Christine - Stephen King [156]
Cunningham lied to the cop because the truth was incredible.
'Incredible,' Darnell said out loud, and drank the rest of his coffee. He looked down at the telephone, reached for it, and then drew his hand back. He had a call to make, but it might be better to finish thinking this through first - have all his ducks in a row.
He himself was the only one (other than Cunningham himself) who could appreciate the incredibility of what had happened: the car's complete and total exoneration. Jimmy was too soft in the attic, and the other guys were in and out, not regular custom at all. Still, there had been comments about what a fantastic job Cunningham had done; a lot of the guys who had been doing repairs on their rolling iron during that week in November had used the word incredible, and several of them had looked uneasy. Johnny Pomberton, who bought and sold used trucks, had been trying to get an old dumpster he'd picked up in running shape that week. Johnny knew cars and trucks better than anyone else in Libertyville, maybe anyone else in all of Pennsylvania. He told Will frankly and flat-out that he couldn't believe it. It's like voodoo, Johnny Pomberton had said, and then uttered a laugh without much humour. Will only sat there looking politely interested, and after a second or two the old man shook his head and went away.
Sitting in his office and looking out at the garage, eerily silent in the slack time that came every year in the weeks before Christmas, Will thought (not for the first time) that most people would accept anything they saw it happen right before their very eyes. In a very real sense there was no supernatural, no abnormal; what happened, happened, and that was the end.
Jimmy Sykes: Like magic.
Junkins: He's lying about it, but I'll be goddamned if I know why.
Will pulled open his desk drawer, denting his paunch, and found his note-minder book for 1978. He paged through it and found his own scrawled entry: Cunningham. Chess Tourney. Philly Sheraton Dec. 11-13.
He called Directory Assistance, got the number of the hotel, and made the call. He was not too surprised to feet his heartbeat shifting into a higher gear as the phone rang and the desk clerk picked it up.
Like magic.
'Hello, Philadelphia-Sheraton.
'Hello,' Will said, 'You have a chess tournament put up there, I th - '
'Northern States, yessir,' the desk clerk broke in. He sounded quick and almost insufferably young.
'I'm calling from Libertyville, Pee-Ay,' Will said. 'I believe you have an LHS student named Arnold Cunningham registered. He's one of the chess tourney kids. I'd like to speak to him, if he's in.'
'Just a moment, sir, I'll see.'
Clunk. Will was put on hold. He cocked himself back on his swivel chair and sat that way for what seemed to be a very long time, although the red second-hand on the office clock only revolved once. He won't be there, and if he is, I'll eat my -
'Hello?'
The voice was young, warily cautious and unmistakably Cunningham's. Will Darnell felt a peculiar lift-drop in his belly, but none of it showed in his voice; he was much too old for that.
'Hi, Cunningham,' he said. 'Darnell.'
'Yeah.'
'What are you up to, Will'?'
'How you doing, kid?'
'Won yesterday and drew today. Bullshit game. Couldn't seem to keep my mind on it. What's up?'
Yes, it was Cunningham - him without a doubt.
Will, who would no more call someone without a cover story than he would go out without his skivvies on, said smoothly, 'You got a pencil, kiddo?'
'Sure.'
'There's an outfit on North Broad Street, United Auto Parts. You think you could go by there and see what they've got for tyres?'
'Remoulds?' Arnie asked.
'First-lines.'
'Sure, I can go by. I'm free tomorrow afternoon from noon until three.'
'That'll be fine. You ask for Roy Mustungerra, and mention my name.'
'Spell that.'
Will spelled it.
'That's all?'
'Yeah except I hope you get your ass whuped.'
'Fat chance,' Cunningham said, and laughed. Will told him goodbye and hung up.
It was Cunningham, no doubt