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By Root 403 0

their eyes, slaughtered them as they "pleaded for mercy," then so gently lifted him, enfolded him, winged him away to "paradise." As the years went by, the particular torments from which the bird delivered him altered; others - older children, his father, a faithless girl, a sergeant he'd known in the Army - replaced the nuns, but the parrot remained, a hovering avenger. Thus, the snake, that custodian of the diamond-bearing tree, never finished devouring him but was itself always devoured. And afterward that blessed ascent! Ascension to a paradise that in one version was merely "a feeling," a sense of power, of unassailable superiority-sensations that in another version were transposed into "A red place. Like out of a movie. Maybe that's where I did see it, remembered it from a movie. Because where else would I have seen a garden like that? With white marble steps? Fountains? And away down below, if you go to the edge of the garden, you can see the ocean. Terrific! Like around Carmel, California. The worst thing, though - well, it's a long, long table. You never imagined too much food. Oysters. Turkeys. Hot dogs. Fruit you could make into a million fruit cups. And, listen - it's every bit free. I mean, I don't have to be afraid to touch it. I can eat as much as I want, and it won't cost a cent. That's how I know where I am.") Dick said, "I'm a normal. I only dream about blond chicken. Speaking of which, you hear about the nanny goat's nightmare?" That was Dick - always ready with a dirty joke on any subject. But he told the joke well, and Perry, though he was in some measure a prude, could not help laughing, as always.

Speaking of her friendship with Nancy Clutter, Susan Kidwell said: "We were like sisters. At least, that's how I felt about her - as though she were my sister. I couldn't go to school - not those first few days. I stayed out of school until after the funeral. So did Bobby Rupp. For a while Bobby and I were always together. He's a nice boy - he has a good heart - but nothing very terrible had ever happened to him before. Like losing anyone he'd loved. And then, on top of it, having to take a lie-detector test. I don't mean he was bitter about that; he realized the police were doing what they had to do. Some hard things, two or three, had already happened to me, but not to him, so it was a shock when he found out maybe life isn't one long basketball game. Mostly, we just drove around in his old Ford. Up and down the highway. Out to the airport and back. Or we'd go to the Cree-Mee - that's a drive-in - and sit in the car, order a Coke, listen to the radio. The radio was always playing; we didn't have anything to say ourselves. Except once in a while Bobby said how much he'd loved Nancy, and how he could never care about another girl. Well, I was sure Nancy wouldn't have wanted that, and I told him so. I remember - I think it was Monday - we drove down to the river. We parked on the bridge. You can see the home from there - the Clutter house. And part of the land - Mr. Qutter's fruit orchard, and the wheat fields going away. Way off in one of the fields a bonfire was burning; they were burning stuff from the house. Everywhere you looked, there was something to remind you. Men with nets and poles were fishing along the banks of the river, but not fishing for fish. Bobby said they were looking for the weapons. The knife. The gun.

"Nancy loved the river. Summer nights we used to ride double on Nancy's horse, Babe - that old fat gray? Ride straight to the river and right into the water. Then Babe would wade along in the shallow part while we played our flutes and sang. Got cool. I keep wondering, Gosh, what will become of her? Babe. A lady from Garden City took Kenyon's dog. Took Teddy. He ran away - found his way back to Holcomb. But she came and got him again. And I have Nancy's cat - Evinrude. But Babe. I suppose they'll sell her. Wouldn't Nancy hate that? Wouldn't she be furious? Another day, the day before the funeral, Bobby and I were sitting by the railroad tracks. Watching the trains go by. Real stupid.