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- Indeks
- Andrew Lang (EN) Cock Lane and Common Sense
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- Harman Andrew Lemingrad
- Greg Bear Songs of Earth 01 The Infinity Concerto
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- Lois McMaster Bujold 06 Ethan of Athos
- Marek_Panfil_Zarzć dzanie_naleśźnośÂciami_w_maśÂym_i_śÂrednim_przedsićÂbiorstwie____2004
- Flanagann Edith Cien przeznaczenia
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- Courths Mahler Jadwiga Stlumiona milosc
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"You have an appointment with Tracey Casewell, Mr. Rothberg's 'friend,' tomorrow at two,"
Wendy told him. "Other than that, things have been quiet."
"Okay, I'll be going straight home, then."
"Oh, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Milton wants to speak to you. Just one moment."
Kevin had hoped he could put off speaking with John Milton until tomorrow. He was
depressed about the interview with Beverly Morgan and couldn't help feeling he had let Mr.
Milton down. It wasn't a rational reaction. There was no reason for him to blame himself, but
there was just something about working for Mr. Milton that made him want to succeed.
"Kevin?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did it go?"
"It didn't go well," he said. Even though he knew Charon couldn't hear the conversation, he
saw the man look up in his rearview mirror at those words.
"Oh?"
"She doesn't like Rothberg, says he's self-centered, and couldn't explain how the insulin got
into his closet. I asked her if she had overheard an argument between them described the way
Rothberg described it, and she said no. It was a definite no."
"I see. Well, don't be discouraged. We'll talk tomorrow and see what we can make of it. Just
relax tonight. Put it out of mind. Enjoy your wonderful wife."
"Thank you. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, Kevin. It'll be all right. I'm sure."
"Right. Goodbye."
He flipped the switch on the phone, putting it into the intercom mode, and told Charon to take
him directly to the apartment. The chauffeur barely acknowledged the order with a slight nod.
Kevin recalled how Miriam thought it funny that Charon had almost smiled when she
questioned him about the gold elevator key. He could sympathize with her reaction to him.
The man rarely spoke. He never asked questions, and whenever he was told where to take
him or the others, he seemed to already know. The glass between the rear seat and the front seat
was always up. If any communicating had to be done with him, it was done through the intercom.
Kevin couldn't help wondering about Charon. Where was he from? Where did he live? How long
had he been working as John Milton's chauffeur? Kevin was positive the man hadn't been a
chauffeur all his mature life. He had an interesting face. He must have traveled a great deal and done
some interesting things. Why didn't any of the others talk about him? They acted as if he weren't
even there half the time. It was just "Charon, take us here" or "Charon, take us there." They
didn't even pass small talk. Did the man have a family? Was he married?
When they pulled up in front of the apartment house and Charon opened the door this time,
Kevin got out very slowly.
"So, Charon," he said, "your day's almost over, too, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"You have to go back and hang around to bring Mr. Milton home, though, don't you?"
"It's no problem."
"Oh. You live in the city, too?"
"I live here, Mr. Taylor," he said.
"You do? In one of these apartments?"
"Yes. In an apartment off the garage."
"I never knew that. Are you married, Charon?"
"No, sir."
"Well, I'm sure you're not a native New Yorker. Where are you from? You have such a beautiful
speaking voice, it's hard to pinpoint any dialect."
"I'm from here, Mr. Taylor."
"You are a New Yorker?" Kevin smiled, but Charon didn't relax or smile back.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Taylor?"
The man doesn't show any emotion. He's like a cyborg, Kevin thought.
"Oh no, Charon. Have a good night."
"You too, Mr. Taylor."
He watched him get back in the limo and start off. Then he entered the apartment building.
"Have a good day, did you, Mr. Taylor?" Philip asked, looking up from the small television
set he had just under the counter. He got up and came around the desk.
"A hard day, Philip. It remains to be seen whether or not it was a good one."
"Know what you mean, sir." He pushed the elevator call button for Kevin.
"You been here a long time, Philip?"
"Came right after Mr. Milton took over the building, Mr. Taylor."
"I just found out Charon lives in an apartment downstairs. Never knew it. He doesn't talk
much," Kevin whispered and smiled.
"No, sir, but he's devoted to Mr. Milton. He owes him his life, you might say."
"Oh?" The elevator door opened. "Why is that?"
"MR. Milton defended him and got him acquitted."
"Really? I never knew that. What had he been accused of doing?"
"Murdering his family, Mr. Taylor. Of course, he was so depressed by the death of his loved
ones, he didn't care much what happened to him, but Mr. Milton pumped the life back into
him."
"I see."
"Might say he did the same for me."
"Oh?"
"I was accused of being on the take from drug pushers. They tried to set me up. Mr. Milton got
me off when he proved it to be entrapment. Yes, sir, you're working for one helluva guy,"
Philip said. "Have a good night, Mr. Taylor."
"You too, Philip," Kevin said and backed into the elevator. Philip smiled at him as the doors
closed.
He was in such deep thought when he first entered his apartment that he didn't notice Miriam was
not there. He put down his briefcase, took off his overcoat, went into the living room, and poured
himself a scotch and soda.
"Miriam?"
Kevin went through the apartment. She hadn't left a note. She should have been home long ago,
he thought. He went back into the living room and waited. Nearly twenty minutes went by
before the front door opened and Miriam stepped in, dressed in his blue terry-cloth robe with a bath
towel around her neck.
"Where the hell were you?" he asked.
"Oh, Kev. I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour at least."
"I had an aborted interview, otherwise it might have been closer to that. But where were you
dressed like that?"
"In the penthouse... in the whirlpool," she sang and continued through the hallway toward the
bedroom.
"What?" He followed along, drink still in hand. "You went up to Mr. Milton's apartment and
used his whirlpool?"
"It's not the first time, Kev," she said, taking off his robe and letting it drop to her feet. She
was completely naked underneath, and her skin was still bright red from the heat of the water.
She turned about, studying herself in the mirror. Then she pulled her shoulders back to lift her
breasts. "Do you think the aerobics classes are making a difference? Doesn't the back of my
thigh look leaner?"
"What did you mean, it isn't the first time you've gone up there, Miriam? You never told me
about this before."
"I didn't?" She turned to him. "Yes I did." She smiled. "Morning before last, but I guess you
were too overwhelmed with yourself to remember." She started for the shower.
"What? Wait a minute." He reached out and seized her arm. He wasn't rough about it, but she
screamed as if he had closed a vise around her elbow. "I'm sorry."
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, tears coming into her eyes as she rubbed her arm. "I'm
sure to have another black and blue mark now."
"I didn't squeeze that hard, Miriam."
"Well, I'm not one of the boys, Kevin. Why is it you can be so tender and romantic sometimes [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]