The Dark Half(26)



into a tight white ball between her br**sts, and suddenly he wanted to be furious at this cop, who had been invited freely into his home and then refused to shake his hand. This cop whose salary was paid, at least in some small part, by the taxes the Beaumonts paid on their house in Castle Rock. This cop who had frightened Liz. This cop who had frightened him.

'Very well,' Thad said evenly. 'If you won't shake hands with me, then perhaps you'll tell me why you're here.'

Unlike the state cops, Alan Pangborn was wearing not a rainslicker but a waterproof jacket which came only to his waist. He reached into his back pocket, brought out a card, and began to read from it. It took Thad a moment to realize he was hearing a variation of the Miranda warning.

'As you said, my name is Alan Pangborn, Mr Beaumont. I am the sheriff of Castle County, Maine. I'm here because I have to question you in connection with a capital crime. I will ask you these questions at the Orono state police barracks. You have the right to remain silent - '

'Oh dear Jesus, please, what is this?' Liz asked, and layered on top of that Thad heard himself saying, 'Wait a minute, wait just a damn minute.' He intended to roar this, but even with his brain telling his lungs to turn the volume up to a full lecture-hall-quieting bellow, the best he could manage was a mild objection that Pangborn overrode easily.

' - and you have the right to legal counsel. If you cannot afford legal counsel, such will be provided for you.'

He replaced the card in his back pocket.

'Thad?' Liz was crowding against him like a small child frightened by thunder. Her huge puzzled eyes stared at Pangborn. Every so often they flicked to the state troopers, who looked big enough to play defense on a pro football team, but mostly they remained on Pangborn.

'I'm not going anywhere with you,' Thad said. His voice was shaking, jigging up and down, changing registers like the voice of a young adolescent. He was still trying to be furious. 'I don't believe you can compel me to do that.'.One of the troopers cleared his throat. 'The alternative,' he said, 'is for us to go back and get a

warrant for your arrest, Mr Beaumont. On the basis of information in our possession, that would be very easy.'

The trooper glanced at Pangborn.

'It might be fair to add that Sheriff Pangborn wanted us to bring one with us. He argued very strongly for it, and I guess he would have gotten his way if you weren't . . . something of a public figure.'

Pangborn looked disgusted, possibly by this fact, possibly because the trooper was informing Thad of the fact, most likely both.

The trooper saw the look, shuffled his wet shoes as if a trifle embarrassed, but pushed on anyway. 'With the situation being what it is, I have no problem with you knowing that.' He looked questioningly at his partner, who nodded. Pangborn just went on looking disgusted. And angry. He looks, Thad thought, as if he'd like to rip me open with his fingernails and wrap my guts around my head.

'That sounds very professional,' Thad said. He was relieved to find he was getting at least some of his wind back and his voice was settling down. He wanted to be angry because anger would allay the fear, but he could still manage no more than bewilderment. He felt sucker-punched.

'What it ignores is the fact that I don't have the slightest idea what this goddam situation is.'

'If we believed that to be the case, we wouldn't be here, Mr Beaumont,' Pangborn said. The expression of loathing on his face finally turned the trick: Thad was suddenly infuriated.

'I don't care what you think!' Thad said. 'I told you that I know who you are, Sheriff Pangborn. My wife and I have owned a summer house in Castle Rock since I973 - long before you ever heard of the place. I don't know what you're doing here, a hundred and sixty-odd miles from your territory, or why you're looking at me like I was a splat of birdshit on a new car, but I can tell you I'm not going anywhere with you until I find out. If it's going to take an arrest warrant, you go on and get one. But I want you to know that if you do, you're going to be up to your neck in a kettle of boiling shit and I'll be the one underneath stoking the fire. Because I haven't done anything. This is f**king outrageous. Just . . . f**king . . . outrageous!

Now his voice had reached full volume, and both the troopers looked a little abashed. Pangborn did not. He went on staring at Thad in that unsettling way. In the other room, one of the twins began to cry.

'Oh Jesus,' Liz moaned, 'what is this? Tell us!'

'Go take care of the kids, babe,' Thad said, not unlocking his gaze from Pangborn's.

'But - '

'Please,' he said, and then both babies were crying. 'This will be all right.'

She gave him a final trembling look, her eyes saying Do you promise? and then went into the living room.

'We want to question you in connection with the murder of Homer Gamache,' the second trooper said.

Thad broke his hard stare at Pangborn and turned to the trooper.

'Who?'

'Homer Gamache,' Pangborn repeated. 'Are you going to tell us the name means nothing to you, Mr Beaumont?'

'Of course I'm not,' Thad said, astonished. 'Homer takes our trash to the dump when we're in town. Makes some small repairs around the house. He lost an arm in Korea. They gave him the Silver Star - '.'Bronze,' Pangborn said stonily.

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