chiaasen.stormyweather-第28章

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。　Yet　Bonnie　was　saddened　by　the　idea　of　Skink's　going　to　jail。　It　was　naive；　she　knew；　but　that's　how　she　felt。
　
　Jim　Tile　was　questioning　Augustine　about　the　skulls　on　the　wall。　〃Cuban　voodoo？〃
　
　〃No；　nothing　like　that。〃
　
　〃Nineteen　is　what　I　count；〃　the　trooper　said。　〃I　won't　ask　where　you　got　'em。　They're　too　clean　for　homicides。〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　said；　〃They're　medical　specimens。〃
　
　〃Whatever　you　say。〃　After　twenty　years　of　attending　head…on　collisions；　Jim　Tile　had　a　well…earned　aversion　to　human　body　parts。　〃Specimens　it　is；〃　he　said。
　
　Augustine　removed　five　of　the　skulls　from　the　shelves　and　lined　them　up　on　the　hardwood　floor；　at　his　feet。　Then　he　picked　up　three　and　began　to　juggle。
　
　The　trooper　said；　〃I'll　be　damned。〃
　
　As　he　juggled；　Augustine　thought　about　the　drunken　young　fool　who　tried　to　shoot　his　uncle's　Cape　buffalo。　What　a　sad；　dumb　way　to　die。　Fluidly　he　snatched　a　fourth　skull　off　the　floor　and　put　it　in　rotation；　then　the　fifth。
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　found　herself　smiling　at　the　performance　in　spite　of　its　creepiness。　The　governor　emerged　from　the　shower　in　a　cloud　of　steam；　naked　except　for　a　sky…blue　towel　around　his　neck。　His　thick　silver　hair　sent　snaky　tails　of　water　down　his　chest。　He　used　a　corner　of　the　towel　to　dab　the　condensation　off　his　glass　eye。　He　beamed　when　he　saw　Augustine's　juggling。
　
　Jim　Tile　felt　dizzy；　watching　the　skulls　fly。　Max　Lamb　appeared　in　the　doorway。　His　expression　instantly　changed　from　curiosity　to　revulsion；　as　if　a　switch　had　been　flipped　inside　his　head。　Bonnie　knew　what　he　was　going　to　say　before　the　words　left　his　lips：　〃You　think　this　is　funny？〃
　
　Augustine　continued　juggling。　It　was　unclear　whether　he；　or　the　governor's　nudity；　was　the　object　of　Max　Lamb's　disapproval。
　
　The　trooper　said；　〃It's　been　a　long　night；　man。〃
　
　〃Bonnie；　we're　leaving。〃　Max's　tone　was　patronizing　and　snarky。　〃Did　you　hear　me？　Playtime　is　over。〃
　
　She　was　infuriated　that　her　husband　would　speak　to　her　that　way　in　front　of　strangers。　She　stormed　from　the　room。
　
　〃Oh；　Max？〃　Skink；　wearing　a　sly　smile；　touched　a　finger　to　his　own　throat。　Max　Lamb's　neck　tingled　the　old　Tri…Tronics　tingle。　He　jumped　reflexively；　banging　against　the　door。
　
　From　the　backpack　Skink　retrieved　Max's　billfold　and　the　keys　to　the　rental　car。　He　dropped　them　in　Max's　hand。　Max　mumbled　a　thank…you　and　went　after　Bonnie。
　
　Augustine　stopped　juggling；　catching　the　skulls　one　by　one。　Carefully　he　returned　them　to　their　place　on　the　wall。
　
　The　governor　tugged　the　towel　from　his　neck　and　began　drying　his　arms　and　legs。　〃I　like　that　girl；〃　he　said　to　Augustine。　〃How　about　you？〃
　
　〃What's　not　to　like。〃
　
　〃You've　got　a　big　decision　to　make。〃
　
　〃That's　very　funny。　She's　married。〃
　
　〃Love　is　just　a　kiss　away。　So　the　song　says。〃　Playfully　Skink　seized　Jim　Tile　by　the　elbows。　〃Tell　me；　Officer。　Am　I　arrested　or　not？〃
　
　〃That's　up　to　Mister　Max　Lamb。〃
　
　〃I　need　to　know。〃
　
　〃They're　talking　it　over；〃　Jim　Tile　said。
　
　〃Because　if　I'm　not　bound　for　jail；　I'd　dearly　love　to　go　find　the　bastard　who　beat　up　your　Brenda。〃
　
　For　a　moment　the　trooper　seemed　to　sag　under　the　weight　of　his　grief。　His　eyes　welled　up；　but　he　kept　himself　from　breaking　down。
　
　Skink　said；　〃Jim；　please。　I　live　for　opportunities　like　this。〃
　
　〃You've　had　enough　excitement。　We　all　have。〃
　
　〃You；　son！〃　the　governor　barked　at　Augustine。　〃You　had　enough　excitement？〃
　
　〃Well；　they　just　shot　my　water　buffalo　at　a　supermarket…〃
　
　〃Ho！　〃Skink　exclaimed。
　
　〃…but　I'd　be　honored　to　help。〃　The　skull　juggling　had　left　Augustine　energetic　and　primed。　He　was　in　the　mood　for　a　new　project；　now　that　Bonnie's　husband　was　safe。
　
　〃You　think　about　what　I　said；〃　Skink　told　Jim　Tile。　〃In　the　meantime；　I'm　damn　near　hungry　enough　to　eat　processed　food。　How　about　you　guys？〃
　
　He　charged　toward　the　door；　but　the　trooper　blocked　his　path。　〃Put　on　your　pants；　captain。　Please。〃
　
　The　corpse　of　Tony　Torres　lay　unclaimed　and　unidentified　in　the　morgue。　Each　morning　Ira　Jackson　checked　the　Herald；　but　in　the　reams　of　hurricane　news　there　was　no　mention　of　a　crucified　mobile…home　salesman。　Ira　Jackson　took　this　as　affirmation　of　Tony　Torres's　worth…lessness　and　insignificance；　his　death　didn't　rate　one　lousy　paragraph　in　the　newspaper。
　
　Ira　Jackson　turned　his　vengeful　attentions　toward　Avila；　the　inspector　who　had　corruptly　rubber…stamped　the　permits　for　the　late　Beatrice　Jackson's　trailer　home。　Ira　Jackson　believed　Avila　was　as　culpable　as　Tony　Torres　for　the　tragedy　that　had　claimed　the　life　of　his　trusting　mother。
　
　Early　on　the　morning　of　August　28；　Ira　Jackson　drove　to　the　address　he'd　pried　from　the　reluctant　clerk　at　the　Metro　building　department。　A　woman　with　a　heavy　accent　answered　the　front　door。　Ira　Jackson　asked　to　speak　to　Senor　Avila。
　
　〃He　bissy　eng　de　grotch。〃
　
　〃Please　tell　him　it's　important。〃
　
　〃Hokay；　but　he　berry　bissy。〃
　
　〃I'll　wait；〃　said　Ira　Jackson。
　
　Avila　was　scrubbing　rooster　blood　off　the　whitewalls　of　his　wife's　Buick　when　his　mother　announced　he　had　a　visitor。　Avila　swore　and　kicked　at　the　bucket　of　soap。　It　had　to　be　Gar　Whitmark；　harassing　him　for　the　seven　grand。　What　did　he　expect　Avila　to　do…rob　a　fucking　bank！
　
　But　it　wasn't　Whitmark　at　the　door。　It　was　a　stocky　middle…aged　stranger　with　a　chopped　haircut；　a　gold　chain　around　his　neck　and　a　smudge　of　white　powder　on　his　upper　lip。　Avila　recognized　the　powder　as　doughnut　dust。　He　wondered　if　the　guy　was　a　cop。
　
　〃My　name　is　Rick；〃　said　Ira　Jackson；　extending　a　pudgy　scarred　hand。　〃Rick　Reynolds。〃　When　the　man　smiled；　a　smear　of　grape　jelly　was　visible　on　his　bottom　row　of　teeth。
　
　Avila　said；　〃I'm　kinda　busy　right　now。〃
　
　〃I　was　driving　by　and　saw　the　truck。〃　Ira　Jackson　pointed。　〃Fortress　Roofing…that's　you；　right？〃
　
　Avila　didn't　answer　yes　or　no。　His　eyes　flicked　to　his　truck　at　the　curb；　and　the　Cadillac　parked　behind　it。　The　man　wasn't　a　cop；　not　with　a　flashy　car　like　that。
　
　〃The　storm　tore　off　my　roof。　I　need　a　new　one　ASAP。〃
　
　Avila　said；　〃We're　booked　solid。　I'm　really　sorry。〃
　
　He　hated　to　turn　down　a　willing　sucker；　but　it　would　be　suicidal　to　run　a　scam　on　someone　who　knew　where　he　lived。　Especially　someone　with　forearms　the　size　of　fence　posts。
　
　Avila　made　a　mental　note　to　move　the　roofing　truck　off　the　street；　to　a　place　where　passersby　couldn't　see　it。
　
　Ira　Jackson　licked　the　doughnut　sugar　from　his　lip。　〃I'll　make　it　worth　your　while；〃　he　said。
　
　〃Wish　I　could　help。〃
　
　〃How's　ten　thousand　sound？　On　top　of　your　regular　price。〃
　
　Try　as　he　might；　Avila　couldn't　conceal　his　interest。　The　guy　had　a　New　York　accent；　they　did　things　in　a　big　way　up　there。
　
　〃That's　ten　thousand　cash；〃　Ira　Jackson　added。　〃See；　it's　my　grandmother；　she　lives　with　us。　Ninety　years　old　and　suddenly　it's　raining　buckets　on　her　head。　The　roof's　flat…out　gone。〃
　
　Avila　feigned　passion。　〃Ninety　years　old？　Bless　her　heart。〃　He　stepped　outside　and　closed　the　door　behind　him。　〃Problem　is；　I've　got　a　dozen　other　jobs　waiting。〃
　
　〃Fifteen　thousand；〃　Ira　Jackson　said；　〃if　you　move　me　to　the　top　of　the　list。〃
　
　Avila　rubbed　his　stubbled　chin　and　eyed　the　visitor。　How　often；　he　thought；　does　fifteen　grand　e　knocking　at　the　door？　A　rip…off　was　out　of　the　question；　but　another　option　loomed。　Radical；　to　be　sure；　but　do…able：　Avila　could　build　the　man　a　legitimate；　plete　roof。　Use　the　cash　to　settle　up　with　Gar　Whitmark。　Naturally　the　crew　would　piss　and　moan；　spoiled　bastards。　Properly　installing　a　roof　was　a　hard；　hot；　exhausting　job。　Perhaps　desperate　times　called　for　honest　work。
　
　〃I　see；〃　remarked　Ira　Jackson；　〃your　place　came　through　the　hurricane　pretty　good。〃
　
　〃We　were　a　long　way　from　the　eye；　thank　God。〃
　
　〃Thank　God　is　right。〃
　
　〃Where　exactly　do　you　live；　Mister　Reynolds？　Maybe　I　can　squeeze　you　on　the　schedule。〃
　
　〃Fantastic。〃
　
　〃I'll　send　a　man　out　for　an　estimate；〃　Avila　said。　Then　he　remembered　there　was　no　man　to　send；　the　thieving　Snapper　had　skipped。
　
　Ira　Jackson　said；　〃I'd　prefer　it　was　you　personally。〃
　
　〃Sure；　Mister　Reynolds。　How　about　tomorrow　first　thing？〃
　
　〃How　about　right　now？　We　can　ride　in　my　car。〃
　
　Avila　couldn't　think　of　a　single　reason　not　to　go；　and　fifteen　thousand　reasons　why　he　should。
　
　When　Max　Lamb　put　down　the　phone；　his　face　was　gray　and　his　mouth　was　slack。　He　looked　as　if　he'd　been　diagnosed　with　a　terminal　illness。　The　reality　was　no　less　grave；　as　far　as　the　Rodale　8c　Burns　agency　was　concerned。　On　the　other　end　of　the　line；　easygoing　Pete　Archibald　had　sounded　funereal　and　defeated。　The　news　from　New　York　was　bad　indeed。
　
　The　National　Institutes　of　Health　had　scheduled　a　press　conference　to　further　enumerate　the　health　hazards　of　cigaret　smoking。　Ordinarily　the　advertising　world　would　scarcely　take　notice；　so　routine　and　predictable　were　these　dire　outcries。　No　matter　how　harrowing　the　medical　revelations；　the　impact　on　retail　cigaret　sales　seldom　lasted　more　than　a　few　weeks。　This　time；　though；　the　government　had　used　sophisticated　technology　to　test　specific　brands　for　concentrations　of　tars；　nicotine　and　other　assorted　carcinogens。　Broncos　rated　first；　Bronco　Menthols　rated　second；　Lady　Broncos　third。　Epidemiologically；　they　were　the　most　lethal　products　in　the　history　of　tobacco　cultivation。　Smoking　a　Bronco；　in　the　lamentably　quotable　words　of　one　wiseass　NIH　scientist；　was　〃only　slightly　safer　than　sucking　on　the　tailpipe　of　a　Chevrolet　Suburban。〃
　
　Details　of　the　NIH　bombshell　had　quickly　leaked　to　Durham　Gas　Meat　&c　Tobacco；　manufacturer　of　Broncos　and　other　fine　products。　The　pany's　knee…jerk　response　was　a　heated　threat　to　cancel　its　advertising　in　all　newspapers　and　magazines　that　intended　to　report　the　government's　findings。　That　bombastically　idiotic　maneuver；　Max　Lamb　knew；　would　itself　bee　frontpage　headlines　if　sane　heads　didn't　prevail。　Max　had　to　get　back　to　New　York　as　soon　as　possible。
　
　When　he　told　his　wife；　she　said：　〃Right　now？〃
　
　As　if　she　didn't　understand　the　gravity　of　the　crisis。
　
　〃In　my　business；〃　Max　explained　impatiently；　〃this　is　a　flaming　747　full　of　orphans；　plowing　into　a　mountainside。〃
　
　〃Is　it　true　about　Broncos？〃
　
　〃Probably。　That's　not　the　problem。　They　can't　start　yanking　their　ads；　there's　serious　money　at　stake。　Double…digit　millions。〃
　
　〃Max。〃
　
　〃What？〃
　
　〃Please　put　out　that　damn　cigaret。〃
　
　〃Jesus；　Bonnie；　listen　to　yourself。〃
　
　They　were　sitting　in　wicker　chairs　on　Augustine's　patio。　It　was　three　or　four　in　the　morning。　Inside　the　house；　Neil　Young　played　on　the　stereo。　Through　the　French　doors　Bonnie　Lamb　saw　Augustine　in　the　kitchen。　He　noticed　she　was　watching；　and　shot　her　a　quick　shy　smile。　The　black　trooper　and　the　one…eyed　governor　were　standing　over　the　stove；　it　smelled　like　they　were　frying　bacon　and　ham。
　
　Max　Lamb　said；　〃We'll　catch　the　first　plane。〃　He　stubbed　out　his　Bronco　and　flipped　the　butt　into　a　birdbath。
　
　〃What　about　him'）〃　Bonnie　cut　her　eyes　toward　the　kitchen　window；　where　Skink　could　be　seen　breaking　eggs　at　the　sink