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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

Should he dial 911? It wasn’t exactly an emergency, a tramp looking over your fence. But it was a potential emergency if he was going to rob your house, and Roddy was in a hurry. He thought for a moment and decided to go for it anyway, punching in the numbers and watching the dark, hunched figure in the snow as he put the phone to his ear. Even though the man was too far away for Roddy to see the details of his face, he felt the man’s eyes sweeping his face like a searchlight. He felt a little lightheaded. The phone was making a buzzing noise now that made him feel strange. It calmed him, made him think of sweet summer smells, the scent of choke-cherry blossom dancing in white clusters on the end of thin green branches even though he stood in a towelling dressing gown only a glass pane away from a blizzard.

‘Roddy?’

A woman’s voice on the phone. Roddy was only mildly surprised. Must have misdialled. This certainly wasn’t the police but he felt pretty good about it.

‘Roddy? Is that you?’

‘Mom?’

Why hadn’t he phoned his Mom lately? he wondered dreamily. He remembered she’d been dead twelve years, that was why. But it sure was nice to talk to her again.

‘Roddy. Ask the man in. He needs clothes and some sleep.’

‘I thought he was a thief, Mom.’

‘Don’t be silly, Roddy. He needs to come in right now.’

He was sure he could hear larks in the background. There was certainly a feeling of summer, like his Mom was calling to him from the house to come in and get his lunch. He could feel the sun on his face, and smell honeysuckle in the air.

‘Okay, Mom.’

He took the phone from his ear and went to the window. The man seemed to be waiting for a sign. Roddy banged on the glass and beckoned him forward with a smile. Calvin Bitterhand opened the white wooden gate and slowly shuffled up to the house.

18

Sometimes you just have an instinct as a patroller. Mike wished his instinct had been wrong. But it wasn’t. The guy in the clown suit said that his buddy was right behind him on the mogul field and that he waited for him at the bottom. Couldn’t have missed him if he’d come down, he’d said. He got a rocket up his Californian ass from patrol, of course, for skiing a closed run, but the poor kid seemed upset enough. They let it go and didn’t take away his lift pass.

‘There’s no way I could have missed him, man,’ he’d whined. ‘I stood right here at the base and he just didn’t show. Ain’t no other way down.’