chiaasen.stormyweather-第15章

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tellite　dish。
　
　Edie　Marsh　paid　a　neighbor　kid　to　siphon　gas　from　Snapper's　abandoned　car　and　crank　up　Tony　Torres's　portable　generator。　Edie　gave　the　kid　a　five…dollar　bill　that　she'd　found　hidden　with　five　others　inside　a　toolbox　in　the　salesman's　garage。　It　was　a　pitiful　excuse　for　a　stash；　Edie　was　sure　there　had　to　be　more。
　
　At　dusk　she　gave　up　the　search　and　planted　herself　in　Tony's　BarcaLounger；　a　crowbar　at　her　side。　She　turned　up　the　volume　of　the　television　as　loudly　as　she　could　stand；　to　block　out　the　rustles　and　whispers　of　the　night。　Without　doors；　windows　or　a　roof；　the　Torres　house　was　basically　an　open　campsite。　Outside　was　black　and　creepy；　people　wandered　like　spirits　through　the　unlit　streets。　Edie　Marsh　had　the　jitters；　being　alone。　She　gladly　would　have　fled　in　Tony's　huge　boat　of　a　Chevrolet；　if　it　hadn't　been　blocked　in　the　driveway　by　Snapper's　car；　which　Edie　would　have　gladly　swiped　if　only　Snapper　hadn't　taken　the　damn　keys　with　him。　So　she　was　stuck　at　the　Torres　house　until　daybreak；　when　it　might　be　safe　for　a　woman　to　travel　on　foot　with　two　miniature　dachshunds。
　
　She　planned　to　get　out　of　Dade　County　before　anything　else　went　wrong。　The　expedition　was　a　disaster；　and　Edie　blamed　no　one　but　herself。　Nothing　in　her　modest　criminal　past　had　prepared　her　for　the　hazy　and　menacing　vibe　of　the　hurricane　zone。　Everyone　was　on　edge；　evil；　violence　and　paranoia　ripened　in　the　shadows。　Edie　Marsh　was　out　of　her　league　here。　Tomorrow　she'd　hitch　a　ride　to　West　Palm　and　close　up　the　apartment。　Then　she'd　take　the　Amtrak　home　to　Jacksonville；　and　try　to　make　up　with　her　boyfriend。　She　estimated　that　reconciliation　would　require　at　least　a　week's　worth　of　blow　jobs；　considering　how　much　she'd　stolen　from　his　checking　account。　But　eventually　he'd　take　her　back。　They　always　did。
　
　Edie　Marsh　was　suffering　through　a　TV　quiz　show　when　she　heard　a　man's　voice　calling　from　the　front　doorway。　She　thought：　Tony！　The　pig　is　back。
　
　She　grabbed　the　crowbar　and　sprung　from　the　chair。　The　man　at　the　door　raised　his　arms。　〃Easy；〃　he　said。
　
　It　wasn't　Tony　Torres。　This　person　was　a　slender　blond　with　round　eyeglasses　and　a　tan　briefcase　and　matching　Hush　Puppy　shoes。　In　one　hand　he　carried　a　manila　file　folder。
　
　〃What　do　you　want？〃　Edie　held　the　crowbar　casually；　as　if　she　carried　it　at　all　times。
　
　〃Didn't　mean　to　scare　you；〃　the　man　said。　〃My　name　is　Fred　Dove。　I'm　with　Midwest　Casualty。〃
　
　〃Oh。〃　Edie　Marsh　felt　a　pleasant　tingle。　Like　the　first　time　she'd　met　one　of　the　young　Kennedys。
　
　With　a　glance　at　the　file；　Fred　Dove　said；　〃Maybe　I've　got　the　wrong　street。　This　is　15600　Calusa？〃
　
　〃That's　correct。〃
　
　〃And　you're　Mrs。　Torres？〃
　
　Edie　smiled。　〃Please；〃　she　said；　〃call　me　Neria。〃
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　EIGHT
　
　
　Bonnie　and　Augustine　were　cutting　a　pizza　when　Augustine's　FBI　friend　stopped　by　to　pick　up　the　tape　of　Max　Lamb's　latest　message。　He　listened　to　it　several　times　on　the　cassette　player　in　Augustine's　living　room。　Bonnie　studied　the　FBI　man's　expression；　which　remained　intently　neutral。　She　supposed　it　was　something　they　worked　on　at　the　academy。
　
　When　he　finished　playing　the　tape；　the　FBI　agent　turned　to　Augustine　and　said；　〃I've　read　it　somewhere。　That　'creaking　machinery　of　humanity。'〃
　
　〃Me；　too。　I've　been　racking　my　brain。〃
　
　〃God；　I　can　just　see　'em　up　in　Washington；　giving　it　to　a　crack　team　of　shrinks…〃
　
　〃Or　cryptographers；〃　Augustine　said。
　
　The　FBI　man　smiled。　〃Exactly。〃　He　accepted　a　hot　slice　of　pepperoni　for　the　road；　and　said　good　night。
　
　Augustine　asked　Bonnie　a　question　at　which　the　agent　had　only　hinted：　Was　it　conceivable　that　Max　Lamb　could　have　written　something　like　that　himself？
　
　〃Never；〃　she　said。　Her　husband　was　into　ditties　and　jingles；　not　metaphysics。　〃And　he　doesn't　read　much；〃　she　added。　〃The　last　book　he　finished　was　one　of　Trump's　autobiographies。〃
　
　It　was　enough　to　convince　Augustine　that　Max　Lamb　wasn't　being　coy　on　the　phone；　the　mystery　man　was　feeding　him　lines。　Augustine　didn't　know　why。　The　situation　was　exceedingly　strange。
　
　Bonnie　took　a　shower。　She　came　out　wearing　a　baby…blue　flannel　nightshirt　that　Augustine　recognized　from　a　long…ago　relationship。　Bonnie　had　found　it　hanging　in　a　closet。
　
　〃Is　there　a　story　to　go　with　it？〃　she　asked。
　
　〃A　torrid　one。〃
　
　〃Really？〃　Bonnie　sat　beside　him　on　the　sofa；　at　a　purely　friendly　distance。　〃Let　me　guess：　Flight　attendant？〃
　
　Augustine　said；　〃Letterman's　a　rerun。〃
　
　〃Cocktail　waitress？　Fashion　model？〃
　
　〃I'm　beat。〃　Augustine　picked　up　a　book；　a　biography　of　Lech　Walesa；　and　flipped　it　open　to　the　middle。
　
　〃Aerobics　instructor？　Legal　secretary？〃
　
　〃Surgical　intern；〃　Augustine　said。　〃She　tried　to　cut　out　my　kidneys　one　night　in　the　shower。〃
　
　〃That's　the　scar　on　your　back？　The　Y。〃
　
　〃At　least　she　wasn't　a　urologist。〃　He　closed　the　book　and　picked　up　the　channel　changer　for　the　television。
　
　Bonnie　said；　〃You　cheated　on　her。〃
　
　〃Nope；　but　she　thought　I　did。　She　also　thought　the　bathtub　was　full　of　centipedes；　Cuban　spies　were　spiking　her　lemonade；　and　Richard　Nixon　was　working　the　night　shift　at　the　Farm　Store　on　Bird　Road。〃
　
　〃　Drug　problem　？〃
　
　〃Evidently。〃　Augustine　found　a　Dodgers　game　on　ESPN　and　tried　to　appear　engrossed。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　asked　to　see　the　scar　closely；　but　he　declined。　〃The　lady　had　poor　technique；〃　he　said。
　
　〃She　use　a　real　scalpel？〃
　
　〃No；　a　corkscrew。〃
　
　〃My　God。〃
　
　〃What　is　it　with　women　and　scars？〃
　
　Bonnie　said；　〃I　knew　it。　You've　been　asked　before。〃
　
　Was　she　flirting？　Augustine　wasn't　sure。　He　had　no　point　of　reference　when　it　came　to　married　women　whose　husbands　recently　had　disappeared。
　
　〃How's　this；〃　he　said。　〃You　tell　me　all　about　your　husband；　and　maybe　I'll　show　you　the　damn　scar。〃
　
　〃Deal；〃　said　Bonnie　Lamb；　tugging　the　nightshirt　down　to　cover　her　knees。
　
　Max　Lamb　met　and　fell　in　love　with　Bonnie　Brooks　when　she　was　an　assistant　publicist　for　Crespo　Mills　Internationale；　a　leading　producer　of　snack　and　breakfast　foods。　Rodale　&　Burns　had　won　the　lucrative　Crespo　advertising　account；　and　assigned　Max　Lamb　to　develop　the　print　and　radio　campaign　for　a　new　cereal　called　Plum　Crunchies。　Bonnie　Brooks　flew　in　from　Crespo's　Chicago　headquarters　to　consult。
　
　Basically；　Plum　Crunchies　were　ordinary　sugar…coated　cornflakes　mixed　with　rock…hard　fragments　of　dried　plums…that　is　to　say；　prunes。　The　word　〃prune〃　was　not　to　appear　in　any　Plum　Crunchies　publicity　or　advertising；　a　corporate　edict　with　which　both　Max　Lamb　and　Bonnie　Brooks　wholeheartedly　agreed。　The　target　demographic　was　sweet…toothed　youngsters　aged　fourteen　and　under；　not　constipated　senior　citizens。
　
　On　only　their　second　date；　at　a　Pakistani　restaurant　in　Greenwich　Village；　Max　sprung　upon　Bonnie　his　slogan　for　Crespo's　new　cereal：　You'll　go　plum　loco　for　Plum　Crunchies！
　
　〃With　p…l…u…m　instead　of　p…l…u…m…b　on　the　first　reference；〃　he　was　quick　to　explain。
　
　Though　she　personally　avoided　the　use　of　lame　homonyms；　Bonnie　told　Max　the　slogan　had　possibilities。　She　was　trying　not　to　dampen　his　enthusiasm；　besides；　he　was　the　expert；　the　creative　talent。　All　she　did　was　bang　out　press　releases。
　
　On　a　napkin　Max　Lamb　crudely　sketched　a　jaunty；　cockeyed　mynah　bird　that　was　to　be　the　cereal…box　mascot　for　Plum　Crunchies。　Max　said　the　bird　would　be　colored　purple　（〃like　a　plum！〃）　and　would　be　named　Dinah　the　Mynah。　Here　Bonnie　Brooks　felt　she　should　speak　up；　as　a　colleague；　to　remind　Max　Lamb　of　the　many　other　cereals　that　already　used　bird　logos　（Froot　Loops；　Cocoa　Puffs；　Kellogg's　Corn　Flakes；　and　so　on）。　In　addition；　she　gently　questioned　the　wisdom　of　naming　the　mynah　bird　after　an　aging；　though　much…beloved；　TV　singer。
　
　Bonnie：　〃Is　the　bird　supposed　to　be　a　woman？〃
　
　Max：　〃The　bird　has　no　particular　gender。〃
　
　Bonnie：　〃Well；　do　mynahs　actually　eat　plums？〃
　
　Max：　〃You're　adorable；　you　know　that？〃
　
　He　was　falling　for　her；　and　she　was　falling　（though　a　bit　less　precipitously）　for　him。　As　it　turned　out；　Max's　bosses　at　Rodale　&　Burns　liked　his　slogan　but　hated　the　concept　of　Dinah　the　Mynah。　The　executives　of　Crespo　Mills　concurred。　When　the　new　cereal　finally　debuted；　the　box　featured　a　likeness　of　basketball　legend　Patrick　Ewing；　slam…dunking　a　giddy　cartoon　plum。　Surveys　later　revealed　that　many　customers　thought　it　was　either　an　oversized　grape　or　a　prune。　Plum　Crunchies　failed　to　capture　a　significant　share　of　the　fruited…branflake　breakfast　market　and　quietly　disappeared　forever　from　the　shelves。
　
　Bonnie　and　Max's　long…distance　romance　endured。　She　found　herself　carried　along　by　his　energy；　determination　and　self…confidence；　misplaced　as　it　often　was。　While　Bonnie　was　bothered　by　Max's　tendency　to　judge　humankind　strictly　according　to　age；　race；　sex　and　median　ine；　she　attributed　his　cold　eye　to　indoctrination　by　the　advertising　business。　She　herself　had　bee　cynical　about　the　brain　activity　of　the　average　consumer；　given　Crespo's　worldwide　success　with　such　dubious　food　products　as　salted　doughballs；　whipped　olive　spread　and　shrimp…flavored　popcorn。
　
　In　the　early　months　of　courtship；　Max　invented　a　game　intended　to　impress　Bonnie　Brooks。　He　bet　that　he　could　guess　precisely　what　model　of　automobile　a　person　owned；　based　on　his　or　her　demeanor；　wardrobe　and　physical　appearance。　The　skill　was　intuitive；　Max　told　Bonnie；　a　gift。　He　said　it's　what　made　him　such　a　canny　advertising　pro。　On　dates；　he'd　sometimes　follow　strangers　out　of　restaurants　or　movie　theaters　to　see　what　they　were　driving。　〃Ha！　A　Lumina…what'd　I　tell　ya？　The　guy　had　midsize　written　all　over　him！〃　Max　would　chirp　when　his　guess　was　correct　（which　was；　by　Bonnie's　generous　reckoning；　about　five　percent　of　the　time）。　Before　long；　the　car　game　grew　tiresome　and　Bonnie　Brooks　asked　Max　Lamb　to　stop。　He　didn't　take　it　personally；　he　was　a　hard　man　to　insult。　This；　too；　Bonnie　attributed　to　the　severe　environment　of　Madison　Avenue。
　
　While　Bonnie's　father　was　amiably　indifferent　to　Max；　her　mother　was　openly　unfond　of　him。　She　felt　he　tried　too　hard；　came　on　too　strong；　that　he　was　trying　to　sell　himself　to　Bonnie　the　same　way　he　sold　breakfast　cereal　and　cigarets。　It　wasn't　that　Bonnie's　mother　thought　Max　Lamb　was　a　phony；　just　the　opposite。　She　believed　he　was　exactly　what　he　seemed　to　be…pletely　goal…driven；　every　waking　moment。　He　was　no　different　at　home　than　he　was　at　the　office；　no　less　consumed　with　attaining　success。　There　was；　said　Bonnie's　mother；　a　sneaky　arrogance　in　Max　Lamb's　winning　attitude。　Bonnie　thought　it　was　an　odd　criticism；　ing　from　a　woman　who　had　regarded　Bonnie's　previous　boyfriends　as　timid；　unmotivated　losers。　Still；　her　mother　had　never　used　the　term　〃asshole〃　to　describe　Bonnie's　other　suitors。　That　she　pinned　it　so　quickly　on　Max　Lamb　nagged　painfully　at　Bonnie　until　her　wedding　day。
　
　Now；　with　Max　apparently　abducted　by　a　raving　madman；　Bonnie　fretted　about　something　else　her　mother　had　often　mentioned；　a　trait　of　Max's　so　obvious　that　even　Bonnie　had　acknowledged　it。　Augustine　knew　what　she　was　talking　about。
　
　〃Your　husband　thinks　he　ca