Американские боги
Chapter 8
Heglancedbacktothebridge,andsawSweeney’spaleface,stripedwithtearsanddirt,watchinghimgo.
ItwasthelasttimeShadowsawMadSweeneyalive.
ThebriefwinterdaysleadinguptoChristmaswerelikemomentsoflightbetweenthewinterdarknesses,andtheyfledfastinthehouseofthedead.
Itwasthetwenty-thirdofDecember,andJacquelandIbis’splayedhosttoawakeforLilaGoodchild.BustlingwomenfilledthekitchenwithtubsandwithsaucepansandwithskilletsandwithTupperware,andthedeceasedwaslaidoutinhercasketinthefuneralhome’sfrontroomwithhothouseflowersaroundher.Therewasatableontheothersideoftheroomladenhighwithcoleslawandbeansandcornmealhushpuppiesandchickenandribsandblack-eyedpeas,andbymid-afternoonthehousewasfilledwithpeopleweepingandlaughingandshakinghandswiththeminister,everythingbeingquietlyorganizedandoverseenbythesober-suitedMessrs.JacquelandIbis.Theburialwouldbeonthefollowingmorning.Whenthetelephoneinthehallrang(itwasBakeliteandblackandhadanhonest-to-goodnessrotarydialonthefront)Mr.Ibisanswered.ThenhetookShadowaside."Thatwasthepolice,"hesaid."Canyoumakeapickup?"
"Sure."
"Bediscreet.Here."Hewrotedownanaddressonaslipofpaper,thenpassedittoShadow,whoreadtheaddress,writteninperfectcopperplatehandwriting,andthenfoldeditupandputitinhispocket.
