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The Colorado Kid :: Кинг Стивен
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“What about the woman’s father?” she asked.
“Stone blind and onelegged,” Dave said. “The diabetes.”
“Ouch,” she said.
“Ayuh.”
“Let Jack n Maisie Harrington go hang,” Vince said impatiently. “I never believed in the Second Airplane Theory when it comes to Cogan any more than I ever believed in the Second Gunman Theory when it came to Kennedy. If Cogan had a car waiting for him in Denver—and I can’t see any way around it—then he could have had one waiting for him at the General Aviation Terminal, as well. And I believe he did.”
“That is just so farfetched,” Dave said. He spoke not scoffingly but dolefully.
“P’raps,” Vince responded, unperturbed, “but when you get rid of the impossible, whatever’s left…there’s your pup, scratchin at the door t’be let in.”
“He could have driven himself,” Stephanie said thoughtfully.
“A rental car?” Dave shook his head. “Don’t think so, dear. Rental agencies take only credit cards, and credit cards leave paper trails.”
“Besides,” Vince said, “Cogan didn’t know his way around eastern and coastal Maine. So far as we can discover, he’d never been here in his life. You know the roads by now, Steffi: there’s only one main one that comes out this way from Bangor to Ellsworth, but once you get to Ellsworth, there’s three or four different choices, and a flatlander, even one with a map, is apt to get confused. No, I think Dave is right. If the Kid meant to go by car, and if he knew in advance how small his timewindow was going to be, he would have wanted to have a driver standin by and waitin. Somebody who’d take cash money, drive fast, and not get lost.”
Stephanie thought for a little while. The two old men let her.
“Three hired drivers in all,” she said at last. “The one in the middle at the controls of a private jet.”
“Maybe with a copilot,” Dave put in quietly. “Them are the rules, at least.”
“It’s very outlandish,” she said.
Vince nodded and sighed. “I don’t disagree.”
“You’ve never turned up even one of these drivers, have you?”
“No.”
She thought some more, this time with her head down and her normally smooth brow furrowed in a deep frown. Once more they did not interrupt her, and after perhaps two minutes, she looked up again. “Butwhy? What could be so important for Cogan to go to such lengths?”
Vince Teague and Dave Bowie looked at each other, then back at her. Vince said: “Ain’tthat a good question.
“What about the woman’s father?” she asked.
“Stone blind and onelegged,” Dave said. “The diabetes.”
“Ouch,” she said.
“Ayuh.”
“Let Jack n Maisie Harrington go hang,” Vince said impatiently. “I never believed in the Second Airplane Theory when it comes to Cogan any more than I ever believed in the Second Gunman Theory when it came to Kennedy. If Cogan had a car waiting for him in Denver—and I can’t see any way around it—then he could have had one waiting for him at the General Aviation Terminal, as well. And I believe he did.”
“That is just so farfetched,” Dave said. He spoke not scoffingly but dolefully.
“P’raps,” Vince responded, unperturbed, “but when you get rid of the impossible, whatever’s left…there’s your pup, scratchin at the door t’be let in.”
“He could have driven himself,” Stephanie said thoughtfully.
“A rental car?” Dave shook his head. “Don’t think so, dear. Rental agencies take only credit cards, and credit cards leave paper trails.”
“Besides,” Vince said, “Cogan didn’t know his way around eastern and coastal Maine. So far as we can discover, he’d never been here in his life. You know the roads by now, Steffi: there’s only one main one that comes out this way from Bangor to Ellsworth, but once you get to Ellsworth, there’s three or four different choices, and a flatlander, even one with a map, is apt to get confused. No, I think Dave is right. If the Kid meant to go by car, and if he knew in advance how small his timewindow was going to be, he would have wanted to have a driver standin by and waitin. Somebody who’d take cash money, drive fast, and not get lost.”
Stephanie thought for a little while. The two old men let her.
“Three hired drivers in all,” she said at last. “The one in the middle at the controls of a private jet.”
“Maybe with a copilot,” Dave put in quietly. “Them are the rules, at least.”
“It’s very outlandish,” she said.
Vince nodded and sighed. “I don’t disagree.”
“You’ve never turned up even one of these drivers, have you?”
“No.”
She thought some more, this time with her head down and her normally smooth brow furrowed in a deep frown. Once more they did not interrupt her, and after perhaps two minutes, she looked up again. “Butwhy? What could be so important for Cogan to go to such lengths?”
Vince Teague and Dave Bowie looked at each other, then back at her. Vince said: “Ain’tthat a good question.