Цитата #1753 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

He leaned back in his chair. Blew a sigh at the ceiling and shook his head.

Просмотров: 7

“Why before one o’clock?” I asked him.

Просмотров: 4

“It’s nearly over,” he said. “Maybe a week. A week tomorrow is my guess. Next Sunday. Maybe I’ll live to see it.”

Просмотров: 4

“I need to know,” I said. “Maybe you approached the guy for help. Maybe you talked to him. Maybe that’s why he got killed. Maybe it looks like now you’ll start talking to me. Which could get me killed, too.”

Просмотров: 6

There was silence for the next twenty minutes. Baker worked at a desk. So did Roscoe. The desk sergeant sat up on his stool. Finlay was in the big office with Hubble. There was a modern clock over the front doors. Not as elegant as the antique in the office, but it ticked around just as slowly. Silence. Four thirty. I leaned up against the titanium bars and waited. Silence. Quarter of five.

Просмотров: 6