ch.doublewhammy-第14部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


nics　obviously　were　ruined　from　being　submerged　in　the　lake；　but　Ott　was　fascinated　anyway。　He　hoisted　the　console　out　of　the　dumpster　to　take　a　closer　look。
　He　set　the　heavy　piece　on　his　lap　and　imagined　himself　at　the　controls　of　a　two…hundred…horsepower　speedboat。　He　pretended　to　hunker　behind　the　Plexiglas　windshield　and　aim　the　boat　along　a　winding　creek。　The　only　trouble　was；　the　steering　wheel　wouldn't　budge　in　his　hands。
　Ott　turned　the　console　over；　thinking　the　shaft　had　gotten　snarled　in　all　the　loose　wiring。　But　that　wasn't　the　problem；　the　problem　was　a　short　length　of　black　nylon　rope。　The　rope　had　been　wrapped　tightly　around　the　base　of　the　steering　column　beneath　the　console；　where　it　wouldn't　be　seen。　Ott　plucked　fruitlessly　at　the　coils；　the　rope　had　been　tied　on　with　authority。　The　steering　was　pletely　jammed。
　Which　meant；　of　course；　that　the　direction　of　Bobby　Clinch's　boat　had　been　fixed。　It　meant　that　Clinch　himself　needn't　have　been　at　the　wheel　at　the　instant　of　the　crash。　It　meant　that　the　fisherman　probably　was　already　dying　or　injured　when　the　ghost…driven　bass　boat　flipped　over　and　tunneled　bow…first　into　the　chilly　water。
　Ott　Pickney　did　not　grasp　this　scenario　as　swiftly　as　he　might　have。　It　was　dawning　on　him　slowly；　but　he　became　so　engrossed　in　the　contemplation　that　he　lost　track　of　his　surroundings。　He　heard　footsteps　and　looked　up；　expecting　to　see　Miller；　the　carpenter's　black　apprentice。　Instead　there　were　three　other　men；　dressed　in　the　standard　local　garb…caps；　jeans；　flannel　shirts。　One　of　the　visitors　carried　a　short　piece　of　lumber；　a　second　carried　a　loop　of　heavy　wire；　the　other　just　stood　dull…eyed；　fists　at　his　side。　Ott　started　to　say　something　but　his　greeting　died　beneath　the　grinding　whine　of　a　carpenter's　table　saw；　Miller　back　at　work　inside　the　shed。　The　three　men　stepped　closer。　Only　one　was　a　local；　but　he　recognized　Ott　Pickney　and　knew　that　the　reporter　could　identify　him。　Unfortunately　for　Ott；　none　of　the　men　wished　to　see　their　names　in　the　paper。
　
　Dennis　Gault　was　holding　a　stack　of　VCR　cassettes　when　he　answered　the　door。　He　was　wearing　salmon　shorts　and　a　loose　mesh　top　that　looked　like　it　would　have　made　an　excellent　mullet　seine。　Gault　led　R。　J。　Decker　to　the　living　room；　which　was　filled　with　low　flat…looking　furniture。　The　predominant　hue　was　cranberry。
　Gault　put　a　cassette　in　the　video　recorder　and　told　Decker　to　sit　down。　〃Want　a　drink？〃　Gault　asked。　He　smelled　like　he　was　on　his　tenth　Smirnoff。
　Decker　took　a　cold　beer。
　A　fishing　show　came　on　the　television　screen。　Gault　used　the　remote　control　to　fast…forward　the　tape。　Two　guys　in　a　bass　boat；　Decker　could　tell；　casting　and　reeling；　casting　and　reeling；　occasionally　hauling　in　a　small　fish。　Fast…forward　was　the　only　way　to　endure　this；　Decker　decided。
　A　mercial　came　on　and　Gault　abruptly　hit　the　freeze　button。　〃Theeeeere's　Dickie！〃　he　sang　derisively。
　On　the　screen　Dickie　Lockhart　stood　by　the　side　of　a　lake；　squinting　into　the　sun。　He　was　wearing　a　crisply　pressed　bassets　jumpsuit；　desert　tan；　his　cap　was　off　and　his　hair　was　blow…dried　to　perfection。　He　was　holding　up　a　sixteen…ounce　bottle　of　Happy　Gland　Fish　Scent；　and　grinning。
　〃Does　that　stuff　really　work？〃　Decker　asked。　A　bit　off　the　point；　but　he　was　curious。
　〃Hard　to　say；〃　Gault　replied。　〃Stinks　like　a　sack　of　dead　cats；　that's　for　sure。〃
　He　speeded　the　tape　forward　until　he　found　the　segment　he'd　been　searching　for。　He　froze　the　picture　as　the　angler　in　the　bow　of　the　boat　hoisted　a　fat　black　bass　to　show　the　camera。
　〃There！　Look　now；　pay　attention！〃　Gault　said。　Excitedly　he　shuffled　on　bare　knees　across　the　floor　to　the　television　screen；　one　of　those　custom　five…foot　monsters　that　eats　up　the　whole　wall。　〃There；　Decker；　look。　This　fish　is　a　ringer！〃
　〃How　can　you　tell？〃
　〃See　here；　the　eyes　are　flat。　Not　cloudy　yet；　but　flat　as　tile。　And　the　color's　washed　out　of　the　flanks。　No　vertical　stripes；　not　a　one。　Muck　is　the　color　of　this　fish。〃
　〃It　doesn't　look　too　healthy；〃　Decker　agreed。
　〃Healthy？　Man；　this　fish　is　DOA。　Check　the　dorsal。　The　guy　is　fanning　the　fins　for　the　camera。　Why？　'Cause　they'd　fold　up　otherwise。　This　fish　is　de…fucking…ceased。〃
　〃But　they　just　showed　the　fisherman　reeling　it　in；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Wrong。　Now　watch。〃　Gault　backed　up　the　tape　and　replayed　the　fight。　The　rod　was　bent；　the　water　around　the　boat　boiled　and　splashed…but　the　angles　and　the　editing　of　the　video　made　it　impossible　to　see　the　actual　size　of　the　bass。　Until　the　fisherman　lifted　it　for　the　camera。
　〃That　rookie　caught　a　fish；〃　Gault　said；　〃but　not　this　fish。〃　He　hit　a　button　and　rewound　the　tape。　〃Want　to　watch　another　one？〃
　〃That　won't　be　necessary；〃　Decker　said。
　〃You　see　how　easy　it　is　to　cheat。〃
　〃For　a　TV　show；　sure。〃
　〃It's　even　easier　in　a　tournament；〃　Gault　said；　〃especially　when　your　partner's　in　on　it。　And　the　weighmaster　too。　Not　to　mention　the　goddamn　sponsors。〃　He　went　to　the　kitchen　and　came　back　with　a　beer　for　Decker　and　a　fresh　vodka…tonic　for　himself。
　〃Tell　me　about　what　happened　in　Harney；〃　he　said。
　〃Met　a　guy　named　Skink；〃　Decker　said。
　Gault　whistled　and　arched　his　eyebrows。　〃A　real　fruitbar。　I　fished　with　him　once　on　the　St。　John's。〃
　〃He's　going　to　help　me　catch　Lockhart。〃
　〃Not　on　my　nickel！〃　Gault　protested。
　〃I　need　him。〃
　〃He's　a　maniac。〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。〃
　〃He　eats　dead　animals　off　the　road！〃
　〃Waste　not；　want　not；〃　Decker　said。　〃He's　the　only　one　up　there　I'd　trust。　Without　him　I　quit　the　case。〃
　Gault　folded　his　hands。　Decker　drank　his　beer。
　〃All　right；〃　Gault　said；　〃but　be　careful。　That　guy's　got　Texas　Tower　written　all　over　him；　and　neither　of　us　wants　to　be　there　if　he　ever　reaches　the　top。〃
　What　Gault　meant　was：　If　there's　trouble；　don't　drag　my　name　into　it。
　〃What　else　did　you　do？〃　he　asked　Decker。
　〃Went　to　a　funeral。〃
　Gault　licked　his　lower　lip　nervously。
　〃Robert　Clinch；〃　Decker　said；　〃late　of　your　hire。　Nice　of　you　to　tell　me。〃
　Gault　toyed　with　the　stack　of　fishing　videotapes；　pretending　to　organize　them。　Without　looking　up；　he　asked；　〃Do　they　know　what　exactly　happened？〃
　〃The　coroner　says　it　was　accidental。〃
　Gault　smiled　thinly。　〃We　know　that's　horseshit；　don't　we？　The　only　question　in　my　mind　is：　How'd　they　do　it？〃
　Decker　said；　〃My　question　is：　Who？〃
　〃Who？　Dickie　Lockhart；　that's　who！〃　Gault　said。　〃Don't　be　stupid；　man。　Dickie　knew　I　was　closing　in　and　he　knew　Bobby　was　working　for　me。　What　do　you　mean…who？'
　〃You're　probably　right；〃　Decker　said；　〃but　I'd　like　to　be　sure。〃
　〃Haven't　you　been　listening？　Christ；　don't　tell　me　I've　hired　a　plete　moron。〃
　〃I　met　your　sister；〃　Decker　said。　He　liked　to　save　the　best　for　last。
　〃Elaine？〃　Gault　said。　He　looked　most　unfortable；　just　as　Decker　had　expected。　It　was　worth　the　wait。
　〃We　had　a　nice　chat；〃　Decker　said。　He　wanted　Gault　to　be　the　one　who　finished　the　conversation。　He　didn't　want　to　be　the　one　to　take　it　any　further；　but　he　had　to。　He　needed　to　find　out　if　Gault　knew　everything。
　〃You　didn't　tell　me　a　couple　important　things。　You　didn't　tell　me　about　Clinch　and　you　didn't　tell　me　you　had　a　sister　up　in　Harney。〃　Decker's　voice　had　the　slightest　sting　of　irritation。
　〃She　gets　around；　my　sister。〃　Gault　drained　his　glass。　His　face　was　getting　red。
　Stubborn　bastard；　Decker　thought；　have　it　your　way。
　〃You　knew　she　was　having　an　affair　with　Bobby　Clinch；〃　he　said　evenly。
　〃Says　who？〃　Gault　snapped。　The　red　became　deeper。
　〃Lanie。〃
　〃Lanie？〃
　〃That's　what　they　call　her。〃
　〃Oh；　is　it　now？〃
　〃Personally；　I　don't　care　if　she's　screwing　the　entire　American　Legion　post；〃　Decker　said；　〃but　I　need　to　know　what　you　know。〃
　〃You　better　shut　your　mouth；　ace！〃　Gault's　face　was　actually　purple　now。
　Decker　thought：　We　really　hit　a　nerve　here。　But　from　the　murderous　looks　he　was　getting；　he　figured　now　wasn't　the　time　to　pursue　it。　He　got　up　and　headed　for　the　door　but　Gault　grabbed　his　arm　and　snarled；　〃Wait　just　a　minute。〃　Decker　shook　free　and…rather　gently；　he　thought…guided　Gault　backward　until　his　butt　hit　the　sofa。
　〃Good…bye　now；〃　Decker　said。
　But　Gault　had　lost　it。　He　lunged　and　got　Decker　by　the　throat。　Gagging；　Decker　felt　manicured　fingernails　digging　into　the　meat　of　his　neck。　He　stared　up　the　length　of　Gault's　brown　arms　and　saw　every　vein　and　tendon　swollen。　The　man's　cheeks　were　flushed　but　his　lips　twitched　like　bloodless　worms。
　The　two　men　toppled　across　the　low　sofa　with　Gault　on　top；　amber　eyeglasses　askew。　He　was　spitting　and　hollering　about　what　a　shiteating　punk　Decker　was；　while　Decker　was　trying　to　squirm　free　from　the　neckhold　before　he　passed　out。　His　vision　bloomed　kaleidoscopic　and　his　skull　roared。　The　blood　in　his　head　was　trying　to　go　south　but　Dennis　Gault　wouldn't　let　it。
　A　cardinal　rule　of　being　a　successful　private　investigator　is：　Don't　slug　your　own　clients。　But　sometimes　exceptions　had　to　be　made。　Decker　made　one。　He　released　his　fruitless　grip　on　Gault's　wrists　and；　in　a　clumsy　but　effective　pincer　motion；　hammered　him　in　the　ribs　with　both　fists。　As　the　wind　exploded　from　Gault's　lungs；　Decker　bucked　him　over　and　jumped　on　top。
　Dennis　Gault　had　figured　R。　J。　Decker　to　be　strong；　but　he