Read Online Still Life With Crows by Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child
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looking at her now, nodding sympathetically.
“And that son of his is also a bully. He thinks having a sheriff for a father gives him the right to do whatever he pleases. Terrorizes the high school, I hear.”
“I see. And this Brushy Jim you mentioned?”
Winifred shook her head. “The most disreputable fellow you ever saw.” She clucked disapprovingly. “Lives in a junkyard out on the Deeper Road. Claims to be descended from the lone survivor of the Medicine Creek Massacre. He was in Vietnam, you know, and it did something to the man. Turned his brain. You just won’t see a lower specimen of humanity, Mr. Pendergast. Uses the Lord’s name in vain. Drinks. Never sets foot in church.”
“I saw a large banner being erected on the front lawn of the church last evening.”
“That’s for the fellow from Kansas State.”
Pendergast looked at her. “I’m sorry?”
“He wants to plant a new cornfield here. Some kind of experiment. They’ve narrowed it down to two towns, us and Deeper. The decision’s to be announced next Monday. The man from Kansas State’s due to arrive today and the town is laying out the red carpet for him. Not that everybody’s happy about it, of course.”
“And why is that?”
“Something about the corn they want to test. It’s been fiddled with somehow. I don’t really understand it, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, well,” Pendergast said, and then held out his hand. “But here I am, interrupting the tour with questions.”
Winifred remembered the thread. She bustled forward happily, leading Pendergast to the edge of a wide, dark hole from which even cooler air was rising. “And here is the Bottomless Pit. When Grandfather first arrived, he tossed a stone down and he did not hear it land. ” She paused dramatically.
“How did he know the heifer was down there?” Pendergast asked.
She was thrown into a sudden panic. Once again, nobody had asked the question before.
“Why, I don’t know,” she said.
Pendergast smiled, waved his hand. “Do continue.”
They passed on to the Infinity Pool, where Winifred was disappointed that he did not make a wish—the collecting of tossed coins had once been a profitable sideline. From the Pool, the walkway looped back to the Krystal Kathedral where they had begun. She finished her lecture, shook Pendergast’s hand, and was surprised but pleased to find herself generously tipped. Then, slowly, she led the way back up the wooden stairs to the surface world. At the top, the heat struck her like a hammer. She paused again.
“As I mentioned, all tour members are allowed a ten percent discount from the gift shop on the day of their tour.” She hustled back into the shop and was not disappointed when Pendergast followed.
“I should like to see the needlepoint,” he said.
“Of course.” She directed him to the display case, where he spent a great deal of time poring over the work before choosing a beautiful cross-stitched pillowcase. Winifred was especially pleased because it was one she had done herself.
“My dear Great-Aunt Cornelia will adore this,” Pendergast said as he paid for the pillowcase. “She’s an invalid, you see, and can only take pleasure in small things.”
Winifred smiled as she gift-wrapped the parcel. It was so nice having a gentleman like Mr. Pendergast around. And how thoughtful to think of his elderly relation. Winifred was sure Pendergast’s great-aunt would love the pillowcase.
Ten
C orrie Swanson sat on the little folding bunk in the lone holding cell of the Medicine Creek jail, staring at the graffiti that covered the peeling walls. There was quite a lot of it, and despite the variety of inks and handwritings, it was remarkably consistent in subject matter. She could hear the television set blaring in the sheriff’s office up front. It was one of those sick soap operas for housewives with empty lives, complete with quavering organ music and hysterical female sobbing. And she could hear
“And that son of his is also a bully. He thinks having a sheriff for a father gives him the right to do whatever he pleases. Terrorizes the high school, I hear.”
“I see. And this Brushy Jim you mentioned?”
Winifred shook her head. “The most disreputable fellow you ever saw.” She clucked disapprovingly. “Lives in a junkyard out on the Deeper Road. Claims to be descended from the lone survivor of the Medicine Creek Massacre. He was in Vietnam, you know, and it did something to the man. Turned his brain. You just won’t see a lower specimen of humanity, Mr. Pendergast. Uses the Lord’s name in vain. Drinks. Never sets foot in church.”
“I saw a large banner being erected on the front lawn of the church last evening.”
“That’s for the fellow from Kansas State.”
Pendergast looked at her. “I’m sorry?”
“He wants to plant a new cornfield here. Some kind of experiment. They’ve narrowed it down to two towns, us and Deeper. The decision’s to be announced next Monday. The man from Kansas State’s due to arrive today and the town is laying out the red carpet for him. Not that everybody’s happy about it, of course.”
“And why is that?”
“Something about the corn they want to test. It’s been fiddled with somehow. I don’t really understand it, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, well,” Pendergast said, and then held out his hand. “But here I am, interrupting the tour with questions.”
Winifred remembered the thread. She bustled forward happily, leading Pendergast to the edge of a wide, dark hole from which even cooler air was rising. “And here is the Bottomless Pit. When Grandfather first arrived, he tossed a stone down and he did not hear it land. ” She paused dramatically.
“How did he know the heifer was down there?” Pendergast asked.
She was thrown into a sudden panic. Once again, nobody had asked the question before.
“Why, I don’t know,” she said.
Pendergast smiled, waved his hand. “Do continue.”
They passed on to the Infinity Pool, where Winifred was disappointed that he did not make a wish—the collecting of tossed coins had once been a profitable sideline. From the Pool, the walkway looped back to the Krystal Kathedral where they had begun. She finished her lecture, shook Pendergast’s hand, and was surprised but pleased to find herself generously tipped. Then, slowly, she led the way back up the wooden stairs to the surface world. At the top, the heat struck her like a hammer. She paused again.
“As I mentioned, all tour members are allowed a ten percent discount from the gift shop on the day of their tour.” She hustled back into the shop and was not disappointed when Pendergast followed.
“I should like to see the needlepoint,” he said.
“Of course.” She directed him to the display case, where he spent a great deal of time poring over the work before choosing a beautiful cross-stitched pillowcase. Winifred was especially pleased because it was one she had done herself.
“My dear Great-Aunt Cornelia will adore this,” Pendergast said as he paid for the pillowcase. “She’s an invalid, you see, and can only take pleasure in small things.”
Winifred smiled as she gift-wrapped the parcel. It was so nice having a gentleman like Mr. Pendergast around. And how thoughtful to think of his elderly relation. Winifred was sure Pendergast’s great-aunt would love the pillowcase.
Ten
C orrie Swanson sat on the little folding bunk in the lone holding cell of the Medicine Creek jail, staring at the graffiti that covered the peeling walls. There was quite a lot of it, and despite the variety of inks and handwritings, it was remarkably consistent in subject matter. She could hear the television set blaring in the sheriff’s office up front. It was one of those sick soap operas for housewives with empty lives, complete with quavering organ music and hysterical female sobbing. And she could hear
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