing up.
His face went from red to purplish. His eyes bulged. He stood up, his breath coming in fast, harsh gasps. "What the hell are these?"
"I think the pictures are self-explanatory," I said.
"I hired you to find my wife, not to spy on me." He turned on Ronnie, towering over her. His big hands balled into even bigger fists. The muscles in his arms bulged, veins standing out like worms.
Ronnie stood up, using her five feet and nine inches to good advantage. She was calm. If she was worried about facing down a man that outweighed her by a hundred pounds, it didn't show.
"Where's Peggy, George?"
He glanced at me, then back to Ronnie. He raised a hand as if he would strike her.
"Where'd you hide the body?"
He whirled on me. I just sat there and looked at him. He'd have to come over or around the coffee table to get to me. I was pretty sure I could be out of reach. Or have a gun. Or put him through a window. That last was sounding better and better.
"Get out of my house."
Ronnie had stepped back out of reach. He stood there like a purple-faced mountain, swaying between us.
"Get out of my house."
"Can't do that, George. We know you killed her." Maybe know was too strong a word, but "we're pretty sure you killed her" didn't have the right ring. "Unless you really plan to start swinging, I'd sit down, Georgie-boy."
"Yes, by all means sit down, George." I didn't look behind me to see where Raina was. I didn't think George would really hurt me, but better to be cautious. Taking my eyes off a guy who weighed over two hundred pounds sounded like a bad idea.
He stared at Raina. He looked confused. "What the hell is this?"
Ronnie said, "Oh, my God.