Characters in Needful Things

Number four was named Absolutely—the dumbest name for a horse Keeton had ever heard in his life—and it was running sixth. He hardly cared.

But she said, “Gilt-edged,” and Alan sat down satisfied. Provisionally. 5 “Is Al coming home for the weekend?” Polly asked as they cleared away the supper things. Alan’s surviving son attended Milton Academy, south of Boston. “Huh-uh,” Alan said, scraping plates.

Also, she’s been a Baptist since Hector was a pup. And comin the other way is big Al Gendron. He’s so Catholic he makes the Pope look kosher, and his best friend is Irish Johnny Brigham. Now, watch close! See their noses go up? Ha! Ain’t that a sketch?

If the records in George Bannerman’s old files were correct, Nettie sure hadn’t written Albion Cobb any warning notes beforehand. What felt right to him was much simpler: Nettie comes home from Polly’s. She finds her dog dead in the hallway.

Like Mr. Weatherbee’s, his glasses were always sliding down on his nose. Sitting to his right was Alice Tanner, the school secretary. She appeared to be taking notes. Mr. Jewett glanced to his left, saw Sally looking in the window, and gave her one of his prissy little smiles.

“Danforth?” Myrtle asked suddenly. “Could you let me out at Amanda Williams’s house? I know it’s a little out of the way, but she’s got my fondue pot. I thought—” The shy smile came and went on her face again. “I thought I might make you—us—a little treat.

When Antonia Bissette was shoved backward and broke her neck against the steel edge of the Chairwoman’s table, no one heard or noticed. Outside, thunder roared and lightning flashed. 6 The Catholic men in the K of C Hall had formed a loose circle around Albert Gendron.

… a young woman with the exotic name of Ariadne St. Claire. She was a happy young woman, not overburdened with intelligence but tireless and pleasing to look at. She had large breasts which rose in soft, steep hills beneath an apparently endless supply of angora sweaters, and lovely skin. She …

She had felt this twice before, and knew what it meant. She was going to have what her Aunt Betty, who’d been afflicted with the same sort of arthritis, called a real bad spell.

… they would have to send her away to Aunt Sarah in Minnesota. She could stay in Saint Cloud until the baby came, then put it up for adoption. “I know why you want me to leave,” Polly said. “It’s Great-aunt Evelyn, isn’t it? You’re afraid if she finds out I’ve …

Stephanie Bonsaint, Cynthia Rose Martin, Barbara Miller, and Francine Pelletier were the first; Steffie, Cyndi Rose, Babs, and Francie arrived in a protective bunch not ten minutes after Polly was observed leaving …

Betsy Vigue in particular. I think she likes the idea of dollin up in her slinkiest black dress and dealin blackjack or spinnin a roulette wheel and sayin, “Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, please place your bets.” Aw, but they all kind of like the idea, I guess.

Alan Pangborn stood on the sidewalk, talking to Bill Fullerton. “Do you see that fellow?” Gaunt asked. “Who? Bill Ful—” “No, you dummy,” Gaunt said. “The other one.” “Sheriff Pangborn?” “Right.” “Yes, I see him.” Cora felt dull and dazed. Gaunt’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance.

“Around the age of forty he started to have mental problems. My mother used to say Bill Keeton was a schizophrenic. I don’t know if that’s the proper term or just the one Mom heard most often on TV, but there sure as hell was something wrong with him.

“Great game, Les!” Bill MacFarland called from the back seat. “Sure was!” Lester called back cheerily. “Let’s do it again Saturday—maybe I can break your arm instead of just spraining it!” The four young men in Vic’s car roared heartily at this piece of wit and then Vic drove away.

Albert threw him aside like a bag of laundry and grabbed for Bill Sayers, who sold tools at the Western Auto. Bill dodged, then threw a punch. Albert took it squarely on the mouth, spat a tooth, grabbed Bill in a bear-hug, and squeezed until he heard a rib snap.

Her heart bumped guiltily. It was little Billy Marchant, cutting across the playground with his skateboard under his arm. Sally waved to him and then got quickly back into the car. Her face felt hot. She was blushing.

… there was a certain Public Works employee named Bobby Dugas who was going to have some tall explaining to do tomorrow, unless he wanted to go home with a few less teeth than he had come to work with. As Hugh passed Nan’s Luncheonette, a light drizzle began to mist …

It wasn’t as big a deal to Brian Rusk as it was to some; his mother, for instance. He had heard her discussing it (he wasn’t supposed to call it gossiping, she had told him, because gossiping was a …

“Sure, kid.” He takes the card. “What’s your name?” “Brian, sir—Brian Seguin.” Scratch, scratch, scratch on the card. The magic: the inscribed fire. “You want to be a ballplayer when you grow up, Brian?”

Now listen to me. Listen very carefully.” 9 Frank Jewett and Brion McGinley, the Middle School’s geography teacher and basketball coach, walked from Room 6 into the outer office just behind Alice Tanner. Frank was grinning and telling Brion a joke he’d heard earlier that day from a textbook salesman.

Number seven, My Lass, leading at the first turn, with number eight, Broken Field, second, and number one, How Do?, third. Number four was named Absolutely—the dumbest name for a horse Keeton had ever heard in his life—and it was running sixth. He hardly cared.

“Will do.” Then, raising his voice: “Brooks! Morrison! Over here!” Alan watched him move off and thought of going after him. Of grabbing him and making him listen.

Amanda smiled at Myrtle. “I told Buddy that if he was going to rent that Fatal Attraction, he should wait until Tansy was in bed to watch it.” Meantime, Nettie went on running. When she reached the intersection of Castle View and Laurel, she had to stop for a while.

… always referred to in this way) along with Butch Nedeau, The Rock’s overseer of County Social Services, and Harry Samuels, who had been a Selectman for most of his adult life and would probably die as one. The occasion had been a statewide conference of county officials; the subject had …

“Dorf is Carl Dorfman, his roomie. Al called last Tuesday and asked if he could go down for the three-day weekend. I said okay, fine.” She touched him on the arm and he turned to look at her. “How much of this is my fault, Alan?”

Her husband’s Chuck Evans.” “She looks like she just smoked some very good Panamanian Red,” Polly said. “I envy her.” Nan Roberts herself came over to wait on them. She was one of William Rose’s Baptist Christian Soldiers, and today she wore a small yellow button above her left breast.

“It’ll be just another antique shop,” Brian’s mother said to Myra. Cora Rusk had been reclining on the sofa at the time, holding the telephone with one hand and eating chocolate-covered cherries with the other while she watched Santa Barbara on the TV.

Stephanie Bonsaint, Cynthia Rose Martin, Barbara Miller, and Francine Pelletier were the first; Steffie, Cyndi Rose, Babs, and Francie arrived in a protective bunch not ten minutes after Polly was observed leaving the new shop (the news of her departure spread quickly and thoroughly by telephone and the efficient bush …

The cheerleaders’ eyes widened. One of them—Darlene Vickery—clapped her hands to her small rosebud mouth and stared at Frank Jewett unbelievingly. Frank thought: Oh good. By noon tomorrow, every student in this school will know. By supper tomorrow night, everyone in town will know. “You girls leave,” Mrs. Tanner said.

… the deal with the help of Mike and Dave Corson. They had kicked in about eighty-five thousand. That particular pile of blow had seemed worth twice the asking price—it had tested high blue. Ace knew that eighty-five big ones was a lot more boost than he was used to handling, …

“Shoot.” “They’ve got the gun Hugh used to shoot Henry, but David Friedman from State Police Ballistics says he doesn’t know what it is. An automatic pistol of some kind, but the guy said he’s never seen one quite like it.” “Are you sure it was David Friedman?” Alan asked.

One of the pews was overturned and hit the floor with a loud bang. Deborah Johnstone’s foot was pinned beneath it, and Norman Harper struck her broadside while she was struggling to pull it free. Deborah fell over and there was a loud crack as her ankle broke.

Nan’s wearing one. I wonder whose idea that was.” “Probably Don Hemphill. He’s not only a good Baptist, he’s on the Republican State Committee.

… later she would be telling her best friend, Donna Beaulieu, that Mr. Jewett’s office had been decorated with pictures of boys wearing heavy metal bracelets and little else. “Yes, Mrs. Tanner,” Darlene Vickery said; five minutes later she would be telling her best friend, Natalie Priest. “Go on,” Brion McGinley …

He advanced slowly to the front of the room while the others—Sally Meyers, Donny Frankel, Nonie Martin, and poor old half-bright Slopey Dodd—goggled at him. Miss Ratcliffe stood in front of her desk, hands on hips, eyes blazing, a gorgeous cloud of dark-auburn hair floating around her head.

He was very persuasive. And at some point he said two magic words: Ducky Morin. “You bought that crap from Ducky?” Mike Corson said, his bloodshot eyes opening wide. “You sure that’s who it was?” “Sure I’m sure,” Ace had replied. “Why?”

She had been born and mostly raised in Castle Rock, true enough, but she had left with Duke Sheehan’s bun in her oven at the age of eighteen. That had been in 1970, and she had only returned once before moving back for good in 1987.

I mean the other one—the black guy in the work fatigues. That’s Eddie Warburton, the night-shift janitor in the Municipal Building. Keep your eye on him for a few seconds, and watch what he does. There! See him pause on the top step and look upstreet?

The arms around her are muscular. That face, his face, the face of The King, is inches from hers. He is dancing with her—they are a couple, Myra Josephine Evans from Castle Rock, Maine, and Elvis Aron Presley, from Memphis, Tennessee!

Jewett—a very nasty joke—and you are not to say one word. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mrs. Tanner,” Erin McAvoy said; three minutes later she would be telling her best friend, Donna Beaulieu, that Mr. Jewett’s office had been decorated with pictures of boys wearing heavy metal bracelets and little else.

The little silver bell tinkled. Everett Frankel, the Physician’s Assistant who worked with Dr. Van Allen, bought the pipe Brian Rusk had noticed on his advance visit to Needful Things for twelve dollars and a prank to be played on Sally Ratcliffe.

“You mark my words. Father John Brigham is a bull-headed Irishman, but I’ll take him over that fellow anytime. Rose is an incredibly arrogant prick.”

Albert, who had been one of Our Lady of Serene Waters’ stalwarts since the days of old Father O’Neal, was getting on now, his once-black hair turning salt-and-pepper, his broad shoulders sloping in a way they never had in his young days, but he was still a man of imposing …

Stephanie Bonsaint, Cynthia Rose Martin, Barbara Miller, and Francine Pelletier were the first; Steffie, Cyndi Rose, Babs, and Francie arrived in a protective bunch not ten minutes after Polly was observed leaving the new shop (the news of her departure spread quickly and thoroughly by telephone and the efficient bush …

She bought it for seventeen dollars and a promise to play a harmless little prank on Frank Jewett, the principal at Castle Rock Middle School. She left the shop five minutes after she had entered, looking dreamy and abstracted.

… act of pulling Tony Mislaburski off Baptist Deacon Fred Mellon. They all froze, like children playing Statues. “Jesus Christ, that was the bridge,” Don Hemphill muttered. Henry Payton decided to take advantage of the lull. He tossed Tony Mislaburski aside, cupped his hands around his wounded mouth, and bawled: “All …

He fumbled for the telephone, dialed through a shimmer of tears and got (almost miraculously) Fred Rubin on the first ring. “Fred!” he cried. “Fred, something terrible has happened! Maybe it’s still happening! Oh Jesus, Fred! Oh Jesus!” Below and behind him, Frank Jewett was struggling for breath.

Frieda Pulaski belted Nan with her pocket-book. Nan was driven to her knees. Her fingers came out of Betsy Vigue’s nose with an audible pop. When she tried to get up, Betsy kicked her in the face and knocked her sprawling in the middle of the street.

Then she reached through, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Her hair clung to her cheeks in wet snaggles and commas. Her dress still gaped open, and droplets of rainwater ran down the pimple-studded swells of her breasts. Chuck Evans wasn’t home, but Garfield, Chuck and Myra’s Angora cat, was.

He should have known better than to drink on top of that, but Harry Cross and George Crompton had just been on their way down to The Blue Door, and they had insisted that Alan join them.

George T. Nelson, the high school wood shop teacher. George T. Nelson, who, under his bluff, macho exterior, was just as gay as old dad’s hatband.

They had caught one of the snotnoses—Gordie LaChance—later on and had beaten the living shit out of him, but it hadn’t mattered. These days LaChance was a bigshot writer living in another part of the state, and he probably wiped his ass with ten-dollar bills.

He should have known better than to drink on top of that, but Harry Cross and George Crompton had just been on their way down to The Blue Door, and they had insisted that Alan join them.

… The Rock’s overseer of County Social Services, and Harry Samuels, who had been a Selectman for most of his adult life and would probably die as one. The occasion had been a statewide conference of county officials; the subject had been the new revenue-sharing laws . . . and it …

Helen Burgmeyer had suffered what might have been an epileptic seizure in the night, she said. If Everett’s diagnosis confirmed this, he was to bring her back to town in his car so the doctor—who would be in shortly—could examine her and decide if she needed to go to the …

Then, last summer, Wilma had gotten into a wrangle with Henrietta Longman, who owned and operated The Beauty Rest up on Castle Hill. The subject was a botched perm.

We say He’ll get over it or She’ll get over it. Henry Beaufort, for instance, is sick of Hugh Priest kickin the Rock-Ola when he’s drunk . . . but Henry will get over it.

Henry Gendron and his wife, Yvette, were in the shop at that time, and Mr. Gaunt asked Cora to wait a minute while he saw to them. He believed he had something else, he told her, which she would find of equal or perhaps even greater interest.

… mom would have been more likely to let Henry Ridgewick store an elephant in there than a fishing pole), but the Bazun was gone. Norris had always suspected his Uncle Phil. Several times he had gathered his courage to ask, but each time it came to the sticking point, he …

It’s the only thing that fits. He thought about going in and telling Henry Ryan, the State of Maine’s Chief Medical Examiner, It was a case of alien intervention, Doc. Case closed. He doubted if Ryan would be amused. It had been a long night for him, too.

… number eight, Broken Field, second, and number one, How Do?, third. Number four was named Absolutely—the dumbest name for a horse Keeton had ever heard in his life—and it was running sixth. He hardly cared. He was transfixed by the pelting horses, their coats gleaming under the floodlights, by the …

Scott Garson and his puke lawyer friends Albert Martin and Howard Potter were standing in front of the bank, where they had probably been talking about him when the ruckus broke out. Eyes. Fucking eyes. There were eyes everywhere. All looking at him. “I see you!” Buster cried suddenly.

The steps need to be sanded off and then repainted. It’s Hugh Priest’s job, but Hugh ain’t got around to it yet. He drinks, you know. It ain’t much of a secret.

10 Sally knew he would call, and so she had asked Irene Lutjens if she could spend the night at Irene’s place. Irene, all but bursting with curiosity, said yes, sure, of course. Sally was so distressed about something that she hardly looked pretty at all.

Now what I think is— Who? Oh, her! Why, that’s Irma Skillins. She used to be the principal at Junction City High School—the first woman principal in this part of the state, I heard.

A short girl wearing glasses and heavy braces turned from the Pep Club poster she’d been studying and glanced curiously at Sally. “What are you looking at, Irvina?” Sally asked. Irvina blinked. “Nuffink, Miz Rat-Cliff.” “Then go look at it someplace else,” Sally snapped. “School is out, you know.”

… Pulaskis after Mass, and following lunch, Pete and Jake Pulaski settled in front of the TV to watch the Patriots kick some New York ass. Wilma cared not a fig for football—baseball, basketball, or hockey, either, as far as that went. The only pro sport she liked was wrestling, and …

Jay Hanlon looked at him, startled, and almost ran into a tree. He pedaled on at a much more sedate speed. Alan watched him for a moment, amused, then turned back in the direction of the school and resumed his watch for Brian Rusk.

“That must have been Jillian Mislaburski,” Alan said. “The house on the other side of the Jerzyck place is empty—up for sale.” “Yeah. Jillian Misla-whatski. That’s what I’ve got here.” “Who was the kid?” “Dunno. She recognized him but couldn’t come up with the name.

“I had Albert write a letter of inquiry to Jim Tierney, the State’s Attorney General. The answer was the same. I’m sorry, Reverend Rose. I know it offends you. Me, I’ve got a thing about kids on skateboards. I’d outlaw them if I could, but I can’t.

“Only once,” he said, “and that was because he needed to talk to Jimmy Catlin, his old computer-hacking buddy from junior high. Some of his choicest programs wouldn’t run on the new Commodore 64 I got him for his birthday.” “You see? That’s my point, Alan.

He added morosely: “Who are you?” “Deputy Sheriff Ridgewick.” “Well, I’m Joe Price. What kind of town have you got here anyhow, Deputy? Everyone in it has gone stone crazy.” Norris ignored him and went to Seaton Thomas. Seat’s complexion was dirty gray, and he was breathing with great difficulty.

I suggest, Sheriff Pangborn, that you lay this matter to rest before you incur legal difficulties. Sincerely, John L. Perlmutter Deputy Director cc: Patricia Chalmers After her fourth reading of this terrible letter, Polly rose from the bench and walked into the kitchen.

The body was turned over to John Palin, a D.V.M. in South Portland. He is to animals what Henry Ryan is to people. He says that because the corkscrew penetrated the dog’s heart and it died almost instantly, he can give us a fairly restricted time of death.”

Judy Libby had dark hair. And Judy Libby had it cut in a shag, with bangs feathered across the forehead. You’re wrong. No, worse than that—you’re crazy. Les broke up with Judy when she left the church. And then she went away. To Portland or Boston or someplace like that.

It was a perfectly plausible story, and Alan had no doubt whatever that Kelton Chalmers was indeed dead. There was only one problem with Polly’s version: it wasn’t true. Alan was a cop, and he knew a lie when he heard one.

That place sucks.” Sean’s lower lip was trembling. “Kevin Pelkey says—” “Who are you going to believe? That wet end or your own brother? It’s no good, Sean. It’s . . .” He wet his lips and then said what he understood as the bottom of the truth: “It’s bad.”

4 “My name is Leland Gaunt,” the tall man said, “and you are—?” “Brian. Brian Rusk.” “Very good, Mr. Rusk. And since you are my first customer, I think I can offer you a very special price on any item that catches your fancy.”

Len Milliken asked in a rumbling, ominous voice. “And this collar?” “Somebody put them inside the main doors,” Don said, “just before everything went to he—” The vestibule door boomed again, making them all jump, only this time it was not opening but closing.

And there goes Lenore Potter, lookin like she just stepped out of a bandbox. Goin to the Western Auto, no doubt, to see if her special organic fertilizer came in yet. That woman has got more kinds of flowers growin around her house than Carter has liver pills.

But that was then and this is now, as they say; these days Sally is engaged to Lester Pratt, the high school Phys Ed coach. He’s a true-blue Baptist, just like herself. John hasn’t got over the shock of losin her yet. See him fetch that sigh?

Following his death, Lorraine Chalmers had suffered a heart attack, and Polly had stayed on to nurse her mother. Lorraine had suffered a second heart attack—this one fatal—in the early spring of 1976, and after her mother had been buried away in Homeland, Polly (who had by then attained a …

“What does that mean?” Lucille Dunham asked. Lucille was a waitress at Nan’s who had stopped in with her friend Rose Ellen Myers on her coffee break. “It means that if you buy a pig in a poke, you keep the pig and he keeps your poke,” Rose Ellen said.

“Who would you say is the most trustworthy around here?” “Oh, they’re all thieves, but Mark Hopewell’s probably as safe as any.” He choked back laughter and put a hand to his mouth to stifle a spray of crumbs.

Meade Rossignol could hold his churning gut no longer. He opened his mouth and yarked supper all over the wide back of Albert Gendron’s shirt. Albert hardly noticed.

“You bought that crap from Ducky?” Mike Corson said, his bloodshot eyes opening wide. “You sure that’s who it was?” “Sure I’m sure,” Ace had replied. “Why?” The Flying Corson Brothers looked at each other and began to laugh.

A hideous picture came instead: Mike Horton from the Norway Journal-Register, bent over the newspaper’s Bearcat scanner, furiously taking notes in his pidgin shorthand. “I don’t know what it is you think I’ve done, but you’ve got it wrong. Let’s get together, talk—” “No.

A nurse, Miss Hendrie according to the small nameplate on her breast, walked up the corridor on faintly squeaking crepe soles weaving her way gracefully among the toys which littered the hall.

“Thank you, Miss Milliken!” He took ten and gave back eight. He charged them what they could afford—not a penny more or a penny less.

… he got to her was a call-back from Mona Lawless who taught sixth- and seventh-grade math and chummed with Sally. “She can’t come to the phone,” Mona told him, displaying all the warmth of a deep-freeze stuffed with Popsicles. “Why not?” he had asked—almost whined. “Come on, Mona—give!” “I don’t …

Morrison! Over here!” Alan watched him move off and thought of going after him. Of grabbing him and making him listen. He didn’t do it, because Henry and Hugh and Lester and John—even Wilma and Nettie—were beginning to lose any feeling of real importance to him.

I have shown your letter to Martin D. Chung, our chief legal counsel, who instructs me to tell you that a copy of your letter has been forwarded to the California Attorney General’s Office.

… time to register the fact that it was Mr. Constantine, the pharmacist at LaVerdiere’s Super Drug. He hurried across the street and then onto the Town Common, holding a small wrapped package in his hands, looking neither to the right nor to the left. When she looked back, Mr. Gaunt …

“Good to see you, Mr. Emerson!” Oh, it was always good, so very good, to be doing business in the old way again. And business had never been better. 2 Alan Pangborn wasn’t in Castle Rock.

“I told Mrs. DeWeese I felt sick to my stomach. She sent me to the school nurse. I told the nurse I felt better, but still sick. She asked me if I thought I could walk home. I said yes, so she let me go.” Slopey paused.

Then he realized it was just Mrs. Haverhill, calling her dog from the other side of the fence. Just the same, he had to get out of here. And quick.

I couldn’t even lie to Mrs. Leroux about who broke the vase on her desk when she had to go down to the office that time. He’ll get it out of me and I’ll go to jail for murder. That was when Brian Rusk first began to think of suicide.

Now the announcer was calling the race. Number seven, My Lass, leading at the first turn, with number eight, Broken Field, second, and number one, How Do?, third. Number four was named Absolutely—the dumbest name for a horse Keeton had ever heard in his life—and it was running sixth.

… was a dirty habit and she didn’t do it) at some length on the telephone with her best friend, Myra Evans, over the last month or so. The first workmen had arrived at the old building which had last housed Western Maine Realty and Insurance right around the time …

There’s Myrtle Keeton, and if she looks a little lonely and bewildered, as if she’s not really sure where she is or what’s goin on, it’s because her husband (fella you just saw comin up the courthouse steps behind Eddie) hasn’t seemed himself for the last six months or so …

That’s Nan Roberts who just came out of the bank. She owns Nan’s Luncheonette, and I guess she’s just about the richest person in town now that old Pop Merrill’s gone to that big flea-market in the sky. Also, she’s been a Baptist since Hector was a pup.

He arrived at Castle Rock Family Practice at quarter to eight that Monday morning, and Nancy Ramage, the head nurse, asked him if he could go right out to the Burgmeyer farm. Helen Burgmeyer had suffered what might have been an epileptic seizure in the night, she said.

Those Baptists. Those ugly, nasty, small-minded people. “Betsy?” Naomi Jessup asked. “Is something wrong?” “I don’t know,” she said, “I think so.” She tore the envelope open. A sheet of paper slid out. Typed on it was the following message: THIS IS THE SMELL OF CATHOLIC CUNTS!

“What do you want, Ace?” Nat Copeland repeated wearily. Ace plucked one of the penny-rolls out of the old Crisco can. The paper had faded from its original purple to a dull wash pink. He shook two of the pennies out into his hand and looked at them curiously.

… later she would be telling her best friend, Natalie Priest. “Go on,” Brion McGinley said. He was trying to sound brisk, but his voice was still thick with shock. “Off you go.” The two girls fled, cheerleader skirts flipping about their sturdy knees. Brion turned slowly to Frank. “I think—” …

Wilma Jerzyck and Nettie Cobb are mad at each other . . . but Nettie will get over it (probably) and bein mad’s just a way of life for Wilma.

“Let me get this straight,” Newton Chalmers said, and had then torn away the last tenuous bridge between his daughter and himself. “He was good enough to screw, but he’s not good enough to marry—is that about right?”

He advanced slowly to the front of the room while the others—Sally Meyers, Donny Frankel, Nonie Martin, and poor old half-bright Slopey Dodd—goggled at him. Miss Ratcliffe stood in front of her desk, hands on hips, eyes blazing, a gorgeous cloud of dark-auburn hair floating around her head.

Rev. Rose had spat at an equally surprised Norman Harper and Don Hemphill. That had been on Columbus Day, following a call from Father Brigham. Brigham had tried to read the mackerel-snapper letter to Rev. Rose; Rev. Rose had (quite properly, in the view of his deacons) refused to listen.

… foggy afternoons in the diner trying to avoid Norville Bates’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, the shame with which she had finally made an uneasy peace, the independence and the dignity she had fought so hard and so inconclusively to keep . . . those things were hers, and must …

Peter Doyon had brought a flask of Log Cabin whiskey, Perry Como was on the radio, Hugh Priest was sitting behind the white wheel, and fluttering from the radio antenna had been a long, luxuriant fox-tail, just like the one he was now looking at in the window of this …

But if Peter Jerzyck, who knew her best, had seen her face at that moment, he would have run the other way as fast as his legs could carry him.

Albert Gendron and Phil Burgmeyer, who had been duking it out with great ferocity seconds before, now stood side by side, looking into the glare. Blood was running down the left side of Albert’s face from a temple wound, and Phil’s shirt was mostly torn off.

“Raider.” “Well, Wilma Jerzyck will just have to find something else to bitch about, because Raider is squared away. She will, though. Ladies like Wilma always do. It was never the dog, anyway, not really; Wilma was the only person in the whole neighborhood who complained. It was Nettie.

Reverend Tom Killingworth, the Methodist minister who conducted twice-weekly services at Juniper Hill and who had known Nettie well, performed the service at Polly’s request.

He’s actually the Reverend William Rose, and he ain’t never liked Father Brigham much, nor does the Father have much use for him.

… new and interesting week, a young man named Ricky Bissonette emerged from the hedge surrounding the Baptist parsonage. Inside this neat-as-a-pin building, the Reverend William Rose slept the sleep of the just and the righteous. Ricky, nineteen and not overburdened with brains, worked down at Sonny’s Sunoco. He had closed …

Or so I’ve heard.” “Jesus.” “But that’s not all. Ronnie Keeton, Danforth’s father and Bill Keeton’s brother, spent four years in the mental wing at the VA hospital in Togus during the mid-seventies. Now he’s in a nursing home. Alzheimer’s.

She herself had thought they were gray. “I didn’t notice.” 7 Late that afternoon, Rosalie Drake from You Sew and Sew stopped in Needful Things on her coffee break, accompanied by Polly’s housekeeper, Nettie Cobb.

Lucille Dunham asked. Lucille was a waitress at Nan’s who had stopped in with her friend Rose Ellen Myers on her coffee break. “It means that if you buy a pig in a poke, you keep the pig and he keeps your poke,” Rose Ellen said.

He advanced slowly to the front of the room while the others—Sally Meyers, Donny Frankel, Nonie Martin, and poor old half-bright Slopey Dodd—goggled at him. Miss Ratcliffe stood in front of her desk, hands on hips, eyes blazing, a gorgeous cloud of dark-auburn hair floating around her head.

That’s the snapshot Andy Clutterbuck took of John and Sally Ratcliffe at the Fryeburg State Fair, just about a year ago.

Father Brigham seemed to nod and shake his head at the same time. “Perhaps, Sam, but that’s not the real issue. He is quite mad—I think that is the issue.” Thoughtful, worried silence greeted this, but Father Brigham felt a sense of almost palpable relief, just the same.

Sandra McMillan had come in to handle the chores there. She wasn’t as steady as Sheila Brigham, but beggars could not be choosers . . . and Alan guessed Sheila would hear what had happened and come in before much longer.

what is your response? Quick!” “Sandy Koufax,” Brian responded promptly.

The doctor’s name was Scopes, and for the first time in his life, Alan hid behind his job: he told Scopes that his questions were related to an ongoing police investigation.

But it was only the Garsons’ Scout, trundling down the View toward town. Scott Garson was the town’s most important banker. Keeton and his wife sometimes took dinner with the Garsons—they were nice people, and Garson himself was politically important. What would he think if he saw these slips?

In a town the size of Castle Rock, how could he miss? 32 Sean Rusk stood in the kitchen doorway of his house, looking anxiously out at the garage.

DK was, of course, Danforth Keeton. sl was Shirley Laurence, his secretary, who took dictation and typed correspondence. Shirley had typed none of his responses to the Bureau’s letters, however, initials or no initials. It was wiser to keep some things to yourself.

There’s Slopey Dodd, all by his lonesome because the other kids make fun of his stutter. There’s Myrtle Keeton, and if she looks a little lonely and bewildered, as if she’s not really sure where she is or what’s goin on, it’s because her husband (fella you just saw comin …

What if, he thought, a really big fish takes the lure? Smokey, for instance? Smokey was an old brown trout, the stuff of legend among the fisherpeople of Castle Rock. He was reputed to be over two feet long, wily as a weasel, strong as a stoat, tough as nails.

She had to move Squeebles the cat, the TV Guide, and a quart of Diet Coke to get it. “But it sounds sneaky.” “Mom, what does Needful Things mean? Is it like—” “Don’t bother me now, Brian, Mummy’s busy. There are Devil Dogs in the breadbox if you want one.

… off playing pass in the back yard with Stanley Dawson to check on it once more. He had told Stanley he had to go to the bathroom. He had peeked at it one final time before crawling into bed and turning out the light. He recognized that it had become …

Stephanie Bonsaint, Cynthia Rose Martin, Barbara Miller, and Francine Pelletier were the first; Steffie, Cyndi Rose, Babs, and Francie arrived in a protective bunch not ten minutes after Polly was observed leaving the new shop (the news of her departure spread quickly and thoroughly by telephone and the efficient bush …

The only person close to it was soft-headed Slopey Dodd, goofing around on his skateboard. Steve Edwards came up behind Lester and clapped him on the shoulder. “Les, boy! Want to come over to my place for a Coke? A bunch of the guys said they’d drop by.

It had been a fine life until the trip he and Steve Frazier had made to Lewiston nine or ten years ago. That was when the trouble had started; that was when his neat black-and-white life began to fill with deepening shades of gray.

Frank’s reflections were disturbed at this point by George T. Nelson’s parakeet, Tammy Faye, who had picked the most inauspicious moment of its small avian life to burst into song. As Frank listened, a peculiar and terribly unpleasant smile began to surface on his face.

Tansy Williams, fresh from two days in Portland where she and her mommy had gone to visit Grampa, was looking out the living-room window, sucking a lollypop and holding her teddy bear, Owen, under her left arm, when Nettie went by with wings on her heels.

I looked it up.” “Of course it is,” Alan said, “but we’re talking Timmy Gagnon here, Johnny—what does that tell you?” “It tells me I wouldn’t buy a hamburger at the new Riverside B-B-Q Delish if I was dying of starvation.” “Correct!” Alan exclaimed.

… in America), froze in the act of pulling Tony Mislaburski off Baptist Deacon Fred Mellon. They all froze, like children playing Statues. “Jesus Christ, that was the bridge,” Don Hemphill muttered. Henry Payton decided to take advantage of the lull. He tossed Tony Mislaburski aside, cupped his hands around his …

… miles west of Danbury, a black fellow named Too-Tall Timmy was behind the wheel, and the Flying Corson Brothers, Mike and Dave, were sitting on either side of Ace with H & K recoilless rifles. As he talked, Ace found himself remembering what his uncle had said before the bust …

One appeared to be on the dead, swampy ground owned by old man Treblehorn . . . except old man Treblehorn was dead, had been for years, and hadn’t there been talk at one time that his uncle Reginald had gotten most of that land as repayment of a loan?

Now they were almost running. 10 Trooper Morris stood beside the door of his car with his microphone in his hand, staring after them. Water ran from the waterproof over the brim of his Smokey Bear hat in little streamlets. “Come back, Unit Sixteen,” Henry Payton’s voice crackled.

Norris had always suspected his Uncle Phil. Several times he had gathered his courage to ask, but each time it came to the sticking point, he had backed down.

There was a week-long tent revival going on up there, and Vic Tremayne had said there would be a special five o’clock Columbus Day prayer-meeting and hymn-sing.

I think Wanda Hemphill (her husband, Don, runs Hemphill’s Market) put most of em up all by herself. Pull it off the post and hand it to me. Don’t be shy—no one’s got any business stickin up fliers on the Town Common bandstand in the first place. Hot damn!

5 William Tupper was only nineteen and he was never going to be a Rhodes Scholar, but he was smart enough to be terrified by Henry’s behavior when Henry came into the Tiger at twenty minutes to four on the last real day of Castle Rock’s existence.

Wilma Jerzyck and Nettie Cobb are mad at each other . . . but Nettie will get over it (probably) and bein mad’s just a way of life for Wilma.

… did not deceive him, the day’s second customer, Yvette Gendron, was hurrying up the sidewalk toward the canopy right now. “Busy, busy, busy day,” Mr. Gaunt murmured, and fixed a large, welcoming smile on his face. 2 Alan Pangborn arrived at his own office at eight-thirty, and there was already …