cb.coldheart canyon-第31部分

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ows　to　start　cutting　away　the　bandages。　And　the　title　came：　〃The　Blind　Leading　the　Blind；〃　she　said。
　 〃I　don't　like　that；〃　Tammy　said；　already　proprietorial。
　 〃Neither　do　I；〃　Maxine　replied；　thinking　not　just　of　the　title；　but　of　this　whole；　sprawling；　exhausting　mess。　〃Trust　me；　Tammy。　Neither　do　I。〃
　
　 Tammy　Jayne　Lauper　lived　on　Elverta　Road　in　Rio　Linda；　Sacramento；　in　a　one…story　ranch…style　house　fifteen　minutes　from　the　Sacramento　International　Airport；　where　her　husband　had　worked　for　eight　years　as　a　baggage　handler。　They　had　no　kids；　nor　any　hope　of　having　any；　this　side　of　a　miracle　of　Biblical　proportions。　Arnie　had　a　zero　sperm　count。　Tammy　didn't　mind　much。　Just　because　God　had　given　her　breasts　the　size　of　watermelons　didn't　mean　she　was　born　for　motherhood。　And　of　course　the　absence　of　children　left　plenty　of　space　in　the　house　for　all　the　files　relating　to　what　Arnie　sneeringly　called　Tammy's　little　'fan　club。'
　 〃It　isn't　a　fan　club；〃　Tammy　had　pointed　out　countless　times；　〃it's　an　Appreciation　Society。〃　Arnie　said　Tammy　wasn't　no　appreciator；　she　was　a　fan；　plain　and　simple；　and　he　knew　every　time　they'd　used　to　sleep　together　and　she　closed　her　eyes　it　was　that　dickhead　Pickett　she'd　been　imagining　on　top　of　her　fat　ass；　and　that　was　the　whole　unvarnished　truth　of　it。　When　Arnie　got　to　talking　like　that；　Tammy　would　just　tune　him　out。　He'd　stop　eventually；　when　he　knew　he　she　wasn't　listening；　go　back　to　sitting　in　front　of　the　TV　with　a　beer。
　 The　main　center　of　the　Todd　Pickett　Appreciation　Society's　operations　was　the　front　bedroom。　The　room　she　and　Arnie　slept　in　was　considerably　smaller；　but　as　she'd　pointed　out　to　him；　it　didn't　really　matter　since　all　they　did　was　sleep　in　it。　They　still　had　a　double　bed；　though　God　knows　why；　he　never　touched　her；　and　a　couple　of　years　back　she'd　stopped　wanting　him　to。　The　third　bedroom　（and　all　the　closets）；　were　used　for　storage：　files　of　clippings；　issues　of　the　fanzine　（quarterly　for　the　first　year；　then　monthly；　now　quarterly　again）；　photographs　and　biographies　to　be　distributed　to　new　members；　copies　of　press　kits　from　every　film　Todd　had　ever　made；　in　twenty…six　languages。　Downstairs；　in　what　would　have　been　the　family　room；　she　kept　the　Collection。　This　was　made　up　of　items　related　to　Todd　and　his　career；　all　of　them　relatively　rare；　some　one…of…a…kind　items。　Hanging　in　zipped…up　plastic　laundry　bags　were　articles　of　clothing　made　for　the　cast　and　crew　of　his　pictures。　On　the　mantelpiece；　still　sealed　in　their　boxes　were　six　Todd　Pickett　dolls　that　had　been　the　hot　thing　to　own　during　his　teen…idol　period；　the　boxes　signed　by　Todd。　Preserved　in　a　vacuum　pack　were　several　unused　latex　makeup　pieces　for　his　Oscar…nominated　performance　as　the　maimed　firefighter　in　The　Burning　Year。　She　didn't　ever　look　at　those。　She'd　been　warned　that　they　deteriorated　when　they　were　exposed　to　sunlight。
　 The　collection　also　contained　a　prehensive　library　of　scripts　for　his　movies；　with　all　their　addenda；　including　one　marked　up　in　Todd's　handwriting；　along　with　a　plete　set　of　novelizations　of　the　movies；　leather…bound　with　gilt　lettering。　There　were　also　credit…listings　on　all　the　crews　who　worked　with　him；　costume　sketches　and　call…sheets；　and　of　course；　posters　of　every　size　and　nationality。　If　the　Smithsonian　ever　wanted　to　open　a　wing　dedicated　to　the　life　and　career　of　Todd　Pickett；　Tammy　had　once　boasted；　they　need　look　no　further　than　her　front　room。　Once；　she'd　attempted　to　enumerate　the　items　she　owned。　It　was　something　in　the　region　of　seventeen　thousand　three　hundred；　not　including　those　pieces　of　which　she　had　more　than　one　copy。
　 It　was　to　this　shrine　that　Tammy　had　e　after　her　frustrating　exchange　with　Maxine　Frizelle。　She　closed　and　locked　the　door　（though　Arnie　would　not　be　back　from　work　and　his　after…hours　carousing　for　several　hours）；　and　sat　down　to　think。　After　a　few　minutes；　turning　over　the　conversation　she'd　just　had；　she　went　to　the　very　back　of　the　room；　and　took　from　its　place　amongst　the　treasure…trove　a　box　of　photographs。　These　were　her　special　pride　and　joy：　pictures　of　Todd　（fourteen　of　them　in　all）　which　she'd　managed　to　buy　from　somebody　who'd　known　the　still　photographer　on　Todd's　fourth　picture；　Life　Lessons。　This　was　Todd's　ing…of…age　picture：　the　one　in　which　he'd　changed　from　being　a　Boy　to　being　a　Man。　Of　course；　his　smile　would　always　be　a　boy's　smile；　that　was　part　of　its　magic；　but　after　Life　Lessons　he　went　on　to　play　tougher　roles：　a　homeing　soldier；　a　firelighter；　a　man　wrongfully　accused　of　his　own　wife's　murder。　Here　then；　caught　in　the　moment　before　his　cinematic　adulthood；　was　the　boy…man　of　Tammy's　dreams。　She　had　even　purchased　the　negatives　from　which　the　series　of　pictures　had　been　printed；　and　along　with　them　the　assurance　from　the　person　she'd　got　them　from　that　they　had　been　'lost'　in　the　production　offices　before　they　were　ever　seen　by　the　director；　the　producer　or　by　Todd　himself。　In　short；　she　had　the　only　copies。
　 Their　rarity　wasn't　the　reason　she　valued　them　so　highly　however。　What　made　them　her　special　treasure…the　quality　that　made　her　return　to　them　over　and　over；　when　Arnie　was　out　at　work；　and　she　knew　she　had　time　for　reverie…was　the　fact　that　the　photographer　had　caught　his　subject　unawares。　Well；　shirtless　and　unawares。　Todd　was　sleek　and　pale；　his　body　not　heavy　at　all；　not　all　muscle　and　veins　popping　out；　just　a　nice；　ordinary　body；　the　body　of　the　boy　next　door　if　the　boy　next　door　happened　to　be　perfect。　She　had　never　seen　a　body　she　thought　so　beautiful。　Then　there　was　his　face。　Oh　that　face！　She'd　seen　literally　thousands　of　photographs　of　Todd　in　the　last　eleven　years…and　to　her　adoring　eyes　he　was　handsome　in　every　single　one　of　them…but　in　these　particular　pictures　he　was　something　more　than　handsome。　There　was　a　certain　lost　look　in　his　eyes；　that　allowed　her　to　indulge　the　belief　that　if　she'd　been　there　at　that　moment…if　he'd　seen　her　and　looked　at　her　with　the　same　forsaken　feeling　in　his　heart　as　was　in　his　eyes…everything　in　her　life　would　have　been　different；　and　maybe；　just　maybe；　everything　in　his。
　 When　she　was　thinking　clearly；　she　knew　all　this　was　romantic　nonsense。　She　was　a　plain　woman；　and；　even　though　she'd　shed　thirty…two　pounds　in　the　last　two　years；　was　still　thirty　overweight。　How　could　she　hope　to　pare　with　the　glossy　beauties　Todd　had　romanced；　both　on　screen　and　off？　Still　she　allowed　herself　the　indulgence；　once　in　a　while。　It　made　life　in　Sacramento　a　little　more　bearable　to　know　that　her　secret　glimpses　of　Todd　were　always　there；　hidden　away；　waiting　for　her。　And　best　of　all；　nobody　else　had　them。　They　were　hers　and　hers　alone。
　 There　was　one　other　wonderful　thing　about　the　fourteen　pictures：　they　had　been　snapped　in　such　quick　succession　that　if　she　leafed　through　them　fast　enough　she　could　almost　create　the　illusion　of　movement。　She　did　that　now；　while　she　thought　about　the　way　Maxine　had　talked　to　her　on　the　phone。　That　nonsense　about　Todd　going　away　to　write　his　life　story；　or　whatever　she'd　said　it　was　going　to　be；　it　didn't　ring　true。　It　simply　wasn't　like　Todd　to　be　so　inaccessible。　Every　vacation　he'd　taken…in　India；　in　New　Guinea；　in　the　Amazon；　for　God's　sake…he'd　been　spotted。　Somebody　had　had　a　camera；　and　he'd　posed；　smiled；　waved；　goofed　around。　It　just　wasn't　like　him　to　disappear　like　this。
　 But　what　could　she　do　about　it？　She　wasn't　going　to　get　any　answers　out　of　anybody　close　to　Todd：　they'd　all　trot　out　the　same　story。　She'd　already　exhausted　her　contacts　at　the　studios；　all　of　whom　claimed　not　to　have　seen　Todd　in　a　while。　Even　over　at　Paramount；　where　he　was　supposedly　making　his　next　picture；　nobody　had　seen　him　in　many　months。　Nor；　according　to　her　most　reliable　source　over　there；　the　secretary　to　Sherry　Lansing's　assistant；　were　there　any　meetings　on　the　books；　either　with　Todd　or　any　of　his　production　team。　It　was　all　very　strange；　and　it　made　Tammy　afraid　for　her　man。　Suppose　they　were　covering　something　up？　Suppose　there'd　been　an　accident；　or　an　assault；　and　Todd　had　been　hurt？　Suppose　he　was　in　a　hospital　bed　somewhere　on　life…support；　his　life　slipping　away；　while　all　the　sons　of　bitches　who'd　made　fortunes　off　hi