ch.doublewhammy-第17部分

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　Decker　said；　〃What　happened　to　Ott？〃
　〃He's　dead；〃　Skink　said。
　〃But　what　the　hell　happened？〃
　Skink　sighed　and　motioned　to　Jim　Tile。　〃Yesterday　morning；〃　the　trooper　said；　in　a　voice　so　deep　it　seemed　to　shake　the　lantern；　〃I　was　on　road　patrol　about　dawn。　Out　on　the　Gilchrist　Highway　where　it　crosses　Morgan　Slough。〃
　〃Some　of　the　guys　fish　the　slough　when　the　water's　up；〃　Skink　cut　in。　〃You　need　a　johnboat；　and　no　outboard。　Ten　minutes　from　the　highway　and　you're　into　heavy　bass　cover。〃
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃So　I　see　a　pair　of　headlights　back　in　the　scrub。　I　can　tell　it's　a　truck。　I　pull　off　and　park。　Ten　minutes　go　by　and　the　truck　hasn't　moved；　though　the　lights　are　still　on。　If　it's　two　kids　screwing　they　wouldn't　be　leaving　the　headlights　on；　so　I　go　to　check　it　out。〃
　〃You're　alone？〃　Decker　asked。
　Tile　laughed。　〃Nearest　backup　is　in　frigging　Orlando。　Yeah；　I'm　alone；　you　could　say　that。　So　I　take　my　pumpgun　and　my　Kevlar　light　and　start　slipping　toward　the　truck　through　the　scrub；　moving　close　as　I　can　to　the　big　cypresses　so　whoever's　back　there　won't　see　me。　All　of　a　sudden　I　hear　a　door　slam　and　the　truck　es　tearing　out　of　the　bush。　I　go　down　in　a　crouch　and　jack　a　round　into　the　shotgun；　but　they　never　slow　down；　just　hit　the　highway　and　take　off。〃
　〃Three　guys；〃　Skink　said。
　〃In　a　dark　green　pickup；〃　Tile　said。　〃I'm　pretty　sure　it　was　a　Ford；　but　it　wasn't　local。　I　didn't　catch　the　tag。〃
　〃Did　the　men　see　you？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃The　one　on　the　passenger　side；　no　doubt　about　it。〃
　〃Did　you　recognize　him？〃
　〃Let　him　finish；　Miami；〃　Skink　said。
　〃So　I　go　down　to　where　the　truck　was　parked；〃　Tile　said；　〃right　on　the　edge　of　the　slough。　I　mean；　from　the　tire　tracks　you　could　see　they'd　backed　right　up　to　the　water。　I　figure　they're　poaching　gators　or　maybe　jacklighting　a　deer　that　came　down　to　drink。　Makes　sense；　except　the　ground　is　pletely　dry　and　clean。　No　blood；　no　skin；　no　shells；　no　nothing。〃
　〃Except　this；〃　Skink　said。　He　reached　into　his　rainsuit　and　took　out　a　notebook。　He　handed　it　to　R。　J。　Decker。　It　was　a　news　reporter's　notebook；　the　standard　pocket…size　spiral。　On　the　front；　written　in　blue　ink；　were　the　words：　〃PICKNEY/CLINCH　OBIT。〃　Decker　could　tell　from　the　thinness　of　the　notebook　that　some　of　the　pages　had　been　torn　out。　Those　that　remained　were　blank。
　〃It　was　under　some　palmetto；〃　Jim　Tile　said；　〃maybe　thirty　feet　from　where　the　truck　was　parked。〃
　〃You　didn't　find　anything　else？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃No；　sir。〃
　〃Did　you　report　this？〃
　〃Report　what？〃　Tile　said。　〃A　truck　parked　in　the　bushes？　Show　me　the　law　against　that。〃
　〃But　you　found　this　notebook　and　it　belongs　to　a　missing　person。〃
　Skink　shook　his　head。　'The　basketball　team　says　he's　missing　but　nobody's　filed　a　report　yet。　The　sheriff　may　or　may　not　get　around　to　it。〃
　〃What　are　you　saying？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃The　sheriffs　name　is　Barley　Lockhart；〃　Skink　said；　〃as　in　Dickie。　As　in　uncle。　And；　for　what　it's　worth；　he　has　a　twelve…pound　bass　hanging　behind　his　desk。　Jim；　tell　Mr。　Decker　about　your　outstanding　relationship　with　the　Harney　County　sheriffs　department。〃
　〃No　relationship；〃　Jim　Tile　said。　'Tar　as　they're　concerned；　I　don't　exist。　Wrong　color。　Wrong　uniform。〃
　Skink　said；　〃Jim　and　I　go　way　back。　We　depend　on　each　other；　especially　when　there's　trouble。　That's　why　Jim　brought　me　the　Armadillo's　notebook。〃
　〃But　how　do　you　know　he's　dead？〃　Decker　said。
　Skink　stood　up　and　turned　off　the　Coleman。　Out　on　the　porch　he　picked　up　one　of　his　spinning　rods。　〃You　wanna　drive？〃　he　said　to　Jim　Tile。
　〃Sure；〃　said　the　trooper；　〃give　Mr。　Decker　a　ride　in　a　real　po…leece　car。〃
　〃I've　had　the　privilege；〃　Decker　said。
　
　〃Who　was　the　guy　in　the　truck；　the　one　who　recognized　you？〃　Decker　asked。
　He　was　sitting　in　the　back　of　the　patrol　car；　behind　the　steel　grate。　Jim　Tile　was　at　the　wheel；　he　glanced　over　at　Skink；　a　crinkled　orange　mass　on　the　passenger's　side；　and　Skink　nodded　that　it　was　all　right。
　〃Man　named　Ozzie　Rundell；〃　Jim　Tile　said。
　〃Halfwit；〃　Skink　grumbled。
　〃Has　he　got　a　brother？〃　R。　J。　Decker　had　heard　of　Culver　Rundell。　Ott　had　mentioned　him　at　Bobby　Clinch's　funeral。　He'd　said　he　was　surprised　not　to　see　Culver　at　the　service。
　〃Yeah；　Culver；〃　Jim　Tile　said。　〃He　runs　a　bait　shop　on　Lake　Jesup。〃
　Decker　thought　it　was　probably　the　same　one　he'd　stopped　at　a　few　days　earlier。　Culver　could　have　been　the　man　behind　the　counter。
　〃He's　smarter　than　Ozzie；〃　Skink　remarked；　〃but　mildew　is　smarter　than　Ozzie。〃
　They　were　on　a　two…lane　blacktop；　no　center　line；　no　road　signs。　Decker　didn't　recognize　the　highway。　Jim　Tile　was　driving　fast；　one　hand　on　the　wheel。　Through　the　grate　Decker　could　see　the　speedometer　prick　ninety。　He　was　glad　there　was　no　fog。
　〃How'd　you　meet　the　captain？〃　he　asked　Jim　Tile。
　〃Used　to　work　for　him；〃　the　trooper　said。
　〃In　Tallahassee；〃　Skink　added。　〃Long　time　ago。〃
　〃What　kind　of　work？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃Scut　work；〃　Skink　said。
　Decker　was　too　tired　to　pursue　it。　He　stretched　out　in　the　back　seat　and　started　to　doze。　He　kept　thinking　about　Ott　Pickney　and　wondering　what　he　was　about　to　see。　Skink　and　Jim　Tile　were　silent　up　front。　After　about　fifteen　minutes　Decker　felt　the　patrol　car　brake　and　pull　off　the　pavement。　Now　it　bounced　along　with　the　sound　of　sticks　and　leaves　scratching　at　the　undercarriage。
　Decker　opened　his　eyes　and　sat　up。　They　were　at　Morgan　Slough。
　Jim　Tile　got　out　first　and　checked　around。　The　cool　darkness　was　ebbing　from　the　swamp；　another　half…hour　and　it　would　be　dawn。　Skink　took　his　fishing　rod　from　the　car　and　went　to　the　edge　of　the　water；　which　was　the　burned　color　of　black　tea。　The　slough　was　a　tangle　of　lilies　and　hydrilla；　dead　branches　and　live　cypress　knees。　In　the　tall　boughs　hung　tangled　tresses　of　Spanish　moss。　The　place　looked　prehistoric。
　Jim　Tile　stood　with　his　hands　on　his　hips。　Skink　started　to　cast；　reel　in；　cast　again。
　〃What's　going　on？〃　Decker　said；　shaking　off　his　drowsiness。　The　crisp　winter　air　had　a　faint　smoky　smell。
　〃The　plug　I'm　using　is　called　a　Bayou　Boogie；〃　Skink　said。　〃Medium…fast　sinker；　two　sets　of　treble　hooks。　I　sharpened　'em　earlier；　before　you　got　here。　You　probably　noticed　I　put　new　line　on　the　reel　since　you　and　I　went　out。〃
　〃I　didn't　notice；〃　Decker　muttered。　All　this　way　for　a　goddamn　fishing　lesson。　Didn't　these　people　ever　just　e　out　and　say　something？
　〃Fifteen…pound　test　Trilene；〃　Skink　went　on。　〃You　know　how　much　weight　this　stuff'll　lift？〃
　〃No　idea；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Well…there　we　go！〃　Skink's　fishing　rod　bent　double。　Instead　of　setting　the　hook；　he　pumped　slowly；　putting　his　considerable　muscle　into　it。　Whatever　it　was　on　the　end　of　the　line　barely　moved。
　〃You're　snagged　on　a　stump；〃　Decker　said　to　Skink。
　〃Don't　think　so。〃
　Slowly　it　was　ing　up；　somehow　Skink　was　pulling　the　thing　in。　He　pumped　so　hard　that　Decker　was　sure　the　rod　would　snap；　then　Skink　would　slack　up；　reel　fast；　and　pump　again。　The　line　was　stretched　so　tautly　that　it　hummed。
　〃You're　almost　there；〃　Jim　Tile　said。
　〃Get　ready！〃　Skink's　voice　strained　under　the　effort。
　He　gave　a　mighty　pull　and　something　broke　water。　It　was　an　iron　chain。　Skink's　fishing　lure　had　snagged　in　one　of　the　links。　Jim　Tile　knelt　down　and　grabbed　it　before　it　could　sink　back　into　the　slough。　He　unhooked　the　fishing　lure；　and　Skink　reeled　in。
　By　now　Decker　knew　what　was　ing。
　Hand　over　hand；　Jim　Tile　hauled　on　the　chain。　The　wrong　end　came　up　first；　it　was　an　anchor。　A　new　anchor；　too；　made　of　cast　iron。　A　clump　of　hydrilla　weed　hung　like　a　soggy　green　wig　from　the　anchor's　fork。
　Jim　Tile　heaved　it　on　shore。　Wordlessly　he　started　working　toward　the　other　end；　the　submerged　end　of　the　chain。
　Instinctively；　R。　J。　Decker　thought　of　his　cameras。　They　were　locked　in　his　car；　back　at　Skink's　shack。　He　felt　naked　without　them；　like　the　old　days。　Certain　things　were　easier　to　take　if　you　were　looking　through　a　camera；　sometimes　it　was　the　only　protection　you　had；　the　lens　putting　an　essential　distance　between　the　eye　and　the　horror。　The　horror　of　seeing　a　dead　friend　in　the　trunk　of　a　Seville；　for　example。　The　distance　existed　only　in　the　mind；　of　course；　but　sometimes　the　inside　of　a　lens　was　a　good　place　to　hide。　Decker　hadn't　felt　like　hiding　there　for　a　long　time；　but　now　he　did。　He　wanted　his　cameras；　longed　for　the　familiar　weight　around　his　neck。　Without　the　cameras　he　wasn't　sure　if　he　could　look；　but　he　knew　he　must。　After　all；　that　was　the　point　of　getting　out　of　the　business。　To　be　able　to　look　again；　and　to　feel　something。
　Jim　Tile　struggled　with　the　chain。　Skink　knelt　beside　him　and　loaned　his　weight　to　the　tug。
　〃There　now；〃　Skink　said；　breathing　hard。　The　other　end　of　the　chain　came　out　of　the　water　in　his　right　hand。
　〃Get　it　done；〃　said　Jim　Tile。
　Tied　to　the　end　of　the　chain　was　a　thin　nylon　rope。　Skink's　massive　hands　followed　the　rope　down　until　the　water　was　up　to　his　elbows。　His　fingers　foraged　blindly　below　the　surface；　he　looked　like　a　giant　raccoon　hunting　a　crawfish。
　〃Ah！〃　he　exclaimed。
　Jim　Tile　stood　up；　wiped　his　hands　on　his　uniform；　and　backed　away。　With　a　primordial　grunt　Skink　lifted　his　morbid　catch　from　the　bottom　of　Morgan　Slough。
　〃Oh　God；〃