ch.doublewhammy-第44部分

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　Before　she　walked　out　the　door　she　said；　〃I　just　want　you　to　know；　it　wouldn't　have　been　a　mercy　fuck。　It　would　have　been　the　real　thing。〃
　Decker　said；　〃I　got　that　impression；　yeah。〃
　He　couldn't　believe　how　much　he　still　loved　her。
　
　Somehow　Skink　had　wedged　himself　between　the　bathroom　sink　and　the　toilet；　pressed　his　bulk　into　a　massive；　musty　cube　on　the　tile　floor。　At　first　Decker　couldn't　even　pinpoint　the　location　of　his　head；　the　wheezing　seemed　to　e　from　under　the　toilet　tank。　Decker　knelt　down　and　saw　Skink's　scaly　face　staring　out　from　behind　the　water　pipes。　He　looked　like　a　bearded　iguana。
　〃Why'd　you　turn　on　the　light？〃　he　asked。
　〃So　I　wouldn't　step　on　your　vital　organs。〃
　〃Worse　things　could　happen；〃　Skink　said。
　Freud　would　have　a　picnic；　Decker　thought。　〃Look；　captain；　we've　got　to　get　going。〃
　〃I'm　safe　right　here；〃　Skink　observed。
　〃Not　really；〃　Decker　said。　〃You're　hiding　under　a　toilet　in　a　hundred…dollar　beachfront　hotel　room。　Someone's　bound　to　plain。〃
　〃You　think？〃
　Decker　nodded　patiently。　〃It's　much　safer　back　in　Harney；〃　he　said。　〃If　we　leave　now；　we'll　be　back　at　the　lake　by　midnight。〃
　〃You　mean　it？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃I'll　kill　you；　Miami；　if　this　is　a　trap。　I'll　fucking　cut　out　your　bladder　and　wring　it　in　your　hair。〃
　〃It's　no　trap；〃　Decker　said。　〃Let's　go。〃
　It　took　forty…five　minutes　to　disengage　Skink　from　the　plumbing。　In　the　process　the　sink　snapped　clean　off　its　legs；　Decker　left　it　lying　on　the　bed。
　
　In　the　lobby　of　the　hotel　he　rented　a　Ford　Escort。　He　got　it　out　of　the　underground　parking　and　pulled　around　back　to　the　hotel's　service　entrance；　where　Skink　was　waiting　by　the　dumpsters。　As　Skink　got　in　the　car；　Decker　noticed　something　white　tucked　under　one　arm。
　〃Whatcha　got　there？〃　he　said。
　〃Seagull。〃　Skink　held　up　the　limp　bird　by　its　curled　orange　feet。　〃Hasn't　been　dead　more　than　ten　minutes。　I　scarfed　it　off　the　grille　of　that　seafood　truck。〃
　〃Lucky　us；〃　Decker　said　thinly。
　〃You　hungry？　We　can　stop　and　make　a　fire　once　we　get　out　of　this　traffic。〃
　〃Let's　wait；　okay？〃
　〃Sure；〃　Skink　said。　〃It'll　keep　for　a　couple　hours。〃
　Decker　headed　west　from　the　beach　on　the　Seventeenth　Street　Causeway；　past　Port　Everglades　and　the　Ocean　World　aquarium。　It　was　typical　January　beach　traffic；　bumper…to…bumper　nitwits　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see。　Every　other　car　had　New　York　plates。
　Skink　fit　the　dead　bird　into　the　glove　partment　and　covered　it　with　a　copy　of　the　rental　agreement。　He　seemed　in　a　much　better　mood　already。　He　put　on　his　sunglasses　and　flowered　shower　cap；　and　turned　around　to　get　his　fluorescent　rainsuit　from　the　back　seat。　Through　the　rear　window　he　noticed　a　dark　blue　Chrysler　sedan　following　two　car…lengths　behind。　He　spotted　a　plastic　bubble　on　the　dashboard；　not　flashing；　but　a　bubble　just　the　same。　The　driver's　face　was　obscured　by　the　tinted　windshield；　but　a　red　dot　bobbed　at　mouth…level。
　〃Your　buddy　Garcia　smoke？〃
　Decker　checked　the　rearview。　〃Oh；　shit；〃　he　said。
　Skink　struggled　into　the　rainsuit；　adjusted　his　sunglasses；　and　said；　〃Well；　Miami；　what's　it　going　to　be？〃
　The　blue　light　on　the　Chrysler's　dashboard　was　flashing　now。　Hopelessly　Decker　scanned　the　traffic　on　the　causeway；　it　was　jammed　all　the　way　to　the　next　traffic　signal；　and　beyond。　There　was　nowhere　to　go。　Al　Garcia　was　up　on　his　bumper　and　flashing　his　brights。　Decker　figured　he　had　a　better　chance　one…on…one；　with　no　Fort　Lauderdale　cops。　He　decided　to　stop　before　it　turned　into　a　convoy。
　He　pulled　into　the　parking　lot　of　a　liquor　store。　With　the　big　Chrysler　Garcia　easily　blocked　off　the　little　Escort；　parked；　kept　the　blue　light　turning。　A　bad　sign；　Decker　thought。
　He　turned　to　Skink：　〃I　don't　want　to　see　your　gun。〃
　〃Relax；〃　Skink　said。　〃Mr。　Browning　sleeps　with　the　fishes。〃
　Al　Garcia　approached　the　car　in　a　bemused　and　almost　casual　manner。　At　the　driver's　window　he　bent　down　and　said；　〃R。J。；　you　are　the　king　of　all　fuckups。〃
　〃Sorry　I　stood　you　up　the　other　day；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Everyone　but　the　National　Guard　is　looking　for　you。〃
　〃Now　that　you　mention　it；　Al；　aren't　you　slightly　out　of　your　jurisdiction？　I　believe　this　is　Broward　County。〃
　〃And　you're　a　fleeing　felon；　asshole；　so　I　can　chase　you　wherever　I　want。　That's　the　law。〃　He　spit　out　his　cigarette　and　ground　it　into　the　asphalt　with　his　shoe。
　Decker　said；　〃So　what'd　you　do；　follow　Catherine　up　from　Miami？〃
　〃She's　a　slick　little　driver；　she　gave　it　her　best。〃
　Decker　said；　〃I　didn't　kill　anybody；　Al。〃
　〃How　about　Little　Stevie　Wonder　there？〃
　Skink　blinked　lizardlike　behind　his　sunglasses。
　〃e　on；　R。J。；　let's　all　of　us　go　for　a　ride。〃　Garcia　was　so　smooth　he　didn't　even　unholster　his　gun。　Decker　was　impressed；　you　had　to　be。　Now　if　only　Skink　behaved。
　Skink　retrieved　his　dead　seagull　from　the　glove　box　and　Decker　locked　up　the　rental　car。　Garcia　was　waiting　in　the　Chrysler。　〃Who　wants　to　ride　shotgun？〃　he　asked　affably。
　Decker　said；　〃I　thought　you'd　want　both　us　ruthless　murderers　to　sit　back　in　the　cage。〃
　〃Nah；〃　Al　Garcia　said；　unplugging　the　blue　light。　He　got　back　into　traffic；　turned　off　Seventeenth　Street　on　Federal　Highway；　then　cut　back　west　on　Road　84；　an　impossible　truck　route。　Decker　was　surprised　when　he　didn't　turn　south　at　the　Interstate　95　exchange。
　〃Where　are　you　going？〃
　〃The　Turnpike's　a　cleaner　shot；　isn't　it？〃　the　detective　said。
　〃Not　really；〃　Decker　said。
　〃He　means　north；〃　Skink　said　from　the　back　seat。　〃To　Harney。〃
　
　〃Right；〃　Al　Garcia　said。　〃On　the　way；　I　want　you　guys　to　tell　me　all　about　bass　fishing。〃
　The　news　from　Lunker　Lakes　was　not　good。
　〃They　died；〃　reported　Charlie　Weeb's　hydrologist；　some　pinhead　hired　fresh　out　of　the　University　of　Florida。
　〃Died？〃　said　the　Reverend　Weeb。　〃What　the　fuck　are　you　talking　about？〃
　He　was　talking　about　the　bass…two　thousand　yearling　large…mouths　imported　at　enormous　cost　from　a　private　hatchery　in　Alabama。
　〃They　croaked；〃　said　the　hydrologist。　〃What　can　I　say？　The　water's　very　bad；　Reverend　Weeb。　Tannic　acid　they　can　tolerate；　but　the　current　phosphate　levels　are　lethal。　There's　no　fresh　oxygen；　no　natural　water　flow。　Whoever　dredged　your　canals…〃
　〃Lakes；　goddammit！〃
　〃…they　dredged　too　deep。　The　fish　don't　last　more　than　two　days。〃
　〃Jesus　Christ　Almighty。　So　what're　we　talking　about　here…stinking　dead　bass　floating　all　over　the　place？〃
　The　hydrologist　said；　〃I　took　the　liberty　of　hiring　some　local　boats　to　scoop　up　the　kill。　With　this　cool　weather　it's　not　so　bad；　but　if　a　warm　front　pushes　through；　they'd　smell　it　all　the　way　to　Key　West。〃
　Weeb　slammed　down　the　phone　and　groaned。　The　woman　lying　next　to　him　said；　〃What　is　it；　Father？〃
　〃I'm　not　a　priest；〃　Weeb　snapped。　He　didn't　have　the　energy　for　a　theology　lesson；　it　would　have　been　a　waste　of　time　anyway。　The　girl　worked　at　Louie's　Lap…Dancing　Palace　in　Gretna。　She　said　her　whole　family　watched　him　every　Sunday　morning　on　television。
　〃I　never　been　with　a　TV　star　before；〃　she　said；　burrowing　into　his　chest。　〃You're　a　big　boy；　too。〃
　Charlie　Weeb　was　only　half…listening。　He　missed　Ellen　O'Leary；　no　one　else　looked　quite　as　fine；　topless　in　the　rubber　trout　waders。　No　one　soothed　him　the　way　Ellen　did；　either；　but　now　she　was　gone。　Took　off　after　Dickie　Lockhart's　murder。　One　more　disappointment　in　a　week　of　bleak　disappointments　for　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb。
　〃How　much　do　I　owe　you？〃　he　asked　the　lap　dancer。
　〃Nothing；　Father。〃　She　sounded　confused。　〃I　brought　my　own　money。〃
　〃What　for？〃　Weeb　looked　down；　he　couldn't　see　her　face；　just　the　top　of　her　head　and　the　smooth　slope　of　her　naked　back。
　〃I　got　a　favor　to　ask；〃　the　lap　dancer　said；　whispering　into　his　chest　hair。　〃And　I　wanna　pay　for　it。〃
　〃What　on　earth　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃I　want　you　to　heal　my　poppa。〃　She　looked　up　shyly。　〃He's　got　the　gout；　my　poppa　does。〃
　〃No；　child…〃
　〃Some　days　he　can't　barely　get　himself　out　of　bed。〃
　Weeb　shifted　restlessly；　glanced　at　his　wristwatch。　
　〃I'll　give　you　two　hundred　dollars；〃　the　girl　declared。　
　〃You're　serious？〃　
　〃Just　one　little　prayer；　please。〃　
　〃Two　hundred　bucks？〃　
　〃And　a　hum　job；　if　you　want　it；　Father。〃
　Charlie　Weeb　stared　at　her；　thinking：　It's　true　what　they　say　about　the　power　of　television。
　〃e；　child；〃　he　said　softly；　〃let's　pray。〃
　
　Later；　when　he　was　alone；　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　thought　about　the　girl　and　what　she'd　wanted。　Maybe　it　was　the　answer　he'd　been　looking　for。　It　had　worked　before；　in　the　early　years；　perhaps　it　would　work　again。
　Charlie　Weeb　drank　a　Scotch　and　tried　to　sleep；　but　he　couldn't。　In　recent　nights　he　had　been　kept　awake　by　the　chilling　realization　that　Lunker　Lakes；　his　dream　city；　was　in　deep　trouble。　The　first　blow　had　e　from　the　Federal　Deposit　Insurance　Corporation；　whose　auditors　had　swept　into　the　offices　of　First　Standard　Eurobank　of　Ohio　and　discovered　that　the　whole　damn　thing　was　on　the　verge　of　insolvency。　The　problem　was　bad　loans；　huge　ones；　which　First　Standard　Eurobank　apparently　handed　out　as　freely　as　desk　calendars。　The　Outdoor　Christian　Network；　doing　business　as　Lunker　Lakes　Ltd。；　had　been　the　beneficiary　of　just　such　unbridled　generosity…twenty…four　million　dollars　for　site