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Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Duvall and Oates!” the kid cried and drummed his palms on the edge of the table. “C’mon, that’s funny. It’s so close.” “It was funnier when we first got paired up together,” Duvall said. “Oh yeah? When was that?” “Around the time you discovered crayons aren’t as tasty as they look.
Martin Lorensen was either an extraordinarily lucky young man or extraordinarily unlucky, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Or—just possibly—luck didn’t figure into it at all.
“If you help us out,” Oates told him, “maybe he’ll let you look at it after the interview is over.” “Wow!” Martin said. “That’d be so cool.” “You really think so?” Oates asked. “No. I was trying for deadpan sarcasm myself. How’d I do?” “Need to work on the deadpan part,” Duvall said, tucking his damp tie back into his damp jacket.
He was also—and this was the most interesting thing about him, in Anthony Duvall’s view—not dead.
“Four Thousand Weeks, Oliver Burkeman,” Duvall said. “What lasts four thousand weeks?” “A human life,” Martin said. “If you’re lucky.”
“I think sometimes, once in a while, nearly dying brings a new clarity to a person’s life,” Duvall said.
This is a guy who unironically bought tickets to see Ed Sheeran.”
No, but sometimes people get a taste for it. Did you ever get a taste for it, Martin?
Why do you suspect him?!
It never seemed like dying was anything so terrible. Most of them just kind of quietly . . . went. Like someone blowing on a dandelion clock, gentle as that. You do get used to it. You find out it’s the most normal thing in the world, like sex, or having a baby, or nursing a baby. It’s one of these fundamental human things, reminds you you’re part of nature. We forget that, you know. Or try not to think about it. Which is stupid. It’s better to just be a mammal. You know, take long naked naps in the sun. Never miss a chance to splash in the tide.”
“Martin, did you speak to anyone before you got on the train?” “You’re wondering about Mrs. Giovanni. Look, I know what she said on Instagram, but it’s not true.” “You didn’t warn her and her daughter not to get on the train?” “No.” “Why would she tell an NBC news affiliate that you did?” “I didn’t say anything to Mrs. Giovanni,” Martin said. “Not one word! I had a brief conversation with her daughter. Like, thirty seconds. She asked if I was all right, and I said, ‘I can’t get on the train.’” “Mrs. Giovanni says you told her and her daughter not to get on the train. She said, and I’m quoting
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“Is it, though? Makes a great Instagram story, doesn’t it? A creepy random encounter and a narrow brush with death? It was such a great story it got her on TV, like you said. Social media brings out the worst in people. They’ll say anything for the likes.”
“She was a real nice kid. And, by the way, I’d like to note that Audrey hasn’t commented on any of this. Her mom has been telling this story about me, but the daughter hasn’t gone on TV or Facebook or Instagram or anything to back her up. She knows what I said. Have you asked her what I said?” “She’s a minor, and her mother has not made her available for an interview.
how convenient
“In your senior year, you survived a school shooting that claimed—”
“Hang on,” Martin said, holding up a finger. “There it is again. I didn’t survive a school shooting. I have friends who survived a school shooting. I wasn’t there. I was home. I had, to be honest, a seriously offensive case of diarrhea. Ask my mom.”
“So before I sold oxy to the engineer of Mohawk 118, you think I sold a Bushmaster to Timothy Berk?”
“Martin, do you see what I’m struggling with here? You don’t get on the train and it crashes. You don’t go to school and half your homeroom gets riddled with bullets.” “Mr. Duvall, you think there’s something suspicious about me because I wasn’t shot in a school shooting and I didn’t die in a train crash.” He craned his neck and peered around them in an exaggerated way. “Better take a look around. You’re surrounded by people who didn’t die in school shootings and weren’t killed in train crashes. If that makes someone a criminal, you better call for backup. You’re going to be arresting a lot of
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ope
“Boy, that’s going to be some fun viewing. Just as good as the first season of Yellowstone.”
“Mr. North said that? He’d do a handstand? He’s usually a lot more foulmouthed than that. This is a guy, his favorite adjective is the f-word.”
“Actually, he said if it turned out you were stealing oxy from the pharmacy, he’d get down under the table and blow the both of us.” “Ah! That’s Mr. North.”
“You’re not going to eat that? Can I have it? I love these things, but I gotta watch my pennies. You make surprisingly little money not selling oxycodone to people driving trains.”
As for Timothy Berk, I can’t ask him if he knew you, because the police put seven bullets in him fourteen minutes after he entered the school and began killing.
She said she wanted to read it to me because she wanted to be sure she wasn’t sharing anything off-limits about our family. But really I think she was just proud of it.” “Good paper?” “Good but tough.
“I guess it must be kind of weird. You ever see something like what happened to George Floyd and think about not being a cop anymore?”
oh geez...the dude was a fucking criminal dying of drug overdose
