ch.doublewhammy-第25部分

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The　lady　looked　suspicious　until　Skink　introduced　himself　as　the　famous　explorer　Philippe　Cousteau；　and　explained　he　was　working　on　a　documentary　about　the　famous　Louisiana　eel　spawn；　which　only　took　place　in　the　dead　of　night。　Yes；　the　lady　at　the　cash　register　nodded；　I've　heard　of　it。　Then　she　asked　for　Philippe's　autograph　and　Skink　earnestly　replied　（in　a　marvelous　French　accent）　that　for　such　a　beautiful　woman；　a　mere　autograph　would　never　do。　Instead　he　promised　to　name　a　new　species　of　mollusk　in　her　honor。
　It　had　taken　the　better　part　of　the　morning　to　get　Skink　arraigned　and　bailed　out　of　jail；　and　by　now　it　was　the　middle　of　the　day；　not　hot；　but　piercingly　bright；　the　way　it　gets　in　January　in　the　Deep　South。　Skink　said　there　was　no　point　in　going　out　on　the　water　now　because　the　bass　would　be　in　thick　cover。　He　curled　up　on　the　floor　of　the　motel　room　and　went　to　sleep　while　Decker　read　the　New　Orleans　Times…Picayune。　On　the　back　page　of　the　local　section　was　a　small　item　about　a　local　man　who　had　disappeared　on　a　fishing　trip　to　Florida　and　was　presumed　drowned　somewhere　in　the　murky　vastness　of　Lake　Okeechobee。　The　young　man's　name　was　Lemus　Curl；　and　except　for　the　absence　of　a　blackened　bullet　hole　in　his　forehead；　the　picture　in　the　paper　matched　the　face　of　the　man　whom　Skink　had　shot　dead　near　Morgan　Slough；　the　man　who　had　tried　to　murder　them　with　the　rifle。　Obviously　it　was　Lemus　Curl's　brother　whom　Jim　Tile　had　stopped　for　speeding　shortly　afterward。　Interestingly；　the　same　Thomas　Curl　was　quoted　in　the　newspaper　as　saying　that　his　brother　had　slipped　off　the　dike　and　tumbled　into　the　water　on　the　west　side　of　the　big　lake。　The　article　reported　that　Lemus　Curl　had　been　tussling　with　a　hawg　bass　at　the　time　of　the　tragic　accident。　Decker　thought　this　last　detail；　though　untrue；　lent　a　fine　ironic　touch　to　the　story。
　
　Skink　snored　away　and　Decker　felt　alone。　He　felt　like　calling　Catherine。　He　found　a　pay　phone　outside　the　lobby　of　the　Quality　Court。　She　answered　on　the　fifth　ring；　and　sounded　like　she'd　been　sleeping。
　〃Did　I　wake　you？〃
　〃Hey；　Rage；　where　you　at？〃
　〃In　a　motel　outside　New　Orleans。〃
　〃Hmmm；　sounds　romantic。〃
　〃Very；〃　Decker　said。　〃My　roommate　is　a　240…pound　homicidal　hermit。　For　dinner　he's　fixing　me　a　dead　fox　he　scraped　off　the　highway　near　Ponchatoula；　and　after　that　we're　taking　a　leaky　tin　boat　out　on　a　windy　lake　to　spy　on　some　semi…retarded　fishermen。　Don't　you　wish　you　were　here？〃
　〃I　could　fly　in　tomorrow；　get　a　hotel　in　the　Quarter。〃
　〃Don't　be　a　tease；　Catherine。〃
　〃Oh；　Decker。〃　She　was　stretching；　waking　up；　probably　kicking　off　the　covers。　He　could　tell　all　that　over　the　phone。　〃I　had　to　get　up　early　and　take　James　to　the　airport；〃　she　said。
　〃Where　to　now？〃
　〃San　Francisco。〃
　〃And　of　course　he　didn't　want　you　to　e　along。〃
　〃That's　not　true；〃　Catherine　said。　'Those　conventions　are　a　bore；　and　besides；　I've　got　plans　of　my　own。　What　are　you　doing　out　in　the　bayous？〃
　〃Rethinking　Darwin；〃　Decker　said。　〃Some　of　these　folks　didn't　evolve　from　apes；　it　was　the　other　way　around。〃
　〃You　should　have　gotten　a　nice　room　downtown。〃
　〃That's　not　what　I　meant；〃　Decker　said。　〃The　fish　people；　I'm　talking　about。〃
　〃Take　notes；〃　Catherine　said；　〃it　sounds　like　it'll　make　a　terrific　movie。　Attack　of　the　Fish　People。　Now；　be　honest；　Rage；　wouldn't　you　rather　be　shooting　pictures　of　golfers？〃
　Decker　said；　〃I'd　better　go。〃
　〃That's　it？〃
　〃I've　got　a　lot　to　tell　you；　but　not　over　the　phone。〃
　〃It's　all　right；〃　Catherine　said。　〃Anytime　you　want　to　talk。〃　He　wished　she'd　been　serious　about　flying　up　to　New　Orleans；　though　it　was　a　nutty　scheme。　She　would　have　been　safer　in　San　Francisco　with　her　chiropractor。
　〃I'll　call　you　when　I　get　back；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Take　care；〃　Catherine　said。　〃Slurp　an　oyster　for　me。〃
　
　At　dusk　Skink　was　ready　to　roll。　Shower　cap；　weathersuit；　mosquito　netting；　lamps；　flippers；　regulator；　scuba　tank；　dive　knife；　spear…gun　and；　purely　for　show；　a　couple　of　cheap　spinning　rods。　R。　J。　Decker　was　afraid　the　johnboat　would　sink　under　the　weight。　He　decided　there　was　no　point　in　bringing　the　cameras　at　night；　a　strobe　would　be　useless　at　long　distance。　If　his　theory　was　correct；　Dickie　Lockhart　wouldn't　be　anywhere　near　the　lake　anyway。
　They　made　sure　they　were　alone　at　the　dock　before　loading　the　boat　and　shoving　off。　It　was　a　chilly　night；　and　a　northern　breeze　stung　Decker's　cheeks　and　nose。　At　the　throttle；　Skink　seemed　perfectly　warm　and　serene　behind　his　sunglasses。　He　seemed　to　know　where　he　was　going。　He　followed　the　concrete　ribbon　of　1…55；　which　was　sunk　into　the　marshlands　on　enormous　concrete　pilings。　The　highway　pilings　were　round　and　smooth；　as　big　as　sequoias　but　out　of　place；　the　cars　that　raced　overhead　intruded　harshly　on　the　foggy　peace　of　the　bayous。　After　twenty　minutes　Skink　cut　off　the　motor。
　〃I　prefer　oars；〃　Skink　said；　but　there　were　none　in　the　boat。　〃You　can　hear　more　with　oars；〃　he　remarked。
　R。　J。　Decker　noticed　what　he　was　talking　about。　Across　the　water；　bouncing　off　the　pilings；　came　the　sound　of　men's　voices；　pieces　of　conversation；　deep　bursts　of　laughter；　carried　by　the　wind。
　〃Let's　drift　for　a　while；〃　Skink　suggested。　He　picked　up　one　of　the　fishing　poles　and　made　a　few　idle　casts。　Darkness　had　settled　in　and　the　lake　was　gray。　Skink　cocked　his　head；　listening　for　clues　from　the　other　boat。
　〃I　think　I　see　them；〃　Decker　said。　A　fuzzy　pinprick　of　white　light；　rocking。
　〃They've　got　a　Coleman　lit；〃　Skink　said。　〃Two　hundred　yards　away；　at　least。〃
　〃They　sound　a　helluva　lot　closer；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Just　a　trick　of　the　night。〃
　After　a　few　minutes　the　light　went　out。　Skink　and　Decker　heard　the　ignition　sounds　of　a　big　engine。　It　was　probably　a　bass　boat。　Swiftly　Skink　hand…cranked　the　outboard　and　aimed　the　johnboat　toward　the　other　craft。　Legs　wide；　he　stood　up　as　he　steered；　though　Decker　couldn't　imagine　how　he　could　safely　navigate　around　the　highway　pilings；　not　to　mention　the　submerged　stumps　and　brush…piles　that　mined　the　lakeshore。　Every　so　often　Skink　would　cut　the　outboard　and　listen　to　make　sure　the　other　boat　was　still　moving；　as　long　as　their　engine　was　running；　they'd　never　know　they　were　being　followed。　Sitting　on　two　hundred　horses；　you　can't　hear　yourself　think。
　After　a　few　minutes　the　other　boat　stopped　and　the　Coleman　lantern　flickered　on　again。　The　men's　voices　were　faint　and　more　distant　than　before。
　〃We'll　never　get　close；〃　Skink　muttered；　〃unless　we　walk　it。〃
　Fortuitously　the　wind　pushed　the　johnboat　into　a　stand　of　lily　pads。　Hand　over　hand；　Skink　used　the　roots　to　pull　them　to　shore；　where　Decker　tied　the　boat　to　a　sturdy　limb。　He　grabbed　a　flashlight　and　hopped　out　after　Skink。　They　followed　a　ragged　course　along　the　shoreline　for　probably　four　hundred　yards；　taking　tentative　spongy　steps　and　using　the　flashlight　sparingly。　They　passed　through　a　trailer　park　with　particular　stealth；　not　wishing　to　be　mistaken　for　bears　and　blasted　to　oblivion。　Far　removed　from　his　native　territory；　Skink's　nocturnal　instincts　remained　sound；　his　path　brought　them　out　of　the　bogs　within　thirty　yards　of　where　the　bass　boat　floated。
　The　lantern　illuminated　two　men；　not　the　Rundell　brothers。　〃Local　boys；〃　Skink　whispered。　〃Makes　sense。　Need　someone　who　knows　the　water。〃　The　anglers　were　not　casting　their　fishing　lines；　rather；　they　seemed　to　be　studying　the　water。　The　deck　of　the　boat　bristled　with　rods；　each　with　a　line　out。　In　the　penumbra　a　half…dozen　red　floats　were　visible　bobbing　around　the　sides　of　the　boat。　〃Live…baiters；〃　Skink　explained。　〃My　guess　is　worms。〃
　R。　J。　Decker　said；　〃It　could　be　anybody　out　for　a　night　on　the　lake。〃
　〃No；〃　Skink　said；　〃these　boys　are　out　to　load　the　boat。〃
　And　they　were。　Every　so　often　one　of　the　poles　would　bend　and　flutter；　and　a　bass　would　splash　out　in　the　pads。　Quickly　one　of　the　men　would　snatch　the　rig　and　reel　in　the　fish　as　fast　as　he　could。　The　bass　were　quickly　unhooked　and　put　in　a　livewell　under　a　hatch　in　the　stern。
　This　methodical　fish…collecting　went　on　for　two　hours；　during　which　Skink　said　little　and　scarcely　moved　a　muscle。　Decker's　legs　were　cramping　from　sitting　on　his　haunches；　but　it　was　impossible　to　stand　up　and　stretch　without　being　seen。　Mercifully；　as　the　wind　stiffened　and　the　temperature　dropped；　the　two　poachers　finally　called　it　quits。　They　reeled　in　the　worms；　stored　the　rods；　cranked　the　big　engine；　and　motored　slowly…confoundingly　so…up　the　southeastern　shore　of　the　lake。　The　boat　stayed　unusually　close　to　the　elevated　highway；　maneuvering　in　and　out　of　the　pilings；　occasionally　the　lantern　light　flickered　across　the　faces　of　the　two　men　as　they　leaned　over　the　gunwales；　peering　at　something　which　neither　Decker　nor　Skink　could　see。
　Of　course　it　was　Skink　who　led　the　way　back　to　the　johnboat。　By　the　time　they　got　there；　the　marsh　was　empty　and　silent；　the　other　men　had　finished　their　business　and　roared　away。
　Skink　stripped　down　to　his　underwear　and　began　fitting　his　considerable　bulk　into　a　wetsuit。
　〃I　was　afraid　of　this；〃　Decker　said。　Pitch　black；　fifty　degrees；　and　this　madman　was　going　in。　Decker　couldn't　wait　to　see　the　look　on　the　game　warden's　face。
　〃Can　you　drive　t