Читать книгу Sad Song - Vincent Banville - Страница 6

Blaine got in his car, an old Renault that used diesel and sounded like a tank. He drove to Cabra. He was looking for Number Thirteen, Feltrim Road. A girl with orange hair and vampire eyes gave him directions, which turned out to be wrong.

He started again, asking directions from an old man pushing a bicycle. This time he was put right. The road had two rows of neat houses with postage-stamp lawns. Number Thirteen had an uncared-for look about it, like a bad tooth in a set of shining dentures.

He locked his car, pushed open a rusty gate and walked up to the front door. He knocked and, after some time went by, the door was opened. An eye like a blood sunset appeared in the crack.

“Sam Carey, sometimes known as Assumpta?” Blaine inquired somewhat doubtfully.

The door opened more fully, to reveal a thin young man in a vest and dirty jeans. He had a large hooped earring in his right ear, yellow hair and a sneer on his face.

“Yarahhh,” he said in a voice that sounded as if he needed to spit. Blaine sighed, said a silent prayer, then moved forward into the hallway. The young man went backwards, surprised.

“I’m looking for a girl named Sam Carey,” Blaine explained patiently. “I was told she lived here. If she’s on the premises, I’d like to talk to her. If she has moved on, I’d be grateful if you’d give me her address.”

“Moved on,” Yellow Hair said. “What you want her for?”

“She bought a ticket in a draw. She’s won a Barbie doll and I’m here to deliver.”

“Where is it then?”

“She’s got no clothes on, so I left her in the car.”

“Yarahhh,” Yellow Hair said again, and this time he did spit, just missing Blaine’s shoe.

Blaine lost patience, reached out and stuck his right index finger through Yellow Hair’s earring. With his other hand he caught the guy by the throat. Pulling firmly on the earring, he said, “Just give me the girl’s present whereabouts, and you’ll have two ears to listen with for the rest of your life.”

The guy opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water. His eyes bulged as Blaine pulled a little harder on the earring. “She’s doing up an old warehouse in Ringsend,” he gasped. “Her and a crowd of students.”

“There now, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Blaine said. He released his hold on Yellow Hair’s throat and gave the earring one more tug for luck.

“Hey, what you want to do that for?” the guy protested.

“Pain is good for the soul,” Blaine told him. “Maybe you’ll be more polite the next time.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time, I’m out of here.”

“Me too,” Blaine said, and he turned, walked back down the path, got in his car and drove away.