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.He dialed her number then, this Lindsay whory character, and lay there simply listening to the ringing.Somehow Jim knew he was getting closer to the real beginning of his life, or rebirth, as it were, and he imagined it dangerous and dramatic, like his teenage dreams of becoming a diver for sunken treasure, or a gunrunner, or a pirate.Early the next morning Jim rented a car and located the address written on the envelopes.Jim parked up the street from Lindsay’s townhouse on South 6th Street and waited.When Lindsay came out and drove off in her car, he followed her.He saw where she parked near her office, which was a real estate company in a restored old Victorian house at the edge of town not far from the university.Jim drove around for a while, took a spin out Rattlesnake Creek as far as Danny O’Brien Gulch, to get some air, clear his head, then got something to eat at a drive- through.Jim parked up the street from Lindsay’s vehicle and waited while he puffed a joint and sipped from a pint bottle of bourbon in a brown paper bag.He slouched down into the seat and gazed into that great blue bowl of sky that domed over the beautiful Missoula Valley, within whose long lap the garden city of the Northwest nestled.When there weren’t any sounds of traffic, Jim could hear the low rumble of the Clark Fork River, which flowed through the heart of town, and upon whose banks at about any time of day you could find fishermen fly casting, the white filament of their lines gathering sunlight into curves, bright arabesques flicking out toward the swift current.Jim fired another joint and looked up at the steep slope of Mount Sentinel, rising behind the brick buildings of the university, to that huge design of whitewashed stones arranged in a shape not unlike the letter My high up on the bare brown hillside, which shone intensely in the brilliant sunlight, like a landing signal to alien craft or the ceremonial snake sign of an ancient, fallen race, the nearly forgotten ancestors of the Salish Indian nation, say.He had heard various tales about that mysterious totem, and even initiated a few refried ones of his own.Jim puffed leisurely and let his gaze drift north to Mount Jumbo, which got its name because townfolks thought it looked like a sleeping elephant.In the distance, the snow- covered, high granite peaks of the Rockies glistened bluish in the sunlight as they ranged north toward Canada.Jim could hear the whistle of a Northern Pacific freight as it headed east up Hell- gate Canyon toward Milltown and beyond.When this Lindsay character finally came out at lunchtime, Jim pulled his fedora low over his shaded, steely eyes and sank down in the seat.When she drove off, Jim followed her again; then he followed her when she got off work.Jim followed this Lindsay character for days like that, snapping photographs of her at every opportunity with a cheap Polaroid he had picked up at a drugstore, photographs (if you could call them that) of her getting in and out of her car, and other people’s cars, men’s sometimes, as she came and went from restaurants, bars, and, on a couple of occasions, with this one clown in particular, from a fancy edge-of-the-river motel only a few blocks from her office.Some photographs captured this Lindsay character coming and going with this same man, who was an older fellow, in his late forties, say, who walked with a slight limp, from her own townhouse at the crack of dawn.Jim was doing detective work for his best pal, Ralph.Jim would do anything for his dopey friend.Jim was going to get the goods on this Lindsay character, amass so much incriminating evidence that old fool-for-love Ralph could not help but come to realize that this Lindsay character did not truly love him, and that her wonderfully written, smart, amusing, insightful, sexy letters were loaded with lies.Shot through the curved glare of windshield glass, shadowy and grainy, as though culled from ancient newsreel footage, the pictures Jim took of this Lindsay were poor mugshots at best.In this one shot she seemed to be looking directly at him, although through her huge, dark sunglasses he could not see her lovely, gray, otherworldly eyes, so who could be sure.Lindsay seemed, however, to be making a face in Jim’s direction, sort of clowning for the camera, touching her nose with her wondrous tongue.Sitting in his rented car late one night, while he waited for Lindsay to emerge from that fancy motel at the river’s edge, what Jim had let himself imagine as he studied that particular mugshot in the iridescent light of the dashboard was that trollop and her old coot lover up in that motel room, in the shower, say, soaping each other up, committing unspeakable, sudsy sexual acts.Then, out of the blue, old Ralph climbed into the shower, too.Then, holding hands and naked, Judy and Melvin showed up and asked to borrow some soap.Whereupon Jim had whipped out old nasty Mister Monkey for some serious spanking.Black Widow1Lindsay goes to the party Buffalo Bill and Kathy throw for Ken Kesey after his reading at the university.Her old drinking pal Jim Crumley is there, up from Texas to show off his new detective novel, which is set in Missoula and dedicated to Dick Hugo, the grand old detective of the American heart.Buffalo had speculated that Crumley and this Jim Stark guy, Ralph’s friend up recendy from California, would rooster around each other when they met, but apparently it had been best-buddy love at first sight, and Buffalo, Crumley, and this Jim Stark regale the kitchen hardcore drinking crowd with outrageous tall tales of miscreant misadventures, while Kesey slouches in a doorway bemused.This Jim Stark guy is big and bearded and, when babbling with the boys, seems loud and bullshitty, but then suddenly terribly shy and awkward when Kathy introduces him to Lindsay [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]