Murder Straight Up

Начало книги

The flashlight went dead with no warning. No fading to dim yellow. No sputtering. Just dead.

At the moment, I was somewhere on the second floor of KRLD-TV, Channel 3, standing inside an overly starched gray uniform that bore the insignia FEDERATED SECURITY on the right bicep, and the male equivalent of “sensible” shoes, big ugly brown mothers with thick squeaky rubber soles. I’m on my feet a lot.

My first reaction to any piece of gear that won’t work is to subject it to threats and ridicule. You know the routine. Shake/kick/stomp it, all the while swearing at it, until it gets so embarrassed that it starts working again. I once had a Muntz TV that this number worked very well with. Other than that, my method has been singularly lacking in success.

It was dark as hell up here, and while it wasn’t horror-movie spooky by any means, it was uncomfortable even for a thirty-eight-year-old ex-cop and now security man like myself.

Читать дальше →