sk.everythingseventual-第59部分

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eep。　Preferably　the　kind　without　dreams。　He　couldn't　wait　to　put　this　day　behind　him。
　　He　stuck　his　key　in　the　lock；　turned　it；　and　punched　3817　to　silence　the　warning　bleep　from　the　burglar…alarm　panel。　He　turned　on　the　front…hall　light；　stepped　through　the　door；　pushed　it　shut　behind　him；　began　to　turn；　saw　what　was　on　the　wall　where　his　collection　of　framed　book　covers　had　been　just　two　days　ago；　and　screamed。　In　his　head　he　screamed。　Nothing　actually　came　out　of　his　mouth　but　a　harsh　exhalation　of　air。　He　heard　a　thump　and　a　tuneless　little　jingle　as　his　keys　fell　out　of　his　relaxing　hand　and　dropped　to　the　carpet　between　his　feet。
　　The　Road　Virus　Heads　North　was　no　longer　in　the　puckerbrush　behind　the　Gray　turnpike　service　area。
　　It　was　mounted　on　his　entry　wall。
　　It　had　changed　yet　again。　The　car　was　now　parked　in　the　driveway　of　the　yard　sale　yard。　The　goods　were　still　spread　out　everywhere…glassware　and　furniture　and　ceramic　knickknacks　（Scottie　dogs　smoking　pipes；　bare…assed　toddlers；　winking　fish）；　but　now　they　gleamed　beneath　the　light　of　the　same　skullface　moon　that　rode　in　the　sky　above　Kinnell's　house。　The　TV　was　still　there；　too；　and　it　was　still　on；　casting　its　own　pallid　radiance　onto　the　grass；　and　what　lay　in　front　of　it；　next　to　an　overturned　lawn　chair。　Judy　Diment　was　on　her　back；　and　she　was　no　longer　all　there。　After　a　moment；　Kinnell　saw　the　rest。　It　was　on　the　ironing　board；　dead　eyes　glowing　like　fifty…cent　pieces　in　the　moonlight。
　　The　Grand　Am's　taillights　were　a　blur　of　red…pink　watercolor　paint。
　　It　was　Kinnell's　first　look　at　the　car's　back　deck。　Written　across　it　in　Old　English　letters　were　three　words：　THE　ROAD　VIRUS。
　　Makes　perfect　sense；　Kinnell　thought　numbly。　Not　him；　his　car。　Except　for　a　guy　like　this；　there's　probably　not　much　difference。
　　'This　isn't　happening；'　he　whispered；　except　it　was。　Maybe　it　wouldn't　have　happened　to　someone　a　little　less　open　to　such　things；　but　it　was　happening。　And　as　he　stared　at　the　painting　he　found　himself　remembering　the　little　sign　on　Judy　Diment's　card　table。　ALL　SALES　CASH；　it　had　said　（although　she　had　taken　his　check；　only　adding　his　driver's　license　ID　number　for　safety's　sake）。　And　it　had　said　something　else；　too。
　　ALL　SALES　FINAL。
　　Kinnell　walked　past　the　picture　and　into　the　living　room。　He　felt　like　a　stranger　inside　his　own　body；　and　he　sensed　part　of　his　mind　groping　around　for　the　trowel　he　had　used　earlier。　He　seemed　to　have　misplaced　it。
　　He　turned　on　the　TV；　then　the　Toshiba　satellite　tuner　which　sat　on　top　of　it。　He　turned　to　V…14；　and　all　the　time　he　could　feel　the　picture　out　there　in　the　hall；　pushing　at　the　back　of　his　head。　The　picture　that　had　somehow　beaten　him　here。
　　'Must　have　known　a　shortcut；'　Kinnell　said；　and　laughed。
　　He　hadn't　been　able　to　see　much　of　the　blond　in　this　version　of　the　picture；　but　there　had　been　a　blur　behind　the　wheel　which　Kinnell　assumed　had　been　him。　The　Road　Virus　had　finished　his　business　in　Rosewood。　It　was　time　to　move　north。　Next　stop　…
　　He　brought　a　heavy　steel　door　down　on　that　thought；　cutting　it　off　before　he　could　see　all　of　it。　'After　all；　I　could　still　be　imagining　all　this；'　he　told　the　empty　living　room。　Instead　of　forting　him；　the　hoarse；　shaky　quality　of　his　voice　frightened　him　even　more。　'This　could　be　。　。　。'　But　he　couldn't　finish。　All　that　came　to　him　was　an　old　song；　belted　out　in　the　pseudo…hip　style　of　some　early　fifties　Sinatra　clone：　This　could　be　the　start　of　something　BIG　。　。　。
　　The　tune　oozing　from　the　TV's　stereo　speakers　wasn't　Sinatra　but　Paul　Simon；　arranged　for　strings。　The　white　puter　type　on　the　blue　screen　said　WELE　TO　NEW　ENGLAND　NEWSWIRE。　There　were　ordering　instructions　below　this；　but　Kinnell　didn't　have　to　read　them；　he　was　a　Newswire　junkie　and　knew　the　drill　by　heart。　He　dialed；　punched　in　his　MasterCard　number；　then　508。
　　'You　have　ordered　Newswire　for　＇slight　pause＇　central　and　northern　Massachusetts；'　the　robot　voice　said。　'Thank　you　very　m…'
　　Kinnell　dropped　the　phone　back　into　the　cradle　and　stood　looking　at　the　New　England　Newswire　logo；　snapping　his　fingers　nervously。　'e　on；'　he　said。　'e　on；　e　on。'
　　The　screen　flickered　then；　and　the　blue　background　became　green。　Words　began　scrolling　up；　something　about　a　house　fire　in　Taunton。　This　was　followed　by　the　latest　on　a　dog…racing　scandal；　then　tonight's　weather…clear　and　mild。　Kinnell　was　starting　to　relax；　starting　to　wonder　if　he'd　really　seen　what　he　thought　he'd　seen　on　the　entryway　wall　or　if　it　had　been　a　bit　of　travel…induced　fugue；　when　the　TV　beeped　shrilly　and　the　words　BREAKING　NEWS　appeared。　He　stood　watching　the　caps　scroll　up。
　　NENphAUG19/8：40P　A　ROSEWOOD　WOMAN　HAS　BEEN　BRUTALLY　MURDERED　WHILE　DOING　A　FAVOR　FOR　AN　ABSENT　FRIEND。　38…YEAR…OLD　JUDITH　DIMENT　WAS　SAVEGELY　HACKED　TO　DEATH　ON　THE　LAWN　OF　HER　NEIGHBOR'S　HOUSE；　WHERE　SHE　HAD　BEEN　CONDUCTING　A　YARD　SALE。　NO　SCREAMS　WERE　HEARD　AND　MRS。　DIMENT　WAS　NOT　FOUND　UNTIL　EIGHT　O'CLOCK；　WHEN　A　NEIGHBOR　ACROSS　THE　STREET　CAME　OVER　TO　PLAIN　ABOUT　LOUD　TELEVISION　NOISE。　THE　NEIGHBOR；　MATTHEW　GRAVES；　SAID　THAT　MRS。　DIMENT　HAD　BEEN　DECAPITATED。　'HER　HEAD　WAS　ON　THE　IRONING　BOARD；'　HE　SAID。　'IT　WAS　THE　MOST　AWFUL　THING　I'VE　EVER　SEEN　IN　MY　LIFE。'　GRAVES　SAID　HE　HEARD　NO　SIGNS　OF　A　STRUGGLE；　ONLY　THE　TV　AND；　SHORTLY　BEFORE　FINDING　THE　BODY；　A　LOUD　CAR；　POSSIBLY　EQUIPPED　WITH　A　GLASSPACK　MUFFLER；　ACCELERATING　AWAY　FROM　THE　VICINITY　ALONG　ROUTE　ONE。　SPECULATION　THAT　THIS　VEHICLE　MAY　HAVE　BELONGED　TO　THE　KILLER　…
　　Except　that　wasn't　speculation；　that　was　a　simple　fact。
　　Breathing　hard；　not　quite　panting；　Kinnell　hurried　back　into　the　entryway。　The　picture　was　still　there；　but　it　had　changed　once　more。　Now　it　showed　two　glaring　white　circles…headlights…with　the　dark　shape　of　the　car　hulking　behind　them。
　　He's　on　the　move　again；　Kinnell　thought；　and　Aunt　Trudy　was　on　top　of　his　mind　now…sweet　Aunt　Trudy；　who　always　knew　who　had　been　naughty　and　who　had　been　nice。　Aunt　Trudy；　who　lived　in　Wells；　no　more　than　forty　miles　from　Rosewood。
　　'God；　please　God；　please　send　him　by　the　coast　road；'　Kinnell　said；　reaching　for　the　picture。　Was　it　his　imagination　or　were　the　headlights　farther　apart　now；　as　if　the　car　were　actually　moving　before　his　eyes　。　。　。　but　stealthily；　the　way　the　minute　hand　moved　on　a　pocket　watch？　'Send　him　by　the　coast　road；　please。'
　　He　tore　the　picture　off　the　wall　and　ran　back　into　the　living　room　with　it。　The　screen　was　in　place　before　the　fireplace；　of　course；　it　would　be　at　least　two　months　before　a　fire　was　wanted　in　here。　Kinnell　batted　it　aside　and　threw　the　painting　in；　breaking　the　glass　fronting…which　he　had　already　broken　once；　at　the　Gray　service　area…against　the　firedogs。　Then　he　pelted　for　the　kitchen；　wondering　what　he　would　do　if　this　didn't　work　either。
　　It　has　to；　he　thought。　It　will　because　it　has　to；　and　that's　all　there　is　to　it。
　　He　opened　the　kitchen　cabinets　and　pawed　through　them；　spilling　the　oatmeal；　spilling　a　canister　of　salt；　spilling　the　vinegar。　The　bottle　broke　open　on　the　counter　and　assaulted　his　nose　and　eyes　with　the　high　stink。
　　Not　there。　What　he　wanted　wasn't　there。
　　He　raced　into　the　pantry；　looked　behind　the　door…nothing　but　a　plastic　bucket　and　an　O　Cedar…and　then　on　the　shelf　by　the　dryer。　There　it　was；　next　to　the　briquets。
　　Lighter　fluid。
　　He　grabbed　it　and　ran　back；　glancing　at　the　telephone　on　the　kitchen　wall　as　he　hurried　by。　He　wanted　to　stop；　wanted　to　call　Aunt　Trudy。　Credibility　wasn't　an　issue　with　her；　if　her　favorite　nephew　called　and　told　her　to　get　out　of　the　house；　to　get　out　right　now；　she　would　do　it　。　。　。　but　what　if　the　blond　kid　followed　her？　Chased　her？
　　And　he　would。　Kinnell　knew　he　would。
　　He　hurried　across　the　living　room　and　stopped　in　front　of　the　fireplace。
　　'Jesus；'　he　whispered。　'Jesus；　no。'
　　The　picture　beneath　the　splintered　glass　no　longer　showed　oning　headlights。　Now　it　showed　the　Grand　Am　on　a　sharply　curving　piece　of　road　that　could　only　be　an　exit　ramp。　Moonlight　shone　like　liquid　satin　on　the　car's　dark　flank。　In　the　background　was　a　water　tower；　and　the　words　on　it　were　easily　readable　in　the　moonlight。　KEEP　MAINE　GREEN；　they　said。　BRING　MONEY。
　　Kinnell　didn't　hit　the　picture　with　the　first　squeeze　of　lighter　fluid；　his　hands　were　shaking　badly　and　the　aromatic　liquid　simply　ran　down　the　unbroken　part　of　the　glass；　blurring　the　Road　Virus's　back　deck。　He　took　a　deep　breath；　aimed；　then　squeezed　again。　This　time　the　lighter　fluid　squirted　in　through　the　jagged　hole　made　by　one　of　the　firedogs　and　ran　down　the　picture；　cutting　through　the　paint；　making　it　run；　turning　a　Goodyear　Wide　Oval　into　a　sooty　teardrop。
　　Kinnell　took　one　of　the　ornamental　matches　from　the　jar　on　the　mantel；　struck　it　on　the　hearth；　and　poked　it　in　through　the　hole　in　the　glass。　The　painting　caught　at　once；　fire　billowing　up　and　down　across　the　Grand　Am　and　the　water　tower。　The　remaining　glass　in　the　frame　turned　black；　then　broke　outward　in　a　shower　of　flaming　pieces。　Kinnell　crunched　them　under　his　sneakers；　putting　them　out　before　they　could　set　the　rug　on　fire。
　　
　　He　went　to　the　phone　and　punched　in　Aunt　Trudy's　number；　unaware　that　he　was　crying。　On　the　third　ring；　his　aunt's　answering　machine　picked　up。　'Hello；'　Aunt　Trudy　said；　'I　know　it　encourages　the　burglars　to　say　things　like　this；　but　I've　gone　up　to　Kennebunk　to　watch　the　new　Harrison　Ford　movie。　If　you　intend　to　break　in；　please　don't　take　my　china　pigs。　If　you　want　to　leave　a　message；　do　so　at　the　beep。'
　　Kinnell　waited；　then；　keeping　his　voice　as　steady　as　possible；　he　said：　'It's　Richie；　Aunt　Trudy。　Call　me　when　you　get　back；　okay？　No　matter　how　late。'
　　He　hung　up；　looked　at　the　TV；　then　dialed　Newswire　again；　this　time　punching　in　the　Maine　area　code。　While　the　puters　on　the　other　end　processed　his　order；　he　went　back　and　used　a　poker　to　jab　at　the　blackened；　twisted　thing　in　the　fireplace。　The　stench　was　ghastly…it　made　the　spilled　vinegar　smell　like　a　flowerpatch　in　parison…but　Kinnell　found　he　didn't　mind。　The　picture　was　entirely　gone；　reduced　to　ash；　and　that　made　it　worthwhile。
　　What　if　it　es　back　again？
　　'It　won't；'　he　said；　putting　the　poker　back　and　returning　to　t