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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 29 из 160I know what I am and that is not a thing to love. I am alone in the world, all alone, but for Deborah. Except, of course, for the Thing inside, who does not come out to play too often. And does not actually play with me but must have somebody else.
So as much as I can, I care about her, dear Deborah. It is probably not love, but I would rather she were happy.
And she sat there, dear Deborah, looking unhappy. My family. Staring at me and not knowing what to say, but coming closer to saying it than ever before.
“Well,” I said, “actually-”
“I knew it! You DO have something!”
“Don't interrupt my trance, Deborah. I'm in touch with the spirit realm.”
“Spit it out,” she said.
“It's the interrupted cut, Deb. The left leg.”
“What about it?”
“LaGuerta thinks the killer was discovered. Got nervous, didn't finish.”
Deborah nodded. “She had me asking hookers last night if they saw anything. Somebody must have.”
“Oh, not you, too,” I said. “ Think , Deborah. If he was interrupted-too scared to finish-”
“The wrapping,” she blurted. “He still spent a lot of time wrapping the body, cleaning up.” She looked surprised. “Shit. After he was interrupted?”
I clapped my hands and beamed at her. “Bravo, Miss Marple.”
“Then it doesn't make sense.”
“Au contraire. If there is plenty of time, but the ritual is not completed properly-and remember, Deb, the ritual is nearly everything-what's the implication?”
“Why can't you just tell me, for God's sake?” she snapped.
“What fun would that be?”
She blew out a hard breath. “Goddamn it. All right, Dex. If he wasn't interrupted, but he didn't finish- Shit. The wrapping-up part was more important than the cutting?”
I took pity on her. “No, Deb. Think. This is the fifth one, exactly like all the others. Four left legs cut perfectly. And now number five-” I shrugged, raised an eyebrow at her.
“Aw, shit, Dexter. How should I know? Maybe he only needed four left legs. Maybe… I don't know, I swear to God. What?”
I smiled and shook my head. To me it was so clear. “The thrill is gone, Deb. Something just isn't right. It isn't working. Some essential bit of the magic that makes it perfect, isn't there.”
“I was supposed to figure that out?”
“Somebody should, don't you think? And so he just sort of dribbles to a stop, looking for inspiration and finding none.”
She frowned. “So he's done.
So as much as I can, I care about her, dear Deborah. It is probably not love, but I would rather she were happy.
And she sat there, dear Deborah, looking unhappy. My family. Staring at me and not knowing what to say, but coming closer to saying it than ever before.
“Well,” I said, “actually-”
“I knew it! You DO have something!”
“Don't interrupt my trance, Deborah. I'm in touch with the spirit realm.”
“Spit it out,” she said.
“It's the interrupted cut, Deb. The left leg.”
“What about it?”
“LaGuerta thinks the killer was discovered. Got nervous, didn't finish.”
Deborah nodded. “She had me asking hookers last night if they saw anything. Somebody must have.”
“Oh, not you, too,” I said. “ Think , Deborah. If he was interrupted-too scared to finish-”
“The wrapping,” she blurted. “He still spent a lot of time wrapping the body, cleaning up.” She looked surprised. “Shit. After he was interrupted?”
I clapped my hands and beamed at her. “Bravo, Miss Marple.”
“Then it doesn't make sense.”
“Au contraire. If there is plenty of time, but the ritual is not completed properly-and remember, Deb, the ritual is nearly everything-what's the implication?”
“Why can't you just tell me, for God's sake?” she snapped.
“What fun would that be?”
She blew out a hard breath. “Goddamn it. All right, Dex. If he wasn't interrupted, but he didn't finish- Shit. The wrapping-up part was more important than the cutting?”
I took pity on her. “No, Deb. Think. This is the fifth one, exactly like all the others. Four left legs cut perfectly. And now number five-” I shrugged, raised an eyebrow at her.
“Aw, shit, Dexter. How should I know? Maybe he only needed four left legs. Maybe… I don't know, I swear to God. What?”
I smiled and shook my head. To me it was so clear. “The thrill is gone, Deb. Something just isn't right. It isn't working. Some essential bit of the magic that makes it perfect, isn't there.”
“I was supposed to figure that out?”
“Somebody should, don't you think? And so he just sort of dribbles to a stop, looking for inspiration and finding none.”
She frowned. “So he's done.