Cold Snap Read Online Free PDF Page A

direction.
    "Mr. Ciminon?" The speaker had bright
childlike eyes, a creamy childish complexion, a face unlined by age
or mundane experience. He seemed young enough, almost, to join the
children in the basement. In some respects, he resembled the
ageless Matt Mackenzie.
    "I am Ari Ciminon," Ari acknowledged,
accepting the smooth, cool hand.
    "I'm Bristol Turnbridge. I work with
Matt."
    "Ah," said Ari with warm courtesy. "This has
something to do with computers?"
    "A lot to do with computers," said Tracy as
she glided past them. She must have felt a chill and had donned a
chiffon scarf, which she used to tag each man in turn. "Be nice to
him, Ari. This is Matt's boss." And then she floated away, like a
purple cloud caught in the slipstream.
    Bristol batted away this kittenish behavior
with a practiced gesture, like a man familiar with false
seductions. "Matt's a rad guy, knows his COBOL and JCL like
nobody's business. We were subbed to help transfer a pipe and
wellhead warehouse and he had to sort out 300,000 material codes.
Can you imagine?"
    Ari received this with a deferential nod
intended to convey his incomprehension.
    "I get the impression you don't know what I'm
talking about," Bristol smiled.
    "I am limited to passwords and primitive
databases," Ari confessed.
    "Too bad necessity can be so boring," Bristol
shrugged, his mimosa quivering in his champagne glass. "Lucky for
me, I love the boring stuff. I guess it's really boring next to
your job. Tracy tells me you work for the Cirque du Soleil. They're
based in Montreal, aren't they?"
    Ari shrugged, not wanting to elaborate on a
lie that was getting out of hand. Interpreting this as unwarranted
modesty, Bristol continued: "You go up to Canada a lot?"
    "Occasionally."
    "You're not very well placed, are you? The
Cirque has shows all over the world, right? Richmond isn't very...
well, central."
    "It has an international airport.''
    "It's to laugh."
    Ari found his laugh a little too calculated,
as though a rough edge had been consciously filed smooth.
    "Try to find a direct flight to anywhere but
LaGuardia."
    Both men sensed piercing eyes and turned to
see Rebecca Wareness glaring at them from across the room. She
looked haggard and depleted. She turned away.
    "Rebecca seems to be a little bit challenged
in the tact department," said Bristol with a pronounced blush.
    "Yes," Ari said uneasily, giving the woman a
sad glance.
    "Huh?" said Bristol, surprised. "What did you
do to piss her off?"
    He couldn't very well tell Bristol that
Rebecca suspected him of being a potential child molester. He was
equally disinclined to admit the central character in his dispute
with Diane's mother was a cat. "It's a stress between neighbors,"
he finally conceded.
    ''That's an interesting way of putting it.
What is it, if you don't mind my asking? You don't live next door
to her, do you? I thought it was that flagpole guy, the one always
nagging Tracy about her parties."
    So he knew about Howie Nottoway's attempt to
plant the Colors in his front yard. The neighborhood association
had not only scotched such overt patriotism, but compelled him to
remove the haplessly vacant pole. It was the pole, in fact, that
had offended association sensibilities. It did not surprise him
that Tracy had told Bristol the story. But now he was beginning to
wonder if she was the one who had filed the original complaint
against Howie. Tit for tat
    "I live one door down from her, on the
river."
    "Oh, where the Riggins family..."
    "Yes." Ari was fairly certain he had solved
the crime, but the only one who knew the truth was Sphinx. And,
being a cat, he was not inclined to provide any details.
    "That doesn't give you..." Bristol gave a
flip to his light brown hair, as though adjusting his nerves. "You
know, the willies?"
    "'Willies'? That's a form of
nervousness?"
    "You could say that."
    "I hear no footsteps other than my own, if
you're speaking of ghosts."
    "Ha!" Again, the manicured laugh. "Here I am,
IT to the wazoo,