A promise made twenty-eight years ago calls seven adults to reunite in Derry, Maine, where as teenagers they battled an evil creature that preyed on the city’s children. Unsure that their Losers Club had vanquished the creature all those years ago, the seven had vowed to return to Derry if IT should ever reappear. Now, children are being murdered again and their repressed memories of that summer return as they prepare to do battle with the monster lurking in Derry’s sewers once more.
Авторы: King Stephen Edwin
and all at once I understood who it was.’
‘Who was it, Don?’ Harold Gardener asked softly.
‘It was Derry,’ Don Hagarty said. ‘It was this town.’
‘And what did you do then?’ It was Reeves.
‘I ran, you dumb shit,’ Hagarty said, and burst into tears.
17
Harold Gardener kept his peace until November 13th, the day before John Garton and Steven Dubay were to go on trial in Derry District Court for the murder of Adrian Mellon. Then he went to see Tom Boutillier. He wanted to talk about the clown. Boutillier didn’t — but when he saw Gardener might do something stupid without a little guidance, he did.
There was no clown, Harold. The only clowns out that night were those three kids. You know that as well as I do.’
‘We have two witnesses — ‘
‘Oh, that’s crap. Unwin decided to bring on the One-Armed Man, as in «We didn’t kill the poor little faggot, it was the one-armed man,» as soon as he understood he’d really gotten his buns into some hot water this time. Hagarty was hysterical. He stood by and watched those kids murder his best friend. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d seen flying saucers.’
But Boutillier knew better. Gardener could see it in his eyes, and the Assistant DA’s ducking and dodging irritated him.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re talking about independent witnesses here. Don’t bullshit me.’
‘Oh, you want to talk bullshit? Are you telling me you believe there was a vampire clown under the Main Street Bridge? Because that’s my idea of bullshit.’
‘No, not exactly, but — ‘
‘Or that Hagarty saw a billion balloons under there, each imprinted with exactly the same thing as what was written on his lover’s hat? Because that is also my idea of bullshit.’
‘No, but — ‘
‘Then why are you bothering with this?’
‘Stop cross-examining me!’ Gardener roared. ‘They both described it the same and neither knew what the other one was saying!’
Boutillier had been sitting at his desk, playing with a pencil. Now he put the pencil down, got up, and walked over to Harold Gardener. Boutillier was five inches shorter, but Gardener retreated a step before the man’s anger.
‘Do you want us to lose this case, Harold?’
‘No. Of course n — ‘
‘Do you want those running sores to walk free?’
‘No!’
‘Okay. Good. Since we both agree on the basics, I’ll tell you exactly what I think. Yes, there was probably a man under the bridge that night. Maybe he was even wearing a clown suit, although I’ve dealt with enough witnesses to guess maybe it was just a stewbum or a transient wearing a bunch of cast-off clothes. I think he was probably down there scrounging for dropped change or roadmeat — half a burger someone chucked over the side, or maybe the crumbs from the bottom of a Frito bag. Their eyes did the rest, Harold. Now is that possible?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harold said. He wanted to be convinced, but given the exact tally of the two descriptions . . . no. He didn’t think it was possible.
‘Here’s the bottom line. I don’t care if it was Kinko the Klown or a guy in an Uncle Sam suit on stilts or Hubert the Happy Homo. If we introduce this fellow into the case, their la wyer is going to be on it before you can say «Jack Robinson». He’s going to say those two little innocent lambs out there with their fresh haircuts and new suits didn’t do anything but toss that gay fellow Mellon over the side of the bridge for a joke. He’ll point out that Mellon was still alive after he took the fall; they have Hagarty’s testimony as well as Unwin’s for that.
‘His clients didn’t commit murder, oh no! It was a psycho in a clown suit. If we introduce this, that’s going to happen and you know it.’
‘Unwin’s going to tell that story anyhow.’
‘But Hagarty isn’t,’ Boutillier said. ‘Because he understands. Without Hagarty, who’s going to believe Unwin?’
‘Well, there’s us,’ Harold Gardener said with a bitterness that surprised even himself, ‘but I guess we’re not telling.’
‘Oh, give me a break!’ Boutillier roared, throwing up his hands. ‘They killed him! They didn’t just throw him over the side — Garton had a switchblade. Mellon was stabbed seven times, including once in the left lung and twice in the testicles. The wounds match the blade. Four of his ribs were broken — Dubay did that, bear-hugging him. He was bitten, all right. There were bites on his arms, his left cheek, his neck. I think that was Unwin and Garton, although we’ve only got one clear match, and that one’s probably not clear enough to stand up in court. And so all right, there was a big chunk of meat gone from his right armpit, so what?
