ch.doublewhammy-第7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！


　〃Lockhart's　the　cheater；〃　Decker　said。
　〃You're　getting　close。〃
　〃There's　more？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃Hell；　yes！〃　Skink　tossed　the　bone　into　the　lake；　where　its　splash　startled　a　mallard。
　〃More；〃　Skink　muttered。　〃More；　more；　more。〃
　〃Let's　hear　it；　captain；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Another　night。〃　Skink　spit　something　brown　into　the　fire　and　scowled　at　nothing　in　particular。　〃How　much　you　getting　paid？〃
　Decker　was　almost　embarrassed　to　tell　him。　〃Fifty　grand；〃　he　said。
　Skink　didn't　even　blink。　〃Not　enough；〃　he　said。　〃e　on；　Miami；　finish　your　damn　supper。〃
　
　Ott　Pickney　stopped　by　the　motel　before　eight　the　next　morning。　He　knocked　loudly　on　R。　J。　Decker's　door。
　Groggily；　Decker　let　him　in。　〃So　how'd　it　go？〃　Ott　asked。
　〃A　lively　night。〃
　〃Is　he　as　kooky　as　they　say？〃
　〃Hard　to　tell；〃　Decker　said。　Living　in　Miami　tended　to　recalibrate　one's　view　of　sanity。
　Ott　said　he　was　on　his　way　to　a　funeral。　〃That　poor　fella　I　told　you　about。〃
　〃The　fisherman？〃
　〃Bobby　Clinch；〃　Ott　said。　〃Sandy　wants　a　tearjerker　for　the　weekend　paper…it's　the　least　we　can　do　for　a　local　boy。　You　and　Skink　going　out　for　bass？〃
　〃Not　this　morning。〃　Skink　had　left　the　proposition　in　the　air。　Decker　planned　to　meet　him　later。
　Ott　Pickney　said；　〃Why　don't　you　ride　along　with　me？〃
　〃To　a　funeral？〃
　〃The　whole　town's　closing　down　for　it；〃　Ott　said。　〃Besides；　I　thought　you　might　want　to　see　some　big…time　bassers　up　close。　Bobby　had　loads　of　friends。〃
　〃Give　me　a　second　to　shower。〃
　
　Decker　hated　funerals。　Working　for　the　newspaper；　he'd　had　to　cover　too　many　grim　graveside　services；　from　a　cop　shot　by　some　coked…up　creep　to　a　toddler　raped　and　murdered　by　her　babysitter。　Child　murders　got　plenty　of　play　in　the　papers；　and　a　shot　of　the　grieving　parents　was　guaranteed　to　run　four　columns；　minimum。　A　funeral　like　that　was　the　most　dreaded　assignment　in　journalism。　Decker　didn't　know　quite　what　to　expect　in　Harney。　For　him　it　was　strictly　business；　a　casual　surveillance。　Maybe　even　Dickie　Lockhart　would　show　up；　Decker　thought　as　he　toweled　off。　He　was　eager　to　get　a　glimpse　of　the　town　celebrity。
　They　rode　to　the　graveyard　in　Ott　Pickney's　truck。　Almost　everyone　else　in　Harney　owned　a　Ford　or　a　Chevy；　but　Ott　drove　a　new　Toyota　flatbed。　〃Orchids；〃　he　explained；　a　bit　defensively；　〃don't　take　up　much　space。〃
　〃It's　a　fine　truck；〃　Decker　offered。
　Ott　lit　a　Camel　so　Decker　rolled　down　the　window。　It　was　a　breezy　morning　and　the　air　was　cold；　blowing　dead　from　the　north。
　〃Can　I　ask　something？〃　Ott　said。　〃It's　personal。〃
　〃Fire　away。〃
　〃I　heard　you　got　divorced。〃
　〃Right；〃　Decker　said。
　〃That's　a　shame；　RJ。　She　seemed　like　a　terrific　kid。〃
　〃The　problem　was　money；〃　Decker　said。　〃He　had　some；　I　didn't。〃　His　wife　had　run　off　with　a　timeshare…salesman…turned…chiropractor。　Life　didn't　get　any　meaner。
　〃Jesus；　I'm　sorry。〃　The　divorce　wasn't　really　what　Ott　wanted　to　talk　about。　〃I　heard　something　else；〃　he　said。
　〃Probably　true；〃　Decker　said。　〃I　did　ten　months　at　Apalachee；　if　that's　what　you　heard。〃
　Pickney　was　sucking　so　hard　on　the　cigarette　that　the　ash　was　three　inches　long。　Decker　was　afraid　it　would　drop　into　Ott's　lap　and　set　his　pants　on　fire；　which　is　what　had　happened　one　day　in　the　newsroom　of　the　Miami　Sun。　None　of　the　fire　extinguishers　had　been　working；　so　Ott　had　been　forced　to　straddle　a　drinking　fountain　to　douse　the　flames。
　〃Do　you　mind　talking　about　it？〃　Ott　said。　〃I　understand　if　you'd　rather　not。〃
　Decker　said；　〃It　was　after　one　of　the　Dolphin　games。　I　was　parked　about　four　blocks　from　the　stadium。　ing　back　to　the　car；　I　spotted　some　jerkoff　breaking　into　the　trunk；　trying　to　rip　off　the　cameras。　I　told　him　to　stop；　he　ran。　He　was　carrying　two　Nikons　and　a　brand…new　Leka。　No　way　was　I　going　to　let　him　get　away。〃
　〃You　caught　up　with　him？〃
　〃Yeah；　he　fell　and　I　caught　up　to　him。　I　guess　I　got　carried　away。〃
　Pickney　shook　his　head　and　spit　the　dead　Camel　butt　out　the　window。　〃Ten　months！　I　can't　believe　they'd　give　you　that　much　time　for　slugging　a　burglar。〃
　〃Not　just　any　burglar…a　football　star　at　Palmetto　High；〃　Decker　said。　〃Three　of　his　sisters　testified　that　they'd　witnessed　the　whole　thing。　Said　Big　Brother　never　stole　the　cameras。　Said　he　was　minding　his　own　business；　juking　on　the　corner　when　I　drove　up　and　asked　where　I　could　score　some　weed。　Said　Big　Brother　told　me　to　get　lost；　and　I　jumped　out　of　my　car　and　pounded　him　into　dog　meat。　All　of　which　was　a　goddamn　lie。〃
　〃So　then？〃
　〃So　the　state　attorney's　office　dropped　the　burglary　charge　on　Mr。　Football　Hero；　and　nailed　me　for　agg　assault。　He　gets　a　scholarship　to　USC；　I　get　felony　arts…and…crafts。　That's　the　whole　yarn。〃
　Pickney　sighed。　〃And　you　lost　your　job。〃
　〃The　newspaper　had　no　choice；　Ott。〃　Not　with　the　boy's　father　raising　so　much　hell。　The　boy's　father　was　Levon　Bennett；　big　wheel　on　the　Orange　Bowl　mittee；　board　chairman　of　about　a　hundred　banks。　Decker　had　always　thought　the　newspaper　might　have　rehired　him　after　Apalachee　if　only　Levon　Bennett　wasn't　in　the　same　Sunday　golf　foursome　as　the　executive　publisher。
　〃You　always　had　a　terrible　temper。〃
　〃Luck；　too。　Of　all　the　thieves　worth　stomping　in　Miami；　I've　got　to　pick　a　future　Heisman　Trophy　winner。〃　Decker　laughed　sourly。
　〃So　now　you're　a　。。。　〃
　〃Private　investigator；〃　Decker　said。　Obviously　Ott　was　having　a　little　trouble　getting　to　the　point。
　The　point　being　what　in　the　hell　Decker　was　doing　as　a　P。I。　〃I　burned　out　on　newspapers；〃　he　said　to　Ott。
　〃With　your　portfolio　you　could　have　done　anything；　R。J。　Magazines；　free…lance；　the　New　York　agencies。　You　could　write　your　own　ticket。〃
　〃Not　with　a　rap　sheet；〃　Decker　said。
　It　was　a　fortable　lie。　A　lawyer　friend　had　arranged　for　Decker's　criminal　record　to　be　legally　expunged；　wiped　off　the　puter；　so　the　rap　sheet　wasn't　really　the　problem。
　The　truth　was；　Decker　had　to　get　away　from　the　news　business。　He　needed　a　divorce　from　photography　because　he　had　started　to　see　life　and　death　as　a　sequence　of　frames；　Decker's　mind　had　started　to　work　like　his　goddamn　cameras；　and　it　scared　him。　The　night　he　made　up　his　mind　was　the　night　the　city　desk　had　sent　him　out　on　what　everybody　figured　was　a　routine　drug　homicide。　Something　stinky　dripping　from　the　trunk　of　a　new　Seville　parked　on　the　sky　level　of　the　Number　Five　Garage　at　Miami　International。　Decker　got　there　just　as　the　cops　were　drilling　the　locks。　Checked　the　motor　drive　on　the　Leica。　Got　down　on　one　knee。　Felt　the　cold　dampness　seep　through　his　trousers。　Raining　like　a　bitch。　Trunk　pops　open。　A　young　woman；　used　to　be；　anyway。　Heels；　nylons；　pretty　silk　dress；　except　for　the　brown　stains。　Stench　bad　enough　to　choke　a　maggot。　He'd　been　expecting　the　usual　Juan　Doe…Latin　male；　mid…twenties；　dripping　gold；　no　ID；　multiple　gunshot　wounds。　Not　a　girl　with　a　coat　hanger　wrapped　around　her　neck。　Not　Leslie。　Decker　refocused。　Leslie。　Jesus　Christ；　he　knew　this　girl；　worked　with　her　at　the　paper。　Decker　fed　the　Leica　more　film。　She　was　a　fashion　writer…who　the　fuck'd　want　to　murder　a　fashion　writer？　Her　husband；　said　a　homicide　guy。　Decker　bracketed　the　shots；　changed　angles　to　get　some　of　the　hair；　but　no　face。　Paper　won't　print　faces　of　the　dead；　that's　policy。　He　fired　away；　thinking：　I　know　this　girl；　so　why　can't　I　stop？　Leica　whispering　in　the　rain；　click…click…click。　Oh　God；　she's　a　friend　of　mind　so　why　the　fuck　can't　I　stop。　Husband　told　her　they　were　flying　to　Disney　World；　big　romantic　weekend；　said　the　homicide　man。　Decker　reloaded；　couldn't　help　himself。　Strangled　her　right　here；　stuffed　her　in　the　trunk；　grabbed　his　suitcase；　and　hopped　a　plane　for　Key　West　with　a　barmaid　from　North　Miami　Beach。　She'd　only　been　married　what；　three　months？　Four；　said　the　homicide　guy；　wele　to　the　Magic　Kingdom。　Haven't　you　got　enough　pictures　for　Chrissakes？　Sure；　Decker　said；　but　he　couldn't　look　at　Leslie's　body　unless　it　was　through　the　lens；　so　he　ran　back　to　his　car　and　threw　up　his　guts　in　a　puddle。
　Three　days　later；　Levon　Bennett's　son　tried　to　steal　R。　J。　Decker's　cameras　outside　the　stadium；　and　Decker　chased　him　down　and　beat　him　unconscious。　Those　are　my　eyes；　he'd　said　as　he　slugged　the　punk。　Without　them　I'm　fucking　blind；　don't　you　understand？
　
　At　Apalachee　he'd　met　a　very　nice　doctor　doing　four　years　for　Medicare　fraud；　who　gave　him　the　name　of　an　insurance　pany　that　needed　an　investigator。　Sometimes　the　investigator　had　to　take　his　own　pictures…〃sometimes〃　was　about　all　Decker　figured　he　could　handle。　Besides；　he　was　broke　and　never　wanted　to　see　the　inside　of　a　newsroom　again。　So　he　tried　one　free…lance　job　for　the　insurance　pany…took　a　picture　of　a　forty…two…foot　Bertram　that　was　supposed　to　be　sunk　off　Cat　Island　but　wasn't…and　got　paid　two　thousand　dollars。　Decker　found　the　task　to　be　totally　painless　and　profitable。　Once　his　rap　sheet　was　purged；　he　applied　for　his　P。I。　license　and　purchased　two　cameras；　a　Nikon　and　a　Canon；　both　used。　The　work　was　small　potatoes；　no　Pulitzers　but　no　pain。　Most　important；　he　had　discovered　with　more　and　more　cases　that　he　still　loved　the　cameras　but　could　see　just　fine　without　them…no　blood　and　gore　in　the　darkroom；　just　mug　shots　and　auto　tags　and　grainy　telescopic　stills　of