Needful Things - Stephen King [210]
By that fucking Bonsaint BITCH!"
Lenore's hands closed into fists, hiding the elegantly manicured nails. The fists drummed on the carved arms of the chair.
"Chrysanthemums, cimicifuga, asters, marigolds that bitch came over in the night and tore them all out of the ground! Threw them everywhere! Do you know where my ornamental cabbages are this morning, Mr. Gaunt?"
"No-where?" he asked her tenderly, still making those stroking motions just above her body.
He actually had a good idea of where they were, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who was responsible for the calavadestroying mess:
Melissa Clutterbuck. Lenore Potter did not suspect Deputy Clutterbuck's wife because she didn't know Deputy Clutterbuck's wife-nor did Melissa Clutterbuck know Lenore, except to say hello to on the street. There had been no malice on Melissa's part (except, of course, Mr. Gaunt thought, for the normal malicious pleasure anyone feels when tearing hell out of someone else's much-beloved possessions). She had torn up Lenore Potter's flowerbeds in partial payment for a set of Limoges china. When you got right down to the bottom of the thing, it was strictly business.
Enjoyable, yes, Mr. Gaunt thought, but whoever said that business always had to be a drag?
"My flowers are in the street!" Lenore shouted. "In the middle of Castle View! She didn't miss a trick! Even the African daisies are gone! All gone! All gone!"
"Did you see her?"
"I didn't need to see her! She's the only one who hates me enough to do something like that. And the flowerbeds are full of the marks of her high heels. I swear that little trollop wears her heels even to bed.
"Oh Mr. Gaunt," she wailed, "every time I close my eyes everything goes all purple! What am I going to do?"
Mr. Gaunt said nothing for a moment. He only looked at her, fixing her with his eyes until she grew calm and distant.
"Is that better?" he asked finally.
"Yes!" she replied in a faint, relieved voice. "I believe I can see the blue again "
"But you're too upset to even think about shopping."
"Yes.
"Considering what that bitch did to you."
"Yes "
"She ought to pay."
"Yes."
"If she ever tries anything like that again, she will pay."
"Yes!"
"I may have just the thing. Sit right there, Mrs. Potter. I'll be back in a l'iffy- In the meantime, think blue thoughts."
"Blue," she agreed dreamily.
When Mr. Gaunt returned, he put one of the automatic pistols Ace had brought back from Cambridge into Lenore Potter's hands.
It was fully loaded and gleamed a greasy blue-black under the display lights.
Lenore raised the gun to eye level. She looked at it with deep pleasure and even deeper relief "Now, I would never urge anyone to shoot anyone else," Mr.
Gaunt said. "Not without a very good reason, at least. But you sound like a woman who might have a very good reason, Mrs. Potter.
Not the flowers-we both know they are not the important thing.
Flowers are replaceable. But your karma your calava well, what else do we-any of us-really have?" And he laughed deprecatingly.
"Nothing," she agreed, and pointed the automatic at the wall.
"Pow. Pow, pow, pow. That's for you, you envying little roundheels trollop. I hope your husband ends up town garbage collector. It's what he deserves. It's what you both deserve."
"You see that little lever there, Mrs. Potter?" He pointed it out to her.
"Yes, I see it."
"That's the safety catch. If the bitch should come over again, trying to do more damage, you'd want to push that first. Do you understand?"
"Oh yes," Lenore said in her sleeper's voice. "I understand perfectly. Ka-pow."
"No one would blame you. After all, a woman has to protect her property. A woman has to protect her karma. The Bonsaint creature probably won't come again, but if she does.
He looked at her meaningfully.
"If she does, it will be for the last time." Lenore raised the short barrel of the automatic to her lips and kissed it softly.
Now put that in your purse," Mr. Gaunt said, "and get on home.
Why, for all you know, she could be in your yard right