Read Online Dexter 3 - Dexter in the Dark by Jeff Lindsay - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeff Lindsay
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darkly. They vanished
down the hall toward the back door, and as they left I took a deep breath, happy
that the vicious and unwarranted attacks against me were over for now. Of
course, I should have known better.
“Come in here,” Rita said, and she led me by the hand to the
sofa. “Vince called a little while ago,” she said as we settled onto
the cushions.
“Did he?” I said, and a sudden thrill of danger ripped
through me at the idea of what he might have said to Rita. “What did he
say?”
She shook her head. “He was very mysterious. He said to let him
know as soon as we had talked it over. And when I asked him talked what over he
wouldn't say. He just said you would tell me.”
I barely managed to stop myself from the unthinkable
conversational blunder of saying, “Did he?” again. In my defense, I
have to admit that my brain was whirling, not only with the panicked notion
that I had to flee to some place of safety but also with the thought that
before I fled I needed to find time to visit Vince with my little bag of toys.
But before I could mentally choose the correct blade, Rita went on.
“Honestly, Dexter, you're very lucky to have a friend like Vince.
He really does take his duties as best man seriously, and he has wonderful
taste.”
“Wonderfully expensive, too,” I said-and
perhaps I was still recovering from my near-gaffe with almost repeating
“Did he?” but I knew the moment it was out of my mouth that it was
absolutely the wrong thing to say. And sure enough, Rita lit up like a
Christmas tree.
“Really?” she said. “Well, I suppose he would, after
all. I mean, it most often goes together, doesn't it? You really do get what
you pay for, usually.”
“Yes, but it's a question of how much you have to
pay,” I said.
“How much for what?” Rita said, and there it
was. I was stuck.
“Well,” I said, “Vince has this crazy idea that we
should hire this South Beach caterer, a very pricey guy who does a lot of
celebrity events and things.”
Rita clapped her hands under her chin and looked radiantly happy.
“Not Manny Borque!” she cried. “Vince knows Manny Borque?”
Of course it was all over right there, but Dauntless Dexter does not go
down without a fight, no matter how feeble. “Did I mention that he's very
expensive?” I said hopefully.
“Oh, Dexter, you can't worry about money at a
time like this,” she said.
“I can too. I am.”
“Not if there's a chance to get Manny Borque,” she said, and
there was a surprisingly strong note in her voice that I had never heard before
except when she was angry with Cody and Astor.
“Yes, but Rita,” I
said, “it doesn't make sense to spend a ton of money just for the
caterer.”
“Sense has nothing to do with it,” she said,
and I admit that I agreed with her there. “If we can get Manny Borque to
cater our wedding, we'd be crazy not to do it.”
“But,” I said, and there I stopped, because
beyond the fact that it seemed idiotic to pay a king's ransom for crackers with
endives hand-painted with rhubarb juice and sculpted to look like Jennifer
Lopez, I could not think of any other objection. I mean, wasn't that enough?
Apparently not. “Dexter,” she said.
“How many times will we get married?” And to my great credit I was
still alert enough to clamp down on the urge to say, “At least twice, in
your case,” which I think was probably very wise.
I quickly changed course, diving straight into tactics learned from
pretending to be human for so many years. “Rita,” I said, “the
important part of the wedding is when I slip the ring on your finger. I don't
care what we eat afterward.”
“That's so sweet,” she said. “Then you
don't mind if we hire Manny Borque?”
Once again I found myself losing an argument before I even knew which
side I was on. I became aware of a dryness in my mouth-caused, no doubt, by the
fact that my mouth was hanging open as my brain struggled to make sense of what
had
down the hall toward the back door, and as they left I took a deep breath, happy
that the vicious and unwarranted attacks against me were over for now. Of
course, I should have known better.
“Come in here,” Rita said, and she led me by the hand to the
sofa. “Vince called a little while ago,” she said as we settled onto
the cushions.
“Did he?” I said, and a sudden thrill of danger ripped
through me at the idea of what he might have said to Rita. “What did he
say?”
She shook her head. “He was very mysterious. He said to let him
know as soon as we had talked it over. And when I asked him talked what over he
wouldn't say. He just said you would tell me.”
I barely managed to stop myself from the unthinkable
conversational blunder of saying, “Did he?” again. In my defense, I
have to admit that my brain was whirling, not only with the panicked notion
that I had to flee to some place of safety but also with the thought that
before I fled I needed to find time to visit Vince with my little bag of toys.
But before I could mentally choose the correct blade, Rita went on.
“Honestly, Dexter, you're very lucky to have a friend like Vince.
He really does take his duties as best man seriously, and he has wonderful
taste.”
“Wonderfully expensive, too,” I said-and
perhaps I was still recovering from my near-gaffe with almost repeating
“Did he?” but I knew the moment it was out of my mouth that it was
absolutely the wrong thing to say. And sure enough, Rita lit up like a
Christmas tree.
“Really?” she said. “Well, I suppose he would, after
all. I mean, it most often goes together, doesn't it? You really do get what
you pay for, usually.”
“Yes, but it's a question of how much you have to
pay,” I said.
“How much for what?” Rita said, and there it
was. I was stuck.
“Well,” I said, “Vince has this crazy idea that we
should hire this South Beach caterer, a very pricey guy who does a lot of
celebrity events and things.”
Rita clapped her hands under her chin and looked radiantly happy.
“Not Manny Borque!” she cried. “Vince knows Manny Borque?”
Of course it was all over right there, but Dauntless Dexter does not go
down without a fight, no matter how feeble. “Did I mention that he's very
expensive?” I said hopefully.
“Oh, Dexter, you can't worry about money at a
time like this,” she said.
“I can too. I am.”
“Not if there's a chance to get Manny Borque,” she said, and
there was a surprisingly strong note in her voice that I had never heard before
except when she was angry with Cody and Astor.
“Yes, but Rita,” I
said, “it doesn't make sense to spend a ton of money just for the
caterer.”
“Sense has nothing to do with it,” she said,
and I admit that I agreed with her there. “If we can get Manny Borque to
cater our wedding, we'd be crazy not to do it.”
“But,” I said, and there I stopped, because
beyond the fact that it seemed idiotic to pay a king's ransom for crackers with
endives hand-painted with rhubarb juice and sculpted to look like Jennifer
Lopez, I could not think of any other objection. I mean, wasn't that enough?
Apparently not. “Dexter,” she said.
“How many times will we get married?” And to my great credit I was
still alert enough to clamp down on the urge to say, “At least twice, in
your case,” which I think was probably very wise.
I quickly changed course, diving straight into tactics learned from
pretending to be human for so many years. “Rita,” I said, “the
important part of the wedding is when I slip the ring on your finger. I don't
care what we eat afterward.”
“That's so sweet,” she said. “Then you
don't mind if we hire Manny Borque?”
Once again I found myself losing an argument before I even knew which
side I was on. I became aware of a dryness in my mouth-caused, no doubt, by the
fact that my mouth was hanging open as my brain struggled to make sense of what
had
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