The Colorado Kid   ::   Кинг Стивен

“This young man, this Devane, spent four years at some place like Georgetown University, wanting to learn the sort of science that catches crooks, and right around the time he was coming to bud the luck of the draw sent him to work with a couple of doughnuteating detectives who turned him into little more than a gofer, running files between Augusta and Waterville and shooing lookieloos away from carcrash scenes. Oh, maybe once in awhile he got to measure a footprint or take flash photos of a tireprint as a reward. But rarely, I sh’d say. Rarely.

“In any case, Steffi, these two fine specimens of detection—and I hope to God they’re long out to pasture—happened to be in Tinnock Village at the same time the body of the Colorado Kid turned up on Hammock Beach. They were investigating an apartmenthouse fire ‘of suspicious origin,’ as we say when reporting such things in the paper, and they had their pet boy, who was by then losing his idealism, with them.

“If he’d drawn a couple of thegood detectives working out of the A.G.’s office—and I’ve met my share in spite of the goddam bureaucracy that makes so many problems in this state’s law enforcement system—or if his Department of Forensic Studies had sent him to some other state that accepts students, he might have ended up one of the fellas you see on thatCSI show—”

“I like that show,” Dave said. “Much more realistic thanMurder, She Wrote. Who’s ready for a muffin? There’s some in the pantry.”

It turned out they all were, and storytime was suspended until Dave brought them back, along with a roll of paper towels. When each of them had a Labree’s squash muffin and a paper towel to catch the crumbs, Vince told Dave to take up the tale. “Because,” he said, “I’m getting preachy and apt to keep us here until dark.”

“I thought you was doin good,” Dave said.

Vince clapped a bony hand to his even bonier chest. “Call 911, Steffi, my heart just stopped.”

“That won’t be so funny when it really happens, oldtimer,” Dave said.

“Lookit him spray those crumbs,” Vince said. “You drool at one end of your life and dribble at t’other, my Ma used to say. Go on, Dave, tell on, but do us all a favor and swallow, first.”

Dave did, and followed the swallow with a big gulp of Coke to wash everything down. Stephanie hoped her own digestive system would be up to such challenges when she reached David Bowie’s age.