In Cold Blood - Truman Capote [142]
due belonged to Mrs. Meier. "She did all the work. Well," he said, heaping his guest's plate, "it's good to see you, Don. You look just the same. Haven't changed a bit." Cullivan, in appearance a cautious bank clerk with depleted hair and a face rather difficult to recall, agreed that outwardly he hadn't changed much. But his interior self, the invisible man, was another matter: "I was coasting along. Not knowing God is the only reality. Once you realize that, then everything falls into place. Life has meaning - and so does death. Boy, do you always eat like this?" Perry laughed. "She's really a terrific cook, Mrs. Meier. You ought to taste her Spanish rice. I've gained fifteen pounds since I got here. Course I was on the thin side. I'd lost a lot of weight while Dick and me were out on the road riding all to hell and gone - hardly ever eating a square meal, hungry as hell most of the time. Mostly, we lived like animals. Dick was always stealing canned stuff out of grocery stores. Baked beans and canned spaghetti. We'd open it up in the car and gobble it cold. Animals. Dick loves to steal. It's an emotional thing with him - a sickness. I'm a thief too, but only if I don't have the money to pay. Dick, if he was carrying a hundred dollars in his pocket, he'd steal a stick of chewing gum." Later, over cigarettes and coffee, Perry returned to the subject of thievery. "My friend Willie-Jay used to talk about it. He used to say that all crimes were only varieties of theft.' Murder included. When you kill a man you steal his life. I guess that makes me a pretty big thief. See, Don - I did kill them. Down there in court, old Dewey made it sound like I was prevaricating - on account of Dick's mother. Well, I wasn't. Dick helped me, he held the flashlight and picked up the shells. And it was his idea, too. But Dick didn't shoot them, he never could've - though he's damn quick when it comes to running down an old dog. I wonder why I did it." He scowled, as though the problem was new to him, a newly unearthed stone of surprising, unclassified color. "I don't know why," he said, as if holding it to the light, and angling it now here, now there. "I was sore at Dick. The tough brass boy. But it wasn't Dick. Or the fear of being identified. I was willing to take that gamble. And it wasn't because of anything the Clutters did. They never hurt me. Like other people. Like people have all my life. Maybe it's just that the Clutters were the ones who had to pay for it." Cullivan probed, trying to gauge the depth of what he assumed would be Perry's contrition. Surely he must be experiencing a remorse sufficiently profound to summon a desire for God's mercy and forgiveness? Perry said, "Am I sorry? If that's what you mean - I'm not. I don't feel anything about it. I wish I did. But nothing about it bothers me a bit. Half an hour after it happened, Dick was making jokes and I was laughing at them. Maybe we're not human. I'm human enough to feel sorry for myself. Sorry I can't walk out of here when you walk out. But that's all." Cullivan could scarcely credit so detached an attitude; Perry was confused, mistaken, it was not possible for any man to be that devoid of conscience or compassion. Perry said, "Why? Soldiers don't lose much sleep. They murder, and get medals for doing it. The good people of Kansas want to murder me - and some hang-man will be glad to get the work. It's easy to kill - a lot easier than passing a bad check. Just remember: I only knew the Clutters maybe an hour. If I'd really known them, I guess I'd feel different. I don't think I could live with myself. But the way it was, it was like picking off targets in a shooting gallery." Cullivan was silent, and his silence upset Perry, who seemed to interpret it as implying disapproval. "Hell, Don, don't make me act the hypocrite with you. Throw a load of bull - how sorry I am, how all I want to do now is crawl on my knees and pray. That stuff don't ring with me. I can't accept overnight what I've always denied. The truth is, you've done more for me than any what you call God ever