flynn_gillian_gone_girl (1) (858987), страница 52
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Hereminded me of the Elliotts, in a way—examining and analyzing at all times. A brainwith no off switch.“Show me,” Tanner said before I could greet him. “Point me toward the shed—do notcome with me, and do not go near it again. Then you’ll tell me everything.”We settled down at the kitchen table—me, Tanner, and a just-woken Go, huddlingover her rst cup of co ee. I spread out all of Amy’s clues like some awful tarot-cardreader.Tanner leaned toward me, his neck muscles tense.
“Okay, Nick, make your case,” hesaid. “Your wife orchestrated this whole thing. Make the case!” He jabbed his indexnger on the table. “Because I’m not moving forward with my dick in one hand and awild story about a frame-up in the other. Unless you convince me. Unless it works.”I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts. I was always better at writing thantalking. “Before we start,” I said, “you have to understand one very key thing aboutAmy: She is fucking brilliant. Her brain is so busy, it never works on just one level.
She’slike this endless archaeological dig: You think you’ve reached the nal layer, and thenyou bring down your pick one more time, and you break through to a whole new mineshaft beneath. With a maze of tunnels and bottomless pits.”“Fine,” Tanner said. “So …”“The second thing you need to know about Amy is, she is righteous. She is one ofthose people who is never wrong, and she loves to teach lessons, dole out punishment.”“Right, fine, so …”“Let me tell you a story, one quick story. About three years ago, we were driving upto Massachusetts.
It was awful, road-rage tra c, and this trucker ipped Amy o —shewouldn’t let him in—and then he zoomed up and cut her o . Nothing dangerous, butreally scary for a second. You know those signs on the back of trucks: How Am I Driving?She had me call and give them the license plate. I thought that was the end of it. Twomonths later—two months later—I walked into our bedroom, and Amy was on thephone, repeating that license plate. She had a whole story: She was traveling with hertwo-year-old, and the driver had nearly run her o the road. She said it was her fourthcall.
She said she’d even researched the company’s routes so she could pick the correcthighways for her fake near-accidents. She thought of everything. She was really proud.She was going to get that guy fired.”“Jesus, Nick,” Go muttered.“That’s a very … enlightening story, Nick,” Tanner said.“It’s just an example.”“So, now, help me put this all together,” he said. “Amy nds out you’re cheating. Shefakes her death. She makes the supposed crime scene look just shy enough to raiseeyebrows. She’s screwed you over with the credit cards and the life insurance and yourlittle man-cave situation out back …”“She picks an argument with me the night before she goes missing, and she does itstanding near an open window so our neighbor will hear.”“What was the argument?”“I am a sel sh asshole.
Basically, the same one we always have. What our neighbordoesn’t hear is Amy apologizing later—because Amy doesn’t want her to hear that. Imean, I remember being astonished, because it was the quickest makeup we’ve ever had.By the morning she was freakin’ making me crepes, for crying out loud.”I saw her again at the stove, licking powdered sugar o her thumb, humming toherself, and I pictured me, walking over to her and shaking her until—“Okay, and the treasure hunt?” Tanner said. “What’s the theory there?”Each clue was unfolded on the table.
Tanner picked up a few and let them drop.“Those are all just bonus fuck-yous,” I said. “I know my wife, believe me. She knewshe had to do a treasure hunt or it would look shy. So she does it, and of course it haseighteen different meanings. Look at the first clue.”I picture myself as your student,With a teacher so handsome and wiseMy mind opens up (not to mention my thighs!)If I were your pupil, there’d be no need for flowersMaybe just a naughty appointment during your office hoursSo hurry up, get going, please doAnd this time I’ll teach you a thing or two.“It’s pure Amy.
I read this, I think: Hey, my wife is irting with me. No. She’s actuallyreferring to my … in delity with Andie. Fuck-you number one. So I go there, to myo ce, with Gilpin, and what’s waiting for me? A pair of women’s underwear. Not evenclose to Amy’s size—the cops kept asking everyone what size Amy wore, I couldn’t gureout why.”“But Amy had no way of knowing Gilpin would be with you.” Tanner frowned.“It’s a damn good bet,” Go interrupted. “Clue One was part of the actual crime scene—so the cops would know about it—and she has the words o ce hours right in it. It’slogical they’d go there, with or without Nick.”“So whose panties are they?” Tanner asked.
Go squinched her nose at the wordpanties.“Who knows?” I said. “I’d assumed they were Andie’s, but … Amy probably justbought them. The main point is they’re not Amy’s size. They lead anyone to believesomething inappropriate happened in my o ce with someone who is not my wife.Fuck-you number two.”“And if the cops weren’t with you when you went to the o ce?” Tanner asked.
“Orno one noticed the panties?”“She doesn’t care, Tanner! This treasure hunt, it’s as much for her amusement asanything. She doesn’t need it. She’s overdone it all just to make sure there are a milliondamning little clues in circulation. Again, you’ve got to know my wife: She’s a belt-andsuspenders type.”“Okay. Clue Two,” Tanner said.Picture me: I’m crazy about youMy future is anything but hazy with youYou took me here so I could hear you chatAbout your boyhood adventures: crummy jeans and visor hatScrew everyone else, for us they’re all ditchedAnd let’s sneak a kiss … pretend we just got hitched.“This is Hannibal,” I said. “Amy and I visited there once, so that’s how I read it, butit’s also another place where I had … relations with Andie.”“And you didn’t get a red flag?” Tanner said.“No, not yet, I was too moony about the notes Amy had written me.
God, the girlknows me cold. She knows exactly what I want to hear. You are brilliant. You are witty.And how fun for her to know that she could fuck with my head like that still. Longdistance, even. I mean, I was … Christ, I was practically falling in love with her again.”My throat hitched for a moment. The goofy story about her friend Insley’s halfdressed, disgusting baby. Amy knew that was what I had loved most about us back whenI loved us: not the big moments, not the Romantic with capital-R moments, but oursecret inside jokes.
And now she was using them all against me.“And guess what?” I said. “They just found Amy’s purse in Hannibal. I’m sure as hellsomeone can place me there. Hell, I paid for my tour ticket with my credit card. Soagain, here is this piece of evidence, and Amy making sure I can be linked to it.”“What if no one found the purse?” Tanner asked.“Doesn’t matter,” Go said. “She’s keeping Nick running in circles, she’s amusingherself. I’m sure she was happy just knowing what a guilt trip it must be for Nick to bereading all these sweet notes when he knows he’s a cheat and she’s gone missing.”I tried not to wince at her disgusted tone: cheat.“What if Gilpin were still with Nick when he went to Hannibal?” Tanner persisted.“What if Gilpin were with Nick the whole time, so he knew that Nick didn’t plant thepurse then?”“Amy knows me well enough to know I’d ditch Gilpin.
She knows I wouldn’t want astranger watching me read this stuff, gauging my reactions.”“Really? How do you know that?”“I just do.” I shrugged. I knew, I just knew.“Clue Three,” I said, and pushed it into Tanner’s hand.Maybe you feel guilty for bringing me hereI must admit it felt a bit queerBut it’s not like we had the choice of many a placeWe made the decision: We made this our space.Let’s take our love to this little brown houseGimme some goodwill, you hot lovin’ spouse!“See, I misread this, thinking that bringing me here meant Carthage, but again, she’sreferring to my father’s house, and—”“It’s yet another place where you fucked this Andie girl,” Tanner said. He turned tomy sister.
“Pardon the vulgarity.”Go gave a no-problem flick of her hand.Tanner continued: “So, Nick. There are incriminating women’s panties in your o ce,where you fucked Andie, and there is Amy’s incriminating purse in Hannibal, where youfucked Andie, and there is an incriminating treasure trove of secret credit-card purchasesin the woodshed, where you fucked Andie.”“Uh, yeah. Yes, that’s right.”“So what’s at your dad’s house?”AMY ELLIOTT DUNNESEVEN DAYS GONEI’m pregnant! Thank you, Noelle Hawthorne, the world knows it now, you littleidiot.
In the day since she pulled her stunt at my vigil (I do wish she hadn’t upstaged myvigil, though—ugly girls can be such thunder stealers), the hatred against Nick hasballooned. I wonder if he can breathe with all that fury building around him.I knew the key to big-time coverage, round-the-clock, frantic, bloodlust never-endingEllen Abbott coverage, would be the pregnancy. Amazing Amy is tempting as is. AmazingAmy knocked up is irresistible. Americans like what is easy, and it’s easy to likepregnant women—they’re like ducklings or bunnies or dogs. Still, it ba es me that theseself-righteous, self-enthralled waddlers get such special treatment.
As if it’s so hard tospread your legs and let a man ejaculate between them.You know what is hard? Faking a pregnancy.Pay attention, because this is impressive. It started with my vacant-brained friendNoelle. The Midwest is full of these types of people: the nice-enoughs. Nice enough butwith a soul made of plastic—easy to mold, easy to wipe down. The woman’s entiremusic collection is formed from Pottery Barn compilations. Her bookshelves are stockedwith co ee-table crap: The Irish in America.
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