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Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 200 из 425Noonan, if you hadn’t carried Kyra Devore to the side of the road—if you hadn’t rescued her—mightn’t her own mother have run her over?”
Here was the really loaded question, and how should I answer it?
Bis-sonette was certainly not flashing any helpful signals; he seemed to be trying to make meaningful eye-contact with the pretty assistant. I thought of the book Mattie was reading in tandem with “Bartleby”-Silent Witness, by Richard North Patterson. Unlike the Grisham brand, Patterson’s lawyers almost always seemed to know what they were doing.
Objection, Your Honor, calls j$r speculation on the part of the witness.
I shrugged. “Sorry, counsellor, can’t say—left my crystal ball home.”
Again I saw the ugly flash in Durgin’s eyes. “Mr. Noonan, I can assure you that if you don’t answer that question here, you are apt to be called back from Malibu or Fire Island or wherever it is you’re going to write your next opus to answer it later on.”
I shrugged. “I’ve already told you I was concerned with the child. I can’t tell you how fast the mother was going, or how good Royce Merrill’s vision is, or if Deputy Footman even measured the right set of skid-marks. There’s a whole bunch of rubber on that part of the road, I can tell you. Suppose she was going fifty? Even fifty-five, let’s say that. She’s twenty-one years old, Durgin. At the age of twenty-one, a person’s driving skills are at their peak. She probably would have swerved around the child, and easily.”
“I think that’s quite enough.”
“Why? Because you’re not getting what you wanted?” Bissonette’s shoe clipped my ankle again, but I ignored it. “If you’re on Kyra’s side, why do you sound as though you’re on her grandfather’s?”
A baleful little smile touched Durgin’s lips. The kind that says Okay, smart guy, you want top/ay? He pulled the tape-recorder a little closer to him. “Since you have mentioned Kyra’s grandfather, Mr. Maxwell Devore of Palm Springs, let’s talk about him a little, shall we?”
“It’s your show.”
“Have you ever spoken with Maxwell Devore?”
“Yes.”
“In person or on the phone?”
“Phone.” I thought about adding that he had somehow gotten hold of my unlisted number, then remembered that Mattie had, too, and decided to keep my mouth shut on that subject.
“When was this?”
“Last Saturday night. The night of the Fourth. He called while I was watching the fireworks.”
“And was the subject of your conversation that morning’s little adventure?’’ As he asked, Durgin reached into his pocket and brought out a cassette tape.
Here was the really loaded question, and how should I answer it?
Bis-sonette was certainly not flashing any helpful signals; he seemed to be trying to make meaningful eye-contact with the pretty assistant. I thought of the book Mattie was reading in tandem with “Bartleby”-Silent Witness, by Richard North Patterson. Unlike the Grisham brand, Patterson’s lawyers almost always seemed to know what they were doing.
Objection, Your Honor, calls j$r speculation on the part of the witness.
I shrugged. “Sorry, counsellor, can’t say—left my crystal ball home.”
Again I saw the ugly flash in Durgin’s eyes. “Mr. Noonan, I can assure you that if you don’t answer that question here, you are apt to be called back from Malibu or Fire Island or wherever it is you’re going to write your next opus to answer it later on.”
I shrugged. “I’ve already told you I was concerned with the child. I can’t tell you how fast the mother was going, or how good Royce Merrill’s vision is, or if Deputy Footman even measured the right set of skid-marks. There’s a whole bunch of rubber on that part of the road, I can tell you. Suppose she was going fifty? Even fifty-five, let’s say that. She’s twenty-one years old, Durgin. At the age of twenty-one, a person’s driving skills are at their peak. She probably would have swerved around the child, and easily.”
“I think that’s quite enough.”
“Why? Because you’re not getting what you wanted?” Bissonette’s shoe clipped my ankle again, but I ignored it. “If you’re on Kyra’s side, why do you sound as though you’re on her grandfather’s?”
A baleful little smile touched Durgin’s lips. The kind that says Okay, smart guy, you want top/ay? He pulled the tape-recorder a little closer to him. “Since you have mentioned Kyra’s grandfather, Mr. Maxwell Devore of Palm Springs, let’s talk about him a little, shall we?”
“It’s your show.”
“Have you ever spoken with Maxwell Devore?”
“Yes.”
“In person or on the phone?”
“Phone.” I thought about adding that he had somehow gotten hold of my unlisted number, then remembered that Mattie had, too, and decided to keep my mouth shut on that subject.
“When was this?”
“Last Saturday night. The night of the Fourth. He called while I was watching the fireworks.”
“And was the subject of your conversation that morning’s little adventure?’’ As he asked, Durgin reached into his pocket and brought out a cassette tape.