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The Colorado Kid :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 36 из 81I asked if she noticed where he went when he finished his meal—which he ate around fivethirty—and she said no.”
He looked at Stephanie. “My guess is probably down to the town dock, to catch the six o’clock ferry to Moosie. The time would have been just about right.”
“Ayuh, that’s what I’ve always figured,” Dave said.
Stephanie sat up straight as something occurred to her. “It was April. The middle of April on the coast of Maine, but he had no coat on when he was found. Was he wearing a coat when he was served at Jan’s?”
Both of the old men grinned at her as if she had just solved some complicated equation. Only, Stephanie knew, their business—even at the humbleWeekly Islander level—was less about solving than it was delineating whatneeded to be solved.
“That’s a good question,” Vince said.
“Lovely question,” Dave agreed.
“I was saving that part,” Vince said, “but since there’s nostory, exactly, saving the good parts doesn’t matter…and if you want answers, dear heart, the store is closed. The takeout girl at Jan’s didn’t remember for sure, and no one else remembered him at all. I suppose we have to count ourselves lucky, in a way; had he bellied up to that counter in midJuly, when such places have a million people in em, all wanting fishandchips baskets, lobster rolls, and ice cream sundaes, she wouldn’t have remembered him at all unless he’d dropped his trousers and mooned her.”
“Maybe not even then,” Stephanie said.
“That’s true. As it was, shedid remember him, but not if he was wearing a coat. I didn’t press her too hard on it, either, knowin that if I did she might remember somethin just to please me…or to get me out of her hair. She said ‘I seem to recall he was wearing a light green jacket, Mr. Teague, but that could be wrong.’ And maybe itwas wrong, but do you know…I tend to think she was right. That he was wearing such a jacket.”
“Then where was it?” Stephanie asked. “Did such a jacket ever turn up?”
“No,” Dave said, “so maybe therewas no jacket…although what he was doing outside on a raw seacoast night in April without one certainly beggarsmy imagination.”
Stephanie turned back to Vince, suddenly with a thousand questions, all urgent, none fully articulated.
“What are you smiling about, dear?” Vince asked.
“I don’t know.” She paused. “Yes, I do. I have so goddamned many questions I don’t know which one to ask first.”
Both of the old men whooped at that one.
He looked at Stephanie. “My guess is probably down to the town dock, to catch the six o’clock ferry to Moosie. The time would have been just about right.”
“Ayuh, that’s what I’ve always figured,” Dave said.
Stephanie sat up straight as something occurred to her. “It was April. The middle of April on the coast of Maine, but he had no coat on when he was found. Was he wearing a coat when he was served at Jan’s?”
Both of the old men grinned at her as if she had just solved some complicated equation. Only, Stephanie knew, their business—even at the humbleWeekly Islander level—was less about solving than it was delineating whatneeded to be solved.
“That’s a good question,” Vince said.
“Lovely question,” Dave agreed.
“I was saving that part,” Vince said, “but since there’s nostory, exactly, saving the good parts doesn’t matter…and if you want answers, dear heart, the store is closed. The takeout girl at Jan’s didn’t remember for sure, and no one else remembered him at all. I suppose we have to count ourselves lucky, in a way; had he bellied up to that counter in midJuly, when such places have a million people in em, all wanting fishandchips baskets, lobster rolls, and ice cream sundaes, she wouldn’t have remembered him at all unless he’d dropped his trousers and mooned her.”
“Maybe not even then,” Stephanie said.
“That’s true. As it was, shedid remember him, but not if he was wearing a coat. I didn’t press her too hard on it, either, knowin that if I did she might remember somethin just to please me…or to get me out of her hair. She said ‘I seem to recall he was wearing a light green jacket, Mr. Teague, but that could be wrong.’ And maybe itwas wrong, but do you know…I tend to think she was right. That he was wearing such a jacket.”
“Then where was it?” Stephanie asked. “Did such a jacket ever turn up?”
“No,” Dave said, “so maybe therewas no jacket…although what he was doing outside on a raw seacoast night in April without one certainly beggarsmy imagination.”
Stephanie turned back to Vince, suddenly with a thousand questions, all urgent, none fully articulated.
“What are you smiling about, dear?” Vince asked.
“I don’t know.” She paused. “Yes, I do. I have so goddamned many questions I don’t know which one to ask first.”
Both of the old men whooped at that one.