dk.watchers-第11部分

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me　felt　increasingly　gullible　and　foolish。
　His　taste　in　fiction　was　eclectic。　Among　the　volumes　he　took　off　the　shelves　were　Bradbury's　Something　Wicked　This　Way　es　and　Chandler's　The　Long　Goodbye。　Cain's　The　Postman　Always　Rings　Twice　and　Hemingway's　The　Sun　Also　Rises。　Two　books　by　Richard　Condon　and　one　by　Anne
　Tyler。　Dorothy　Sayers's　Murder　Must　Advertise　and　Elmore　Leonard's　52　Pick…　Up。
　At　last　the　dog　turned　away　from　the　books　and　went　to　the　middle　of　the　room；　where　it　padded　back　and　forth；　back　and　forth；　clearly　agitated。　It　stopped；　confronted　Travis；　and　barked　three　times。
　〃What's　wrong；　boy？〃
　The　dog　whined；　looked　at　the　laden　shelves；　walked　in　a　circle；　and　peered　up　at　the　books　again。　It　seemed　frustrated。　Thoroughly；　maddeningly　frustrated。
　〃I　don't　know　what　more　to　do；　boy；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　know　what　you're　after；　what　you're　trying　to　tell　me。〃
　The　dog　snorted　and　shook　itself。　Lowering　its　head　in　defeat；　it　returned　resignedly　to　the　sofa　and　curled　up　on　the　cushions。
　〃That's　all？〃　Travis　asked。　〃We're　just　giving　up？〃
　Putting　its　head　down　on　the　sofa；　it　regarded　him　with　moist　soulful　eyes。　Travis　turned　from　the　dog　and　let　his　gaze　travel　slowly　over　the　books；　as　if　they　not　only　offered　the　information　printed　on　their　pages　but　also　contained　an　important　message　that　could　not　be　as　easily　read；　as　if　their　colorful　Spines　were　the　strange　runes　of　a　long…lost　language　and；　once　deciphered；　would　reveal　wondrous　secrets。　But　he　could　not　decipher　them。
　Having　believed　that　he　was　on　the　trembling　edge　of　some　great　revelation；　Travis　felt　enormously　let　down。　His　own　frustration　was　considerably　worse　than　what　the　dog　had　exhibited；　and　he　could　not　merely　curl　up　on　the　sofa；　put　his　head　down；　and　forget　the　whole　thing　as　the　retriever　had　done。
　〃What　the　hell　was　that　all　about？〃　he　demanded。
　The　dog　looked　up　at　him；　inscrutable。
　〃Was　there　any　point　to　all　of　that　stuff　with　the　books？〃
　The　dog　stared。
　〃Is　there　something　special　about　you…or　have　I　popped　the　pull…tab　on　my　brain　and　emptied　it？〃
　The　dog　was　perfectly　limp　and　still；　as　if　it　might　close　its　eyes　at　any　moment　and　doze　off。
　〃If　you　yawn　at　me；　damn　you；　I'll　kick　your　butt。〃
　The　dog　yawned。
　〃Bastard；〃　Travis　said。
　It　yawned　again。
　〃Now　there。　What　does　that　mean？　Are　you　yawning　on　purpose　because　of　what　I　said；　because　you're　playing　with　me？　Or　are　you　just　yawning？　How　am　Ito　interpret　anything　you　do？　How　am　Ito　know　whether　any　of　it　has　meaning？〃
　The　dog　sighed。
　With　a　sigh　of　his　own；　Travis　went　to　one　of　the　front　windows　and　stared　out　at　the　night；　where　the　feathery　fronds　of　the　large　Canary　Island　date　palm　were　backlit　by　the　vaguely　yellow　glow　of　the　sodium…vapor　streetlamps。　He　heard　the　dog　get　off　the　sofa　and　hurry　out　of　the　room；　but　he　refused　to　inquire　into　its　activities。　For　the　moment；　he　could　not　handle　more　frustration。
　The　retriever　was　making　noise　in　the　kitchen。　A　clink。　A　soft　clatter。　Travis　figured　it　was　drinking　from　its　bowl。
　Seconds　later；　he　heard　it　returning。　It　came　to　his　side　and　rubbed　against　his　leg。
　He　glanced　down　and；　to　his　surprise；　saw　the　retriever　was　holding　a　can　of　beer　in　its　teeth。　Coors。　He　took　the　proffered　can　and　discovered　it　was　cold。
　〃You　got　this　from　the　refrigerator！〃
　The　dog　appeared　to　be　grinning。
　　
　2
　When　Nora　Devon　was　in　the　kitchen　making　dinner；　the　phone　rang　again。　She　prayed　it　would　not　be　him。
　But　it　was。　〃I　know　what　you　need；〃　Streck　said。　〃I　know　what　you　need。〃　I'm　not　even　pretty；　she　wanted　to　say。　I'm　a　plain；　dumpy　old　maid；　so　what　do　you　want　with　me？　I'm　safe　from　the　likes　of　you　because　I'm　not　pretty。　Are　you　blind？　But　she　could　say　nothing。
　〃Do　you　know　what　you　need？〃　he　asked。
　Finding　her　voice　at　last；　she　said；　〃Go　away。〃
　〃I　know　what　you　need。　You　might　not　know；　but　I　do。〃
　This　time　she　hung　up　first；　slamming　the　handset　down　so　hard　that　it　must　have　hurt　his　ear。
　Later；　at　eight…thirty；　the　phone　rang　again。　She　was　sitting　in　bed；　reading　Great　Expectations　and　eating　ice　cream。　She　was　so　startled　by　the　first　ring　that　the　spoon　popped　out　of　her　hand　into　the　dish；　and　she　nearly　spilled　the　dessert。
　Putting　the　dish　and　the　book　aside；　she　stared　anxiously　at　the　telephone；　which　stood　on　the　nightstand。　She　let　it　ring　ten　times。　Fifteen。　Twenty。　The　strident　sound　of　the　bell　filled　the　room；　echoing　off　the　walls；　until　each　ring　seemed　to　drill　into　her　skull。
　Eventually　she　realized　she　would　be　making　a　big　mistake　if　she　did　not　answer。　He'd　know　she　was　here　and　was　too　frightened　to　pick　up　the　receiver；　which　would　please　him。　More　than　anything；　he　desired　domination。　Perversely；　her　timid　withdrawal　would　encourage　him。　Nora　had　no　experience　at　confrontation；　but　she　saw　that　she　was　going　to　have　to　learn　to　stand　up　for　herself…and　fast。
　She　lifted　the　receiver　on　the　thirty…first　ring。
　Streck　said；　〃I　can't　get　you　out　of　my　mind。〃
　Nora　did　not　reply。
　Streck　said；　〃You　have　beautiful　hair。　So　dark。　Almost　black。　Thick　and　glossy。　I　want　to　run　my　hands　through　your　hair。〃
　She　had　to　say　something　to　put　him　in　his　place…or　hang　up。　But　she　could　not　bring　herself　to　do　either。
　〃I've　never　seen　eyes　like　yours；〃　Streck　said；　breathing　hard。　〃Gray　but　not　like　other　gray　eyes。　Deep；　warm；　sexy　eyes。〃
　Nora　was　speechless；　paralyzed。
　〃You're　very　pretty；　Nora　Devon。　Very　pretty。　And　I　know　what　you　need。
　I　do。　I　really　do；　Nora。　I　know　what　you　need；　and　I'm　going　to　give　it　to　you。；；
　Her　paralysis　was　shattered　by　a　fit　of　the　shakes。　She　dropped　the　phone　into　its　cradle。　Bending　forward　in　bed；　she　felt　as　if　she　were　shaking　herself　to　pieces　before　the　tremors　slowly　subsided。
　She　did　not　own　a　gun。
　She　felt　small；　fragile；　and　terribly　alone。
　She　wondered　if　she　should　call　the　police。　But　what　would　she　tell　them？　That　she　was　the　object　of　sexual　harassment？　They'd　get　a　big　laugh　out　of　that。　Her？　A　sex　object？　She　was　an　old　maid；　as　plain　as　mud；　not　remotely　the　type　to　turn　a　man's　head　and　give　him　erotic　dreams。　The　police　would　suppose　that　she　either　was　making　it　up　or　was　hysterical。　Or　they　would　assume　she　had　misinterpreted　Streck's　politeness　as　sexual　interest；　which　is　what　even　she　had　thought　at　first。
　She　pulled　a　blue　robe　on　over　the　roomy　men's　pajamas　that　she　wore；　belted　it。　Barefoot；　she　hurried　downstairs　to　the　kitchen；　where　she　hesitantly　withdrew　a　butcher's　knife　from　the　rack　near　the　stove。　Light　trickled　like　a　thin　stream　of　quicksilver　along　the　well…honed　cutting　edge。
　As　she　turned　the　gleaming　knife　in　her　hand；　she　saw　her　eyes　reflected　in　the　broad；　flat　blade。　She　stared　at　herself　in　the　polished　steel；　wondering　if　she　could　possibly　use　such　a　horrible　weapon　against　another　human　being　even　in　self…defense。
　She　hoped　she　would　never　have　to　find　out。
　Upstairs　again；　she　put　the　butcher's　knife　on　the　nightstand；　within　easy　reach。
　She　took　off　her　robe　and　sat　on　the　edge　of　the　bed；　hugging　herself　and　trying　to　stop　shaking。
　〃Why　me？〃　she　said　aloud。　〃Why　does　he　want　to　pick　on　me？〃
　Streck　said　that　she　was　pretty；　but　Nora　knew　it　was　not　true。　Her　own　mother　had　abandoned　her　to　Aunt　Violet　and　had　returned　only　twice　in　twenty…eight　years；　the　last　time　when　Nora　was　six。　Her　father　remained　unknown　to　her；　and　no　other　Devon　relatives　were　willing　to　take　her　in；　a　situation　which　Violet　frankly　attributed　to　Nora's　unely　appearance。　So　although　Streck　said　she　was　pretty；　it　could　not　possibly　be　her　that　he　wanted。　No；　what　he　wanted　was　the　thrill　of　scaring　and　dominating　and　hurting　her。　There　were　such　people。　She　read　about　them　in　books；　newspapers。　And　Aunt　Violet　had　warned　her　a　thousand　times　that　if　a　man　ever　came　on　to　her　with　sweet　talk　and　smiles；　he　would　only　want　to　lift　her　up　so　he　could　later　cast　her　down　from　a　greater　height　and　hurt　her　all　the　Worse。
　After　a　while；　the　worst　of　the　tremors　passed。　Nora　got　into　bed　again。　Her　remaining　ice　cream　had　melted；　so　she　put　the　dish　aside；　on　the　nightstand。　She　picked　up　the　novel　by　Dickens　and　tried　to　involve　herself　once　more　with　Pip's　tale。　But　her　attention　repeatedly　strayed　to　the　phone；　to　the　butcher's　knife…and　to　the　open　door　and　the　second…floor　hail　beyond；　Where　she　kept　imagining　she　saw　movement。
　3
　　
　Travis　went　into　the　kitchen；　and　the　dog　followed　him。
　He　pointed　to　the　refrigerator　and　said；　〃Show　me。　Do　it　again。　Get　me　a　beer。　Show　me　how　you　did　it。〃
　The　dog　did　not　move。
　Travis　squatted。　〃Listen；　fur　face；　who　got　you　out　of　those　woods；　away　from　whatever　was　chasing　you？　I　did。　And　who　bought　hamburgers　for　you？　I　did。　I　bathed　you；　fed　you；　gave　you　a　home。　Now　you　owe　me。　Stop　being　coy。　If　you　can　open　that　thing；　do　it！〃
　The　dog　went　to　the　aging　Frigidaire；　lowered　its　head　to　the　bottom　corner　of　the　enamel…coated　door；　gripped　the　edge　in　its　jaws；　and　pulled　backward；　straining　with　its　entire　body。　The　rubber　seal　let　loose　with　a　barely　audible　sucking　sound。　The　door　swung　open。　The　dog　quickly　insinuated　itself　into　the　gap；　then　jumped　up　and　braced　itself　with　a　forepaw　on　each　side　of　the　storage　partment。
　〃I'll　be　damned；〃　Travis　said；　moving　closer。
　The　retriever　peered　into　the　second　shelf；　where　Travis　had　stored　cans　of　beer；　Diet　Pepsi；　and　V…8　vegetable　juice。　It　plucked　another　Coors　from　the　supply；　dropped　to　the　floor；　and　let　the　refrigerator　door　slip　shut　again　as　it　came　to　Travis。
　He　took　the　beer　from　it。　Standing　with　a　Coors　in　each　hand；　studying　the　dog；　he　said；　more　to　himself　than　to　the　animal；　〃Okay；　so　somebody　could　have　taught　you　to　open　a　refrigerator　door。　And　he　could　even　have　taught　you　how　to　recognize　a　certain　brand　of　beer；　how　to　distinguish　it　from　other　cans；　and　how　to　carry　it　to　him。　But　we　still　have　some　mysteries　here。　Is　it　likely　that　the　brand　you　were　taught　to　recognize　would　be　the　same　one　I'd　have　in　my　refrigerator？　Possible；　yes；　but　not　likely。　Besides；　I　didn't　give　you　any　mand。　I　didn't　ask　you　to　get　me　a　beer。　You　did　it　on　your　own　hook；　as　if　you　f