Dolores_Claiborne

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2024-12-24 2 0 2.72MB 279 页 5.9玖币

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For my mother, Ruth Pillsbury King

DoloresDolores

ClaiborneClaiborne

WHAT did you ask, Andy Bissette?

Do I 'understand these rights as you've explained em to me'?

Gorry! What makes some men so numb?

No, you never mind - still your jawin and listen to me for

awhile. I got an idear you're gonna he listenin to me most of

the night, so you might as well get used to it. Coss I

understand what you read to me! Do I look like I lost all

m'brains since I seen you down to the market? That was just

Monday afternoon, in case you lost track. I told you your

wife would give you merry hell about buying that day-old

bread - penny wise and pound foolish, the old saying is - and

I bet I was right, wasn't I?

I understand my rights just fine, Andy; my mother never

raised no fools. I understand my responsibilities too, God

help me.

Anything I say might be used against me in a court of law,

you say? Well will wonders never cease! And you can just

get that smirk off your face, Frank Proulx. You may be a hot-

shot town cop these days, but it hasn't been too long since I

seen you runnin around in a saggy diaper with that same

foolish grin on your face. I'll give you a little piece of advice

-when you get around an old biddy like me, you just want to

save that grin. I c'n read you easier'n an underwear ad in the

Sears catalogue.

All right, we've had our fun; might as well get down to it. I'm

gonna tell you three a hell of a lot startin right about now,

and a hell of a lot of it prob'ly could be used against me in a

court of

law, if anyone wanted to at this late date. The joke of

it is, folks on the island know most of it already, and I'm just

about half-past give-a-shit, as old Neely Robichaud used to

say when he was in his cups. Which was most of the time, as

anyone who knew him will tell you.

I do give a shit about one thing, though, and that's why I

come down here on my own hook. I didn't kill that bitch Vera

Donovan, and no matter what you think now, I intend to

make you believe that. I didn't push her down that frigging

staircase. It's fine if you want to lock me up for the other, but

I don't have none of that bitch's blood on my hands. And I

think you will believe that by the time I'm finished, Andy.

You was always a good enough boy, as boys go - fair-

minded, is what I mean - and you've turned into a decent

man. Don't let it go to your head, though; you grew up same

as any other man, with some woman to warsh your clothes

and wipe your nose and turn you around when you got y'self

pointed in the wrong direction.

One other thing before we get started - I know you, Andy,

and Frank, accourse, but who's this woman with the tape-

recorder?

Oh Christ, Andy, I know she's a stenographer! Didn't I just

tell you my Mamma didn't raise any fools? I may be sixty-

six

come this November, but I still got all my marbles. I know a

woman with a tape-recorder and a shorthand pad's a

stenographer. I watch all those courtroom shows, even that

LA Law where nobody can seem to keep their clothes on for

fifteen minutes at a time.

What's your name, honey?

Uh-huh. . . and whereabouts do you hail from?

Oh, quit it, Andy! What else you got to do tonight? Was you

plannin to go over to the shingle and see if you could catch a

few fellas diggin qua-hogs without a licence? That'd prob'ly

be more excitement than your heart could take, wouldn't it?

Ha!

There. That's better. You're Nancy Bannister from

Kennebunk, and I'm Dolores Claiborne from right here on

Little Tall Island. Now I already said I'm going to do a

country-fair job of talking before we're done in here, and

you're going to find I wasn't lyin a bit. So if you need me to

speak up or to slow down, just say so. You needn't be shy

with me. I want you to get every goddam word, startin with

this: twenty-nine years ago, when Police Chief Bissette here

was in the first grade and still eatin the paste off the back of

his pitchers, I killed my husband, Joe St George.

I feel a draft in here, Andy. Might go away if you shutcha

goddam trap. I don't know what you're lookin so surprised

about, anyway. You know I killed Joe. Everybody on Little

Tall knows it, and probably half the people across the reach

in Jonesport know it, too. It's just that nobody could prove it.

And I wouldn't be here now, admittin it in front of Frank

Proulx and Nancy Bannister from Kennebunk if it hadn't

been for that stupid bitch Vera, gettin up to more of her nasty

old tricks.

Well, she'll never get up to any more of em, will she? There's

that for consolation, at least.

Shift that recorder a little closer to me, Nancy, dear -

if this is

going to get done, it'll get done right, I'll be bound. Don't

those Japanese just make the most cunning little things? Yes

indeed . . . but I guess we both know that what's going on the

tape inside that little cutie-pie could put me in the Women's

Correctional for the rest of my life. Still, I don't have no

choice. I swear before heaven I always knew that Vera

Donovan'd just about be the death of me - I knew it from the

first time I saw her.. And look what she's done - just look

what that goddamned old bitch has done to me. This time

she's really stuck her gum in my gears. But that's rich people

for you; if they can't kick you to death, they're apt to kiss you

to death with kindness.

What?

Oh, gorry! I'm gettin to it, Andy, if you'll just give me a little

peace! I'm just tryin to decide if I should tell it back to front

or front to back. I don't s'pose I could have a little drink,

could I?

Oh, frig ya coffee! Take the whole pot and shove it up your

kazoo. Just gimme a glass of water if you're too cheap to part

with a swallow of the Beam you keep in your desk drawer. I

ain't -What do you mean, how do I know that? Why, Andy

Bissette, someone who didn't know better'd think you just

toddled out of a Saltines box yesterday. Do you think me

killin my husband is the only thing the folks on this island

have got to talk about?

Hell, that's old news. You, now - you still got some juice left

in you.

Thank you, Frank. You was always a pretty good boy, too,

although you was kinda hard to look at in church until your

mother got you cured of the booger-hookin habit. Gorry,

there were times when you had that finger so far up y'nose it

was a wonder you didn't poke your brains out. And what the

hell are you blushin for? Was never a kid alive who didn't

mine a little green gold outta their old pump every now and

again. At least you knew enough to keep your hands outta

your pants and off your nuts, at least in church, and there's a

lot of boys who never -Yes, Andy, yes - I am gonna tell it.

Jeezly-crow, you ain't never shook the ants out of

your pants,

have you?

Tell you what: I'm gonna compromise. Instead of telling her

front to back or back to front, I'm gonna start in the middle

and just kinda work both ways. And if you don't like it, Andy

Bissette, you can write it up on your TS list and mail it to the

chaplain.

Me and Joe had three kids, and when he died in the summer

of '63, Selena was fifteen, Joe Junior was thirteen, and Little

Pete was just nine. Well, Joe didn't leave me a pot to piss in

and hardly a window to throw it out of - I gue

ss you'll have to

fix this up some, Nancy, won't you? I'm just an old woman

with a foul temper and a fouler mouth, but that's what

happens, more often than not, when you've had a foul life.

Now, where was I? I ain't lost my place already, have I?

Oh - yes. Thank you, honeybunch.

What Joe left me with was that shacky little place out by the

East Head and six acres of land, most of it blackberry tangles

and the kind of trashwood that grows back after a clear-cut

operation. What else? Lemme see. Three trucks that didn't

run - two pickups and a pulp-hauler - four cord of wood, a

bill at the grocery, a bill at the hardware, a bill with the oil

company, a bill with the funeral home and do you want the

icing on the goddam cake? He wa'ant a week in the ground

before that rumpot Harry Doucette come over with a friggin

IOU that said Joe owed him twenty dollars on a baseball bet!

He left me all that, but do you think he left me any goddam

insurance money? Nossir! Although that might have been a

blessin in disguise, the way things turned out. I guess I'll get

to that part before I'm done, but all I'm trying to say now is

that Joe St George really wa'ant a man at all; he was a

goddam millstone I wore around my neck. Worse, really,

because a millstone don't get drunk and then come home

smellin of beer and wantin to throw a fuck into you at one in

the morning. Wasn't none of that the reason why I killed the

sonofawhore, but I guess it's as good a place as any to start.

An island's not a good place to kill anybody, I can tell you

that. Seems like there's always someone around, itching to

get his nose into your business just when you can least afford

it. That's why I did it when I did, and I'll get to that, too. For

now suffice it to say that I did it just about three years after

Vera Donovan's husband died in a motor accident outside of

Baltimore, which was where they lived when they wasn't

summerin on Little Tall. Back in those days, most of Vera's

screws were still nice and tight.

With Joe out of the pitcher and no money comin

g in, I was in

a fix, I can tell you -

I got an idear there's no one in the whole

world feels as desperate as a woman on her own with kids

dependin on her. I'd 'bout decided I'd better cross the reach

and see if I couldn't get a job in Jonesport, checkin out

groceries at the Shop n Save or waitressin in a restaurant,

when that numb pussy all of a sudden decided she was gonna

live on the island all year round. Most everyone thought she'd

blown a fuse, but I wasn't all that surprised - by then she was

spendin a lot of time up here, anyway.

The fella who worked for her in those days - I don't

remember his name - but you know who I mean, Andy, that

dumb hunky that always wore his pants tight enough to show

the world he had balls as big as Mason jars - called me up

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Formymother,RuthPillsburyKingDoloresDoloresClaiborneClaiborneWHATdidyouask,AndyBissette?DoI'understandtheserightsasyou'veexplainedemtome'?Gorry!Whatmakessomemensonumb?No,younevermind-stillyourjawinandlistentomeforawhile.Igotanidearyou'regonnahelistenintomemostofthenight,soyoumightaswellgetusedtoit.C...

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