sk.misery-第37部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


s　going　in　and　out。　Defense　was　able　to　show　dozens　of　other　occasions　when　Annie　had　entered　the　ward　and　nothing　untoward　had　happened。　Paul　thought　this　was　akin　to　proving　that　meteors　never　struck　the　earth　by　showing　five　days　when　not　a　single　one　had　hit　Farmer　John's　north　field；　but　he　could　understand　the　weight　he　argument　would　have　carried　with　the　jury　just　the　same。
　The　prosecution　wove　its　net　as　well　as　it　could；　but　he　handprint　with　the　mark　of　the　ring　was　really　the　most　damning　bit　of　evidence　it　could　e　up　with。　The　fact　that　the　State　of　Colorado　bad　elected　to　bring　Annie　to　trial　at　all；　given　such　a　slight　chance　of　conviction　on　the　evidence；　left　Paul　with　one　assumption　and　one　certainty。　The　assumption　was　that　Annie　had　said　things　during　her　original　interrogation　which　were　extremely　suggestive；　perhaps　even　damning；　her　attorney　had　managed　to　keep　the　transcript　of　that　interrogation　out　of　the　trial　record。　The　certainty　was　that　Annie's　decision　to　testify　in　her　own　behalf　at　the　preliminary　hearing　had　been　extremely　unwise。　That　testimony　her　attorney　hadn't　been　able　to　keep　out　of　the　trial　（although　he　had　nearly　ruptured　himself　trying）；　and　while　Annie　had　never　confessed　to　anything　in　so　many　words　during　the　three　days　in　August　she　had　spent　〃up　there　on　the　stand　in　Denver〃；　he　thought　that　she　had　really　confessed　to　everything。
　Excerpts　from　the　clippings　pasted　in　her　book　contained　some　real　gems：
　
　Did　they　make　me　feel　sad？　Of　course　they　made　me　feel　sad；　considering　the　world　we　live　in。
　
　I　have　nothing　to　be　ashamed　of。　I　am　never　ashamed。　What　I　do；　that's　final；　I　never　look　back　on　that　type　of　thing。
　
　Did　I　attend　the　funerals　of　any　of　them？　Of　course　not。　I　find　funerals　very　grim　and　depressing。　Also；　I　don't　believe　babies　are　ensouled。
　
　No；　I　never　cried。
　
　Was　I　sorry？　I　guess　that's　a　philosophical　question；　isn't　it？
　
　Of　course　I　understand　the　question。　I　understand　all　your　questions。　I　know　you're　all　out　to　get　me。
　If　she　had　insisted　on　testifying　in　her　own　behalf　at　her　trial；　Paul　thought；　her　lawyer　probably　would　have　shot　her　to　shut　her　up。
　The　case　went　to　the　jury　on　December　13th；　1982。　And　here　was　a　startling　picture　from　the　Rocky　Mountain　News；　a　photo　of　Annie　sitting　calmly　in　her　holding　cell　and　reading　Misery's　Quest。　IN　MISERY？　the　caption　below　asked。　NOT　THE　DRAGON　LADY。　Annie　reads　calmly　as　she　wait　for　the　verdict。
　And　then；　on　December　16th；　banner　headlines：　DRAGON　LADY　INNOCENT。　In　the　body　of　the　story　a　juror　who　asked　not　to　be　identified　was　quoted。　〃I　had　very　grave　doubt　as　to　her　innocence；　yes。　Unfortunately；　I　had　very　reasonable　doubts　as　to　her　guilt。　I　hope　she　will　be　tried　again　on　one　of　the　other　counts。　Perhaps　the　prosecution　could　make　a　stronger　case　on　one　of　those。〃　They　all　knew　she　did　it　but　nobody　could　prove　it。　So　she　slipped　through　their　fingers。
　The　case　wound　down　over　the　next　three　or　four　pages。　The　D。A。　said　Annie　surely　would　be　tried　on　one　of　the　other　counts。　Three　weeks　later；　he　said　he　never　said　that。　In　early　February　of　1983；　the　district　attorney's　office　issued　a　statement　saying　that　while　the　cases　of　infanticide　at　the　Boulder　Hospital　were　still　very　much　alive；　the　case；　against　Anne　Wilkes　was　closed。
　Slipped　through　their　fingers。
　Her　husband　never　testified　for　either　side。　Why　was　that；　I　wonder？
　There　were　more　pages　in　the　book；　but　he　could　tell；　by　the　snug　way　most　lay　against　each　other　that　he　was　almost　done　with　Annie's　history　up　to　now。　Thank　God。
　The　next　page　was　from　the　Sidewinder　Gazette；　November　19th；　1984。　Hikers　had　found　the　mutilated　and　partly　dismembered　remains　of　a　young　man　in　the　eastern　section　of　Grider　Wildlife　Preserve。　The　following　week's　paper　identified　him　as　Andrew　Pomeroy；　age　twenty…three；　of　Cold　Stream　Harbor；　New　York。　Pomeroy　had　left　New　York　for　L。A。　in　September　of　the　previous　year；　hitch…hiking。　His　parents　had　last　heard　from　him　on　October　15th。　He　had　called　them　collect　from　Julesburg。　The　body　had　been　found　in　a　dry　stream…bed。　Police　theorized　that　Pomeroy　might　actually　have　been　killed　near　Highway　9　and　washed　into　the　Wildlife　Preserve　during　the　spring　run…off。　The　coroner's　report　said　the　wounds　had　been　inflicted　with　an　axe。
　Paul　wondered；　not　quite　idly；　how　far　Grider　Wildlife　Preserve　was　from　here。
　He　turned　the　page　and　looked　at　the　last　clipping　…　at　least　so　far　…　and　suddenly　his　breath　was　gone。　It　was　as　if；　after　wading　grimly　through　the　almost　unbearable　necrology　in　the　foregoing　pages；　he　had　e　face　to　face　with　his　own　obituary。　It　wasn't　quite；　but　。　。　。
　〃But　close　enough　for　government　work；〃　he　said　in　a　low；　hoarse　voice。
　It　was　from　Newsweek。　The　〃Transitions〃　column。　Listed　below　the　divorce　of　a　TV　actress　and　above　the　death　of　a　Midwestern　steel　potentate　was　this　item：
　
　REPORTED　MISSING：　Paul　Sheldon；　42；　novelist　best　known　for　his　series　of　romances　about　sexy；　bubbleheaded；　unsinkable　Misery　Chastain；　by　his　agent；　Bryce　Bell。　〃I　think　he's　fine；〃　Bell　said；　〃but　I　wish　he'd　get　in　touch　and　ease　my　mind。　And　his　ex…wives　wish　he'd　get　in　touch　and　ease　their　bank　accounts。〃　Sheldon　was　last　seen　seven　weeks　ago　in　Boulder；　Colorado；　where　he　had　gone　to　finish　a　new　novel。
　
　The　clipping　was　two　weeks　old。
　Reported　missing；　that's　all。　Just　reported　missing。　I'm　not　dead；　it's　not　like　being　dead。
　But　it　was　like　being　dead；　and　suddenly　he　needed　his　medication　because　it　wasn't　just　his　legs　that　hurt。　Everything　hurt。　He　put　the　book　carefully　back　in　its　place　arid　began　rolling　the　wheelchair　toward　the　guest　room。
　Outside；　the　wind　gusted　more　strongly　than　it　had　yet　done；　slapping　cold　rain　against　the　house；　and　Paul　shrank　away　from　it；　moaning　and　afraid；　trying　desperately　hard　to　hold　himself　together　and　not　burst　into　tears。
　
　
　19
　
　An　hour　later；　full　of　dope　and　drifting　off　to　sleep；　the　sound　of　the　howling　wind　now　soothing　rather　than　frightening；　he　thought：　I'm　not　going　to　escape。　No　way。　What　is　it　Thomas　Hardy　says　in　Jude　the　Obscure？　〃Someone　could　have　e　along　and　eased　the　boy's　terror；　but　nobody　did　。　。　。　because　nobody　does。〃　Right。　Correct。　Your　ship　is　not　going　to　e　in　because　there　are　no　boats　for　nobody。　The　Lone　Ranger　is　busy　making　breakfast…cereal　mercials　and　Superman's　making　movies　in　Tinsel　Town。　You're　on　your　own；　Paulie。　Dead　flat　on　your　own。　But　maybe　that's　okay。　Because　maybe　you　know　what　the　answer　is；　after　all；　don't　you？
　Yes；　of　course　he　did。
　If　he　meant　to　get　out　of　this；　he　would　have　to　kill　her。
　Yes。　That's　the　answer　…　the　only　one　there　is；　I　think。　So　it's　that　same　old　game　again；　isn't　it？　Paulie　。　。　。　Can　You？
　He　answered　with　no　hesitation　at　all。　Yes；　I　can。　His　eyes　drifted　closed。　He　slept。
　
　
　20
　
　The　storm　continued　through　the　next　day。　The　following　night　the　clouds　unravelled　and　blew　away。　At　the　same　time　the　temperature　plummeted　from　sixty　degrees　down　to　twenty…five。　All　the　world　outside　froze　solid。　Sitting　by　the　bedroom　window　and　looking　out　at　the　ice…glittery　morning　world　on　that　second　full　day　alone；　Paul　could　hear　Misery　the　pig　squealing　in　the　barn　and　one　of　the　cows　bellowing。
　He　often　heard　the　animals；　they　were　as　much　a　part　of　the　general　background　as　the　chiming　parlor…clock　…　but　he　had　never　heard　the　pig　squeal　so。　He　thought　he　had　heard　the　cow　bellow　like　that　once　before；　but　it　had　been　an　evil　sound　dimly　heard　in　an　evil　dream；　because　then　he　had　been　full　of　his　own　pain。　It　had　been　when　Annie　had　gone　away　that　first　time；　leaving　him　with　no　pills。　He　had　been　raised　in　suburban　Boston　and　had　lived　most　of　his　life　in　New　York　City；　but　he　thought　he　knew　what　those　pained　cow…bellows　meant。　One　of　the　cows　needed　to　be　milked。　The　other　apparently　didn't；　possibly　because　Annie's　erratic　milking　habits　had　already　dried　her　up。
　And　the　pig？
　Hungry。　That　was　all。　And　that　was　enough。
　They　weren't　going　to　get　any　relief　today。　He　doubted　if　Annie　would　be　able　to　make　it　back　even　if　she　had　wanted　to。　This　part　of　the　world　had　turned　into　one　big　skating　rink。　He　was　a　little　surprised　at　the　depth　of　sympathy　he　felt　for　the　animals　and　the　depth　of　his　anger　at　Annie　for　how　she　had；　in　her　unadmitting　and　arrogant　egoism；　left　them　to　suffer　in　their　pens。
　If　your　animals　could　talk；　Annie；　they　would　tell　you　who　the　REAL　dirty　birdie　around　here　is。
　He　himself　was　quite　fortable　as　those　days　passed。　He　ate　from　cans；　drank　water　from　the　new　pitcher；　took　his　medication　regularly；　napped　each　afternoon。　The　tale　of　Misery　and　her　amnesia　and　her　previously　unsuspected　（and　spectacularly　rotten）　blood　kin　marched　steadily　along　toward　Africa；　which　was　to　be　the　setting　of　the　novel's　second　half。　The　irony　was　that　the　woman　had　coerced　him　into　writing　what　was　easily　the　best　of　the　〃Misery〃　novels。　Ian　and　Geoffrey　were　off　in　Southampton　outfitting　a　schooner　called　the　Lorelei　for　the　run。　It　was　on　the　Dark　Continent　that　Misery；　who　kept　slipping　into　cataleptic　trances　at　the　most　inconvenient　moments　（and；　of　course；　if　she　were　to　be　stung　by　another　bee　…　ever；　in　her　entire　life　…　she　would　die　almost　instantly）；　would　either　be　killed　or　cured。　For　a　hundred　and　fifty　miles　inland　from　Lawstown；　a　tiny　British…Dutch　settlement　on　the　northernmost　tip　of　the　Barbary　Coast's　dangerous　crescent；　lived　the　Bourkas；　Africa's　most　dangerous　natives。　The　Bourkas　were　sometimes　known　as　the　Bee…People。　Few　of　the　whites　who　dared　to　venture　into　Bourka　country　had　ever　returned；　but　those　who　did　had　brought　back　fabulous　tales　of　a　woman's　face　jutting　from　the　side　of　a　tall；　crumbling　mesa；　a　merciless　face　with　a　gaping　mouth　and　a　huge　ruby　set　in　her　stone　forehead。　There　was　another　story　…　only　a　rumor；　surely；　but　strangely　persistent　…　that　within　the　caves　which　honeybed　the　stone　behind　the　idol's　jewelled　forehead　there　lived　a　hive　of　giant　albino　bees；　swarming　protectively　around　their　queen；　a　jellylike　monstrosity　of　infinite　poison　。　。　。　and　infinite　magic。
　During　the　days　he　diverte