Needful Things - Stephen King [291]
He crossed the bridge and then stopped at the intersection of Main Street and Watermill Lane, although the right-of-way was his.
"What the fuck?" he muttered.
Lower Main was a tangled confusion of State Police cruisers, flashing blue lights, TV vans, and little knots of people. Most of the action was swirling around the Municipal Building. It looked almost as though the town fathers had decided to throw a streetcarnival on the spur of the moment.
Ace didn't care what had happened; the whole town could dry up and blow away as far as he was concerned. But he wanted Pangborn, wanted to tear the fucking thief's scalp off and hang it on his belt, and how was he supposed to do that with what looked like every State cop in Maine hanging out at the Sheriff's Office?
The answer came at once. Mr. Gaunt will know. Mr. Gaunt has the artillery, and he'll have the answers to go with it. Go see Mr.
Gaunt.
He glanced in his mirror and saw more blue lights top the nearest rise on the other side of the bridge. Even more cops on the way.
What the fuck happened here this afternoon? he wondered again, but that was a question which could be answered another time or not at all, if that was how things fell out. Meantime, he had his own business, and it began with getting out of the way before the arriving cops rear-ended him.
Ace turned left on Watermill Lane, then right onto Cedar Street, skirting the downtown area before cutting back to Main Street. He paused at the stop-light for a moment, looking at the nest of flashing blue lights at the bottom of the hill. Then he parked in front of Needful Things.
He got out of the car, crossed the street, and read the sign in the window. He felt a moment of crashing disappointment-it was not just a gun he needed, but a little more of Mr. Gaunt's blow as well-and then he remembered the service entrance in the alley.
He walked up the block and around the corner, not noticing the bright yellow van parked twenty or thirty yards farther up, or the man who sat inside it (Buster had moved to the passenger seat now), watching him.
As he entered the alley, he bumped into a man who was wearing a tweed cap pulled low over his forehead.
" Ace said.
"Hey, watch where you're going, Daddy-o, The man in the tweed cap raised his head, bared his teeth at Ace, and snarled. At the same moment he pulled an automatic from his pocket and pointed it in Ace's general direction. "Don't fuck with me, my friend, unless you want some, too."
Ace raised his hands and stepped back. He was not afraid; he was utterly astonished. "Not me, Mr. Nelson," he said. "Leave me out of it."
"Right," the man in the tweed cap said. "Have you seen that cocksucker jewett?"
"Uh the one from the Junior high?"
"The Middle School, right-are there any otherjewetts in town?
Get real, for Christ's sake!"
"I just got here," Ace said cautiously. "I really haven't seen anyone, Mr. Nelson."
"Well, I'm going to find him, and he's going to be one sorry sack of shit when I do. He killed my parakeet and shit on my mother."
George T. Nelson narrowed his eyes and added: "This is a good night to stay out of my way."
Ace didn't argue.
Mr. Nelson stuffed the gun back into his pocket and disappeared around the corner, walking with the purposeful strides of one who is indeed highly pissed off. Ace stood right where he was for a moment, hands still raised. Mr. Nelson taught wood shop and metal shop at the high school. Ace had always believed he was one of those guys who wouldn't have nerve enough to slap a deerfly if it lit on his eyeball, but he thought he might just have to change his opinion on that. Also, Ace had recognized the gun. He should have; he had brought a whole case of them back from Boston just the night before.
12
"Ace!" Mr. Gaunt said. "You're just in time."
"I need a gun," Ace said. "Also, some more of that high-class boogerjuice, if you've got any."
"Yes, yes in time. All things in time. Help me with this table, Ace."
"I'm going to kill Pangborn," Ace said. "He stole my fucking treasure and I'm going to kill him."
Mr.