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I did not want to think — or rather, there were things I did not want to think about. I had run out of things to read. I tried to ignore the sounds — the snores of those who had gone to sleep on the benches, with their cloaks as blankets if they had them, the heavy breathing and the loud or muted sounds of pleasure or pain from those who occupied benches but slept not, the drunken laughter and the sudden curses from the tables were cards or dice were played, the occasional shouts for more beer or wine — the pub catered to both tastes — and among all those sounds, I dimly heard the voice of the story-teller. I had missed the beginning of his story, and, with all the noise, I missed much of the rest, and I never heard the end.“Not a good idea for a woman to get drunk in such a place?” she asked.“I understand what you’re saying,” I replied, “but it’s a fact, isn’t it? A man risks being attacked when he carries something of value with him, and, clearly enough, in this dump none of them. I hit the speed-dial and waited."Werner residence," the stilted tones of Ivan, the snooty butler answered the phone. Great."Evening, Lurch," I drawled. "Is the boss in?"Ivan sniffed disdainfully at me. I could see it in my head as if I was standing right there. I still wondered what kind of relationship the two of us had. I respected him as a man, and he loved Gretchen like his own daughter, but I just couldn't get past the need to spar with him like this. I doubt either of us really thought the barbs we traded were serious. It had become a game by now, and I wondered if that meant we actually liked each other on some level. Where the hell these weird ass stray thoughts kept coming from was enough to drive me crazy. I only hoped to God that it was just because I was pregnant."Mister Warner is always in at this hour, Detective," he said haughtily, thankfully interrupting my train of thought. "But he's busy with dinner and can't be disturbed. Important guests, you see. Perhaps you.
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