按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
'Of course he's breathing；' he said a trifle impatiently。 'Just fast asleep。 Mike…' He stretched out a hand and shook Ryerson slightly。 Mike's left arm； which had been crossed loosely on his chest； fell limply over the side of the bed and the knuckles rapped on the floor； like a request for entry。
Matt stepped forward and picked up the limp arm。 He pressed his index finger over the wrist。 'No pulse。'
He started to drop it； remembered the grisly knocking noise the knuckles had made； and put the arm across Ryerson's chest。 It started to fall anyway； and he put it back more firmly with a grimace。
Ben couldn't believe it。 He was sleeping； had to be。 The good color； the obvious suppleness of the muscles； the lips half parted as if to draw breath 。 。 。 unreality washed over him。 He placed his wrist against Ryerson's shoulder and found the skin cool。
He moistened his finger and held it in front of those half…open lips。 Nothing。 Not a feather of breath。
He and Matt looked at each other。
'The marks on the neck？' Matt asked。
Ben took Ryerson's jaw in： his hands and turned it gently until the exposed cheek lay against the pillow。 The movement dislodged the left arm； and the knuckles rapped the floor again。
There were no marks on Mike Ryerson's neck。
4
They were at the kitchen table again。 It was 5：35 A。M。 They could hear the lowing of the Griffen cows as they were let into their east pasturage down the hill and beyond the belt of shrubbery and underbrush that screened Taggart Stream from view。
'According to folklore； the marks disappear；' Matt said suddenly。 'When the victim dies； the marks disappear。'
'I know that；' Ben said。 He remembered it both from Stoker's Dracula and from the Hammer films starring Christopher Lee。
'We have to put an ash stake through his heart。'
'You better think again；' Ben said； and sipped his coffee。 That would be damned hard to explain to a coroner's jury。 You'd go to jail for desecrating a corpse at the very least。 More likely to the funny farm。'
'Do you think I'm crazy？' Matt asked quietly。
With no discernible hesitation； Ben said； 'No。'
'Do you believe me about the marks？'
'I don't know。 I guess I have to。 Why would you lie to me？ I can't see any gain for you in a lie。 I suppose you'd lie if you had killed him。'
'Perhaps I did； then；' Matt said； watching him。
'There are three things going against it。 First； what's your motive？ Pardon me； Matt； but you're just too old for the classic ones like jealousy and money to fit very well。 Second； what was your method？ If it was poison； he must have gone very easily。 He certainly looks peaceful enough。 And that eliminates most of the mon poisons right there。'
'What's your third reason？'
'No murderer in his right mind would invent a story like yours to cover up murder。 It would be insane。'
'We keep ing back to my mental health；' Matt said。 He sighed。 'I knew we would。'
'I don't think you're crazy；' Ben said； accenting the first word slightly。 'You seem rational enough。'
'But you're not a doctor； are you？' Matt asked。 'And crazy people are sometimes able to counterfeit sanity remarkably well。'
Ben agreed。 'So where does that put us？'
'Back to square one。'
'No。 Neither one of us can afford that； because there's a dead man upstairs and pretty soon he's going to have to be explained。 The constable is going to want to know what happened； and so is the medical examiner； and so is the county sheriff。 Matt； could it be that Mike Ryerson was just sick with some virus all week and happened to drop dead in your house？'
For the first time since they had e back down； Matt showed signs of agitation。 'Ben； I told you what he said！ I saw the marks on his neck！ And I heard him invite someone into my house！ Then I heard 。 。 。 God； I heard that laugh！' His eyes had taken on that peculiar blank look again。
'All right；' Ben said。 He got up and went to the window；' trying to set his thoughts in order。 They didn't go well。 As he had told Susan； things seemed to have a way of getting out of hand。
He was looking toward the Marsten House。
'Matt； do you know what's going to happen to you if you even let out a whisper of what you've told me？' Matt didn't answer。
'People are going to start tapping their foreheads behind your back when you go by in the street。 Little kids are going to get out their Halloween wax teeth when they see you ing and jump out and yell Boo！ when you walk by their hedge。 Somebody will invent a rhyme like One； two； three； four； I'm gonna suck your blood some more。 The high school kids will pick it up and you'll hear it in the halls when you pass。 Your colleagues will begin looking at you strangely。 There's apt to be anonymous phone calls from people purporting to be Danny Glick or Mike Ryerson。 They'll turn your life into a nightmare。 They'll hound you out of town in six months。'
'They wouldn't。 They know me。'
Ben turned from the window。 'Who do they know？ A funny old duck who lives alone out on Taggart Stream Road。 Just the fact that you're not married is apt to make them believe you've got a screw loose anyway。 And what backup can I give you？ I saw the body but nothing else。 Even if I had； they would just say I was an outsider。 They would even get around to telling each other we were a couple of queers and； this was the way we got our kicks。'
Matt was looking at him with slowly dawning horror。
'One word； Matt。 That's all it will take to finish you in salem's Lot。'
'So there's nothing to be done。'
'Yes； there is。 You have a certain theory about who…or what…killed Mike Ryerson。 The theory is relatively simple to prove or disprove； I think。 I'm in a hell of a fix。 I can't believe you're crazy； but I can't believe that Danny Glick came back from the dead and sucked Mike Ryerson's blood for a whole week before killing him； either。 But I'm going to put the idea to the test。 And you've got to help。'
'How？'
'Call your doctor； Cody is his name？ Then call Parkins Gillespie。 Let the machinery take over。 Tell your story just as though you I d never heard a thing in the night。 You went into Dell's and sat down with Mike。 He said he'd been feeling sick since last Sunday。 You invited him home with you。 You went in to check him around three…thirty this morning； couldn't wake him； and called me。'
'That's all？'
'That's it。 When you speak to Cody； don't even say he's dead。'
'Not dead…'
'Christ； how do we know he is？' Ben exploded。 'You took his pulse and couldn't find it； I tried to find his breath and couldn't do it。 If I thought someone was going to shove me into my grave on that basis； I'd damn well pack a lunch。 Especially if I looked as lifelike as he does。'
'That bothers you as much as it does me； doesn't it？'
'Yes； it bothers me；' Ben admitted。 'He looks like a goddamn waxwork。'
'All right；' Matt said。 'You're talking sense 。 。 。 as much as anyone can in a business like this。 I guess I sounded nuts； at that。'
Ben started to deprecate； but Matt waved it off。 'But suppose 。 。 。 just hypothetically 。 。 。 that my first suspicion is right？