drooping. ‘You folks is looking at more trouble than what you knowabout,’ he said.

‘Ah. But. You see. Crawley Investment has determined,’ said thearchitect, with closed eyes, ‘that the development currently underconstruction will revitalize the economy of this entire region andencourage substantial expansion of the, as it were, metropolitan area.’

‘Suppose we don’t want no expansion?’‘We all have to move with the times…’‘Why?’ Charlie’s face darkened dangerously.‘Because the times will move without us, whether we like it or not

and my goodness, I have to be moving, too, thank you for introducingme to your clientele, Red. Nice place you have here. Rustic. I imaginethe Cloverleaf Development will put a little more business yourway…’ The architect slid through the door as he was speaking, andsmartly crossed the sidewalk to where his sleek little automobile wasparked.

‘We don’t want no more business!’ Charlie hurled after him,abandoning politeness altogether. The autumn leaves swirled inspirals behind the architect’s car as it purred off down Main.

‘Overlook City is fine as it is,’ Charlie said. ‘Right, Red?’‘Damn straight, Charlie.’ Red swung a towel across his shoulder

and returned to his position behind the bar. ‘Damn straight.’

* * *

The Malarkey Mansion was once the largest and easily the mostmagnificent dwelling in a small settlement which had evolved fairlyclose to Newton’s Ferry, where the east–west Complication Trailcrossed the Timber River. By the time Complication Trail developed

6

THE CLOVERLEAF DEVELOPMENT

into an actual road, another settlement, pleasantly situated somethirty miles downstream between the placid west and temperamentaleast forks of the Timber, had become the City of Overlook andEnvirons. Since, in those days, travel by river invited fewer collisionswith catastrophe than the overland routes, the original settlementdeclined and was eventually abandoned, while Overlook thrived tothe point where it needed looking after.

It was during this fondly remembered period of Overlook’sprosperity that Little Jack Malarkey arrived from somewhere back eastin a flashy roadster, wearing a fancy vest and sporting an expensivesilver watch, in search of somewhere to live and someone to marry.Little Jack soon became a popular figure in Overlook, despite the factthat he was no native and the source of his livelihood, whileapparently reliable, was invisible. Ever the perfect gentleman, of whichthere were regrettably few examples in Overlook County, his way ofsweeping off his hat when opening the door for a lady, of carelesslysetting up whole rounds of drinks for the fellers to be dispensed afterhe had quit the Cattledrive for the night, and the happy smile withwhich he greeted each member of the congregation by name onSunday mornings, turning to rapt and serious attention the instantthe service began, established Jack Malarkey as an outstanding citizenwhose opinions on all matters, civic and social were always inquiredafter and sometimes even considered.

While exploring the territory in his shiny roadster, Little Jacksomehow came across the old ghost town without a name up nearNewton’s Ferry, buried so deep in the woods it could not be seen fromComplication Trail Road. Although most of the buildings had longsince collapsed and were gradually being pulled below the surface ofthe ground by morning glory and ivy, one house, an impressive three-

7

THE CLOVERLEAF DEVELOPMENT

story Victorian with a wraparound porch and extravagantgingerbread, still stood proudly and defiantly, and Jack Malarkey fellin love with it. Shortly thereafter he fell in love with Sarah Fitch, a ladynotorious for being fallen in love with and for returning affectiongenerously and who, to the incredulity of the citizens of Overlook,accepted Little Jack’s proposal of monogamous bliss in an overgrownghost town. As the first of two daughters to be married, Sarah had herchoice of inheriting the family property or the family portables. WithJack’s encouragement, Sarah chose to leave the farm to her sisterMargaret and make do with the heirlooms.

Jack investigated the old Victorian mansion through his contactsback east and managed to secure the house in return for only aportion, so it was said, of the Fitch family jewels. And one balmyspring afternoon Little Jack and Sarah drove from their solemnwedding ceremony the twenty-five miles along the road fromOverlook to Newton’s Ferry, and five winding miles along an almostindistinguishable old dirt track which a brand-new hand-painted signat the junction now identified as Malarkey Drive. The attendantcortege of merrymaking Overlookers was considerably surprised andagreeably impressed by the expanse of newly landscaped grounds,beyond the perimeter of which odd shapeless masses of greeneryappeared to be crawling slowly through the woods.

The reception, consisting of a banquet laid out on long tablesarranged on trim lawns, was as lavish as promised but, as Little Jackwas mortified to have to explain, the renovations to the interior of thehouse were not yet complete and he could allow no-one inside untilthe rooms were decorated to his absolute satisfaction. The guestsagreed that he was such a perfectionist, and insisted that the repairsand paint job Jacky had paid for on the outside went a long way

8

THE CLOVERLEAF DEVELOPMENT

toward restoring the house to its former dignity. Most impressive ofall was the long, high, professionally painted gilt-edged waterproofsign suspended from the top balcony proclaiming the couple’s newhome in ornate and graceful lettering, Malarkey Mansion.

The promised tour of the premises never took place. SarahMalarkey née Fitch bore a child quite soon after the marriage, astrapping boy who grew at an unanticipated rate and when oldenough to attend Overlook School immediately became warriorchieftain of the playground, his position rarely being disputed.During those years Sarah was seen less and less frequently in town,and then rarely, and eventually not at all. At first, Overlookers familiarwith the stories of her youth joked good-naturedly that Jack Malarkeywas probably pretty smart to keep her at home, but soon a sad rumorspread throughout the district. It came to the understanding of thegood citizens of Overlook that the mansion of which Little JackMalarkey was so proud housed a great unhappiness: a wife who, forreasons shrouded in the obscurity of her own mind, confined herselffor most of the hours of most of her days to a darkened bedroom onthe second floor.

But Jack Malarkey was generously spoken of by those whooccasionally shared his table in the hotel restaurant, and the jauntyfigure in the fancy vest strolling the sidewalk in the afternoons,twirling his ornamental cane, came to represent for the residents ofthe little town of Overlook a man ever cheerful in the face of adversity,who had made something of himself and who, despite domestictravail, had become a pillar of the community and an example toothers, even if he had never done a lick of real work in his life.

Consequently, when the Malarkeys disappeared from Overlookone day, leaving their small son in the care of relatives, the surprise to

9

THE CLOVERLEAF DEVELOPMENT

the citizens fueled their imaginations, and many and lurid were thetales about what had really been going on behind the fancy façade ofMalarkey Mansion.

More time passed – slowly, as it does in places like Overlook City,like a great bird flapping across an endless plain – and ComplicationTrail Road developed into a highway and finally into a full-blownfour-lane freeway. An old Indian trail following the south bank of theeast fork of the Timber became a blacktop running from Newton’sFerry to the progressive town of Buckboard, and Overlook City founditself well to the side of all beaten tracks. Eventually the intersection ofthe Complication Freeway with Buckboard Highway becameimportant enough to require an honest-to-God cloverleaf, with on-ramps and off-ramps and its own exit signs, and interest began torevive once more in the site of the original settlement which was bythen – with the exception of the indomitable Malarkey Mansion –barely distinguishable from the undergrowth which had grownthrough, around and over it.

* * *

‘Hey, Red! Seen House, Red? Where’s House at?’Red Bartender, frowning at Hank’s brash disturbance of the

usually peaceful Cattledrive early evening, nodded in the direction ofthe pool table in the far corner. House was lying along the edge of thetable with one foot scrupulously on the floor, squinting down his cue.The shaded light reflected in his smooth pink head.

‘House!’ shouted Hank, just as House made his shot. The cue ballflipped onto the floor and rolled under a table. ‘House! Get on over tothe sheriff’s office. Now!’

10

THE CLOVERLEAF DEVELOPMENT