The Colorado Kid Read Online Free PDF
Author: by Stephen King
just one unknown thing, this time with interestin pictures to mull over, so people go back to it again and again.”
“But not the Boston Globe ,” Vince said, “although I sense that one might do in a pinch.”
The two men laughed comfortably, as old friends will.
“So,” Vince said, “we might know of an unexplained mystery or two—”
“I won’t stick at that,” Dave said. “We know of at least one for sure, darlin, but there isn’t a single musta-been about it—”
“Well…the steak,” Vince said, but he sounded doubtful.
“Oh, ayuh, but even that’s a mystery, wouldn’t you say?” Dave asked.
“Yah,” Vince agreed, and now he didn’t sound comfortable. Nor did he look it.
“You’re confusing me,” Stephanie said.
“Ayuh, the story of the Colorado Kid is a confusing tale, all right,” Vince said, “which is why it wouldn’t do for the Boston Globe , don’tcha know. Too many unknowns, to begin with. Not a single musta-been for another.” He leaned forward, fixing her with his clear blue Yankee gaze. “You want to be a newswoman, don’t you?”
“You know I do,” Stephanie said, surprised.
“Well then, I’m going to tell you a secret almost every newspaper man and woman who’s been at it awhile knows: in real life, the number of actual stories—those with beginnings, middles, and ends—are slim and none. But if you can give your readers just one unknown thing (two at the very outside), and then kick in what Dave Bowie there calls a musta-been , your reader will tell himself a story. Amazin, ain’t it?
“Take the Church Picnic Poisonings. No one knows who killed those folks. What is known is that Rhoda Parks, the Tashmore Methodist Church secretary, and William Blakee, the Methodist Church pastor , had a brief affair six months before the poisonings. Blakee was married, and he broke it off. Are you with me?”
“Yes,” Stephanie said.
“What’s also known is that Rhoda Parks was despondent over the breakup, at least for awhile. Her sister said as much. A third thing that’s known? Both Rhoda Parks and William Blakee drank that poisoned iced coffee at the picnic and died. So what’s the musta-been ? Quick as your life, Steffi.”
“Rhoda must have poisoned the coffee to kill her lover for jilting her and then drank it herself to commit suicide. The other four—plus the ones who only got sick—were what-do-you-call-it, collateral damage.”
Vince snapped his fingers. “Ayuh, that’s the story people tell themselves. The newspapers and magazines never come right out and print it because they don’t have to. They know that folks can connect the dots. What’s against it? Quick as your life again.”
But this time her life would have been forfeit, because Stephanie could come up with nothing against it. She was about to protest that she didn’t know the case well enough to say when Dave got up, approached the porch rail, looked out over the reach toward Tinnock, and remarked mildly: “Six months seems a long time to wait, doesn’t it?”
Stephanie said, “Didn’t someone once say revenge is a dish best eaten cold?”
“Ayuh,” Dave said, still perfectly mild, “but when you kill six people, that’s more than just revenge. Not sayin it couldn’t have been that way, just that it might have been some other. Just like the Coast Lights might have been reflections on the clouds…or somethin secret the Air Force was testin that got sent up from the air base in Bangor…or who knows, maybe it was little green men droppin in to see if the kids from Hancock Lumber could turn a double play against the ones from Tinnock Auto Body.”
“Mostly what happens is people make up a story and stick with it,” Vince said. “That’s easy enough to do as long as there’s only one unknown factor: one poisoner, one set of mystery lights, one boat run aground with most of her crew gone. But with the Colorado Kid there was nothing but unknown factors, and hence there
“But not the Boston Globe ,” Vince said, “although I sense that one might do in a pinch.”
The two men laughed comfortably, as old friends will.
“So,” Vince said, “we might know of an unexplained mystery or two—”
“I won’t stick at that,” Dave said. “We know of at least one for sure, darlin, but there isn’t a single musta-been about it—”
“Well…the steak,” Vince said, but he sounded doubtful.
“Oh, ayuh, but even that’s a mystery, wouldn’t you say?” Dave asked.
“Yah,” Vince agreed, and now he didn’t sound comfortable. Nor did he look it.
“You’re confusing me,” Stephanie said.
“Ayuh, the story of the Colorado Kid is a confusing tale, all right,” Vince said, “which is why it wouldn’t do for the Boston Globe , don’tcha know. Too many unknowns, to begin with. Not a single musta-been for another.” He leaned forward, fixing her with his clear blue Yankee gaze. “You want to be a newswoman, don’t you?”
“You know I do,” Stephanie said, surprised.
“Well then, I’m going to tell you a secret almost every newspaper man and woman who’s been at it awhile knows: in real life, the number of actual stories—those with beginnings, middles, and ends—are slim and none. But if you can give your readers just one unknown thing (two at the very outside), and then kick in what Dave Bowie there calls a musta-been , your reader will tell himself a story. Amazin, ain’t it?
“Take the Church Picnic Poisonings. No one knows who killed those folks. What is known is that Rhoda Parks, the Tashmore Methodist Church secretary, and William Blakee, the Methodist Church pastor , had a brief affair six months before the poisonings. Blakee was married, and he broke it off. Are you with me?”
“Yes,” Stephanie said.
“What’s also known is that Rhoda Parks was despondent over the breakup, at least for awhile. Her sister said as much. A third thing that’s known? Both Rhoda Parks and William Blakee drank that poisoned iced coffee at the picnic and died. So what’s the musta-been ? Quick as your life, Steffi.”
“Rhoda must have poisoned the coffee to kill her lover for jilting her and then drank it herself to commit suicide. The other four—plus the ones who only got sick—were what-do-you-call-it, collateral damage.”
Vince snapped his fingers. “Ayuh, that’s the story people tell themselves. The newspapers and magazines never come right out and print it because they don’t have to. They know that folks can connect the dots. What’s against it? Quick as your life again.”
But this time her life would have been forfeit, because Stephanie could come up with nothing against it. She was about to protest that she didn’t know the case well enough to say when Dave got up, approached the porch rail, looked out over the reach toward Tinnock, and remarked mildly: “Six months seems a long time to wait, doesn’t it?”
Stephanie said, “Didn’t someone once say revenge is a dish best eaten cold?”
“Ayuh,” Dave said, still perfectly mild, “but when you kill six people, that’s more than just revenge. Not sayin it couldn’t have been that way, just that it might have been some other. Just like the Coast Lights might have been reflections on the clouds…or somethin secret the Air Force was testin that got sent up from the air base in Bangor…or who knows, maybe it was little green men droppin in to see if the kids from Hancock Lumber could turn a double play against the ones from Tinnock Auto Body.”
“Mostly what happens is people make up a story and stick with it,” Vince said. “That’s easy enough to do as long as there’s only one unknown factor: one poisoner, one set of mystery lights, one boat run aground with most of her crew gone. But with the Colorado Kid there was nothing but unknown factors, and hence there