Цитата #1328 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

“A guitar player who died sixty years ago? Why? Are you a guitar player?”

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“He seems to,” she said. “Finlay’s got him acting as a kind of a lookout. Should we get him involved?”

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“Could be the one,” I said. “Say he rented it Thursday evening up at the airport in Atlanta, full tank of gas. Drove it to the warehouses at the Margrave cloverleaf, then somebody drove it on down here afterward. Couple of gallons gone, maybe two and a half. Plenty left to burn.”

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“Oh, undoubtedly that’s true, sir,” he said. “The South as a whole, and Georgia in particular, is indeed famous for the warmth of its welcome. However, as you know, just at the present time, we find ourselves in a most awkward predicament. In the circumstances, a motel in Atlanta or Macon would really suit you much better. Naturally, we would keep in close touch, and we would extend you every assistance in arranging your brother’s funeral, when that sad time comes. Here in Margrave, I’m afraid, we’re all going to be very busy. It’ll be boring for you. Officer Roscoe’s going to have a lot of work to do. She shouldn’t be distracted just at the moment, don’t you think?”

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Hubble gave a gasp of fear and revulsion and jumped back. He scuttled backward to the rear of the cell. Tried to hide behind the john. He was practically hugging the pan.

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