Christine - Stephen King [170]
'I'm done-talking to you,' Arnie said abruptly, and began walking toward the office.
'I want to know what happened,' Junkins called after him. 'And I'm going to find out. Believe me.'
'Do me a favour and stay away from here,' Arnie said. 'You're crazy.'
He let himself into the office, closed the door behind him, and noticed his hands weren't shaking at all. The room was stuffy with the smells of cigar and olive oil and garlic. He crossed in front of Will without speaking, took his time-card out of the rack, and punched in: ka-thud. Then he looked through the glass window and saw Junkins standing there, looking at Christine. Will said nothing. Arnie could hear the noisy engine of the big man's respiration. A couple of minutes later Junkins left.
'Cop,' Will said, and ripped out a long belch. It sounded like a chainsaw.
'Yeah.'
'Repperton?'
'Yeah. He thinks I had something to do with it.'
'Even though you were in Philly?'
Arnie shook his head. 'He doesn't even seem to care about that.'
He's a smart cop then, Will thought. He knows the facts are wrong, and his intuition tells him there's something even wronger than that, so he's gotten further with it than most cops ever would, but he could spend a million years and not get all the way to the truth. He thought of the empty car driving itself into stall twenty like some weird wind-up toy. The empty ignition slot turning over to START, The engine revving once, like a warning snarl, and then failing off.
And thinking of these things, Will did not trust himself to look Arnie in the face, even though his own experience in routine deceit was nearly lifelong.
'I don't want to send you to Albany if the cops are watching you.'
'I don't care if you send me to Albany or not, but you don't have to worry about the heat. He's the only cop I've seen, and he's crazy. He's not interested in anything but two cases of hit-and-run.'
Now Will's eyes did meet Arnie's: Arnie's grey and distant, Will's a faded no-colour, the corneas a dim yellow; they were the eyes of an ancient tomcat who has seen a thousand mice turned inside out.
'He's interested in you,' he said. 'I'd better send Jimmy.'
'You like the way Jimmy drives, do you?'
Will looked at Arnie for a moment and then sighed. Okay,' he said. 'But if you see that cop, you back off. And if you get caught holding a bag, Cunningham, it's your bag. Do you understand that?'
'Yes,' Arnie said. 'Do you want me to do some work tonight, or what?'
'There's a '77 Buick in forty-nine. Pull the starter motor. Check the solenoid. If it seems okay, pull that too.'
Arnie nodded and left. Will's thoughtful eyes drifted from his retreating back to Christine. He had no business sending him to Albany this weekend and he knew it. The kid knew it too, but he was going to push ahead anyway. He had said he'd go, and he was now going to by-God do it. And if anything happened, the kid would stand up. Will was sure of it. There was a time when he surely wouldn't have done, but that time was past now.
He had heard it all on the intercom.
Junkins had been right.
The kid was harder now.
Will began to look at the kid's '58 again. Arnie would be taking Will's Chrysler to New York. While he was gone, Will would watch Christine. He would watch Christine and see what happened.
40 ARNIE IN TROUBLE
With Naugahyde bucket seats in front and back,
Everything's chrome, man, even my jack,
Step on the gas, she goes Waaaaahhhh -
I'll let you look,
But don't touch my custom machine
- The Beach Boys
Rudolph Junkins and Rick Mercer of the Pennsylvania State Police detective division sat drinking coffee the following afternoon in a glum little office with paint peeling from the walls. Outside, a depressing mixture of snow and sleet was falling.
'I'm pretty sure this is going to be the weekend,' Junkins said. 'That Chrysler has rolled every four or five weeks for the last eight months.'
'Just understand that busting Darnell and whatever bee you've got in your bonnet about that kid are two different things.'
'They're both the same thing to