Needful Things - Stephen King [287]
"Awesome! How'd you do that?"
"Just a little magic Want them?" He moved to put the spray of tissue-paper flowers in the water pitcher.
"Naw. They're just paper. Also, they're ripped in a few places."
Sean thought about this, apparently decided it sounded ungrateful, and added: "Neat trick, though. Can you make them disappear?"
I doubt it, son, Alan thought. Aloud he said, "I'll try."
He held the bouquet up so Sean could see it clearly, then curved his right hand slightly and drew it downward. He made this pass much more slowly than usual in deference to the sad state of the MacGuffin, and found himself surprised and impressed with the result. Instead of snapping out of sight as they usually did, the Folding Flowers seemed to disappear into his loosely curled fist like smoke. He felt the loosened, overstressed spring try to buckle and jam, but in the end it decided to cooperate one last time.
"That's really radical," Sean said respectfully, and Alan privately agreed. It was a wonderful variation on a trick he'd wowed schoolkids with for years, but he doubted that it could be done with a new version of the Folding Flower Trick. A brand-new spring would make that slow, dreamy pass impossible.
"Thanks," he said, and stowed the folding bouquet under his watchband for the last time. "If you don't want flowers, how about a quarter for the Coke machine?"
Alan leaned forward and casually plucked a quarter from Sean's nose. The boy grinned.
"Whoops, I forgot-it takes seventy-five cents these days, doesn't it? Inflation. Well, no problem." He pulled a coin from Sean's mouth and discovered a third one in his own ear. By then Sean's smile had faded a little and Alan knew that he had better get down to business quickly. He stacked the three quarters on the low dresser beside the bed. "For when you feel better," he said.
"Thanks, mister."
"You're welcome, Sean."
"Where's my daddy?" Sean asked. His voice was marginally stronger now.
The question struck Alan as odd. He would have expected Sean to ask first for his mother. The boy was, after all, only seven.
"He'll be here soon, Sean."
"I hope so. I want him."
"I know you do." Alan paused and said, "Your mommy will be here soon, too."
Sean thought about this, then shook his head slowly and deliberately. The pillowcase made little rustling noises as he did it.
"No she won't. She's too busy."
"Too busy to come and see you?" Alan asked.
"Yes. She's very busy. Mommy's visiting with The King. That's why I can't go in her room anymore. She shuts the door and puts on her sunglasses and visits with The King."
Alan saw Mrs. Rusk responding to the State Police who were questioning her. Her voice slow and disconnected. A pair of sunglasses on the table beside her. She couldn't seem to leave them alone; one hand toyed with them almost constantly. She would draw it back, as if afraid someone would notice, and then, after only a few seconds, her hand would return to them agal'n, seemingly on its own.
At the time he had thought she was either suffering from shock or under the influence of a tranquilizer. Now he wondered.
He also wondered if he should ask Sean about Brian or pursue this new avenue. Or were they both the same avenue?
"You're not really a magician," Sean said. "You're a policeman, aren't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"Are you a State Policeman with a blue car that goes really fast?"
"No-I'm County Sheriff. Usually I have a brown car with a star on the side, and it does go pretty fast, but tonight I'm driving my old station wagon that I keep forgetting to trade in." Alan grinned. "It goes really slow."
This sparked some interest. "Why aren't you driving your brown policeman car?"
So I wouldn't spook Jill Mislaburski or your brother, Alan thought. I don't know about Jill, but I guess it didn't work so well with Brian.
"I really don't remember," he said. "It's been a long day."