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Книга довольно хорошо написана в виде рассказов старого человека молодому парню, основанных на событиях его реальной жизни, охватывающей период с нача...
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Mortal Sins
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“Hey, Mr. Day,” the old man answered on a big expulsion of pent-up breath. He lifted the ragged straw hat off his head long enough to wipe the sweat off his brow. “Hot again this evenin’, ain’t it?”
“Uh-huh. How about a Coca-Cola? It doesn’t pack the kick of gin, but it sure goes down cold.”
Jackie Boone flashed a smile that was missing most of its teeth. “Thank you, suh.” He wiped his hand on his bloody apron and took the bottle of pop from Rourke. He swallowed down a good long drink, then wiped off his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Terrible thing ’bout Mr. Charles, hunh? Him dyin’ in that bad way.”
“I guess the whole neighborhood pretty much can’t talk about anything else.”
The old Negro’s gaze went from his boss to the men who had set up squatters’ rights on the front gallery. He scratched the coils of gray hair on his chest and lowered his voice. “What they papers and some other folk’re sayin’, though, ’bout how Miss Remy done it … She’d never do such a thing, no way, no how. It was probably the gris-gris
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Книга довольно хорошо написана в виде рассказов старого человека молодому парню, основанных на событиях его реальной жизни, охватывающей период с нача...
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