Chapter 8 Chapter VII Suspect

one While Tad was writing upstairs in his study, the police came. Liz reads a book in the living room while William and Wendy play in their oversize playpen.She went to the door, looking out first from a narrow decorative window next to it.She's been in the habit since Ted dubbed his "debut" in Popular magazine.Most of the visitors were people they knew a little bit, there were also some curious town residents, and even some complete strangers (the latter were Stark without exception. fans), they love to come and see.Ted called it the "live crocodile complication" and said it would wear off in a week or two, and Liz hoped he was right.At the same time, she feared that some new visitor might be one of those demented crocodile hunters who had killed John Lennon, so she always peeked out the side window first.She didn't know if she could spot a real madman, but she could at least get Ted to write for two hours each morning without interruption.After that, he went to answer the door himself, usually looking at her with a guilty little boy look that made her wonder what to answer.

The three guys standing on the front steps this Saturday morning weren't Beaumont or Stark fans, and she guessed they weren't crazy...unless some crazy person liked to drive a State Police patrol car.She opened the door with the uneasiness that even the most innocent of people feel when the police show up without calling.She figured that if her kids were old enough to go out on a rainy Saturday morning, she would be worrying about whether they were going to be okay. "Is there a problem?" "Are you Mrs. Elizabeth Beaumont?" asked one of them. "Yes, I am. What's the matter?"

"Is your husband home, Mrs. Beaumont?" asked the second, the two wearing identical gray raincoats and state trooper caps. "No, the crackling upstairs you hear is the ghost of Ernest Hemingway," she thought, but of course didn't say it.She felt at first a sense of panic that something had happened to her; then an inexplicable sense of guilt that made her want to say something rude or sarcastic, whatever the specifics, which meant, "Go away. You are not needed here, we Did nothing wrong. Go away and find the people who did it." "May I ask why you want to see him?"

The third policeman was Alan Pombo. "Police duty, Mrs. Beaumont," he said, "may we speak to him?" two Ted Beaumont doesn't keep a diary or anything, but he does sometimes write about things in his life that interest him, surprise him, or scare him.He bound these records into a book, which his wife was not interested in.In fact, they repelled her, though she never told Tad that.Most of these records are inexplicably nonchalant, as if a part of him stood aside, looking at life through its own lofty, uninterested eyes.After the police visit on June 4th, he wrote a long paragraph filled with a strong, uncharacteristically emotional undercurrent.

"I understand Kafka's and Orwell's better now. It would be a serious mistake to read them only as political novels. After I finished "The Dancers," I was out of ideas, and Liz had another miscarriage and fell into depression, which I still consider to be the most painful relationship of our marriage, but what happened today was even worse. I told myself it was because the experience was so new , but I suspect more than that. If that period of depression and the loss of the first twins was a wound, it has healed, leaving only scars to show that they were wounds, and I think this time the new wounds will also Healing...but I don't believe time will ever erase it. It also leaves scars, shorter and deeper - like the faded scars of a sharp stab.

"I'm sure the police are playing by the rules. But I still feel that I'm in danger of being pulled into some inhuman bureaucratic machine that, rather than people, will run its course until it grinds me to pieces...because putting It is the job of the machine to crush man to pieces. My shouts will neither hasten nor slow down the smashing action of that machine. "I could tell Liz was nervous, she came upstairs and told me the police wanted to see me, but she wouldn't tell her what. She said one of them was Alan Pump, Sheriff of Castle Rock. I used to I've seen him once or twice, but I really recognized him because his picture was always in the Castle Rock Call.

"I'm curious and happy to get away from the typewriter for a while, where my characters insist on doing things I don't want them to. If I have a hunch, I think it might be with Frederick Clausen Relating to, or related to, the article in Popular Magazine. "I don't know if I can accurately describe the atmosphere of the meeting, I don't know if it makes sense, I just thought it would make sense to try. They're still standing in the living room near the foyer, and all three are strong (no wonder People call them bulls), raincoats dripping onto the carpet. "'Are you Ted Beaumont?' one of them—Sergeant Pangble—asked, and that's when the change of mood I wanted to describe (or at least point to) took place. Confusion added Curious, and happy, glad that I was freed from the typewriter, however brief, and a little anxious. He called me by my full name, but without 'sir.' Like a judge reading a sentence to a defendant.

"'Yes, exactly,' I said, 'you're Sheriff Pangbo. I know you because we have a cottage on the lake in Castle Rock.' I held out my hand, which is unconscious of all educated American men action. "He just looked at it, and a look crossed his face—like he opened the refrigerator door and found that the fish he bought for dinner had gone bad. 'I don't want to shake your hand,' he said, 'so You can take it back so it won't bother us.' It's weird and rude to talk like that, but what bothers me more is the way he talks, like he thinks I'm crazy.

"I was terrified. My emotions went from curiosity and joy to outright fear, and I still can't believe how quickly the mood shifted, so fucking fast. At that moment, I knew they weren't coming to be with me Not about anything but what they believed me to have done, and in that first terrible moment—'I don't want to shake your hand'—even I was convinced I had done it. "That's what I needed to say. In that dead moment after Pangbo refused to shake my hand, I actually thought I had done everything...and couldn't deny my guilt." three Thad slowly lowered his hand.Out of the corner of his eye he could see Liz's hands twisted in front of her chest, and suddenly he wanted to throw a tantrum at the policeman who had been graciously invited into his home but refused to shake his hand, who was paid at least in part by The tax paid by the Beaumonts was paid for their cottage at Castle Rock.This cop frightened Liz, this cop frightened him.

"Fine," Thad said calmly, "if you won't shake my hand, then maybe you'd like to tell me why you're here." Unlike the other two state troopers, Alan Pumpeau was not wearing a raincoat, only a waist-length waterproof jacket.He took a card out of his pocket and began to read it.It took Tad a moment to realize that he had heard a repeat of Miranda's warning. "As you say, my name is Alan Pump, Mr. Beaumont. I am the Sheriff of Fort Rock, Maine. I am here because you must be questioned about your connection to a murder. I will To ask you these questions. You have the right to remain silent—"

"Oh my God, what's this?" Liz asked, and Ted heard himself say, "Wait, wait a minute." He wanted to say it out loud, but even though his brain was telling his lungs to raise the volume He let out a roar, but he could only utter a mild protest, which Pang Bo ignored. "—and you have the right to a lawyer. If you can't find one, we'll provide it for you." He put the card back in his pocket. "Ted?" Liz snuggled up to him like a child frightened by lightning.Her big eyes stared at Pangpo in puzzlement.Sometimes the eye flicked to two other state troopers, who looked big enough to play linebacker on a professional football team, and finally settled on Pombo. "I'm not going anywhere with you," Ted said.His voice was trembling, high and low, like a child.Still trying to make himself angry, "I don't believe you can force me to do that." Another cop cleared his throat. "The other option," he said, "is that we go back and get a warrant, Mr. Beaumont. That would be easy, given the evidence we have." The policeman glanced at Pang Bo. "To be fair, Sergeant Pombo asked us to bring one. He insisted on it, and I guess he would have had it if you weren't... a public figure." Pangbo looked disgusted, maybe because of that fact, maybe because the cops were telling Ted the truth, or more likely both. The policeman saw his expression, so he moved his feet awkwardly, as if he was a little embarrassed, but he continued: "The actual situation is like this, I think you should know." He looked at his companion inquiringly , the latter nodded.Pangbo looked disgusted and angry.Tad thought, it looked like he was going to tear me open with his nails and wrap my guts around my head. "That sounded very professional," Ted said.He felt a little relieved, found himself at least regaining some courage, and his voice calmed down.He wants to be angry, because anger assuages ​​fear, but all he can do is bewilderment, and he's puzzled, "but ignoring the fact that I have no idea what the hell this situation is." "If we believed that to be the case, we wouldn't be here, Mr. Beaumont," said Pangbourne.The look of disgust on his face finally served its purpose: Ted was suddenly irritated. "I don't care what you think!" Ted said. "I'll tell you I know who you are, Sheriff Pombo. My wife and I have owned a cottage in Castle Rock since 1973—when you Never heard of that place. I don't know what you're doing here a hundred and sixty miles out of your jurisdiction, or why you're looking at me like a pile of bird shit on a new car, but I can tell you I Won't go anywhere with you unless I understand what's going on. If you want a warrant, get one. But I want you to know that if you do, you're going to fall into a hot potty , and I'll be the one lighting the fire down there. Because I didn't do anything. It's fucking infuriating. It's...fucking...infuriating!" Now his voice was at the top of his voice, and the two cops looked a little embarrassed.Pangbo didn't.He continued to stare at Tad with that disturbing look. In another room, one of the twins began to cry. "Oh my God," Liz moaned, "what the hell is going on, tell us!" "Go take care of the kids, baby," Thad said, still staring at Pangbol. "but--" "Please," he said, and both children were crying, "it's all right here." She gave him one last trembling look, her eyes saying is it really all right?Then go into the living room. "We want to ask you about the murder of Homer Gamache," said the second policeman. Ted took his eyes off Pombo and turned to the policeman. "Who?" "Homer Gamache," repeated Pangbourne, "you're going to tell us you don't know him at all, Mr. Beaumont?" "Of course I wouldn't," said Ted, taken aback. "When we were in town, Homer took our junk to the dump and tinkered with the house. He lost an arm in the Korean War, They gave him a silver star—” "Bronze Star." Pang Bo said blankly. "Homer is dead? Who killed him?" The two policemen looked at each other, startled.Surprise may be the hardest human emotion to fake, aside from sadness. The first policeman replied in a strange, gentle voice: "We have every reason to believe you did it, Mr. Beaumont. That's why we're here." Four Ted looked at him for a moment in utter bewilderment, then laughed. "My God, my God, that's wonderful." "Would you like a coat, Mr. Beaumont?" asked another policeman. "It's raining hard." "I'm not going anywhere with you." He repeated absently, completely oblivious to the fury on Pangbol's face.Ted was thinking. "I'm afraid you'll have to go," said Pangbol, "one way or the other." "So, it has to be a different way," he said, before involuntarily asking, "When did this happen?" "Mr. Beaumont," Pumble said slowly, biting every word clearly—as if he were speaking to a not-so-bright four-year-old, "we're not here to give you information." Liz went back to the porch with the baby in her arms.Her face was pale, and her forehead shone like a lamp. "You guys are crazy," she said, seeing the policeman from Pangbo and back to Pangbo, "Crazy. Don't you know?" "Listen," Tad said, coming up to Liz and putting an arm around her, "I didn't kill Homer, Sheriff Pangble, but I understand now why you're so angry. Go upstairs and I'll Go to my office, let's sit down and see if we can figure it out—" "I want you to get your coat," said Pumble, who glanced at Liz. "Excuse my rudeness, but I've had enough of this rainy Saturday morning." Thad looked at the older of the two cops. "Could you please make him sensible? Tell him he can avoid a great embarrassment and trouble if he tells me when Homer was killed?" Kebao, I can't imagine what Homer was doing there . The officer thought about it for a moment, then said, "Sorry, wait a minute." The three of them retreated into the corridor, and the two police officers appeared to be pulling Pangbol out the front door.As soon as the door closed, Liz asked a barrage of confused questions, and Ted knew her too well to react to the police in an angry - even angry - way, if it weren't for the news of Homer's death. Out of vent, she's on the verge of crying now. "It'll be all right in a minute," he said, kissing her on the cheek.Then he kissed William and Wendy, too, who looked very unhappy. "I think those two cops already know I'm telling the truth. Pangpo . Arguable proof that I'm the murderer," he thought, but didn't say it. He went to the narrow window by the door and peered out, just as Liz had done.If it weren't for the current situation, the scene he saw would be very ridiculous.The three of them had a meeting standing on the front steps, not completely sheltered from the rain.Ted could hear them, but couldn't make out what they were saying.They looked to him like baseball players conferring on the pitcher's tread after the other had scored, and both cops were talking to Pangbo, who answered excitedly, shaking his head. Ted walked back into the hall. "What are they doing?" Liz asked. "I don't know," Tad said, "but I think the two cops are trying to persuade Pangbol to tell me why he's so sure I killed Homer Gamache, or at least part of it." "Poor Homer," she whispered, "this is like a bad dream." He took William from her arms and told her again to take it easy. Fives The police came in about twenty minutes later.Pangbourne's face was sullen, and Ted guessed that the two policemen had told him what he already knew but didn't want to admit: that the writer showed no facial spasms or twitches that criminals are used to. "Okay," Pangbo said.Ted thought he was trying to be polite and doing a good job.Considering he's in front of the number one suspect in the murder of a one-armed old man, that's a pretty good move, if not terribly successful. "These gentlemen want me to ask you at least one question here, Mr. Beaumont, and I agree. Can you tell me where you were from eleven o'clock in the evening on May 31st to four o'clock in the morning on June 1st? " The Beaumonts exchanged glances.Tad felt the weight loosen from his heart. He hadn't quite let it go, but he felt the chains holding it were loose, and now he just needed a hard push. "What day?" he whispered to his wife.He thought it was that day, but it seemed too coincidental to believe. "I'm sure it was that day," Liz replied. "Thirty-one, isn't it?" She looked at Pangbourne hopefully. Pangbol looked back at her suspiciously: "Yes, ma'am. But I'm afraid you wouldn't—" She ignored him and counted back on her fingers.Suddenly he grinned like a schoolgirl. "Thursday! Thursday is thirty-one!" she cried to her husband. "That's the day! Thank God!" Pangbo looked confused and more suspicious.The two cops looked at each other, then at Liz. "Can you tell us what's going on, Mrs. Beaumont?" asked a policeman. "We had a party here on Thursday night, the thirty-first!" she replied, giving Pangble a triumphant, disapproving look. "We've got a whole house! Don't you, Tad?" "indeed so." "In these types of cases, the alibi itself raises doubts," said Pangbo, who looked a little surprised. "Ah, you stupid, haughty fellow!" cried Liz, her cheeks flushed now, the fear passing; the anger descending.He looked at the two cops, "If my husband doesn't have an alibi for the murder you're accusing him of committing, you guys take him to the police station! If he has, this guy says it might still mean he committed a murder!" Are you afraid of serious work? Why are you here?" "Come on, Liz," said Tad quietly, "they've got a good reason for coming here. If Sergeant Pangble had a whim, I'm sure he'd come alone." Pangbourne gave him an unhappy look and sighed, "Tell us about this party, Mr. Beaumont." "It's for Tom Carroll," Ted said. "Tom has been in the English department of the university for nineteen years, and he's been the head of the department for the last five. He retired on May 27th, when the school happened to On vacation. He was well-liked in the department because of his particular fondness for the papers of Hunter Thompson, whom we veteran faculty called Gonzo Tom. We decided to throw a retirement dance for him and his wife." "When did the party end?" Ted grinned: "Oh, it's over before four in the morning, and it's late. When you put a bunch of English teachers together and serve booze without limit, you can make a weekend party dwarf." Ugly. People start arriving around eight o'clock... who's the last one, baby?" "Rowley Dresses and this horrible woman in the history department that he's been dating for a long time," she said, "is going around yelling, 'Call me Billie, that's what everyone calls me.'" "Yeah," said Tad, grinning again, "that wicked witch of the East." Pangbo's eyes send the message we all know you're lying: "When did these friends leave?" Ted trembled: "Friend? Luo Li, yes. That woman, definitely not." "Two o'clock," said Liz. Ted nodded. "We sent them out at least two o'clock. Almost pushed them out. As I said, that woman is very annoying, but if he has more than three miles to go, or if the time is not enough If it had been earlier, I'd have insisted they stay overnight. Thursday night—Friday morning, sorry—there was no one on the road at that time. Except for a few deer attacking the garden." He snapped his mouth shut, and as soon as he relaxed , it became almost nagging. There was a moment of silence.The two cops were looking at the floor now, and Pangborn had a look on Ted's face that he didn't understand—he didn't believe he'd seen it before, not chagrin, though that included chagrin. "What the hell is going on here?" "Well, that's all right, Mr. Beaumont," said Pangborn at last, "but it's not certain. We've got from you and your wife when the last pair left, and that's probably what you guessed." Time. If they're as nasty as you think they are, they'll hardly be able to confirm your words. And if this Luo Li is really a friend, he can say... oh, who knows?" Having said that, Alan Pangpo was already a little discouraged.Tad saw and believed—no, knew—and the two cops saw it too, but Pombo wasn't ready to let go.Ted's initial fear and subsequent anger were turning into fascination and curiosity.He didn't think he'd ever seen such a balance between confusion and certainty.The fact of the party—he had to take it as an easily corroborated fact—shocked Pangbol...but didn't convince him.He saw that the two policemen were not completely convinced, the only difference was that the two policemen were not so excited, they didn't know Homer Gamache, so they didn't have any personal factors involved.Alain Pangble had, and it clouded his judgement. I know him too, Tad thought.So maybe I have a personal factor in it too.That is, except for my safety. "Look," he said patiently, looking into Pangbol's eyes, trying not to be hostile, "let's get back to reality, as my students like to say. You're asking if we can effectively prove that we're where--" "Where are you, Mr. Beaumont," said Pangborn. "Well, where am I. It was a very worrying five hours, when most people had had enough sleep. By sheer luck, we—I, if you like to say it—could at least say Clear three of those five hours. Maybe Luo Li and his annoying girlfriend leave at 2 o'clock, maybe they leave at 1:30 or 2:15, whatever time it is, it's late. They will Prove that, even if Rowley was willing to alibi for me, that woman wouldn't. I think that woman, Billie, would pour another bucket of water on me if she saw me wash up on the shore after drowning .” Liz smiled and grimaced at him, and she took William from his arms, and the boy was beginning to squirm.At first he didn't understand the grimace, then he did.This, of course, is due to the phrase — alibi — which was used by Alex Massin, one of the great villains in George Stark's novels.It was odd; he didn't recall Stark language being used in conversation before.On the other hand, he had never been charged with murder before, which was what George Stark was doing. "Even assuming I miss an hour and the last guests leave at one o'clock," he continued, "even assuming that the minute they leave—the second—I jump in my car and drive like crazy To Castle Rock, I'll be there at four-thirty or five in the morning. There's no freeway west, you know." A policeman began: "The Arsent woman said she saw about fifteen past—" "We don't need to talk about this now." Alan interrupted him quickly. Liz suddenly let out an angry cry, and Wendy glared at her ridiculously.In Liz's other arm, William had stopped wriggling and was suddenly engrossed in playing with his own fingers, and she said to Tad, "There's still a lot of people here at one o'clock, Tad, there are a lot of people." Then she started attacking Alan Pangborn—really attacking him this time. "What the hell is wrong with you, Sheriff? Why are you trying so hard to blame my husband? Are you a fool? A lunatic? A bad person? You don't look like any of those people, but your behavior Makes me suspicious, makes me very suspicious. Maybe by lottery, eh? You draw his name out of a fucking hat?" Alan flinched a little from her aggressiveness, obviously startled and embarrassed: "Mrs. Beaumont—" "I think I have the advantage, Sheriff," Tad said, "you think I killed Homer Gamache—" "Mr. Beaumont, you have not been charged with—" "No. But you think so, don't you?" The red slowly crept up Pangbo's cheeks, like the hue on a thermometer, and Thad decided it wasn't from embarrassment but from frustration. "Yes, sir," he said, "I do think so, regardless of what you and your wife have said." This answer surprised Ted.Gosh, what the hell happened to make this guy (who, as Liz said, didn't look stupid at all) so sure?So fucking sure? Ted felt a shiver run up his spine... and then something strange happened.For a moment, a ghostly voice filled his heart—not his head but his heart.The sound was familiar, he hadn't heard it in thirty years, it was the ghostly sound of hundreds, maybe a thousand birds. He reached up to touch the small scar on his head, and the trembling returned, stronger this time, running through his skin like electricity. "Alibi for me, George," he thought. "I'm a little dangerous, so alibi for me." "Ted," Liz asked, "are you all right?" "Oh?" He looked at her. "You are pale." "I'm fine," he said, and he was, the voice had gone, if it had ever existed. He turned to Pangbo. "As I said, Sheriff, I have a certain advantage in this matter. You think I killed Homer. But, I know I didn't. I didn't kill anyone except in the books." "Mr. Beaumont—" "I understand your anger. He's a lovely old man with a haughty wife, a little sense of humor, and only one arm. I'm angry too, and I'll do my best to cooperate, but You've got to get rid of the secret police stuff and tell me why you're here—what brought you to me in the first place I don't understand." Alain stared at him for a long time, then said, "Everything in me believes you're telling the truth." "Thank goodness," said Liz, "this man finally figured it out." "If it turns out to be you," said Alan, looking only at Ted, "I'll find out whoever proved wrong in A. S. Rand I myself and skin him off." "What is A.S. and what?" "Army Records and Identification," said a policeman, "is in Washington." "I never knew they were wrong before," Alan continued slowly, "they have a first time for everything, but... if they are not wrong, if this meeting of yours is confirmed, I will Very confused." "Can't you tell us what's going on?" Alan sighed. "We've gotten this far, why not? Actually, the last guest to leave your party doesn't really matter. If you're here in the middle of the night, if there's a witness who can prove that you—" "Five past twelve at least ’ said Liz. "—then you are clear of suspicion. From the eyewitness statement of the lady mentioned by the officer just now, and from the coroner's report, we are almost certain that Homer died between one and three o'clock in the morning on the first of June. Killed, he was killed with his own artificial arm." "My God," Liz whispered, "you think Ted—" "Homer's car was found two days ago in a parking lot in Connecticut, near the New York State border." Alan paused, "It's full of fingerprints, Mr. Beaumont, most of them are Homer. Yes, but many belonged to the murderer. A few of the murderer's fingerprints were very clear. One was almost as clear as a plaster impression where the murderer had chewing gum taken from his mouth and stuck to the dashboard, and it hardened there. However, The clearest one is on the rearview mirror, which is just as good as the one printed in a police station, only with blood instead of ink." "Then why Ted?" Liz demanded angrily. "Party or not, how do you think Ted—" Alan looked at her and said, "When the Army Records and Identification Service entered the fingerprints into their computer, your husband's service records came out. Your husband's fingerprints came out, to be precise." For a moment, Ted and Liz could only look at each other, speechless.Then Liz said, "Then that's a mistake, people who do these jobs make mistakes a lot." "Yes, but they seldom make such a serious mistake. There's a lot of plausibility in fingerprinting, it's true. Those laymen who grew up watching movies like "Kaujak" and "Barnaby Jones" think that fingerprints It's an exact science, it's not. But computerization eliminates many plausible comparisons of fingerprints, and in this case the prints are very clear. When I said they were your husband's, Mrs. Beaumont, I said It's what I saw, I looked at the computer printout, I looked at the outlines, not just approximations." Now he turned to Tad, staring at him with his cold blue eyes. "It's exactly the same." Liz stared at him, opened her mouth in surprise, and on her arms William and Wendy began to cry.