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."Watch, if you please, as I perform a little experiment on our waitress."The waitress came back with a Bud and a fresh napkin.As she placed them before D'Agosta, Pendergast spoke in his most honeyed voice, laying the accent on thick."My dear, I wonder if I might ask you a question."She turned to him with a perky smile."Ask away, hon."Pendergast made a show of pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket."I'm a reporter up from New Orleans, and I'm doing research on a family that used to live here." He opened the notebook, looked up at the waitress expectantly."Sure, which family?""Doane."If Pendergast had announced a holdup, the reaction couldn't have been more dramatic.The woman's face immediately shut down, blank and expressionless, her eyes hooded.The perkiness vanished instantly."Don't know anything about that," she mumbled."Can't help you." She turned and walked away, pushing through the door to the kitchen.Pendergast slipped the notebook back into his jacket and turned to D'Agosta."What do you think of my experiment?""How the hell did you know she'd react like that? She's obviously hiding something.""That, my dear Vincent, is precisely the point." Pendergast took another sip of club soda."I didn't single her out.Everyone in town reacts the same way.Haven't you noticed, during your inquiries this afternoon, a certain degree of hesitancy and suspicion?"D'Agosta paused to consider.It was true that nobody had been particularly helpful, but he'd simply ascribed it to small-town truculence, local folk suspicious of some Yankee coming in and asking a lot of questions."As I made my own inquiries," Pendergast went on, "I ran into an increasingly suspicious level of obfuscation and denial.And then, when I pressed one elderly gentleman for information, he heatedly informed me that despite what I might have heard otherwise, the stories about the Doanes were nothing but hogwash.Naturally I began to ask about the Doane family.And that's when I started getting the reaction you just saw.""And so?""I repaired to the local newspaper office and asked to see the back issues, dating from around the time of Helen's visit.They were unwilling to help, and it took this--" Pendergast pulled out his shield."--to change their minds.I found that in the years surrounding Helen's visit, several pages had been carefully cut out of certain newspapers.I made a note of what the issues were, then made my way back down the road to the library at Kemp, the last town before Sunflower.Their copies of the newspapers had all the missing pages.And that's where I got the story.""What story?" D'Agosta asked."The strange story of the Doane family.Mr.Doane was a novelist of independent means, and he brought his extended family to Sunflower to get away from it all, to write the great American novel far from the distractions of civilization.They bought one of the town's biggest and best houses, built by a small-time lumber baron in the years before the local mill shut down.Doane had two children.One of them, the son, won the highest honors ever awarded by the Sunflower High School, a clever fellow by all accounts.The daughter was a gifted poet whose works were occasionally published in the local papers.I read a few and they are, in fact, exceedingly well done.Mrs.Doane had grown into a noted landscape painter.The town became very proud of their talented, adopted family, and they were frequently in the papers, accepting awards, raising funds for one or another local charity, ribbon cutting, that sort of thing.""Landscape painter," D'Agosta repeated."How about birds?""Not that I could find out.Nor did they appear to have any particular interest in Audubon or natural history art.Then, a few months after Helen's visit, the steady stream of approving stories began to cease.""Maybe the family got tired of the attention.""I think not.There was one more article about the Doane family--one final article," he went on."Half a year after that.It stated that William, the Doane son, had been captured by the police after an extended manhunt through the national forest, and that he was now in solitary confinement in the county jail, charged with two ax murders.""The star student?" D'Agosta asked incredulously.Pendergast nodded."After reading this, I began asking around Kemp about the Doane family.The townspeople there felt none of the restraint I noticed here.I heard a veritable outpouring of rumor and innuendo.Homicidal maniacs that only came out at night.Madness and violence.Stalking and menace.It became difficult to sift fact from fiction, town gossip from reality.The only thing that I feel reasonably sure of is that all are now dead, each having died in a uniquely unpleasant way.""All of them?""The mother was a suicide.The son died on death row while awaiting execution for the ax murders I spoke of.The daughter died in an insane asylum after refusing to sleep for two weeks.The last to die was the father, shot by the town sheriff of Sunflower.""What happened?""He apparently took to wandering into town, accosting young women, threatening the townsfolk.There were reports of vandalism, destruction, babies gone missing.The people I spoke to hinted it might have been less of a killing and more of an execution--with the tacit approval of the Sunflower town fathers.The sheriff and his deputies shotgunned Mr.Doane in his house as he allegedly resisted arrest.There was no investigation.""Jesus," D'Agosta replied."That would explain the waitress's reaction.As well as all the hostility around here.""Precisely.""What the hell do you think happened to them? Something in the water?""I have no idea.But I will tell you this: I'm convinced they were the object of Helen's visit.""That's a pretty big leap."Pendergast nodded."Consider this: they are the only unique element in an otherwise unremarkable town.There's nothing else here of interest.Somehow, they're the link we're searching for."The waitress hustled up to their table, took away their plates, and went off, even as D'Agosta began to order coffee."I wonder what it takes to get a cup of java around here," D'Agosta said, trying to attract her attention."Somehow, Vincent, I doubt you'll be getting your 'java' or anything more in this establishment."D'Agosta sighed."So who lives in the house now?""Nobody.It was abandoned and shut up since the shooting of Mr.Doane.""We're going there," D'Agosta said, more as a statement than a question."Exactly.""When?"Pendergast raised his finger for the waitress."As soon as we can get the check from our reticent but nevertheless most eloquent waitress."Chapter 25THE WAITRESS DID NOT ARRIVE WITH THE check.Instead, it was the manager of the hotel.He placed the check on the table and then, without even a show of apology, informed them they would not be able to stay the night after all [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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."Watch, if you please, as I perform a little experiment on our waitress."The waitress came back with a Bud and a fresh napkin.As she placed them before D'Agosta, Pendergast spoke in his most honeyed voice, laying the accent on thick."My dear, I wonder if I might ask you a question."She turned to him with a perky smile."Ask away, hon."Pendergast made a show of pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket."I'm a reporter up from New Orleans, and I'm doing research on a family that used to live here." He opened the notebook, looked up at the waitress expectantly."Sure, which family?""Doane."If Pendergast had announced a holdup, the reaction couldn't have been more dramatic.The woman's face immediately shut down, blank and expressionless, her eyes hooded.The perkiness vanished instantly."Don't know anything about that," she mumbled."Can't help you." She turned and walked away, pushing through the door to the kitchen.Pendergast slipped the notebook back into his jacket and turned to D'Agosta."What do you think of my experiment?""How the hell did you know she'd react like that? She's obviously hiding something.""That, my dear Vincent, is precisely the point." Pendergast took another sip of club soda."I didn't single her out.Everyone in town reacts the same way.Haven't you noticed, during your inquiries this afternoon, a certain degree of hesitancy and suspicion?"D'Agosta paused to consider.It was true that nobody had been particularly helpful, but he'd simply ascribed it to small-town truculence, local folk suspicious of some Yankee coming in and asking a lot of questions."As I made my own inquiries," Pendergast went on, "I ran into an increasingly suspicious level of obfuscation and denial.And then, when I pressed one elderly gentleman for information, he heatedly informed me that despite what I might have heard otherwise, the stories about the Doanes were nothing but hogwash.Naturally I began to ask about the Doane family.And that's when I started getting the reaction you just saw.""And so?""I repaired to the local newspaper office and asked to see the back issues, dating from around the time of Helen's visit.They were unwilling to help, and it took this--" Pendergast pulled out his shield."--to change their minds.I found that in the years surrounding Helen's visit, several pages had been carefully cut out of certain newspapers.I made a note of what the issues were, then made my way back down the road to the library at Kemp, the last town before Sunflower.Their copies of the newspapers had all the missing pages.And that's where I got the story.""What story?" D'Agosta asked."The strange story of the Doane family.Mr.Doane was a novelist of independent means, and he brought his extended family to Sunflower to get away from it all, to write the great American novel far from the distractions of civilization.They bought one of the town's biggest and best houses, built by a small-time lumber baron in the years before the local mill shut down.Doane had two children.One of them, the son, won the highest honors ever awarded by the Sunflower High School, a clever fellow by all accounts.The daughter was a gifted poet whose works were occasionally published in the local papers.I read a few and they are, in fact, exceedingly well done.Mrs.Doane had grown into a noted landscape painter.The town became very proud of their talented, adopted family, and they were frequently in the papers, accepting awards, raising funds for one or another local charity, ribbon cutting, that sort of thing.""Landscape painter," D'Agosta repeated."How about birds?""Not that I could find out.Nor did they appear to have any particular interest in Audubon or natural history art.Then, a few months after Helen's visit, the steady stream of approving stories began to cease.""Maybe the family got tired of the attention.""I think not.There was one more article about the Doane family--one final article," he went on."Half a year after that.It stated that William, the Doane son, had been captured by the police after an extended manhunt through the national forest, and that he was now in solitary confinement in the county jail, charged with two ax murders.""The star student?" D'Agosta asked incredulously.Pendergast nodded."After reading this, I began asking around Kemp about the Doane family.The townspeople there felt none of the restraint I noticed here.I heard a veritable outpouring of rumor and innuendo.Homicidal maniacs that only came out at night.Madness and violence.Stalking and menace.It became difficult to sift fact from fiction, town gossip from reality.The only thing that I feel reasonably sure of is that all are now dead, each having died in a uniquely unpleasant way.""All of them?""The mother was a suicide.The son died on death row while awaiting execution for the ax murders I spoke of.The daughter died in an insane asylum after refusing to sleep for two weeks.The last to die was the father, shot by the town sheriff of Sunflower.""What happened?""He apparently took to wandering into town, accosting young women, threatening the townsfolk.There were reports of vandalism, destruction, babies gone missing.The people I spoke to hinted it might have been less of a killing and more of an execution--with the tacit approval of the Sunflower town fathers.The sheriff and his deputies shotgunned Mr.Doane in his house as he allegedly resisted arrest.There was no investigation.""Jesus," D'Agosta replied."That would explain the waitress's reaction.As well as all the hostility around here.""Precisely.""What the hell do you think happened to them? Something in the water?""I have no idea.But I will tell you this: I'm convinced they were the object of Helen's visit.""That's a pretty big leap."Pendergast nodded."Consider this: they are the only unique element in an otherwise unremarkable town.There's nothing else here of interest.Somehow, they're the link we're searching for."The waitress hustled up to their table, took away their plates, and went off, even as D'Agosta began to order coffee."I wonder what it takes to get a cup of java around here," D'Agosta said, trying to attract her attention."Somehow, Vincent, I doubt you'll be getting your 'java' or anything more in this establishment."D'Agosta sighed."So who lives in the house now?""Nobody.It was abandoned and shut up since the shooting of Mr.Doane.""We're going there," D'Agosta said, more as a statement than a question."Exactly.""When?"Pendergast raised his finger for the waitress."As soon as we can get the check from our reticent but nevertheless most eloquent waitress."Chapter 25THE WAITRESS DID NOT ARRIVE WITH THE check.Instead, it was the manager of the hotel.He placed the check on the table and then, without even a show of apology, informed them they would not be able to stay the night after all [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]