Страница 139 из 147
Ketchum had given her very detailed directions to Da
“I put Hero’s dog bed in the kitchen-he’s used to sleepin’ in kitchens,” Pam said. “Ketchum told me to let myself in, ’cause you never lock the place. Nice house. I put my stuff in the bedroom farthest away from yours-the one with all them pictures of that pretty lady. That way, if I have one of my nightmares, I might not wake you up.”
“Hero’s here?” Da
“Ketchum said you should have a dog, but I ain’t givin’ you one of mine,” Six-Pack said. “Hero ain’t the friendliest critter to other dogs-my dogs sure as shit won’t miss him.”
“You drove all this way to bring me Hero?” Da
“Ketchum said I was to see you in person. No phone call, not a letter or a fax-none of that chickenshit stuff,” Six-Pack told him. “Ketchum musta meant it seriously, ’cause he put everythin’ in writin’. Besides, there’s other crap he wanted you to have-it was all in his truck.”
“You brought Ketchum’s truck?” Da
“The truck ain’t for you-I’m drivin’ it back,” Pam said. “You wouldn’t want it for city drivin’, Da
“Where’s Ketchum? What happened?” the writer asked her.
“We should go walk the dog, or somethin’,” Six-Pack suggested.
“Someplace more private, you mean?” Da
“Christ, Da
Kiss of the Wolf was crowded that night; since the name change, and Patrice’s back-to-bistro renovation, the restaurant was packed most nights. Some nights, Da
Both a waiter and a busboy rushed to the ruined table to make amends, while Patrice smoothly glided up to Da
“I’m just a back-door kinda person,” Six-Pack said humbly to Kiss of the Wolf’s owner and maître d’.
Once they were out on Yonge Street, and while they were waiting for the crossing light to change, Da
“Let’s see how Hero’s doin’, Da
Now Da
“No eyelid. I’ll tell ya later. Just try not to make him feel self-conscious about it,” Six-Pack said.
Da
“Ketchum said you should have it,” Six-Pack told him. Perhaps to change the subject, she said: “If I had to guess, Hero has to take a crap.”
They walked Hero in the park. Christmas lights twinkled in the neighborhood surrounding them. They brought the dog back to the kitchen, where Da
“I know you know what I’m go
LATER, WHEN THEY UNLOADED THE TRUCK TOGETHER, Da
Da
“Kind of a cold spot for breakfast, ain’t it?” she’d asked him.
After all, it was past mid-December-coming up on the longest night of the year. Twisted River rarely froze over until January, but what was Ketchum thinking? Yet (as Pam explained to Da
But the plan didn’t add up, and Pam knew it. Six-Pack had taken a look in Ketchum’s pickup; there was no tent and no sleeping bag. If the veteran river driver was camping out, he must have been pla
“First I heard of it,” as Six-Pack said to Da
And when she’d shown up at the cookhouse site the next morning, Six-Pack knew right away that there was no outdoor breakfast in Ketchum’s plan. The coffee wasn’t brewing; nothing was cooking. There was no fire. She spotted Ketchum sitting with his back against the remains of the crumbled brick chimney, as if the logger might have imagined that the cookhouse was still standing-the burned-to-the-ground building somehow warm and cozy, all around him.