Читать книгу Koko - Peter Straub - Страница 22

Beevers’ suite had not only a long living room with sliding windows onto a substantial balcony but was equipped with a dining room where Michael, Pumo, and Beevers sat at a round table laden with plates of food, baskets of rolls, racks of toast, pitchers of Bloody Marys, chafing dishes holding sausages, bacon, and eggs Benedict.

From the couch in the living room where he sat hunched over a cup of black coffee, Conor said, ‘I’ll eat something later.’

‘Mangia, mangia. Keep your strength up for our trip.’ Beevers waggled a fork dripping egg yolk and Hollandaise sauce. His black hair gleamed and his eyes shone. His white shirt had been fresh from its wrapping when Beevers had rolled up his sleeves and his soberly striped bow tie was perfectly knotted. The dark blue suit jacket draped over the back of his chair had a broad chalky stripe. He looked as though he expected to be standing before the Supreme Court instead of the Vietnam Memorial.

‘You’re still serious about that?’ Pumo asked.

‘Aren’t you? Tina, we need you – how could we do this without you?’

‘You’re going to have to try,’ Pumo said. ‘But isn’t the question academic anyhow?’

‘Not to me, it isn’t,’ Beevers said. ‘How about you, Conor? You think I’m just kidding around?’

The three men at the table looked down the length of the living room toward Conor. Startled at being the object of everyone’s attention, he straightened himself up. ‘Not if you’re loaning me the air fare, you’re not,’ he said. ‘Kidding, that is.’

Beevers was now quizzing Michael with his annoyingly clear, annoyingly amused eyes. ‘And you? Was sagen Sie, Michael?’

‘Do you ever exactly kid around, Harry?’ Michael asked, unwilling to be a counter in Harry Beevers’ newest game.

Beevers was still gleaming at him, waiting for more because he knew he was going to get it.

‘I suppose I’m tempted, Harry,’ he said, and caught Pumo’s sidelong glance.