Sue Grafton - K Is For Killer

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Sue Grafton - K Is For Killer» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Триллер, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

K Is For Killer: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «K Is For Killer»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

From Publishers Weekly
The 11th adventure of Santa Teresa, Calif., PI Kinsey Milhone has a dark tone-due in great part to Kinsey's working this case mostly at night. Kinsey agrees to look into the 10-month-old death of Lorna Kepler, a young woman whose decomposed body was discovered in her cabin so long after death that it was impossible to determine the cause. Kinsey's client, Lorna's mother, who works the night shift in a 24-hour diner, suspects murder. So does Kinsey, especially after investigating Lorna's effects and her considerable assets, some unaccounted-for. An anonymously delivered pornographic tape adds to the emerging portrait of the dead woman as an intriguingly self-sufficient, ambitious woman of the evening. In nighttime forays, Kinsey talks to an all-night deejay whom Lorna often visited at his studio; she meets-and befriends-a prostitute who occasionally teamed up with Lorna to party with clients. She also investigates the victim's day job as a part-time receptionist for the water district, where a high-stakes development project is currently raising tempers. A host of suspects includes a porn filmmaker in San Francisco, members of Lorna's family, her landlord, the water district employees and even a smooth-dressing cop, whom Kinsey talks to at night. But lack of sleep dulls Kinsey's perceptions and it takes two more deaths and the surprise appearance of a deus ex limousine to lead her to a solution. Even sleep-deprived, Kinsey shows spunk and appeal, but she is not at her sharpest here. 600,000 first printing; author tour.

K Is For Killer — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «K Is For Killer», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

The real name for CC's is the Caliente Cafe, a low-rent establishment housed in an abandoned service station near the railroad tracks. The original gasoline pumps and the storage tanks below had been removed years before, and the contaminated soil had been paved over with asphalt. Now, on hot days the blacktop tends to soften and a toxic syrup seeps out, a tarry liquid quickly converted into wisps of smoke, suggesting that the tarmac is on the verge of bursting into flames. Winters, the pavement cracks from dry cold, and a sulfurous smell wafts across the parking lot. CC's is not the kind of place to encourage bare feet.

I parked out in front beneath a sizzling red neon sign. Outside, the air smelled like corn tortillas fried in lard; inside, like salsa and recirculated cigarette smoke. I could hear the high-pitched whine of a blender working overtime, whipping ice and tequila into the margarita mix. The Caliente Cafe bills itself as an "authentic" Mexican cantina, which means the "day-core" consists of Mexican sombreros tacked above the doors. Bad lighting eliminates the need for anything else. Every item on the menu has been Americanized, and all the names are cute: Ensanada Ensalada, Pasta Pequeno, Linguini Bambini. The music, all canned, is usually played way too loud, like a band of mariachis hired to hover at your table while you try to eat.

Cheney Phillips was sitting at the bar, his face tilted in my direction. My request for an audience had clearly piqued his interest. Cheney was probably in his early thirties: a white guy with a disheveled mop of dark curly hair, dark eyes, good chin, prickly two-day growth of beard. His was the sort of face you might see in a men's fashion magazine or the society section of the local papers, escorting some debutante decked out like a bride. He was slim, of medium height, wearing a tobacco-brown silk sport coat over a white dress shirt, his pants a pleated cream-colored gabardine. His air of confidence suggested money of intimidating origins. Everything about him said trust fund, private schools, and casual West Coast privilege. This is pure projection on my part, and I have no idea if it's accurate. I've never really asked him how he ended up a cop. For all I know, he's third-generation law enforcement with all the women in his family doing jail administration.

I eased up onto the bar stool next to his. "Hello, Cheney. How are you? Thanks for waiting. I appreciate it."

He shrugged. "I'm usually here until closing time anyway. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Of course. I'm so wired on coffee I may never get to sleep."

"What's your pleasure?"

"Chardonnay, if you please."

"Absolutely," he said. He smiled, revealing first-rate orthodontic work. No one could have teeth that straight without years of expensive correction. Cheney's manner was habitually seductive and never more so than in a setting such as this.

The bartender had been watching our interchange with an exaggerated late night patience. In a bar like CC's, this was the hour when the sexually desperate made their last minute appeals for company. By then enough liquor had been consumed that potential partners, who earlier had been rejected as unworthy, were now being reconsidered. The bartender apparently assumed we were negotiating a one-night relationship. Cheney ordered wine for me and another vodka tonic for himself.

He checked back over his shoulder, doing a quick visual survey of the other patrons. "You ought to keep an eye on all the off-duty police officers. Last call, we go out in the parking lot and pass around a Breathalyzer, like we're copping a joint, make sure we're still sober enough to drive ourselves home."

"I heard you left homicide."

"Right. I've been doing vice for six months."

"Well, that suits," I said. "Do you like it?" He'd probably been moved to vice because he still looked young enough to have some.

"Sure, it's great. It's a one-man department. I'm the current expert on gambling, prostitution, drugs, and organized crime, such as it is in Santa Teresa. What about you? What are you up to? You probably didn't come down here to chat about my career in law enforcement." He looked up as the bartender approached, halting further conversation until our drinks had been served.

When he looked back, I said, "Janice Kepler wants to hire me to look into her daughter's death."

"Good luck," he said.

"You handled the original investigation, yes?"

"Dolan and me, with a couple more guys thrown in. This is the long and short of it," he said, ticking the items off his fingers. "There was no way to determine cause of death. We still aren't absolutely certain what day it was, let alone what time frame. There was no significant trace evidence, no witnesses, no motive, no suspects…"

"And no case," I supplied.

"You got it. Either this was not a homicide to begin with or the killer led a charmed life."

"I'll say."

"You going to do it?"

"Don't know yet. Thought I'd better talk to you first."

"Have you seen a picture of her? She was beautiful. Screwed up, but gorgeous. Talk about a dark side. My God."

"Like what?"

"She had this part-time job at the water treatment plant. She's a clerk-typist. You know, she does a little phone work, a little filing, maybe four hours a day. She tells everybody she's working her way through city college, which is true in its way. She takes a class now and then, but it's only half the story. What she's really up to is a bit of high-class hooking. She's making fifteen hundred bucks a pop. We're talkin' substantial sums of money at the time of her death."

"Who'd she work for?"

"Nobody. She was independent. She started doing out-call. Exotic dance and massage. Guys phone this service listed in the classifieds, and she goes out and does some kind of bump-and-grind strip while they abuse themselves. The game is you can't make a deal for more than that up front-Undercover used to call and pull that 'til everybody wised up-but once she's on the premises, she can negotiate whatever services the client wants. It's strictly their transaction."

"For which she gets paid what?"

Cheney shrugged. "Depends on what she does. Straight sex is probably a hundred and fifty bucks, which she ends up splitting with the management. Pretty quick, she figures out she has more on the ball, so she bags the cheap gigs and moves up to the big time."

"Here in town?"

"For the most part. I understand they used to see quite a bit of her in the bar at the Edgewater Hotel. She also cruised through Bubbles in Montebello, which you probably heard was closed down last July. She had a penchant for the places where the high rollers hung out."

"Did her mother know this?"

"Sure she did. Absolutely. Lorna was even picked up once on a misdemeanor for soliciting an undercover vice officer at Bubbles. We didn't want to rub her mother's nose in the fact, but she was certainly informed."

"Maybe it's just beginning to sink in," I said. "Someone sent her a copy of a pornographic film in which Lorna loomed large. Apparently that's what prompted her to come see me. She thinks Lorna was either blackmailed into it or working undercover."

"Oh, yeah, right," he said.

"I'm just telling you her assumption."

Cheney snorted. "She's in denial big time. Have you actually seen this tape?"

"I just saw it tonight. It was pretty raunchy."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure how much difference it makes. The kind of stuff she was into, it really doesn't surprise me. How's it supposed to tie in? That's the part I don't get."

"Janice thinks Lorna was about to blow the whistle on someone."

"Oh, man, that lady's seen too many bad TV movies. Blow the whistle on who, and for what? Those people are legitimate… in some sense of the word. They're probably scumbags, but that's not against the law in this state. Look at all the politicians."

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «K Is For Killer»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «K Is For Killer» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Sue Grafton - V is for Vengeance
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - U Is For Undertow
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - H is for Homicide
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - P is for Peril
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - O Is For Outlaw
Sue Grafton
libcat.ru: книга без обложки
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - M is for Malice
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - F is For Fugitive
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - C is for Corpse
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - E Is for Evidence
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - T Is For Trespass
Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton - S is for Silence
Sue Grafton
Отзывы о книге «K Is For Killer»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «K Is For Killer» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x