The Dark Half Read Online Free Page A

was not until late on the second day of the photo-and-interview session that Thad realized the woman was sounding him out about writing the text. Death and Teddy Bears, she said, would be “the final, perfect comment on the American way of death, don’t you think so, Thad?”
    He supposed that, in light of her rather macabre interests, it wasn’t all that surprising that the Myers woman had commissioned George Stark’s tombstone and brought it with her from New York. It was papier-mâché.
    â€œYou don’t mind shaking hands in front of this, do you?” she had asked them with a smile that was at the same time wheedling and complacent. “It’ll make a wonderful shot. ”
    Liz had looked at Thad, questioning and a little horrified. Then they both had looked at the fake tombstone which had come from New York City (year-round home of People magazine) to Castle Rock, Maine (summer home of Thad and Liz Beaumont), with a mixture of amazement and bemused wonder. It was the inscription to which Thad’s eye kept returning:
    Not a Very Nice Guy
    Stripped to its essentials, the story People wanted to tell the breathless celebrity-watchers of America was pretty simple. Thad Beaumont was a well-regarded writer whose first novel, The Sudden Dancers, had been nominated for the National Book Award in 1972. This sort of thing swung some weight with literary critics, but the breathless celebrity-watchers of America didn’t care a dime about Thad Beaumont, who had only published one other novel under his own name since The man many of them did care about wasn’t a real man at all. Thad had written one huge best-seller and three extremely successful follow-up novels under another name. The name, of course, was George Stark.
    Jerry Harkavay, who was the Associated Press’s entire Waterville staff, had been the first to break the George Stark story wide after Thad’s agent, Rick Cowley, gave it to Louise Booker at Publishers Weekly with Thad’s approval. Neither Harkavay nor Booker had got the whole story—for one thing, Thad was adamant about not giving that smarmy little prick Frederick Clawson so much as a mention—but it was still good enough to rate a wider circulation than either the AP wire service or the book-publishing industry’s trade magazine could give. Clawson, Thad had told Liz and Rick, was not the story—he was just the asshole who was forcing them to go public with the story.
    In the course of that first interview, Jerry had asked him what sort of a fellow George Stark was. “George,” Thad had replied, “wasn’t a very nice guy.” The quote had run at the top of Jerry’s piece, and it had given the Myers woman the inspiration to actually commission a fake tombstone with that line on it. Weird world. Weird, weird world.
    All of a sudden, Thad burst out laughing again.

2
    There were two lines of white type on the black field below the picture of Thad and Liz in one of Castle Rock’s finer boneyards.
    THE DEAR DEPARTED WAS EXTREMELY CLOSE TO THESE TWO PEOPLE, read the first.
    SO WHY ARE THEY LAUGHING? read the second.
    â€œBecause the world is one strange fucking place,” Thad Beaumont said, and snorted into one cupped hand.
    Liz Beaumont wasn’t the only one who felt vaguely uneasy about this odd little burst of publicity. He felt a little uneasy himself. All the same, be found it difficult to stop laughing. He’d quit for a few seconds and then a fresh spate of guffaws would burst out of him as his eye caught on that line—Not a Very Nice Guy—again. Trying to quit was like trying to plug the holes in a poorly constructed earthen dam; as soon as you got one leak stopped up, you saw a new one someplace else.
    Thad suspected there was something not quite right about such helpless laughter—it was a form of hysteria. He knew that humor rarely if ever had anything to do with such fits. In fact, the