Dragon Tears

Начало книги

This book is for some special people who live too far away — Ed and Carol Gorman — with the wish that our modern world really had shrunk to one small town, as the media philosophers insist it has. Then we could meet at the little cafe down on Main Street at Maple Avenue to have lunch, talk, and laugh.

Tuesday was a fine California day, full of sunshine and promise, until Harry Lyon had to shoot someone at lunch.

For breakfast, sitting at his kitchen table, he ate toasted English muffins with lemon marmalade and drank strong black Jamaican coffee. A pinch of cinnamon gave the brew a pleasantly spicy taste.

The kitchen window provided a view of the greenbelt that wound through Los Cabos, a sprawling condominium development in Irvine. As president of the homeowners’ association, Harry drove the gardeners hard and rigorously monitored their work, ensuring that the trees, shrubs, and grass were as neatly trimmed as a landscape in a fairy tale, as if maintained by platoons of gardening elves with hundreds of tiny shears.

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