Everyone's Dead But Us by Zubro Mark Richard

Author:Zubro, Mark Richard [Zubro, Mark Richard]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2006-07-10T22:00:00+00:00

The others walked down the hall ahead of us. I tapped Scott’s arm. We held back. The others disappeared deeper into the house.

I said, “I need to pause. I am tired. I am fed up. I am frightened. I keep getting flashes of Sherebury.”

“It’s like a video on continuous rewind. A horror video you can’t escape from. The slasher scene that won’t end. I’ve never been more frightened. Who are all these people? What is wrong with them?”

I felt myself shaking and hung on to him. He put an arm around me. “I’m hungry.” Hours earlier we’d snacked on peanuts and orange juice from the concession in Apritzi House.

“Those people are going to get to Dimitri Thasos before we are,” Scott pointed out.

“We’ve got to talk to him by ourselves. We’ve got to find the killer or killers. We’ve got to find out who would have the nerve to move Sherebury’s corpse. We need more information about this secret treasure stash. Whoever knows about that must have some answers. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. It’s a hell of a life when you’re exhausted on New Year’s Eve before the sun has even set.”

“That can’t be much more than an hour away,” Scott said.

Barney Crushton burst back into the room. “Movado won’t let anyone in to see Dimitri.”

“He’s back?” I asked.

“He says he was never gone.”

“Oh, hell,” I said. A fight with a rude, officious person was just the kind of thing to get my adrenaline back at high speed.

We stomped through Apritzi House to the door outside the room Thasos was in. Movado was planted firmly in front of a crowd of folks all guarding the portal. Behind him stood Chester Rechetel, Klimpton, Oser, Fitzgerald, and Seymour. Craveté, Deplonte, Virl Morgan, Bobby Feige, and a few others were nowhere to be seen. Crushton, Gavin, and Martikovic stood off to one side.

Brawling to see who could question a dying man? I didn’t see this as turning out good for anyone.

Movado said, “You are not going to question Dimitri.”

I said, “I thought you were missing.”

Movado said, “I was lost, now I’m found.”

“Worse luck,” I muttered.

Scott asked, “Do you know anything about secret treasure?”

Klimpton et al. looked at Movado. “No,” the bar owner said.

Lying sack of shit, I thought to myself, with the further logical conclusion; they’re all in on it. I examined the faces turned to us. If I was a good face reader, I’d say the rich among them were looking defiant and the staff were looking confused. None of them gave the slightest hint of helpfulness.

Scott said, “Why won’t you let us talk to him?”

Movado said, “You can ask as many questions as you like. You’ve gotten as many answers as you’re going to get.”

Scott said, “This is not making logical sense.”

I said, “It does if they are in it with the killer or one of them is the killer.”

Movado said, “Don’t think of trying to force your way in. You have guns. We have guns. I don’t think you’re willing to shoot.

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