JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 114 из 138“Hey, if you insist. I said, the cocksucker. ”
As if I’m not confused enough. “Why would you say that about him?”
“You a reporter?” he snaps.
“No. Hardly.”
“All the same, we’re not supposed to talk about it. It was in all the papers at the time. Press has a ball with those kind of stories.”
“I didn’t live here then. What happened?”
“Let’s just say the detective’s not exactly missed around here.”
“Why? I need to hear this. Please? This is very important to me.”
“Because he almost single-handedly brought down this precinct, that’s why.”
I open my mouth to ask how, but he cuts me off. “Seriously, I can’t talk about it. It’s over with. And so is this conversation.”
I begin walking away. Then something occurs to me, and I quickly turn back. “At least let me ask you this,” I say. “Does it have anything to do with the murders at the Fálcon Hotel the other day?”
The officer looks at me with a completely blank stare. “What murders?”
And then – what can I say? – I faint.
Chapter 88
FIFTEEN OR TWENTY minutes later, still dazed and with another good-sized bump on my noggin, I walk a block before I even realize it’s raining. I’m too busy replaying every single encounter with Detective Delmonico in my mind.
Is that where all of this has happened? In my mind?
It’s impossible. Has to be.
I talked to him. He talked to me. He gave me his card. How does a dead man do that?
Wait a minute! Hold on!
I stop short in the middle of the sidewalk, the raindrops feeling icy cold against my face. Pulling Delmonico’s card from my pocket, I rub it between my fingers just to prove to myself that it’s real. It sure feels like it.
“Taxi!”
The first thing I do after rushing into my apartment is turn on my computer. I should be too freaked out, too bewildered to think straight. And yet the obsession to learn the truth about Delmonico – what happened and what is happening – has me focused like never before.
“It was in all the papers,” said the cop at the precinct.
Let’s see about that.
I Google away, and the hits on Frank Delmonico’s name number more than a thousand. Jeez, Louise! Some of the sites are the venomous rantings of bloggers, but most are indeed news stories – all archived – from the city’s papers. The pages never turn yellow on the Internet.
As if I’m not confused enough. “Why would you say that about him?”
“You a reporter?” he snaps.
“No. Hardly.”
“All the same, we’re not supposed to talk about it. It was in all the papers at the time. Press has a ball with those kind of stories.”
“I didn’t live here then. What happened?”
“Let’s just say the detective’s not exactly missed around here.”
“Why? I need to hear this. Please? This is very important to me.”
“Because he almost single-handedly brought down this precinct, that’s why.”
I open my mouth to ask how, but he cuts me off. “Seriously, I can’t talk about it. It’s over with. And so is this conversation.”
I begin walking away. Then something occurs to me, and I quickly turn back. “At least let me ask you this,” I say. “Does it have anything to do with the murders at the Fálcon Hotel the other day?”
The officer looks at me with a completely blank stare. “What murders?”
And then – what can I say? – I faint.
Chapter 88
FIFTEEN OR TWENTY minutes later, still dazed and with another good-sized bump on my noggin, I walk a block before I even realize it’s raining. I’m too busy replaying every single encounter with Detective Delmonico in my mind.
Is that where all of this has happened? In my mind?
It’s impossible. Has to be.
I talked to him. He talked to me. He gave me his card. How does a dead man do that?
Wait a minute! Hold on!
I stop short in the middle of the sidewalk, the raindrops feeling icy cold against my face. Pulling Delmonico’s card from my pocket, I rub it between my fingers just to prove to myself that it’s real. It sure feels like it.
“Taxi!”
The first thing I do after rushing into my apartment is turn on my computer. I should be too freaked out, too bewildered to think straight. And yet the obsession to learn the truth about Delmonico – what happened and what is happening – has me focused like never before.
“It was in all the papers,” said the cop at the precinct.
Let’s see about that.
I Google away, and the hits on Frank Delmonico’s name number more than a thousand. Jeez, Louise! Some of the sites are the venomous rantings of bloggers, but most are indeed news stories – all archived – from the city’s papers. The pages never turn yellow on the Internet.