“What do you reckonthatwas about?” I asked.
“Dunno, but I’ll tell you something.” He leaned forward, and the smile was gone. “He wasn’t the saint the local rag is makin him out to be. I could tell you stories, cuz.”
“Go ahead. I’ve got all day.”
The smile reappeared. “Nah. In Derry, we keep ourselves to ourselves.”
“So I’ve noticed,” I said.
14
I wanted to go back to Kossuth Street. I knew the cops might be watching the Dunning house to see if anyone showed an unusual interest in the family, but the desire was very strong, just the same. It wasn’t Harry I wanted to see; it was his little sister. There were things I wanted to tell her.
That she should go out trick-or-treating on Halloween no matter how sad she felt about her daddy.
That she’d be the prettiest, most magical Indian princess anyone had ever seen, and would come home with a mountain of candy.
That she had at least fifty-three long and busy years ahead of her, and probably many more.
Most of all that someday her brother Harry was going to want to put on a uniform and go for a soldier and she must do her very, very, very best to talk him out of it.
Only kids forget. Every teacher knows this.
And they think they’re going to live forever.
15
It was time to leave Derry, but I had one final little chore to take care of before I went. I waited until Monday. That afternoon, the thirteenth of October, I threw my valise into the Sunliner’s trunk, then sat behind the wheel long enough to scribble a brief note. I tucked it into an envelope, sealed it, and printed the recipient’s name on the front.
I drove down to the Low Town, parked, and walked into the Sleepy Silver Dollar. It was empty except for Pete the bartender, as I had expected. He was washing glasses and watchingLove of Lifeon the boob tube. He turned to me reluctantly, keeping one eye on John and Marsha, or whatever their names were.
“What can I get you?”
“Nothing, but you can do me a favor. For which I will compensate you to the tune of five American dollars.”
He looked unimpressed. “Really. What’s the favor?”
I put the envelope on the bar. “Pass this over when the proper party comes in.”
He looked at the name on the front of the envelope. “What do you want with Billy Turcotte? And why don’t you give it to him yourself?”
“It’s a simple enough assignment, Pete. Do you want the five, or not?”
“Sure. Long as it won’t do no harm. Billy’s a good enough soul.”
“It won’t do him any harm. It might even do him some good.”
I put a fin on top of the envelope. Pete made it disappear and went back to his soap opera. I left. Turcotte probably got the envelope. Whether or not he did anything after he read what was inside is another question, one of many to which I will never have answers. This is what I wrote:
Dear Bill—
There is something wrong with your heart. You must go to the doctor soon, or it will be too late. You might think this is a joke, but it is not. You might think I couldn’t know such a thing, but I do. I know it as surely as you know Frank Dunning murdered your sister Clara and your nephew Mikey.PLEASE BELIEVE ME AND GO TO THE DOCTOR!
A Friend
16
I got into my Sunliner, and as I backed out of the slant parking slot, I saw Mr. Keene’s narrow and mistrustful face peering out at me from the drugstore. I unrolled my window, stuck out my arm, and shot him the bird. Then I drove up Up-Mile Hill and out of Derry for the last time.
