绿里奇迹(英文版)-第18部分

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ut　I　thought　he　would　keep　his　mouth　shut；　too　（probably　afraid　John　Coffey　would　throw　a　spell　on　him　if　he　didn't）。　As　for　Coffey　himself；　he'd　probably　already　forgotten　it。　He　was　nothing　but　a　conduit；　after　all；　and　there　isn't　a　culvert　in　the　world　that　remembers　the　water　that　flowed　through　it　once　the　rain　has　stopped。　So　I　resolved　to　keep　my　mouth　pletely　shut　on　the　subject；　with　never　an　idea　of　how　soon　I'd　be　telling　the　story；　or　who　I'd　be　telling　it　to。　
But　I　was　curious　about　my　big　boy；　and　there's　no　sense　not　admitting　it。　After　what　had　happened　to　me　there　in　his　cell；　I　was　more　curious　than　ever。　
4。　
Before　leaving　that　night；　I　arranged　with　Brutal　to　cover　for　me　the　next　day；　should　I　e　in　a　little　late；　and　when　I　got　up　the　following　morning；　I　set　out　for　Tefton；　down　in　Trapingus　County。　
〃I'm　not　sure　I　like　you　worrying　so　much　about　this　fellow　Coffey；〃　my　wife　said；　handing　me　the　lunch　she'd　put　up　for　me…Janice　never　believed　in　roadside　hamburger　stands；　she　used　to　say　there　was　a　bellyache　waiting　in　every　one。　〃It's　not　like　you；　Paul。〃　
〃I'm　not　worried　about　him；〃　I　said。　〃I'm　curious；　that's　all。〃　
〃In　my　experience；　one　leads　to　the　other；〃　Janice　said　tartly；　then　gave　me　a　good；　hearty　kiss　on　the　mouth。　〃You　look　better；　at　least；　I'll　say　that。　For　awhile　there；　you　had　me　nervous。　Waterworks　all　cured　up？〃　
〃All　cured　up；〃　I　said；　and　off　I　went；　singing　songs　like　〃e；　Josephine；　in　My　Flying　Machine〃　and　'We're　in　the　Money〃　to　keep　myself　pany。　
I　went　to　the　offices　of　the　Tefton　Intelligencer　first；　and　they　told　me　that　Burt　Hammersmith；　the　fellow　I　was　looking　for；　was　most　likely　over　at　the　county　courthouse。　At　the　courthouse　they　told　me　that　Hammersmith　had　been　there　but　had　left　when　a　burst　waterpipe　had　closed　down　the　main　proceedings；　which　happened　to　be　a　rape　trial　（in　the　pages　of　the　Intelligencer　the　crime　would　be　referred　to　as　〃assault　on　a　woman；〃　which　was　how　such　things　were　done　in　the　days　before　Ricki　Lake　and　Carnie　Wilson　came　on　the　scene）。　They　guessed　he'd　probably　gone　on　home。　I　got　some　directions　out　a　dirt　road　so　rutted　and　narrow　I　just　about　didn't　dare　take　my　Ford　up　it；　and　there　I　found　my　man。　Hammersmith　had　written　most　of　the　stories　on　the　Coffey　trial；　and　it　was　from　him　I　found　out　most　of　the　details　about　the　brief　manhunt　that　had　ted　Coffey　in　the　first　place。　The　details　the　Intelligencer　considered　too　gruesome　to　print　is　what　I　mean；　of　course。　
Mrs。　Hammersmith　was　a　young　woman　with　a　tired；　pretty　face　and　hands　red　from　lye　soap。　She　didn't　ask　my　business；　just　led　me　through　a　small　house　fragrant　with　the　smell　of　baking　and　onto　the　back　porch；　where　her　husband　sat　with　a　bottle　of　pop　in　his　hand　and　an　unopened　copy　of　Liberty　magazine　on　his　lap。　There　was　a　small；　sloping　backyard；　at　the　foot　of　it；　two　little　ones　were　squabbling　and　laughing　over　a　swing。　From　the　porch；　it　was　impossible　to　tell　their　sexes；　but　I　thought　they　were　boy　and　girl。　Maybe　even　twins；　which　cast　an　interesting　sort　of　light　on　their　father's　part；　peripheral　as　it　had　been；　in　the　Coffey　trial。　Nearer　at　hand；　set　like　an　island　in　the　middle　of　a　turdstudded　patch　of　bare；　beatup…looking　ground；　was　a　doghouse。　No　sign　of　Fido；　it　was　another　unseasonably　hot　day；　and　I　guessed　he　was　probably　inside；　snoozing。　
〃Burt；　yew…all　got　you　a　cump'ny；〃　Mrs。　Hammersmith　said。　
〃Allright；〃　he　said。　He　glanced　at　me；　glanced　at　his　wife；　then　looked　back　at　his　kids；　which　was　where　his　heart　obviously　lay。　He　was　a　thin　man　…　almost　painfully　thin；　as　if　he　had　just　begun　to　recover　from　a　serious　illness　…　and　his　hair　had　started　to　recede。　His　wife　touched　his　shoulder　tentatively　with　one　of　her　red；　wash…swollen　hands。　He　didn't　look　at　it　or　reach　up　to　touch　it；　and　after　a　moment　she　took　it　back。　It　occurred　to　me；　fleetingly；　that　they　looked　more　like　brother　and　sister　than　husband　and　wife　…　he'd　gotten　the　brains；　she'd　gotten　the　looks；　but　neither　of　them　had　escaped　some　underlying　resemblance；　a　heredity　that　could　never　be　escaped。　Later；　going　home；　I　realized　they　didn't　look　alike　at　all；　what　made　them　seem　to　was　the　aftermath　of　stress　and　the　lingering　of　sorrow。　It's　strange　how　pain　marks　our　faces；　and　makes　us　look　like　family。　
She　said；　〃Yew…all　want　a　cold　drink；　Mr。　…　？〃　
〃It's　Edgebe；〃　I　said。　〃Paul　Edgebe。　And　thank　you。　A　cold　drink　would　be　wonderful；　ma'am。〃　
She　went　back　inside。　I　held　out　my　hand　to　Hammersmith；　who　gave　it　a　brief　shake。　His　grip　was　limp　and　cold。　He　never　took　his　eyes　off　the　kids　down　at　the　bottom　of　the　yard。　
〃Mr。　Hammersmith；　I'm　E　Block　superintendent　at　Cold　Mountain　State　Prison。　That's…〃　
〃I　know　what　it　is；〃　he　said；　looking　at　me　with　a　little　more　interest。　〃So　…　the　bull…goose　screw　of　the　Green　Mile　is　standing　on　my　back　porch；　just　as　big　as　life。　What　brings　you　fifty　miles　to　talk　to　the　local　rag's　only　full…time　reporter？〃　
〃John　Coffey；〃　I　said。　
I　think　I　expected　some　sort　of　strong　reaction　（the　kids　who　could　have　been　twins　working　at　the　back　of　my　mind　…　and　perhaps　the　doghouse；　too；　the　Dettericks　had　had　a　dog）；　but　Hammersmith　only　raised　his　eyebrows　and　sipped　at　his　drink。　〃Coffey's　your　problem　now；　isn't　he？〃　Hammersmith　asked。　
〃He's　not　much　of　a　problem；〃　I　said。　〃He　doesn't　like　the　dark；　and　he　cries　a　lot　of　the　time；　but　neither　thing　makes　much　of　a　problem　in　our　line　of　work。　We　see　worse。〃　
〃Cries　a　lot；　does　he？〃　Hammersmith　asked。　〃Well；　he's　got　a　lot　to　cry　about；　I'd　say。　Considering　what　he　did。　What　do　you　want　to　know？〃　
〃Anything　you　can　tell　me。　I've　read　your　newspaper　stories；　so　I　guess　what　I　want　is　anything　that　wasn't　in　them。〃　
He　gave　me　a　sharp；　dry　look。　〃Like　how　the　little　girls　looked？　Like　exactly　what　he　did　to　them？〃　
〃That　the　kind　of　stuff　you're　interested　in；　Mr。　Edgebe？〃　
〃No；〃　I　said；　keeping　my　voice　mild。　〃It's　not　the　Detterick　girls　I'm　interested　in；　sir。　Poor　little　mites　are　dead。　But　Coffey's　not　…　not　yet　…　and　I'm　curious　about　him。〃　
〃All　right；〃　he　said。　〃Pull　up　a　chair　and　sit；　Mr。　Edgebe。　You'll　forgive　me　if　I　sounded　a　little　sharp　just　now；　but　I　get　to　see　plenty　of　vultures　in　my　line　of　work。　Hell；　I've　been　accused　of　being　one　of　em　often　enough；　myself。　I　just　wanted　to　make　sure　of　you。〃　
〃And　are　you？〃　
〃Sure　enough；　I　guess；〃　he　said；　sounding　almost　indifferent。　The　story　he　told　me　is　pretty　much　the　one　I　set　down　earlier　in　this　account　…　how　Mrs。　Detterick　found　the　porch　empty；　with　the　screen　door　pulled　off　its　upper　hinge；　the　blankets　cast　into　one　corner；　and　blood　on　the　steps；　how　her　son　and　husband　had　taken　after　the　girls'　abductor；　how　the　posse　had　caught　up　to　them　first　and　to　John　Coffey　not　much　later。　How　Coffey　had　been　sitting　on　the　riverbank　and　wailing；　with　the　bodies　curled　in　his　massive　arms　like　big　dolls。　The　reporter；　rack…thin　in　his　open…collared　white　shirt　and　gray　town　pants；　spoke　in　a　low；　unemotional　voice　…　but　his　eyes　never　left　his　own　two　children　as　they　squabbled　and　laughed　and　took　turns　with　the　swing　down　there　in　the　shade　at　the　foot　of　the　slope。　Sometime　in　the　middle　of　the　story；　Mrs。　Hammersmith　came　back　with　a　bottle　of　homemade　root　beer；　cold　and　strong　and　delicious。　She　stood　listening　for　awhile；　then　interrupted　long　enough　to　call　down　to　the　kids　and　tell　them　to　e　up　directly；　she　had　cookies　due　out　of　the　oven。　〃We　will；　Mamma！〃　called　a　little　girl's　voice；　and　the　woman　went　back　inside　again。　
When　Hammersmith　had　finished；　he　said：　〃So　why　do　you　want　to　know？　I　never　had　me　a　visit　from　a　Big　House　screw　before；　it's　a　first。〃　
〃I　told　you　…　〃　
〃Curiosity；　yep。　Folks　get　curious；　I　know　it；　I　even　thank　God　for　it；　I'd　be　out　of　a　job　and　might　actually　have　to　go　to　work　for　a　living　without　it。　But　fifty　miles　is　a　long　way　to　e　to　satisfy　simple　curiosity；　especially　when　the　last　twenty　is　over　bad　roads。　So　why　don't　you　tell　me　the　truth；　Edgebe？　I　satisfied　yours；　so　now　you　satisfy　mine。〃　
Well；　I　could　say；　I　had　this　urinary　infection；　and　John　Coffey　put　his　hands　on　me　and　healed　it。　The　man　who　raped　and　murdered　those　two　little　girls　did　that。　So　I　wondered　about　him；　of　course　…　anyone　would。　I　even　wondered　if　maybe　Homer　Cribus　and　Deputy　Rob　McGee　didn't　maybe　collar　the　wrong　man。　In　spite　of　all　the　evidence　against　him　I　wonder　that。　Because　a　man　who　has　a　power　like　that　in　his　hands；　you　don't　usually　think　of　him　as　the　kind　of　man　who　rapes　and　murders　children。　
No；　maybe　that　wouldn't　do。　
〃There　are　two　things　I've　wondered　about；〃　I　said。　〃The　first　is　if　he　ever　did　anything　like　that　before。〃　
Hammersmith　turned　to　me；　his　eyes　suddenly　sharp　and　bright　with　interest；　and　I　saw　he　was　a　smart　fellow。　Maybe　even　a　brilliant　fellow；　in　a　quiet　way。　〃Why？〃　he　asked。　〃What　do　you　know；　Edgebe？　What　has　he　said？〃　
〃Nothing。　But　a　man　who　does　this　sort　of　thing　once　has　usually　done　it　before。　They　get　a　taste　for　it。〃　
〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃They　do。　They　certainly　do。〃　
〃And　it　occurred　to　me　that　it　would　be　easy　enough　to　follow　his　backtrail　and　find　out。　A　man　his　size；　and　a　Negro　to　boot；　can't　be　that　hard　to　trace。〃　
〃You'd　think　so；　but　you'd　be　wrong；〃　he　said。　〃In　Coffey's　case；　anyhow。　I　know。〃　
〃You　tried？〃　
〃I　did；　and　came　up　all　but　empty。　There　were　a　couple　of　railroad　fellows　who　thought　they　saw　him　in　the　Knoxville　yards　two　days　before　the　Detterick　girls　were　killed。　No　surprise　there；　he　was　just　across　the　river　from　the　Great　Southern　tracks　when　they　collared　him；　and　that's　probably　how　he　came　down　here　from　Tennessee。　I　got　a　letter　from　a　man　who　said　he'd　hired　a　big　bald　black　man　to　shift　crates　for　him　in　the　early　spring　of　this　year　…　this　as　in　Kentucky。　I　sent　him　a　picture　of　Coffey　and　he　said　that　was　the　man。　But　other　than　that　…〃　Hammersmith　shrugged　and　shook　his　head。　
〃Doesn't　that　strike　you　as　a　little　odd？〃　
〃Strikes　me　as　a　lot　odd；　Mr。　Edgebe。　It's　like　he　dropped　out　of　the　sky。　And　he's　no　help；　he　can't　remember　last　week　once　this　week　es。〃　
〃No；　he　can't；〃　I　said。　〃How　do　you　explain　it？〃　
〃We're　in　a　Depression；〃　he　said；　〃that's　how　I　explain　it。　People　all　over　the　roads。　The　Okies　want　to　pick　peaches　in　California；　the　poor　whites　from　up　in　the　brakes　want　to　build　cars　in　Detroit；　the　black　folks　from　Mississippi　want　to　go　up　to　New　England　and　work　in　the　shoe　factories　or　the　textile　mills。　Everyone　…　black　as　well　as　white　…　thinks　it's　going　to　be　better　over　the　next　jump　of　land。　It's　the　American　damn　way。　Even　a　giant　like　Coffey　doesn't　get　noticed　everywhere　he　goes　…　until；　that　is；　he　decides　to　kill　a　couple　of　little　girls。　Little　white　girls。〃　
〃Do　you　believe　that？〃　I　asked。　
He　gave　me　a　bland　look　from　his　too…thin　face。　〃Sometimes　I　do；〃　he　said。　
His　wife　leaned　out　of　the　kitchen　window　like　an　engineer　from　the　cab　of　a　lootive　and　called；　〃Kids！　Cookies　are　ready！〃　She　turned　to　me。　〃Would　you　like　an　oatmeal…raisin　cookie；　Mr。　Edgebe？〃　
〃I'm　sure　they're　delicious；　ma'am；　but　I'll　take　a　pass　this　time。〃　
〃All　right；〃　she　said；　and　drew　her　head　back　inside。　
〃Have　you　seen　the　scars　on　him？〃　Hammersmith　asked　abruptly。　He　was　still　watching　his　kids；　selves　to　abandon　the　pleasures　of　the　swing　…　not　even　for　oatmeal…raisin　cookies。　
〃Yes。〃　But　I　was　surprised　he　had。　
He　saw　my　reaction　and　laughed。　〃The　defense　attorney's　one　big　victory　was　getting　Coffey　to　take　off　his　shirt　and　show　those　scars　to　the　jury。　The　prosecutor；　George　Peterson；　objected　like　hell；　but　the　judge　allowed　it。　Old　George　could　have　saved；　his　breath　…　juries　around　these　parts　don't　buy　all　that　psychology　crap　about　how　people　who've　been　mistreated　just　can't　help　themselves。　They　believe　people　can　help　themselves。　It's　a　point　of　view　I　have　a　lot　of　sympathy　for　…　but　those　scars　were　pretty　ghastly；　just　the　same。　Notice　anything　about　them；　Edgebe？〃　
I　had　seen　the　man　naked　in　the　shower；　and　I'd　noticed；　all　right；　I　knew　just　what　he　was　talking　about。　〃They're　all　broken　up。　Latticed；　almost。〃　
〃You　know　what　that　means？〃　
〃Somebody　whopped　the　living　hell　out　of　him　when　he　was　a　kid；〃　I　said。　〃Before　he　grew。〃　
〃But　they　didn't　manage　to　whop　the　devil　out　of　him；　did　they；　Edgebe？　Should　have　spared　the　rod　and　just　drowned　him　in　the　river　like　a　stray　kitten；　don't　you　think？〃　
I　suppose　it　would　have　been　politic　to　simply　agree　and　get　out　of　there；　but　I　couldn't。　I'd　seen　him。　And　I'd　felt　him；　as　well。　Felt　the　touch　of　his　hands。　
〃He's　。。。　strange；〃　I　said。　〃But　there　doesn't　seem　to　be　any　real　violence　in　him。　I　know　how　he　was　found；　and　it's　hard　to　jibe　that　with　what　I　see；　day　in　and　day　out；　on　the　block。　I　know　violent　men；　Mr。　Hammersmith。〃　It　was　Wharton　I　was　thinking　about；　of　course；　Wharton　strangling　Dean　Stanton　with　his　wrist…chain　and　bellowing　Whoooee；　boys！　Ain't　this　a　party；　now？　
He　was　looking　at　me　closely　now；　and　smiling　a　little；　incredulous　smile　that　I　didn't　care　for　very　much。　〃You　didn't　e　up　here　to　get　an　idea　about　whether　or　not　he　might　have　killed　some　other　little　girls　somewhere　else；〃　he　said。　〃You　came　up　here　to　see　if　I　think　he　did　it　at　all。　That's　it；　isn't　it？　'Fess　up；　Edgebe。〃　
I　swallowed　the　last　of　my　cold　drink；　put　the　bottle　down　on　the　little　table；　and　said：　〃Well？　Do　you？〃　
〃Kids！〃　he　called　down　the　hill；　leaning　forward　a　little　in　his　chair　to　do　it。　〃Y'all　e　on　up　here　now　n　get　your　cookies！〃　Then　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair　again　and　looked　at　me。　That　little　smile　…　the　one　I　didn't　much　care　for　…　had　reappeared。　
〃Tell　you　something；〃　he　said。　〃You　want　to　listen　close；　too；　because　this　might　just　be　something　you　need　to　know。〃　
〃I'm　listening。〃　
〃We　had　us　a　dog　named　Sir　Galahad；〃　he　said；　and　cocked　a　thumb　at　the　doghouse。　〃A　good　dog。　No　particular　breed；　but　gentle。　Calm。　Ready　to　lick　your　hand　or　fetch　a　stick。　There　are　plenty　of　mongrel　dogs　like　him；　wouldn't　you　say？〃　
I　shrugged；　nodded。　
〃In　many　ways；　a　good　mongrel　dog　is　like　your　negro；〃　he　said。　〃You　get　to　know　it；　and　often　you　grow　to　love　it。　It　is　of　no　particular　use；　but　you　keep　it　around　because　you　think　it　loves　you。　If　you're　lucky；　Mr。　Edgebe；　you　never　have　to　find　out　any　different。　Cynthia　and　I；　we　were　not　lucky。〃　He　sighed　…　a　long　and　somehow　skeletal　sound；　like　the　wind　rummaging　through　fallen　leaves。　He　pointed　toward　the　doghouse　again；　and　I　wondered　how　I　had　missed　its　general　air　of　abandonment　earlier；　or　the　fact　that　many　of　the　turds　had　grown　whitish　and　powdery　at　their　tops。　
〃I　used　to　clean　up　after　him；〃　Hammersmith　said；　〃and　keep　the　roof　of　his　house　repaired　against　the　rain。　In　that　way　also　Sir　Galahad　was　like　your　Southern　negro；　who　will　not　do　those　things　for　himself。　Now　I　don't　touch　it；　I　haven't　been　near　it　since　the　accident　…　if　you　can　call　it　an　accident。　I　went　over　there　with　my　rifle　and　shot　him；　but　I　haven't　been　over　there　since。　I　can't　bring　myself　to。　I　suppose　I　will；　in　time。　I'll　clean　up　his　messes　and　tear　down　his　house。〃　
Here　came　the　kids；　and　all　at　once　I　didn't　want　them　to　e；　all　at　once　that　was　the　last　thing　on　earth　I　wanted。　The　litt