Цитата #738 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

I COULDN’T UNDERSTAND THE CONFESSION. HE SHOULD have kept his mouth shut. He should have denied any involvement with the dead guy. Should have said he had no idea why his phone number was written down in the guy’s shoe. Should have said he had no idea what Pluribus was. Then he could have just gone home.

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“I wasn’t there,” I said. “I don’t know anything.”

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“My guys screwed up,” he said. “That’s all, I swear it. It was the other guy we were after. Nothing was supposed to happen to you. You got out of there, right? No damage done, right? So why give me a hard time?”

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“What’s your phone number?” he said. Suddenly.

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It was her wink that did it to me. She took my coffee cup. She said I had nice eyes. And she winked. Got to mean something, right? The eyes thing, I’ve heard that before. An English girl I’d had good times with for a while, she liked my eyes. Said it all the time. They’re blue. Equally people have said they look like icebergs in an Arctic sea. If I concentrate I can stop them blinking. Gives a stare an intimidating effect. Useful. But Roscoe’s wink had been the best part of the day. The only part of the day, really, except Eno’s scrambled eggs, which weren’t bad. Eggs you can get anywhere. But I’d miss Roscoe. I floated on through the empty evening.

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