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Gone Girl (Gillian Flynn) (z-lib.org)

We don’t
buy what we can’t pay for
; it was the Dunne family motto.
‘We don’t – I don’t, at least – but I don’t think Amy
would—Can I see those?’ I stuttered, just as a low-flying
bomber rattled the windowpanes. A plant on the mantel
promptly lost five pretty purple leaves. Forced into silence
for ten brain-shaking seconds, we all watched the leaves
flutter to the ground.
‘Yet this great brawl we’re supposed to believe
happened in here, and not a petal was on the floor then,’
Gilpin muttered disgustedly.
I took the papers from Boney and saw my name, only
my name, versions of it – Nick Dunne, Lance Dunne, Lance
N. Dunne, Lance Nicholas Dunne, on a dozen different
credit cards, balances from $62.78 to $45,602.33, all in
various states of lateness, terse threats printed in ominous
lettering across the top: pay now.
‘Holy fuck! This is, like, identity theft or something!’ I
said. ‘They’re not mine. I mean, freakin’ look at some of this
stuff: I don’t even golf.’ Someone had paid over seven
thousand dollars for a set of clubs. ‘Anyone can tell you: I
really
don’t golf.’ I tried to make it sound self-effacing – 
yet
another thing I’m not good at
– but the detectives weren’t
biting.
‘You know Noelle Hawthorne?’ Boney asked. ‘The
friend of Amy’s you told us to check out?’
‘Wait, I want to talk about the bills, because they are
not mine,’ I said. ‘I mean, please, seriously, we need to


track this down.’
‘We’ll track it down, no problem,’ Boney said,
expressionless. ‘Noelle Hawthorne?’
‘Right. I told you to check her out because she’s been
all over town, wailing about Amy.’
Boney arched an eyebrow. ‘You seem angry about
that.’
‘No, like I told you, she seems a little too broken up,
like in a fake way. Ostentatious. Attention-seeking. A little
obsessed.’
‘We talked to Noelle,’ Boney said. ‘Says your wife was
extremely troubled by the marriage, was upset about the
money stuff, that she worried you’d married her for her
money. She says your wife worried about your temper.’
‘I don’t know why Noelle would say that; I don’t think
she and Amy ever exchanged more than five words.’
‘That’s funny, because the Hawthornes’ living room is
covered with photos of Noelle and your wife.’ Boney
frowned. I frowned too: actual real pictures of her and Amy?
Boney continued: ‘At the St. Louis zoo last October, on
a picnic with the triplets, on a weekend float trip this past
June. As in 
last month
.’
‘Amy has never uttered the name Noelle in the entire
time we’ve lived here. I’m serious.’ I scanned my brain over
this past June and came upon a weekend I went away with
Andie, told Amy I was doing a boys’ trip to St. Louis. I’d
returned home to find her pink-cheeked and angry, claiming
a weekend of bad cable and bored reading on the deck.
And she was on a float trip? No. I couldn’t think of anything
Amy would care for less than the typical midwestern float
trip: beers bobbing in coolers tied to canoes, loud music,


drunk frat boys, campgrounds dotted with vomit. ‘Are you
sure it was my wife in those photos?’
They gave each other a 
he serious?
look.
‘Nick,’ Boney said. ‘We have no reason to believe that
the woman in the photos who looks exactly like your wife
and who Noelle Hawthorne, a mother of three, your wife’s
best friend here in town, says is your wife, is not your wife.’
‘Your wife who – I should say – according to Noelle,
you married for money,’ Gilpin added.
‘I’m not joking,’ I said. ‘Anyone these days can doctor
photos on a laptop.’
‘Okay, so a minute ago you were sure Desi Collings
was involved, and now you’ve moved on to Noelle
Hawthorne,’ Gilpin said. ‘It seems like you’re really casting
about for someone to blame.’
‘Besides me? Yes, I am. Look, I did not marry Amy for
her money. You really should talk more with Amy’s parents.
They know me, they know my character.’ 
They don’t know
everything
, I thought, my stomach seizing. Boney was
watching me; she looked sort of sorry for me. Gilpin didn’t
even seem to be listening.
‘You bumped up the life insurance coverage on your
wife to one-point-two million,’ Gilpin said with mock
weariness. He even pulled a hand over his long, thin-jawed
face.
‘Amy did that herself!’ I said quickly. The cops both just
looked at me and waited. ‘I mean, I filed the paperwork, but
it was Amy’s idea. She insisted. I swear, I couldn’t care
less, but Amy said – she said, given the change in her
income, it made her feel more secure or something, or it
was a smart business decision. Fuck, I don’t know, I don’t


know why she wanted it. I didn’t ask her to.’
‘Two months ago, someone did a search on your
laptop,’ Boney continued. ‘
Body Float Mississippi River
.
Can you explain that?’
I took two deep breaths, nine seconds to pull myself
together.
‘God, that was just a dumb book idea,’ I said. ‘I was
thinking about writing a book.’
‘Huh,’ Boney replied.
‘Look, here’s what I think is happening,’ I began. ‘I think
a lot of people watch these news programs where the
husband is always this awful guy who kills his wife, and they
are seeing me through that lens, and some really innocent,
normal things are being twisted. This is turning into a witch
hunt.’
‘That’s how you explain those credit-card bills?’ Gilpin
asked.
‘I told you, I can’t explain the fucking credit-card bills
because I have nothing to do with them. It’s your fucking job
to figure out where they came from!’
They sat silent, side by side, waiting.
‘What is currently being done to find my wife?’ I asked.
‘What leads are you exploring, besides me?’
The house began shaking, the sky ripped, and through
the back window, we could see a jet shooting past, right
over the river, buzzing us.
‘F-10,’ Rhonda said.
‘Nah, too small,’ Gilpin said. ‘It’s got to be—’
‘It’s an F-10.’
Boney leaned toward me, hands entwined. ‘It’s our job
to make sure you are in the hundred percent clear, Nick,’


she said. ‘I know you want that too. Now if you can just help
us out with the few little tangles – because that’s what they
are, they keep tripping us up.’
‘Maybe it’s time I got a lawyer.’
The cops exchanged another look, as if they’d settled
a bet.



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