chiaasen.stormyweather-第16章

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ie　had　acknowledged　it。　Augustine　knew　what　she　was　talking　about。
　
　〃Your　husband　thinks　he　can　outsmart　anybody。〃
　
　〃Unfortunately；〃　Bonnie　said。
　
　〃I　can　tell　from　the　phone　tapes。〃
　
　〃Well；〃　she　said；　fishing　for　encouragement；　〃he's　managed　to　make　it　so　far。〃
　
　〃Maybe　he's　learned　when　to　keep　his　mouth　shut。〃　Augustine　stood　up　and　stretched　his　arms。　〃I'm　tired。　Can　we　do　the　scar　thing　some　other　time？〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　laughed　and　said　sure。　She　waited　until　she　heard　the　bedroom　door　shut　before　she　phoned　Pete　Archibald　at　his　home　in　Connecticut。
　
　〃Did　I　wake　you？〃　she　asked。
　
　〃Heck；　no。　Max　said　you　might　be　calling。〃
　
　Bonnie's　words　stuck　in　her　throat。　〃You…Pete；　you　talked　to　him？〃
　
　〃For　about　an　hour。〃
　
　〃When？〃
　
　〃Tonight。　He's　all　frantic　that　Bill　Knapp's　gonna　snake　the　Bronco　cigaret　account。　I　told　him　not　to　worry；　Billy's　tied　up　with　the　smokeless　division　on　some　stupid　rodeo　tour…〃
　
　〃Pete；　never　mind　all　that。　Where　did　Max　call　from？〃
　
　〃I　don't　know；　Bon。　I　assumed　he'd　spoken　to　you。〃
　
　Bonnie　strained　to　keep　the　hurt　from　her　voice。　〃Did　he　tell　you　what　happened？〃
　
　On　the　other　end；　Pete　Archibald　clucked　and　ummmed　nervously。　〃Not　all　the　gory　details；　Bonnie。　Everybody…least　all　the　couples　I　know…go　through　the　occasional　bedroom　drama。　Fights　and　whatnot。　I　don't　blame　you　for　not　giving　me　the　real　story　when　you　called　before。〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb's　voice　rose。　〃Peter；　Max　and　I　aren't　fighting。　And　I　did　tell　you　the　real　story。〃　She　caught　herself。　〃At　least　it　was　the　story　Max　told　me。〃
　
　After　an　unfortable　pause；　Pete　Archibald　said；　〃Bon；　you　guys　work　it　out；　OK？　I　don't　want　to　get　in　the　middle。〃
　
　〃You're　right；　you're　absolutely　right。〃　She　noticed　that　her　free　hand　was　balled　in　a　fist　and　she　was　rocking　sideways　in　the　chair。　〃Pete；　I　won't　keep　you。　But　maybe　you　could　tell　me　what　else　Max　said。〃
　
　〃Shop　talk；　Bonnie。〃
　
　〃For　a　whole　hour？〃
　
　〃Well；　you　know　your　husband。　He　gets　rolling；　you　know　what　he's　like。〃
　
　Maybe　I　don't；　Bonnie　thought。
　
　She　said　good…bye　to　Pete　Archibald　and　hung　up。　Then　she　went　to　Augustine's　room　and　knocked　on　the　door。　When　he　didn't　answer；　she　slipped　in　and　sat　lightly　on　the　corner　of　the　bed。　She　thought　he　was　asleep；　until　he　rolled　over　and　said：　〃Not　a　good　night　for　the　skull　room；　huh？〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　shook　her　head　and　began　to　cry。
　
　Edie　Marsh　gave　it　her　best　shot。　For　a　while；　the　plan　went　smoothly。　The　man　from　Midwest　Casualty　took　meticulous　notes　as　he　followed　her　from　room　to　room　in　the　Torres　house。　Many　of　the　couple's　belongings　had　been　pulverized　beyond　recognition；　so　Edie　began　embellishing　losses　to　inflate　the　claim。　She　lovingly　described　the　splintered　remains　of　a　china　cabinet　as　a　priceless　antique　that　Tony　inherited　from　a　great…grandmother　in　San　Juan。　Pausing　before　a　bare　bedroom　wall；　she　pointed　to　the　nails　upon　which　once　hung　two　original　（and　very　expensive）　watercolors　by　the　legendary　Jean…Claude　Jarou；　a　martyred　Haitian　artist　whom　Edie　invented　off　the　top　of　her　head。　A　splintered　bedroom　bureau　became　the　hand…hewn　mahogany　vault　that　had　yielded　eight　cashmere　sweaters　to　the　merciless　winds　of　the　hurricane。
　
　〃Eight　sweaters；〃　said　Fred　Dove；　glancing　up　from　his　clipboard。　〃In　Miami？〃
　
　〃The　finest　Scottish　cashmeres…can　you　imagine？　Ask　your　wife　if　it　wouldn't　break　her　heart。〃
　
　Fred　Dove　took　a　small　flashlight　from　his　jacket　and　went　outside　to　evaluate　structural　damage。　Soon　Edie　heard　barking　from　the　backyard；　followed　by　emphatic　human　profanities。　By　the　time　she　got　there；　both　dachshunds　had　gotten　a　piece　of　the　insurance　man。　Edie　led　him　inside；　put　him　in　the　BarcaLounger；　rolled　up　his　cuffs　and　tended　his　bloody　ankles　with　Evian　and　Ivory　liquid；　which　she　salvaged　from　the　kitchen。
　
　〃I'm　glad　they're　not　rottweilers；〃　said　Fred　Dove；　soothed　by　Edie's　ministrations　with　a　soft　towel。
　
　Repeatedly　she　apologized　for　the　attack。　〃For　what　it's　worth；　they've　had　all　their　shots；〃　she　said；　with　no　supporting　evidence　whatsoever。
　
　She　instructed　Fred　Dove　to　stay　in　the　recliner　and　keep　his　feet　elevated；　to　slow　the　bleeding。　Leaning　back；　he　spotted　Tony　Torres's　Salesman　of　the　Year　plaque　on　the　wall。　〃Pretty　impressive；〃　Fred　Dove　said。
　
　〃Yes；　it　was　quite　a　big　day　for　us。〃　Edie　beamed；　a　game　simulation　of　spousely　pride。
　
　〃And　where's　Mister　Torres　tonight？〃
　
　Out　of　town；　Edie　replied；　at　a　mobile…home　convention　in　Dallas。　For　the　second　time；　Fred　Dove　looked　doubtful。
　
　〃Even　with　the　hurricane？　Must　be　a　pretty　important　convention。〃
　
　〃It　sure　is；〃　said　Edie　Marsh。　〃He's　getting　another　award。〃
　
　〃Ah。〃
　
　〃So　he　bad　to　go。　I　mean；　it'd　look　bad　if　he　didn't　show　up。　Like　he　wasn't　grateful　or　something。〃
　
　Fred　Dove　said；　〃I　suppose　so。　When　will　Mister　Torres　be　returning　to　Miami？〃
　
　Edie　sighed　theatrically。　〃I　just　don't　know。　Soon；　I　hope。〃
　
　The　insurance　man　attempted　to　lower　the　recliner；　but　it　kept　springing　to　the　sleep　position。　Finally　Edie　Marsh　sat　on　the　footrest；　enabling　Fred　Dove　to　climb　out。　He　said　he　wanted　to　reinspect　the　damage　to　the　master　bedroom。　Edie　said　that　was　fine。
　
　She　was　rinsing　the　bloody　towel　in　a　sink　when　the　insurance　man　called。　She　hurried　to　the　bedroom；　where　Fred　Dove　held　up　a　framed　photograph　that　he'd　dug　from　the　storm　rubble。　It　was　a　picture　of　Tony　Torres　with　a　large　dead　fish。　The　fish　had　a　mouth　the　size　of　a　garbage　pail。
　
　〃That's　Tony　on　the　left；〃　Edie　said　with　a　dry；　edgy　laugh。
　
　〃Nice　grouper。　Where'd　he　catch　it？〃
　
　〃The　ocean。〃　Where　else？　thought　Edie。
　
　〃And　who's　this？〃　The　insurance　man　retrieved　another　frame　off　the　floor。　The　glass　was　cracked；　and　the　picture　was　puckered　from　storm　water。　It　was　a　color　nine…by…twelve　mounted　inside　gold　filigree：　Tony　Torres　with　his　arm　around　the　waist　of　a　petite　but　heavy…breasted　Latin　woman。　Both　of　them　wore　loopy　champagne　smiles。
　
　〃His　sister　Maria；〃　Edie　blurted；　sensing　the　game　was　about　to　end。
　
　〃She's　in　a　wedding　gown；〃　Fred　Dove　remarked；　with　no　trace　of　sarcasm。　〃And　Mister　Torres　is　wearing　a　black　tuxedo　and　tails。〃
　
　Edie　said；　〃He　was　the　best　man。〃
　
　〃Really？　His　hand　is　on　her　bottom。〃
　
　〃They're　very　close；〃　said　Edie；　〃for　a　brother　and　sister。〃　The　words　trailed　off　in　defeat。
　
　Fred　Dove's　shoulders　stiffened；　and　his　tone　chilled。　〃Do　you　happen　to　have　some　identification？　A　driver's　license　would　be　good。　Anything　with　a　current　photograph。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　said　nothing。　She　feared　pounding　one　felony　with　another。
　
　〃Let　me　guess；〃　said　the　insurance　man。　〃All　your　personal　papers　were　lost　in　the　hurricane。〃
　
　Edie　bowed　her　head；　thinking：　This　can't　be　happening　again。　One　of　these　days　I've　got　to　catch　a　break。　She　said；　〃Shit。〃
　
　〃Pardon？〃
　
　〃I　said　'shit。'　Meaning；　I　give　up。〃　Edie　couldn't　believe　it…a　fucking　wedding　picture！　Tony　and　the　unfaithful　witch　he　planned　to　rip　off　for　half　the　hurricane　money。　Too　bad　Snapper　bolted；　she　thought；　because　this　was　ten　times　better　than　Sally　Jessy。
　
　〃Who　are　you？〃　Fred　Dove　was　stern　and　official。
　
　〃Look；　what　happens　now？〃
　
　〃I'll　tell　you　exactly　what　happens…〃
　
　At　that　moment；　the　electric　generator　ran　out　of　gasoline；　dying　with　a　feeble　series　of　burps。　The　light…bulb　went　dim　and　the　television　went　black。　The　house　at　15600　Calusa　became　suddenly　as　quiet　as　a　chapel。　The　only　sound　was　a　faint　jingle　from　the　backyard；　where　the　two　dachshunds　squirmed　to　pull　free　of　their　leashes。
　
　In　the　darkness；　Fred　Dove　reached　for　his　flashlight。　Edie　Marsh　intercepted　his　wrist　and　held　on　to　it。　She　decided　there　was　nothing　to　lose　by　trying。
　
　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　the　insurance　man　asked。
　
　Edie　brought　his　hand　to　her　mouth。　〃What's　it　worth　to　you？〃
　
　Fred　Dove　stood　as　still　as　a　statue。
　
　〃e　on；〃　Edie　said；　her　tongue　brushing　his　knuckles；　〃what's　it　worth？〃
　
　The　insurance　man；　in　a　shaky　whisper：　〃What's　what　worth…not　calling　the　police？　Is　that　what　you　mean？〃
　
　Edie　was　smiling。　Fred　Dove　could　tell　by　the　feel　of　her　lips　and　teeth　against　his　hand。
　
　〃What's　this　house　insured　for？〃　she　asked。
　
　〃Why？〃
　
　〃One　twenty？　One　thirty？〃
　
　〃One　forty…one；〃　said　Fred　Dove；　thinking：　Her　breath　is　so　unbelievably　soft。
　
　Edie　switched　to　her　sex…kitten　voice；　the　one　that　had　failed　to　galvanize　the　young　Palm　Beach　Kennedy。　〃One　forty…one？　You　sure；　Mister　Dove？〃
　
　〃The　structure；　yes。　Because　of　the　swimming　pool。〃
　
　〃Of　course。〃　She　pressed　closer；　wishing　she　weren't　wearing　a　bra　but　suspecting　it　didn't　much　matter。　Poor　Freddie's　brakes　were　already　smoking。　She　feathered　her　eyelashes　against　his　neck　and　felt　him　bury　his　face　in　her　hair。
　
　The　insurance　man　labored　to　speak。　〃What　is　it　you　want？〃
　
　〃A　partner；〃　Edie　Marsh　replied；　sealing　the　agreement　with　a　long　blind　kiss。
　
　Sergeant　Cain　Darby　took　his　weekends　with　the　National　Guard　as　seriously　as　he　took　his　regular　job　as　a　maximum…security…prison　guard。　Although　he　would　have　preferred　to　remain　in　Starke　with　the　armed　robbers　and　serial　killers；　duty　called　Cain　Darby　to　South　Florida　on　the　day　after　the　hurricane　struck。
　
　manding　Darby's　National　Guard　unit　was　the　night　manager　of　a　Days　Inn；　who　sternly　instructed　the　troops　not　to　fire　their　weapons　unless　fired　upon　themselves。　From　what　Cain　Darby　knew　of　Miami；　this　scenario　seemed　not　entirely　improbable。　Nonetheless；　he　understood　that　a　Guardsman's　chief　mission　was　to　maintain　order　in　the　streets；　assist　needy　civilians　and　prevent　looting。
　
　The　unit's　first　afternoon　was　spent　erecting　tents　for　the　homeless　and　unloading　heavy　drums　of　fresh　drinking　water　from　the　back　of　a　Red　Cross　trailer。　After　supper；　Cain　Darby　was　posted　to　a　curfew　checkpoint　on　Quail　Roost　Drive；　not　far　from　the　Florida　Turnpike。　Darby　and　another　Guardsman；　the　foreman　of　a　paper　mill；　took　turns　stopping　the　cars　and　trucks。　Most　drivers　had　good　excuses　for　being　on　the　road　after　curfew…some　were　searching　for　missing　relatives；　others　were　on　their　way　to　a　hospital；　and　still　others　were　simply　lost　in　a　place　they　no　longer　recognized。　If　questions　arose　about　a　driver's　alibi；　the　paper…mill　foreman　deferred　judgment　to　Sergeant　Darby；　due　to　his　law…enforcement　experience。　mon　violators　were　TV　crews；　sightseers；　and　teenagers　who　had　e　to　steal。　These　cars　Cain　Darby　interdicted　and　sent　away；　to　the　Turnpike　ramp。
　
　At　midnight　the　paper…mill　foreman　returned　to　camp；　leaving　Sergeant　Darby　alone　at　the　barricade。　He　dozed　for　what　must　have　been　two　hours；　until　he　was　startled　awake　by　loud　snorting。　Blearily　he　saw　the　shape　of　a　large　bear　no　more　than　thirty　yards　away；　at　the　edge　of　a　pine　glade。　Or　maybe　it　was　just　a　freak　shadow；　for　it　looked　nothing　like　the　chubby　black　bears　that　Cain　Darby　routinely　poached　from　the　Ocala　National　Forest。　The　thing　that　he　now　thought　he　was　seeing　stood　seven　feet　at　the