Read Online Cemetery of Swallows by Mallock;, Steven Rendall - Free Book Online

going to be a pleasure trip or a cruise, it was going to be a hassle. He was right, but he was still far off the mark. Light-years off.
    The flame trees in bloom were sprinkling with crimson drops the monochrome green of the island’s vegetation. Taking his time, the doctor stopped here and there to drop off medicines, improvise free consultations, do his errands, or buy a little hashish.
    â€œIt relaxes me and keeps me from drinking too much,” he said as he lit a joint before getting back on the road. “Alcoholism is the main problem for Westerners who live in Africa or South America,” he went on. “A way of holding on, I suppose, of enduring the cultural gap, or maybe simply the temptation of a way of letting oneself go that will never be criticized or punished. So I prefer a little joint; does that shock you?”
    Mallock reflected on his own weaknesses. He hesitated as to how to reply: “not at all,” which is what he thought, or “not really,” which was more in tune with his status as police superintendent.
    â€œWe all need crutches to put up with life,” he finally said, philosophically. “Having difficulty handling things in such a crazy world is actually a sign of good mental health, isn’t it?”
    André smiled as he cast a furtive glance at Mallock. He’d feared being stuck with a stuffy, pretentious bureaucrat. He felt relieved. Pothole: his pickup swerved. He swore and decided to slow down. These potholes were gigantic by European standards and axle-deep.
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    There were clumps of greenery on both sides of the road, and the low, mossy hills along the coast were studded with palm trees. The sky was a sumptuous blue. The sun bronzed the brown of the tree trunks and brought out the multitude of greens. Around every curve, Nature revealed all its generosity. Water and earth were copulating in the sun, and their children were dazzling. Time passed, punctuated by the peaceful appearance of donkeys alongside the road. They were tied up there to graze and clean up the shoulders. Twenty miles farther on, they entered a series of endless curves.
    â€œWe have to watch out,” Barride remarked, taking up a subject that miles and silence had put to rest. “The authorities here are serious about drugs.”
    Taking advantage of this opening, Mallock brought up his favorite topic: “What do you think about this Darbier fellow?”
    André smiled. “Finally! I would have worried about a cop who didn’t ask me questions when I was at his mercy.”
    â€œDon’t feel you have to answer.”
    â€œI’m joking. But you have to recognize that here history is not written day by day, respecting the facts. Tobias Darbier became a legend on the island, and it’s very difficult, today, to separate the true from the fantastic. Personally, I pay attention only to eyewitness testimony.”
    â€œHave you heard any about Darbier?”
    The doctor’s eyes grew harder. He reflected for a few seconds. Mallock knew how to wait.
    â€œThere’s one thing I’ve kept to myself for a long time. And now there you are with your question.”
    Was he hesitating, or was he collecting his memories? No matter, it was for him to decide. And that is what he did, two miles farther on.
    â€œDarbier is dead, and so is my patient, so I suppose I can talk now.”
    A grimace of disgust.
    â€œOne day, I had X-rays made of an old man whom I’d been treating several months, in particular for kidney stones and arthritis. It wasn’t easy to do; he could hardly move anymore. With the help of two members of his family, the radiologist and I spent four hours taking as many pictures as possible. It was trying; the poor man had had almost all his limbs fractured and his joints dislocated, it was terrible. When I asked him the cause of his injuries, he simply waved the question away. But to me it looked very much like the effects