The White Road  - John Connolly

I showered in my room and called Rachel. She was just about to head into South Portland for a reading at Nonesuch books. She´d mentioned it to me a couple of days earlier, but I´d forgotten about it until now.

"An interesting thing happened today," she said, giving me just enough time to get the word "hi" out of my mouth. "I opened the front door and there was a man on my doorstep. A big man. A very big, very black man."


"You said it would be discreet. His T-shirt had the words "Klan Killer" written on the front."


"And do you know what he said?"

I waited.

"He handed me a note from Louis and told me he was lactose intolerant. That was it. Note. Lactose intolerant. Nothing else. He´s coming to the reading with me. It was all I could do to get him to change his T-shirt. The new one reads "Black Death". I´m going to tell people it´s a rap band. Do you think it´s a rap band?"

I figured it was probably his occupation, but I didn´t say that. Instead, I said the only thing I could think of to say.

"Maybe you´d better buy some soya milk."

She hung up without saying good-bye.


I love these characters.