JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 77 из 138He’s dressed much the same as when he’s behind the counter at Gotham Photo – khakis and a button-down shirt, in this case a blue-and-white stripe. The only thing missing is his name tag.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asks.
“A Diet Coke, if you have one.”
He does. I follow him back to the kitchen, stealing quick peeks into some of the rooms.
I see a beautifully furnished den with a huge flat-screen television and a cozy library lined with leather-bound books. It’s not what I expected, and again I feel like one of those 212 snobs. How fitting that selling camera equipment to those same people would apparently pay so well.
He pours the soda into a glass with ice and hands it to me. “Now let’s take a look at those pictures,” he says. “Figure out what’s going on.”
“Excellent.”
I reach into my shoulder bag and pull them out. He’s barely had a chance to look at the first one when I realize… we’re not alone.
Chapter 60
“JAVIER?” COMES A VOICE from another room. “Javier? Is someone there with you?” It’s a woman. She sounds old, foreign, and a bit confused.
“Sí, Mamá,” says Javier over his shoulder. He turns back to me. “My mother moved in last year after my father passed away. Unfortunately, her health is not too good.”
“Javier?” she calls out again. “I’m talking to you. Javier?”
He winks at me. “Her hearing isn’t too good either.” He raises his voice. “Sí, Mamá!”
“Con quién estás hablando?”
Javier translates for me. “She wants to know who I’m talking to.” He answers her, “Ella es mi amiga.”
“La has visto antes?”
He rolls his eyes. “She wants to know if she’s met you before. Now I have to introduce you, otherwise she’ll be offended. Do you mind? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “I’d love to meet her.”
Javier leads me out of the kitchen toward the very back of the apartment. He slows for a moment along the narrow hallway to whisper something to me.
“Just so you know, my mother is very religious and she’s gone a little overboard in her decorating.”
I’m not sure why he’s telling me this. That is, until we reach her room.
Jesus!
Literally. There have to be at least a hundred crucifixes hanging on the wall – big, small, wood, ceramic – with another fifty propped up on a bookshelf and bedside table.
“Mamá, ella es mi amiga Kristin.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asks.
“A Diet Coke, if you have one.”
He does. I follow him back to the kitchen, stealing quick peeks into some of the rooms.
I see a beautifully furnished den with a huge flat-screen television and a cozy library lined with leather-bound books. It’s not what I expected, and again I feel like one of those 212 snobs. How fitting that selling camera equipment to those same people would apparently pay so well.
He pours the soda into a glass with ice and hands it to me. “Now let’s take a look at those pictures,” he says. “Figure out what’s going on.”
“Excellent.”
I reach into my shoulder bag and pull them out. He’s barely had a chance to look at the first one when I realize… we’re not alone.
Chapter 60
“JAVIER?” COMES A VOICE from another room. “Javier? Is someone there with you?” It’s a woman. She sounds old, foreign, and a bit confused.
“Sí, Mamá,” says Javier over his shoulder. He turns back to me. “My mother moved in last year after my father passed away. Unfortunately, her health is not too good.”
“Javier?” she calls out again. “I’m talking to you. Javier?”
He winks at me. “Her hearing isn’t too good either.” He raises his voice. “Sí, Mamá!”
“Con quién estás hablando?”
Javier translates for me. “She wants to know who I’m talking to.” He answers her, “Ella es mi amiga.”
“La has visto antes?”
He rolls his eyes. “She wants to know if she’s met you before. Now I have to introduce you, otherwise she’ll be offended. Do you mind? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “I’d love to meet her.”
Javier leads me out of the kitchen toward the very back of the apartment. He slows for a moment along the narrow hallway to whisper something to me.
“Just so you know, my mother is very religious and she’s gone a little overboard in her decorating.”
I’m not sure why he’s telling me this. That is, until we reach her room.
Jesus!
Literally. There have to be at least a hundred crucifixes hanging on the wall – big, small, wood, ceramic – with another fifty propped up on a bookshelf and bedside table.
“Mamá, ella es mi amiga Kristin.