Страница 44 из 147
That he couldn’t remember was why the sheriff had eventually stopped drinking. Years ago, when Ketchum had first told Da
“Cookie’s got to get out of Boston -that’s for starters,” Ketchum said now. “He ought to lose the Del Popolo, too. I’m going to tell him, but you’ve got to tell him, too, Da
“Ketchum, are you saying it’s inevitable that Pam will tell Carl everything?”
“As inevitable as the fact that one day, Da
“Jesus!” Da
“Talk to your dad, Da
“Were you sleeping with her?” Da
“Talk to your dad, please,” Ketchum said. Da
“Does my dad know you slept with her?” Da
“Constipated Christ!” Ketchum shouted into the phone. “Why do you think your dad busted half my head open with the damn skillet?”
“What did you just say?” Da
“I’m drunk,” Ketchum told him. “Don’t listen to what I say.”
“I thought Carl cracked your head open with his Colt forty-five,” Da
“Hell, if the cowboy had cracked my head open, I would have killed him!” Ketchum thundered. As soon as the logger said this, Da
“I saw lights on in the cookhouse,” Ketchum began, suddenly sounding weary. “Your mom and dad were up late talking, and-in those days-drinking. I walked in the screen door to the kitchen. I didn’t know it was the night your mom told your dad about her and me.”
“I get it,” Da
“Not all of it, you don’t. Talk to your dad,” Ketchum repeated.
“Did Jane know?” Da
“Shit, the Injun knew everything,” Ketchum told him.
“Ketchum?” Da
“I’m trying to learn now,” Ketchum said defensively. “I think that schoolteacher lady is going to teach me. She said she would.”
“Does Dad know you can’t read?” the young man asked his father’s old friend.
“I suppose one of us will have to tell him,” Ketchum said. “Cookie is probably of the opinion that Rosie must have taught me something.”
“So that was why you called-what you meant by ‘Something’s up’ in your letter-is that it?” Da
“I can’t believe you believed that bullshit about the fucking bear,” Ketchum said. The bear story had found its way, in a more remote form, into Daniel Baciagalupo’s first novel. But of course it hadn’t really been a bear that walked into the kitchen-it had just been Ketchum. And if the bear story hadn’t been planted in young Dan’s heart and mind, maybe he wouldn’t have reached for the eight-inch cast-iron skillet-maybe he wouldn’t have imagined that the sound of his father and Jane making love was the sound of a mauling-in-progress. Then maybe he wouldn’t have killed Jane.
“So there wasn’t a bear,” Da
“Hell, there’s probably three thousand bears at any given time in northern New Hampshire -I’ve seen a bunch of bears. I’ve shot some,” Ketchum added. “But if a bear had walked into the cookhouse kitchen through that screen door, your father’s best way to save himself, and Rosie, would be if the two of them had exited the kitchen through the dining room-not ru
“I wish I had never written about it,” was all Da
“There’s one more thing,” Ketchum told him. “It’s another kind of writing problem.”
“Jesus!” Da
“You’re sounding more and more like your father,” Ketchum told him. “I just mean that you’re publishing a book, aren’t you? And have you thought about what it might mean if that book were to become a bestseller? If suddenly you were to become a popular writer, with your name and picture in the newspapers and magazines-you might even get to be on television!”
“It’s a first novel,” Da
“Think about it,” Ketchum said. “Anything’s possible, isn’t it? Don’t writers, even young ones, get lucky like other people-or unlucky, as the case may be?”
This time, Da
“Da
“It’s called a pen name,” Da
“Well, I can read some of the authors’ names and the titles,” Ketchum said indignantly. “I can borrow books and find someone to read them to me!”
“Oh,” Da
“A pen name,” Ketchum repeated thoughtfully. “I believe there’s another phrase for it, something French-sounding.”
“A nom de plume,” Da
“That’s it!” Ketchum cried. “A nom de plume. Well, that’s what you need-just to be on the safe side.”
“I don’t suppose you have any suggestions,” Daniel Baciagalupo said.
“You’re the writer-that’s your job,” Ketchum told him. “Ketchum kind of goes with Daniel, doesn’t it? And it’s a fine old Coos County kind of name.”
“I’ll think about it,” Da
“I’m sure you can come up with something better,” Ketchum said.
“Tell me one thing,” Da
“Shit!” Ketchum cried. “I heard you call that wife of yours ‘a free spirit.’ Katie was a lawless soul, a political radical, a fucking anarchist, and a coldhearted woman-you should have known better, Da
There was a click, followed by a dial tone, because Ketchum had disco