sk.cujo-第46节

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　drive　all　the　way　up　to　Camber's　place　today。　Joe　had　called　the　post　office　yesterday　morning　around　ten　and　had　asked　them　to　hold　his　mail　for　a　few　days。　Mike　Fournier；　the　big　talker　who　was　in　charge　of　things　at　the　Castle　Rock　P。O。；　had　routinely　filled　out　a　HOLD　MAIL　UNTIL　NOTIFIED　card　and　flipped　it　over　to　George's　station。
Fournier　told　Joe　Camber　he　had　called　just　about　fifteen　minutes　too　late　to　stop　the　Monday　delivery　of　mail；　if　that　had　been　his　intention。
'Don't　matter；'　joe　had　said。　'I　guess　I'll　be　around　to　get　today's。'
When　George　put　Gary　Pervier's　mail　into　his　box；　he　noticed　that　Gary's　Monday　delivery　…　a　Popular　Mechanix　and　a　charity　begging　letter　from　the　Rural　Scholarship　Fund　~　had　not　been　removed。　Now；　turning　around；　he　noticed　that　Gary's　big　old　Chrysler　was　in　the　dooryard　and　Joe　Camber's　rusting…around…the…edges　station　wagon　was　parked　right　behind　it。
'Gone　off　together；'　he　muttered　aloud。　'Two　fools　off　booting　somewhere。'
He　lifted　his　leg　and　farted　again。
George's　conclusion　was　that　the　two　of　them　were　probably　off　drinking　and　whoring；　wheeling　around　in　Joe　Camber's　pickup　truck。　It　didn't　occur　to　him　to　wonder　why　they　would　have　taken　Joe's　truck　when　there　were　two　much　more　fortable　vehicles　near　at　hand；　and　he　didn't　notice　the　blood　on　the　porch　steps　or　the　fact　that　there　was　a　large　hole　in　the　lower　panel　of　Gary's　screen　door。
'Two　fools　off　hooting；'　he　repeated。　'At　least　joe　Camber　remembered　to　cancel　his　mail。'
He　drove　off　the　way　he　had　e；　back　towards　Castle　Rock；　lifting　his　leg　every　now　and　then　to　blow　his　trombone。
Steve　Kemp　drove　out　to　the　Dairy　Queen　by　the　Westbrook　Shopping　Mall　for　a　couple　of　cheeseburgers　and　a　Dilly　Bar。　He　sat　in　his　van；　eating　and　looking　out　at　Brighton　Avenue；　not　really　seeing　the　road　or　tasting　the　food。
He　had　called　Handsome　Hubby's　office。　He　gave　his　name　as　Adam　Swallow　when　the　secretary　asked。　Said　he　was　the　marketing　director　for　House　of　Lights；　Inc。；　and　would　like　to　talk　to　Mr。　Trenton。　He　had　been　drymouthed　with　excitement。　And　when　Trenton　got　on　the　old　hooter；　they　could　find　more　interesting　things　than　marketing　to　talk　about。　Like　the　little　woman's　birthmark；　and　what　it　might　look　like。　Like　how　she　had　bitten　him　once　when　she　came；　hard　enough　to　draw　blood。　Like　how　things　were　going　for　the　Bitch　Goddess　since　Handsome　Hubby　discovered　she　had　a　little　taste　for　what　she　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　sheets。
But　things　hadn't　turned　out　that　way。　The　secretary　had　said；　'I'm　sorry；　but　both　Mr。　Trenton　and　Mr。　Breakstone　are　out　of　the　office　this　week。　They'll　probably　be　out　most　of　the　next　week；　as　well。　If　I　could　help　you　…？'　Her　voice　had　a　rising；　hopeful　inflection。　She　really　did　want　to　help。　It　was　her　big　chance　to　land　an　account　while　the　bosses　were　taking　care　of　business　in　Boston　or　maybe　New　York　…　surely　no　place　as　exotic　as　LA；　not　a　little　dipshit　agency　like　Ad　Worx。　So　get　out　there　and　tapdance　until　your　shoes　smoke；　kid。
He　thanked　her　and　told　her　he　would　ring　back　toward　the　end　of　the　month。　He　hung　up　before　she　could　ask　for　his　number；　since　the　office　of　the　House　of　Lights；　Inc。；　was　in　a　Congress　Street　phone　booth　across　from　Joe's　Smoke　Shop。
Now　here　he　was；　eating　cheeseburgers　and　wondering　what　to　do　next。　As　if　you　didn't　know；　an　interior　voice　whispered。
He　started　the　van　up　and　headed　for　Castle　Rock。　By　the　time　he　finished　his　lunch　（the　Dilly　Bar　was　practically　running　down　the　stick　in　the　heat）；　he　was　in　North　Windham。　He　threw　his　trash　on　the　floor　of　the　van；　where　it　joined　a　drift　of　like　stuff　…　plastic　drink　containers；　Big　Mac　boxes；　returnable　beer　and　soda　bottles；　empty　cigarette　packs。　Littering　was　an　antisocial；　anti…environmentalist　act；　and　he　didn't　do　it。
Steve　got　to　the　Trenton　house　at　just　half　past　three　on　that　hot；　glaring　afternoon。　Acting　with　almost　subliminal　caution；　he　drove　past　the　house　without　slowing　and　parked　around　the　er　on　a　side　street　about　a　quarter　of　a　mile　away。　He　walked　back。
The　driveway　was　empty；　and　he　felt　a　pang　of　frustrated　disappointment。　He　would　not　admit　to　himself　…　especially　now　that　it　looked　like　she　was　out　…　that　he　had　intended　to　give　her　a　taste　of　what　she　had　been　so　eager　to　have　during　the　spring。　Nevertheless；　he　had　driven　all　the　way　from　Westbrook　to　Castle　Rock　with　a　semi…erection　that　only　now　collapsed　pletely。
She　was　gone。
No；　the　car　was　…gone。　One　thing　didn't　necessarily　prove　the　other；　did　it？
Steve　looked　around　himself。
What　we　have　here；　ladies　and　gents；　is　a　peaceful　suburban　street　on　a　summer's　day；　most　of　the　kiddies　in　for　naps；　most　of　the　little　wifies　either　doing　likewise　or　glued　to　their　TVs；　checking　out　Love　of　Life　or　Search　for　Tomorrow。　All　the　Handsome　Hubbies　are　busy　earning　their　way　into　higher　tax　brackets　and　very　possibly　a　bed　in　the　Intensive　Care　ward　at　the　Eastern　Maine　Medical　Center。　Two　little　kids　were　playing　hopscotch　on　a　blurred　chalk　grid；　they　were　wearing　bathing　suits　and　sweating　heavily。　An　old　balding　lady　was　trundling　a　wire　shopping　caddy　back　from　town　as　if　both　she　and　it　were　made　of　the　finest　bone　china。　She　gave　the　kids　playing　hopscotch　a　wide　berth。
In　short；　not　much　happening。　The　street　was　dozing　in　the　heat。
Steve　walked　up　the　sloping　driveway　as　if　he　had　every　right　to　be　there。　First　he　looked　in　the　tiny　one…car　garage。　He　had　never　known　Donna　to　use　it；　because　the　doorway　was　so　narrow。　If　she　put　a　dent　in　the　car；　Handsome　Hubby　would　give　her　hell　…　no；　excuse　me；　he　would　give　her　beck。
The　garage　was　empty。　No　Pinto；　no　elderly　jag　
Donna's　Handsome　Hubby　was　into　what　was　known　as　sports　car　menopause。　She　hadn't　liked　him　saying　that；　but　Steve　had　never　seen　a　more　obvious　case。
Steve　left　the　garage　and　went　up　the　three　steps　to　the　back　stoop。　Tried　the　door。　Found　it　unlocked。　He　went　inside　without　knocking　after　another　casual　glance　around　to　make　sure　no　one　was　m　sight。
He　closed　the　door　on　the　silence　of　the　house。　Once　more　his　heart　was　knocking　heavily　in　his　chest；　seeming　to　shake　his　whole　ribcage。　And　once　again　he　was　not　admitting　things。　He　didn't　have　to　admit　them。　They　were　there　just　the　same。
'Hi！　Anybody　home？'　His　voice　was　loud；　honest；　pleasant；　inquiring。
'Hi？'　He　was　halfway　down　the　hall　now。
Obviously　no　one　home。　The　house　had　a　silent；　hot；　waiting　feel。　An　empty　house　full　of　furniture　was　somehow　creepy　when　it　wasn't　your　house。　You　felt　watched。
'Hello？　Anybody　home？'　One　last　time。
Give　her　something　to　remember　you　by；　then。　And　split。
He　went　into　the　living　room　and　stood　looking　around。　His　shirtsleeves　were　rolled　up；　his　forearms　lightly　slicked　with　sweat。　Now　things　could　be　admitted。　How　he　had　wanted　to　kill　her　when　she　called　him　a　son　of　a　bitch；　her　spittle　spraying　on　his　face。　How　he　had　wanted　to　kill　her　for　making　him　feel　old　and　scared　and　not　able　to　keep　on　top　of　the　situation　any　more。　The　letter　had　been　something；　but　the　letter　hadn't　been　enough。
To　his　right；　knickknacks　stood　on　a　series　of　glass　shelves。　He　turned　and　gave　the　bottom　shelf　a　sudden　hard　kick。　It　disintegrated。　The　frame　tottered　and　then　fell　over；　spraying　glass；　spraying　little　china　figurines　of　cats　and　shepherds　and　all　that　happy　bourgeois　horseshit。　A　pulse　throbbed　in　the　center　of　his　forehead。　He　was　grimacing；　unaware　of　the　fact。　He　walked　carefully　over　the　unbroken　figurines；　crushing　them　into　powder。　He　pulled　a　family　portrait　from　the　wall；　looked　curiously　at　the　smiling　face　of　Vic　Trenton　for　a　moment　（Tad　was　sitting　on　his　lap；　and　his　arm　was　around　Donna's　waist）；　and　then　he　dropped　the　picture　to　the　floor　and　stamped　down　hard　on　the　glass。
He　looked　around；　breathing　hard；　as　if　he　had　just　run　a　race。　And　suddenly　he　went　after　the　room　as　if　it　were　something　alive；　something　that　had　hurt　him　badly　and　needed　to　be　punished；　as　if　it　were　the　room　that　had　caused　his　pain。　He　pushed　over　Vic's　La…Z…Boy　recliner。　He　upended　the　couch。　It　stood　on　end　for　a　moment；　rocking　uneasily；　and　then　went　down　with　a　crash；　breaking　the　back　of　the　coffee　table　which　had　stood　in　front　of　it*。　He　pulled　all　the　books　out　of　the　bookcases；　cursing　the　shitty　taste　of　the　people　who　had　bought　them　under　his　breath　as　he　did　it。　He　picked　up　the　magazine　stand　and　threw　it　overhand　at　the　mirror　over　the　mantelpiece；　shattering　it。　Big　pieces　of　black…backed　mirror　fell　onto　the　floor　like　chunks　of　a　jigsaw　puzzle。　He　was　snorting　now；　like　a　bull　in　heat。　His　thin　cheeks　were　almost　purple　with　color。
He　went　into　the　kitchen　by　way　of　the　small　dining　room。　As　he　walked　past　the　dining…room　table　Donna's　parents　had　bought　them　as　a　housewarming　present；　he　extended　his　arm　straight　out　and　swept　everything　off　onto　the　floor　…　the　lazy　Susan　with　its　plement　of　spices；　the　cut…glass　vase　Donna　had　gotten　for　a　dollar　and　a　quarter　at　the　Emporium　Galorium　in　Bridgton　the　summer　previous；　Vic's　graduation　beer　stein。　The　ceramic　salt　and　pepper　shakers　shattered　like　bombs。　His　erection　was　back　now；　raging。　Thoughts　of　caution；　of　possible　discovery；　had　departed　his　mind。