Реклама. ООО «ЛитРес», ИНН: 7719571260.
1. Water Weavers
2. Parrotfish and Barracuda
3. Chagoi
4. Kumonryu
5. Doitsu Showa
6. Shiro Utsuri
7. Rainbow Trout
8. Red Herring
9. Carp
10. Crayfish, Walleyes, and Pike
11. Shiners
12. Shiromuji
13. Ochiba Shigura
14. Kohaku
chapter one Hogg’s Hollow
chapter two The Room Upstairs
chapter three Cabbagetown
chapter four Isabelle Street
chapter five Port Hope
chapter six Rapa Nui
chapter seven The Georgian Bay
chapter eight Countryside
chapter nine Owen Sound
chapter ten Beausoleil
chapter eleven Wychwood Park
chapter twelve Fire Road #37
chapter thirteen Yonge Street
chapter fourteen Penetanguishene
chapter fifteen Lakeshore Road
chapter sixteen Wiarton
chapter seventeen Tobermory
chapter eighteen The Wreck
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Acknowledgements
Copyright
The dead man with comb-over hair fanning away from his skull was floating face down in the fish pond. Although still unidentified, he was appropriately dressed for a Rosedale garden. Another pond, closer to the ravine, settled into the landscape as if a ground depression had been filled with primordial sludge. Windows in the large house looming over the scene were empty, the curtains half-drawn. Aside from the police, there was no one around, not a gardener, no family, no maid. Most houses in this part of Toronto’s Rosedale had domestic help. At 7:15 each weekday morning women of colour spread out from the subway station, through the tree-lined streets, along the red brick sidewalks, and into the private worlds of the gentry by blood and by money. An hour later pickups arrived with Dutch names on the sides, carrying men wielding rakes and mowers, and in winter, shovels and buckets of sand and salt. By now the workers had gone home, the owners had returned, children had changed out of school uniforms and were doing homework, and prepared dinners had been taken from refrigerators. It was quiet in Rosedale in the early evening in Indian summer. But it was preternaturally quiet in this garden, even with all the police activity. In the unseasonable heat, among dappled shadows, it was like being underwater.
Miranda Quin knelt against the limestone parapet. As the body swung by, she reached out to draw it closer.
.....
Did Rongorongo have any meaning if its meaning was lost?
Morgan watched her scrutinizing the hieroglyphs. Her auburn hair and slightly aquiline nose, lips poised in concentration rather than pursed, hazel eyes squinting to make out the writing, as if by peering more carefully she could understand what it said, all made her appear like an actor playing the role of detective: detached but absorbed, quietly confident, attractive but not distracting, hints of a strong personality bringing the scene into focus.
.....