Читать книгу Blood Runs Cold - Alex Barclay - Страница 17

The Firelight Inn stood at the cross-section of French Street and Wellington – a beautiful clapboard Victorian house in a muted blue-gray from the Breckenridge town palette. A picket fence ran around the garden. The snow had drifted up to the window sills.

‘Good night,’ said Bob. ‘Sleep well. Seven fifteen at the office, OK?’

‘Thanks,’ said Ren, waving him off, pushing in the front door to the inn. The hallway was covered in thick mats and clumps of snow. Rows of snowboards and skis lined the wall. The Firelight was half-inn, half-hostel. Ren had a cozy suite on the top floor, with an entrance from the house and an external staircase. When she got to her room, she walked over to the window and stared out at the white night.

She took out her cellphone and dialed. ‘I love it,’ she said.

At the other end, Paul Louderback laughed. ‘I knew you would.’

‘When were you here?’

‘Two summers ago. With Marianne and the kids. We took a suite –’

‘Me too.’

‘With the separate stairs up? Above the hot tub?’

‘Yes. It’s great.’

‘I thought you might like it. Marianne wanted to stay in one of the condos …’

‘I’d rather –’

‘I know.’

‘Condos are so the same everywhere,’ said Ren.

‘I know. Hey, don’t forget to sign up for breakfast before you go to bed.’

‘Do I call down?’ she said, looking for a phone that wasn’t there.

‘Are you looking for a phone?’ She could hear the smile in his voice.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘There’s a list with a swinging pencil by the office,’ said Paul. ‘You go down and tick the box for whatever you want. It’s all really good.’

‘Is there a box for “the company of Paul Louderback”?’

Paul laughed. ‘Yeah, for the crazies.’

‘Exactly.’

‘What was I thinking?’

Ren laughed, then sighed. ‘So … Jean Transom. I don’t know what you know at this stage. Did you hear that Denis Lasco, the coroner, is OK?’

‘No. And …?’

‘All he would commit to was GSW. He didn’t have long with the body.’

‘Right.’

‘He’s going to be cautious. He blacked out, so he’s doubting his memory – number one. And number two, this is a federal agent we’re dealing with, a high-profile case. I doubt he wants to be the one making big statements, in case he’s wrong. Or he derails the investigation. And? The body could show up in the morning and contradict anything he tells us.’

‘Who found the body?’

‘Anon,’ said Ren. ‘I would venture a backcountry skier who was not supposed to be where he was. And with the FBI all over it, he won’t be showing his face any time soon.’

‘I see,’ said Paul.

‘Can I ask?’ said Ren. ‘Why me as case agent?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m flattered, but why am I the chosen one?’

‘Desperation is a word that comes to mind.’

‘I was thinking …’

‘You know why?’ said Paul. ‘No body … does it better.’

‘Very funny.’

‘Look, you’re good at your job,’ said Paul. ‘There it is. The thing you can’t believe in.’

‘Well, thank you for your faith.’

‘And thank you in advance for solving the crime.’

‘And thank you for the pressure.’

‘Any time.’

‘Oh – you never answered me earlier. Did you know Jean?’ said Ren.

‘I didn’t know her personally. But I taught her at the academy. She was quiet, kept to herself.’

‘The poor woman.’

‘I know. OK, I gotta go. Sleep well.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ren. ‘You too.’

‘And dream gently.’

She paused. ‘I’ll try.’ Damn you, Paul Louderback.

The South Ridge Seafood Grill was the kind of place that sucked you under its awning and through its open doors. It was on a quiet strip on Ridge Street, but had taken most of the Tuesday-night diners in Breck. It was the right size with the right atmosphere and the right food. Ren walked in and moved in to order beside the two guys at the bar whose heads were not hung over their beer. They were both drunk, wind-burned and fit, dressed in green and navy fleeces, black pants and boots.

‘Well, hello there,’ said the tall one, leaning an elbow on the back of his bar stool to turn to her.

‘Hi,’ said Ren.

‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing in the personal space of the elderly?’ he said.

‘How elderly?’ said Ren, raising an eyebrow.

‘I’m sixty-two, he’s seventy-two,’ he said, pointing to his short friend.

‘What?’ said Ren. ‘No way.’

They nodded.

‘Why are we telling her our age so soon?’ said the short guy.

‘We could have been a contender,’ said the tall one. ‘So then, what’s your name?’

‘Ren.’

‘That’s a very pretty name,’ he said.

‘What’s yours?’ said Ren.

‘Mauser here,’ he said, shaking her hand.

‘Mauser?’ said Ren.

‘Yes. Mauser. No first name. And this is Little Dick.’

Ren laughed. ‘You let him away with that?’

Little Dick gave a shrug.

‘You will join us for a glass of red wine,’ said Mauser. He nodded at the barman. ‘Put it on our tab.’

‘Well, thank you very much,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m not really drinking. I’ll just have water.’

‘What?’ said Little Dick. ‘I don’t know if we can let you do that. Can we?’

‘It would be a first,’ said Mauser.

‘I’ve got an early start,’ said Ren.

‘What do you do?’ said Mauser, handing her a glass of wine.

‘Oh, OK,’ she said. ‘Thank you. What do I do? Mainly not talk about my job.’

‘Little Dick here’s a DDS,’ said Mauser.

‘A what?’ said Ren.

‘Doesn’t Do Shit,’ said Mauser. He reared back with a crazy, infectious laugh that made Ren laugh even harder. Little Dick gave what was obviously his trademark shrug.

‘And what do you do, Mauser?’ said Ren.

‘I come from a distinguished line.’

‘Of what?’ said Ren.

‘Of bullshit.’

‘You are so funny,’ said Ren.

‘You mean it’s not our bodies you’re interested in?’ said Mauser.

‘Not if you keep calling him Little Dick,’ said Ren.

‘He’d need to do you three times to give you twelve inches,’ said Mauser.

Ren laughed loud and hard. ‘You guys …’

The barman walked their way with a tray.

‘Oh God,’ said Ren, ‘what are these?’

‘Mind Erasers,’ said the barman, lining up six glasses filled with liquid in a shade of wrong.

‘Six,’ said Ren, deadpan. ‘There are three of us.’

‘Yeah, but you forget you’ve drunk the first one,’ said Mauser.

‘You sure do,’ said Little Dick.

‘They got twenty on their tab already,’ said the barman, smiling. ‘It’s like, bam – Will Smith, Men in Black.’

Mauser smiled. ‘This is what stranger danger is all about.’

Ren laughed. ‘But I’m really not drinking,’ she said, sliding her two toward her. She sucked each one up through a black straw. ‘Wow.’

Mauser raised his. Little Dick followed. ‘And we’ll go again, sir,’ said Mauser to the barman.

‘Ooh,’ said Ren.

An hour later, Mauser was leaning in to her. ‘I’m not an advice column here, but this Vincent guy is insane. That’s all I’ll say.’

‘Letting a pretty girl like you go,’ said Little Dick.

‘Aw, Vincent’s a really good guy –’ said Ren.

‘Insane!’ said Mauser.

‘Insane!’ said Little Dick.

‘I’m the insane one,’ said Ren.

‘Really?’ Mauser slapped the bar in front of them and looked at her with dancing eyes. ‘Join the party, sweetheart.’

And she did, smiling a slow-spreading MindErasersmile.