JК
The Colorado Kid :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 40 из 81”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said, smiling a little. “Just don’t want to lose m’place. It’s easier to do when there’s no…what would you call it, Vincent?”
“No throughline,” Vince said. He was smiling, too, but his eyes were a little distant. Stephanie wondered if it was the thought of the little Does that had put that distance there.
“Nope, no throughline t’all,” Dave said. He thought, then proved how little he’d lost his place by ticking items rapidly off on his fingers. “Contents of the bag was the deceased’s weddinring, seventeen dollars in paper money—a ten, a five, and two ones—plus some assorted change that might have added up to a buck. Also, Devane said, one coin that wasn’t American. He said he thought the writing on it was Russian.”
“Russian,” she marveled.
“What’s called Cyrillic,” Vince murmured.
Dave pressed ahead. “There was a roll of Certs and a pack of Big Red chewin gum with all but one stick gone. There was a book of matches with an ad for stampcollectin on the front—I’m sure you’ve seen that kind, they hand em out at every convenience store—and Devane said he could see a strikemark on the strip across the bottom for that purpose, pink and bright. And then there was that pack of cigarettes, open and with one or two cigarettes gone. Devane thought only one, and the single strikemark on the matchbook seemed to bear that out, he said.”
“But no wallet,” Stephanie said.
“No, ma’am.”
“And absolutely no identification.”
“No.”
“Did anyone theorize that maybe someone came along and stole Mr. Doe’s last piece of steakand his wallet?” she asked, and a little giggle got out before she could put her hand over her mouth.
“Steffi, we tried that and everything else,” Vince said. “Including the idea that maybe he got dropped off on Hammock Beach by one of the Coast Lights.”
“Some sixteen months after Johnny Gravlin and Nancy Arnault found that fella,” Dave resumed, “Paul Devane was invited to spend a weekend at his ladyfriend’s house in Pennsylvania. I have to think that MooseLookit Island, Hammock Beach, and John Doe were all about the last things on his mind just then. He said he and the girlfriend were going out for the evening, to a movie or somethin. Mother and Dad were in the kitchen, finishin the supper dishes—‘doin the riddingup’ is what we say in these parts—and although Paul had offered to help, he’d been banished to the living room on the grounds of not knowin where anything went.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said, smiling a little. “Just don’t want to lose m’place. It’s easier to do when there’s no…what would you call it, Vincent?”
“No throughline,” Vince said. He was smiling, too, but his eyes were a little distant. Stephanie wondered if it was the thought of the little Does that had put that distance there.
“Nope, no throughline t’all,” Dave said. He thought, then proved how little he’d lost his place by ticking items rapidly off on his fingers. “Contents of the bag was the deceased’s weddinring, seventeen dollars in paper money—a ten, a five, and two ones—plus some assorted change that might have added up to a buck. Also, Devane said, one coin that wasn’t American. He said he thought the writing on it was Russian.”
“Russian,” she marveled.
“What’s called Cyrillic,” Vince murmured.
Dave pressed ahead. “There was a roll of Certs and a pack of Big Red chewin gum with all but one stick gone. There was a book of matches with an ad for stampcollectin on the front—I’m sure you’ve seen that kind, they hand em out at every convenience store—and Devane said he could see a strikemark on the strip across the bottom for that purpose, pink and bright. And then there was that pack of cigarettes, open and with one or two cigarettes gone. Devane thought only one, and the single strikemark on the matchbook seemed to bear that out, he said.”
“But no wallet,” Stephanie said.
“No, ma’am.”
“And absolutely no identification.”
“No.”
“Did anyone theorize that maybe someone came along and stole Mr. Doe’s last piece of steakand his wallet?” she asked, and a little giggle got out before she could put her hand over her mouth.
“Steffi, we tried that and everything else,” Vince said. “Including the idea that maybe he got dropped off on Hammock Beach by one of the Coast Lights.”
“Some sixteen months after Johnny Gravlin and Nancy Arnault found that fella,” Dave resumed, “Paul Devane was invited to spend a weekend at his ladyfriend’s house in Pennsylvania. I have to think that MooseLookit Island, Hammock Beach, and John Doe were all about the last things on his mind just then. He said he and the girlfriend were going out for the evening, to a movie or somethin. Mother and Dad were in the kitchen, finishin the supper dishes—‘doin the riddingup’ is what we say in these parts—and although Paul had offered to help, he’d been banished to the living room on the grounds of not knowin where anything went.