JК
Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 197 из 425Noonan, now let’s turn to—”
“Let him finish,” Bissonette said. I had an idea he had already taken a bigger part in the proceedings than he had expected to, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was a sleepy-looking man with a bloodhound’s mournful, trustworthy face. “This isn’t a courtroom, and you’re not cross-examining him.”
“I have the little girl’s welfare to think of,” Durgin said. He sounded both pompous and humble at the same time, a combination that went together like chocolate sauce on creamed corn. “It’s a responsibility I take very seriously. If I seemed to be badgering you, Mr. Noonan, I apologize.” I didn’t bother accepting his apology—that would have made us both phonies. “All I was going to say is that Ki was laughing when she said it. She said she and her mother had a bubble-fight. When her mother came back on, she was laughing, too.” Durgin had opened the folder Footman had brought him and was paging rapidly through it while I spoke, as if he weren’t hearing a word. “Her mother… Mattie, as you call her.”
“Yes. Mattie as I call her. How do you know about our private telephone conversation in the first place?”
“That’s none of your business, Mr. Noonan.” He selected a single sheet of paper, then closed the folder. He held the paper up briefly, like a doctor studying an X-ray, and I could see it was covered with single-spaced typing. “Let’s turn to your initial meeting with Mary and Kyra Devore. That was on the Fourth of July, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Durgin was nodding. “The morning of the Fourth. And you met Kyra Devote first.”
“Yes.”
“You met her first because her mother wasn’t with her at that time, was she?”
“That’s a badly phrased question, Mr. Durgin, but I guess the answer is yes.”
“I’m flattered to have my grammar corrected by a man who’s been on the bestseller lists,” Durgin said, smiling. The smile suggested that he’d like to see me sitting next to Romeo Bissonette in that first gulag-bound boxcar. “Tell us about your meeting, first with Kyra Devore and then with Mary Devore. Or Mattie, if you like that better.” I told the story. When I was finished, Durgin centered the tape player in front of him. The nails of his pudgy fingers looked as glossy as his lips.
“Mr. Noonan, you could have run Kyra over, isn’t that true?”
“Absolutely not. I was going thirty-five—that’s the speed limit there by the store.
I saw her in plenty of time to stop.”
“Suppose you had been coming the other way, though—heading north instead of south.
“Let him finish,” Bissonette said. I had an idea he had already taken a bigger part in the proceedings than he had expected to, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was a sleepy-looking man with a bloodhound’s mournful, trustworthy face. “This isn’t a courtroom, and you’re not cross-examining him.”
“I have the little girl’s welfare to think of,” Durgin said. He sounded both pompous and humble at the same time, a combination that went together like chocolate sauce on creamed corn. “It’s a responsibility I take very seriously. If I seemed to be badgering you, Mr. Noonan, I apologize.” I didn’t bother accepting his apology—that would have made us both phonies. “All I was going to say is that Ki was laughing when she said it. She said she and her mother had a bubble-fight. When her mother came back on, she was laughing, too.” Durgin had opened the folder Footman had brought him and was paging rapidly through it while I spoke, as if he weren’t hearing a word. “Her mother… Mattie, as you call her.”
“Yes. Mattie as I call her. How do you know about our private telephone conversation in the first place?”
“That’s none of your business, Mr. Noonan.” He selected a single sheet of paper, then closed the folder. He held the paper up briefly, like a doctor studying an X-ray, and I could see it was covered with single-spaced typing. “Let’s turn to your initial meeting with Mary and Kyra Devore. That was on the Fourth of July, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Durgin was nodding. “The morning of the Fourth. And you met Kyra Devote first.”
“Yes.”
“You met her first because her mother wasn’t with her at that time, was she?”
“That’s a badly phrased question, Mr. Durgin, but I guess the answer is yes.”
“I’m flattered to have my grammar corrected by a man who’s been on the bestseller lists,” Durgin said, smiling. The smile suggested that he’d like to see me sitting next to Romeo Bissonette in that first gulag-bound boxcar. “Tell us about your meeting, first with Kyra Devore and then with Mary Devore. Or Mattie, if you like that better.” I told the story. When I was finished, Durgin centered the tape player in front of him. The nails of his pudgy fingers looked as glossy as his lips.
“Mr. Noonan, you could have run Kyra over, isn’t that true?”
“Absolutely not. I was going thirty-five—that’s the speed limit there by the store.
I saw her in plenty of time to stop.”
“Suppose you had been coming the other way, though—heading north instead of south.