Triadochka: переводы

→Richard, still expressionless, stared through the glass at Maitland. The two cops had followed him out, and now, Jessie Pottsdam was going into the room, looking every inch the lawyer he was. Crisp black suit, white shirt, carefully knotted red tie. Expensive shoes and leather briefcase.

→Oliver laughed, and Richard saw the flash of fangs in the dim light. “You really should never be underestimated, my boy,” he said. “One day, you’re going to make this town a very fine mayor.”

→“Does he really have a lawyer?” Oliver asked – idle curiosity, Richard thought. It wouldn’t matter a hill of beans to him.

→Maitland’s mouth opened, and he tried to speak, but nothing came out. Richard pushed back, walked out of the interrogation room, and joined Oliver on the other side of the glass. The vampire was standing silently, arms folded, watching Maitland through the one-way window. His eyes were glowing a very faint red in the darkness.

→“But – I don’t want a lawyer! Look, I just want to confess, send me off to prison, please, just not – “

→Richard shrugged. “Your lawyer is here,” he said. “I think you’d better talk to him before you say anything else.”

→“Look,” he blurted. “I screwed up, okay? But it wasn’t my idea, I was just – it was Joe, Joe said it would be an easy score, and look what happened, Joe’s dead, Lavelle’s dead. You want to lock me up, fine. Just – don’t lock me up here. Not in this town, okay? There’s something wrong here. I want to go back to Dallas. Hell, send me to Huntsville, anywhere but here, okay?”

→Once Monica was gone, the air seemed still and far too warm. Maitland felt it, too, and kept wiping sweat from his forehead.

→“Take her outside,” Richard said to the vampire cop. “I’ll talk to her later. Put her in my office.”

→Monica hissed like a cat, and her eyes burned with pure fury. Richard reached out and put a hand on her uninjured wrist – just a light hold, nothing that would set her off. He knew his sister well enough to know how much force he could get away with.

→“See? She’s okay. You’re okay, right, lady?” Maitland interrupted her, almost manic in his desire to get her on his side.

→Monica came around to Richard’s side of the table, close enough to touch. Not that they touched. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s the son of a – “

→Richard kept his seat, kept his expression blank, and said, “Monica, is this the man who hurt you?”

→One of her arms was in a sling.

→Richard tried hard not to react, but his heart kick-started to a much faster beat, and fury beat hot in his temples. She looked awful – and he knew how much that meant to her. She’d been treated at the hospital, but she’d never forgive them for letting her out in public with bloody, matted hair and an unflattering bandage over the whack in her skull. Her skin was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. No makeup. The blouse was designer, and it was destroyed – ripped and stained.

→“Yeah, that one. She said I was going to die, and she laughed. I was gonna shoot her, but the guard, the one that had Joe’s blood all over him, he – he grabbed me from behind and threw me across the room. I landed on Lavelle.” Maitland hid his face in shaking hands. “I thought I was next.”

→“The one you hit.”

→“Yeah. One of those bank people, the teller I guess, she was – like the guard. Y’know, wrong. And then the girl – “

→“Um – “ Maitland seemed surprised. “Yeah. Just like that. And then he – uh – “

→Richard sat back in the straight-backed chair, eyes half-closed, and said, “The guard bit your friend in the throat and drank his blood.”