kept waiting for Lois to comment on either his speed or his sloppy driving habits (he didn't think he would be able to remember his blinkers with any consistency these days even if someone put a gun to his head), but she said nothing-only sat where Carolyn had sat on five thousand rides or more, holding her purse on her lap exactly as Carolyn had always held hers. Wedges of light-store neon, traffic signals, streetlights-ran like rainbows across Lois's cheeks and brows. Her dark eyes were distant and thoughtful. She had cried after Rosalie died, cried hard, and made Ralph pull down the shade again.
Ralph almost hadn't done that. His first impulse had been to bolt out into the street before Joe Wyzer could get away. To tell Joe he had to be very careful. To tell him that when he emptied his pants pockets tonight, he was going to be missing a cheap comb, no big deal, people were always losing combs, except this time it was a big deal, and next time it might be Rite Aid pharmacist Joe Wyzer lying at the end of the skid. Listen to me, Joe, and listen closely. You have to be very careful, because there's all sorts of news from the HyperReality Zone, and in your case all of it comes inside black borders.
There were problems with that, however. The biggest was that Joe Wyzer, sympathetic as he had been on the day he had gotten Ralph an appointment with the acupuncturist, would think Ralph was crazy.
Besides, how did one defend oneself against a creature one couldn't even see?
So he had pulled the shade... but before he did, he took one last hard look at the man who had told him he used to be Joe Wyze but was now older and Wyzer. The auras were still there, and he could see Wyzer's balloon-string, a bright orange-yellow, rising intact from the top of his head. So he was still all right.
For now, at least.
Ralph had led Lois into the kitchen and poured her another cup of coffee-black, with lots of sugar.
"He killed her, didn't he?" she asked as she raised the cup to her lips with both hands. "The little beast killed her."
"Yes, But I don't think he did it tonight. I think he really did it this morning."
"Why? Why."
"Because he could," Ralph said grimly. "I think that's the only reason he needs. just because he could."
Lois had given him a long, appraising look, and an expression of relief had slowly crept into her eyes. "You've figured it out, haven't you? I should have known it the minute I saw you this evening. I would have known, if I hadn't had so many other things rolling around in what passes for my mind."
"Figured it out? I'm miles from that, but I have had some ideas.
Lois, do you feel up to a trip to Derry Home with me?"
"I suppose so. Do you want to see Bill?"
"I'm not sure exactly who I want to see. It might be Bill, but it might be Bill's friend, Bob Polhurst. Maybe even jimmy Vandermeer-do you know him?"
"Jimmy V.? Of course I know him! I knew his wife even better.
In fact, she used to play poker with us until she died. It was a heart attack, and so sudden-" She broke off suddenly, looking at Ralph with her dark Spanish eyes. "Jimmy's in the hospital? Oh God, it's the cancer, isn't it? The cancer came back."
"Yes. He's in the room right next to Bill's friend." Ralph told her about the conversation he'd had with Faye that morning and the note he'd found on the picnic table that afternoon. He pointed out the odd conjunction of rooms and residents-Polhurst, jimmy V Carolyn-and asked Lois if she thought it was just a coincidence.
"No. I'm sure it isn't." She had glanced at the clock. "Come on-regular visiting hours over there finish at nine-thirty, I think.
If we're going to get there before then, we'd better turn it on Now, as he turned onto Hospital Drive (Forgot your damned blinker again, sweetheart, Carolyn commented), he glanced at LoisLois sitting there with her hands clasped on her purse and her aura invisible for the time being-and asked if she was all right.
She nodded. "Yes. Not great, but okay. Don't worry about me."
But I do worry, Lois, Ralph thought. A lot. And by the way, did you see Doc #3 take the comb out of Joe Wyzer's pocket?