A Hundred Words for Hate: A Remy Chandler Novel - Softcover

Buch 4 von 7: REMY CHANDLER NOVEL

Sniegoski, Thomas E.

 
9780451464125: A Hundred Words for Hate: A Remy Chandler Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0451464125 ISBN 13: 9780451464125
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2012

Inhaltsangabe

As an angel, Remy possesses powers he puts to good use in his profession as a PI. And when the Garden of Eden suddenly reappears, he needs them more than ever. Because there are those who want him to find a key that will open the Gates of Eden, and those who will do anything to keep them closed.

Desperate for help, he turns to a very old acquaintance-a fallen angel who is sometimes friend, sometimes foe, and always deadly.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Thomas E. Sniegoski is the New York Times bestselling author of the Remy Chandler novels.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

Fernita Green could not remember what she had lost, and that was why Remy Chandler was there.

He stood in the kitchen of the old woman’s home, surrounded by the accumulations of her very long life. Plastic bags filled with other plastic bags and scraps of what he could describe only as trash, but kept by Fernita because it just might—one day—be important. Stacks of newspapers like ancient rock formations grew up from the rubbish-strewn floor, some leaning dangerously, but somehow defying the laws of physics.

The counter near the sink was covered with empty bottles and flattened cereal boxes. Tin cans and glass jars had been rinsed clean and stacked amid the debris.

Remy found the teakettle behind a stack of plastic Meals On Wheels containers. They had been washed out as well.

The inside of the sink was relatively clear, and he placed the empty kettle beneath the faucet. He turned on the water, gazing over a row of knickknacks and through the grimy window at the lushly overgrown backyard while the kettle filled.

A little over three weeks ago, Fernita had started calling his office. She had wanted him to help her find something, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Remy had tried to dissuade her, encouraging her to call a family member instead. But she had continued to call him—sometimes leaving as many as four messages a day—until he had finally agreed to pay her a visit.

That had been two weeks ago, and he’d been visiting regularly since.

“How do you want your tea this time?” he called out from the kitchen as he turned off the faucet and took the kettle to the stove. He had to push aside a stack of fine-china plates that he didn’t remember seeing there last time.

“With some milk, baby,” he heard Fernita call out from the living room.

Sometimes she liked her tea dark… “like the color of my skin,” she would say with a chuckle, letting the bag steep in her cup for a good long time. Other times she’d take it with milk, like today.

Remy moved the plates to a tiny dinette set in the corner under a pair of windows. He had to push aside Easter baskets filled with green plastic grass to make way for them.

He returned to the stove only to find Fernita’s cat, Miles, sitting in the center amid the four burners. The black cat with the white bib of fur stared at him with intense green eyes.

“Hello, Miles,” Remy said as he placed the kettle on one of the electric burners and turned it on. “Careful now; this is going to get hot.”

“Hungry,” the cat said in its feline tongue.

Remy looked over at the two dishes on the floor beside the refrigerator. One was filled with water, and the other had some Friskies in it. “There’s food in your bowl,” he told the cat, turning around to search out two clean cups.

“No,” the cat growled. “Hungry.”

Remy opened the cabinet to the left of the sink, catching a stack of recipes torn from the pages of magazines before they could drift to the floor. There were plenty of cups inside as well—enough to offer tea to the whole city of Brockton.

“And I said there’s food in your bowl.” Remy pointed to the dish on the cluttered floor.

The cat jumped down from the stove, his paws crinkling some stray plastic bags that lay there as he padded over to his dishes.

“See?” Remy said as he opened the box of tea bags that was left on the counter. He would have much preferred coffee, but finding the coffeemaker in the chaos that was Fernita’s kitchen was far too daunting a task. Tea would have to suffice.

“No,” the cat said again, pawing at the nuggets in his dish.

“Stop playing with your food,” Remy scolded, but Miles didn’t listen.

One by one he removed the pieces of food from his dish and left them on the floor. “No, hungry.”

“Did anybody ever tell you you’re a pain in the ass?” Remy said as the teakettle began to whistle.

Miles answered no.

One can of tuna and two cups of tea later, Remy was sitting in an overstuffed wing-back chair across from the old black woman as she went through box after box of stuff.

“I just don’t know where all it all came from,” Fernita said, picking up one piece of wrinkled paper, dropping it back down into the box, only to pick up another. “I think I might’ve been saving these for the tax man.”

The pieces of paper appeared to be old, very old, and Remy doubted the IRS would have any interest in them now. “Why don’t you just throw them away?” he suggested. He placed his cup on a coaster beside his chair and reached for a plastic trash bag that he’d brought from the kitchen. “Just throw them right in here and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Remy watched as the old woman seemed to consider this. “I guess I could,” she said slowly, and he almost believed he was getting through to her. “But what if I should need them?”

“Do you really think you will?” he asked, his tone urging her on.

Fernita’s wrinkled hand reached into the box again and picked up some of the papers that she’d already looked through. “I’d better hang on to them,” she said with a pretty, yellowed smile. “It would be just my luck to have the tax man bang on my door, and me not have my papers in order.” She put the box atop three others also filled with things she might need someday.

In the old days, she would have been called a pack rat, but now, in this more politically correct age, when everyone’s quirks were diagnosed with a fancy name and a weekly series on the Discovery Channel, she was definitely a hoarder.

And perfectly fine with it.

“And what if what I’m looking for…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed around the cramped confines of the sitting room. It was stuffed with old furniture and boxes of God knew what.

“What if what I’m looking for is inside one of these boxes?” she finished.

“I suppose.” Remy sighed, drinking more tea and wishing it were coffee.

“All right, then,” she said with finality. “I’d better not be putting anything in that trash bag.” She leaned back in her chair and took a sip from her cup, looking at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. They made her dark, watery eyes look huge as they fixed upon him. And then she began to laugh.

Remy couldn’t help but do the same.

When he’d asked her why she had called him, Fernita told him that an old friend named Pearly Gates had once told her that if she ever had a problem to give the detective a call. She’d produced an old business card from the pocket of the flowered apron she was wearing. It had been a long time since Remy had used that particular card—at least thirty years.

He had no idea who Pearly Gates was, but the name amused him.

Fernita was suddenly very quiet, staring off into space as if seeing something beyond the room.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

She seemed startled by the sound of his voice and looked at him inquisitively. For a moment Remy was certain she had no idea who he was.

A smile then appeared, and he knew she had returned from wherever she had temporarily been.

“Remy Chandler,” she said happily. “It’s so nice that you visit me.”

He smiled, reaching out to take her hand. “I like that you let me.”

And it was true....

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2012
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0451464125
ISBN 13 
9780451464125
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
304
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

Europaallee 1
Bad Hersfeld
36244
Deutschland

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