Dead Men's s Boots

Mike Carey
Dead Men's s Boots
Автор: Mike Carey
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’ I paused for a few moments and raised the next point very tentatively. ‘How important is it to you that he stays where he is?’

Carla sighed and made a vague, helpless gesture. ‘I thought it was what he wanted,’ she said, her voice a throaty murmur. ‘Underneath it all, I thought – this thing and this thing and this thing, that’s all the disease. And these other things, they’re still him. They’re what’s real. I couldn’t believe he didn’t still want to lie next to Hailey, because he’d told me so many times-’ She faltered and glanced off in the direction of the pillaged living room.

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‘But now that there’s all this, I don’t know. Maybe I got it wrong, Fix. And maybe that’s why he’s so angry with me.’

I’d been thinking the same thing, but I was relieved she’d got that far by herself. ‘Yeah,’ I allowed. ‘That’s a possibility. When did he change his mind, exactly – about being buried, I mean?’

‘I told you. End of last year. Before Christmas, sometime. I don’t remember exactly.

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‘Did he ever talk it over with you? Give you any reasons?’

She shook her head. ‘Fix-’ she said, and hinhe saidthen there was a long pause. I saw the outline of what was coming, which helped: I kept my face deadpan and waited. ‘I don’t think I can bring myself to talk to that man. Todd. I don’t think I can do it without screaming at him.’

‘Well, with lawyers you always want to be sure your shots are up to date.’"

"Another pause. I guess Carla was hoping I’d take the hint without being asked: it can’t be easy to beg favours from your dead husband’s friends.

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But I was feeling like my humanitarian impulses had led me far enough astray today already. I drank off what was left of my coffee, put down the mug and stood.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘try to tell yourself that he’s only doing his job. It’s the truth, more or less. Thanks for the coffee, Carla. If you change your mind, call Pen. She’s got a room free and she’d love the company.

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Carla nodded, with only the very faintest sign of hurt in her eyes. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said, sabotaging my got-to-be-moving-along routine when it was just getting into second gear. Since I didn’t have any other choice, I stopped and waited while she got up from the table and started to rummage through the drawers of the big Welsh dresser behind her. At last she found what she was looking for and brought it back to the table.

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