chiaasen.stormyweather-第44章

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　He　said；　〃Jasmine；　what's　the　name　of　the　motel？〃
　
　〃Not　till　you　promise　me　and　Bridget　won't　get　in　trouble。〃
　
　〃Jesus；　I　already　told　you。〃
　
　She　said；　〃Here's　the　deal；　so　listen。　You　gotta　wait　till　we　get　our　money　from　your　friend　Snapper。　Then　you　gotta　promise　not　to　shoot　anybody　in　front　of　us；　OK？〃
　
　Avila　said；　〃On　my　wife's　future　grave。〃
　
　〃Also；　you　gotta　promise　to　pay　us　what　you　said…　five　hundred　each。〃
　
　〃Yep。〃
　
　〃Plus　two　stone　crab　dinners。　That's　Bridget's　idea。〃
　
　〃No　problem；〃　Avila　said。　Informing　the　prostitutes　that　stone　crabs　were　out　of　season　would　only　have　muddled　the　negotiation。
　
　〃The　name；〃　Avila　pressed。
　
　〃Paradise　Palms。　I've　never　been　there　before。　Bridget；　neither；　but　Snapper　promised　it's　really　nice。〃
　
　〃pared　to　prison；　I'm　sure　it's　the　fucking　Ritz。　What's　the　room　number？〃
　
　Jasmine　asked　Bridget。　Bridget　didn't　know。
　
　〃Doesn't　matter；〃　Avila　said。　〃I'll　track　you　down。〃
　
　〃Remember　what　you　promised！〃
　
　〃Yeah；　I'll　try。　It's　already　been　at　least　seven　seconds。〃
　
　〃Well；　sweetheart；　we　better　cruise。〃
　
　Avila　was　about　to　set　the　receiver　on　the　cradle　when　he　remembered　something。　〃Hey！　Jasmine；　wait！〃
　
　〃Yeah；　what。〃
　
　〃Did　you　tell　her　about　me？〃
　
　〃Bridget？　I　didn't　tell　her　nuthin'。〃　Jasmine　sounded　puzzled。　〃What's　to　tell？〃
　
　〃Nuthin'。〃
　
　〃Oh　。。。　you　mean　about…〃
　
　〃Don't　say　it！〃
　
　Jasmine　said；　〃Honey；　I　would　never。　That　was　between　you　and　me。　Honest　to　God。〃
　
　〃'Cause　the　other　night　you　said　I　was　better。〃　How　valiantly　Avila　had　labored　to　stifle　his　vocalizing　during　the　lovemaking！　What　few　sounds　he'd　made　were　not；　by　any　stretch　of　the　imagination；　squeaks。
　
　〃The　other　night　you　were　just　great；〃　said　Jasmine。　〃Fantastic；　even。　Better　than　I　remembered。〃　Avila　said；　〃Same　goes　for　you；　too。〃　Later；　driving　to　Sweetwater　for　the　chickens；　he　couldn't　stop　thinking　about　the　call　girl's　sultry　pliment。　Whether　she　meant　a　word　of　it　or　not　wasn't　worth　speculating　on；　the　concept　of　sincerity　was　so　foreign　to　Avila's　own　life　that　he　felt　unqualified　to　pass　judgment　on　Jasmine。　He　was　just　glad　she'd　quit　calling　herself　Morganna…what　a　clunker　of　a　name　to　remember　in　the　heat　of　passion！
　
　The　bined　effect　of　marijuana　and　methaqualone　on　Dr　Charles　Gabler's　judgment　was　not　salutary。　Never　was　it　more　evident　than　late　on　the　night　of　September　1；　at　a　roadside　motel　off　Interstate　10　near　Bonifay；　Florida。　Overtaken　with　desire；　the　professor　slipped　out　of　the　twin　bed　he　shared　with　the　sleeping　Neria　Torres；　and　slipped　into　the　twin　bed　occupied　by　the　wakeful　young　graduate　student；　Celeste。　As　he　ardently　attached　himself　to　one　of　Celeste's　creamy　breasts；　Dr　Gabler　was　becalmed　by　a　warm；　harmonious　confluence　of　physical　and　metaphysical　currents。　His　timing　couldn't　have　been　worse。
　
　Neria　Torres　had　been　reevaluating　the　parameters　of　her　relationship　with　the　professor　ever　since　they'd　pulled　off　a　highway　outside　Jackson；　Mississippi；　so　he　could　take　a　leak。　Sitting　in　the　driver's　seat；　watching　Dr　Gabler　try　to　tinkle　in　some　azaleas；　Neria　had　thought：　I　don't　find　this　cute　anymore。
　
　As　the　professor　had　tottered　back　toward　the　van；　the　beams　of　the　headlights　dramatically　illuminated　the　ruby…colored　crystals　dangling　from　the　lanyard　around　his　neck。
　
　〃Oh　wow；〃　young　Celeste　had　exclaimed；　suffused　with　mystic　awe　and　Humboldt　County's　finest。
　
　That　was　the　moment　when　Neria　Torres　had　looked　into　her　future　and　decided　that　the　professor　should　share　no　large　part　of　it；　specifically；　the　insurance　settlement　from　the　hurricane。　Neria　envisioned　a　scenario　in　which　Dr　Gabler　might　endeavor　to　sweet…talk　her　out　of　a　portion　of　the　money…he　would　probably　call　it　a　friendly　loan…and　then　flee　in　the　dead　of　night　with　his　nubile　protegee。　After　all；　that's　pretty　much　what　he'd　done　to　his　previous　lover；　a　vendor　of　fine　macrames；　when　Neria　Torres　entered　his　life。
　
　Even　if　the　professor　harbored　no　selfish　designs　on　the　hurricane　booty；　Neria　had　a　pragmatic　reason　to　dump　him：　His　appearance　in　Miami　would　plicate　the　duel　with　her　estranged　husband　over　the　insurance　settlement。　Considering　the　tainted　circumstance　of　her　departure　from　the　household；　Neria　doubted　that　Tony　would　be　in　a　mood　to　forgive　and　forget。　Her　inability　to　make　contact　in　the　days　following　the　storm　was　foreboding…the　vindictive　bastard　obviously　intended　to　pocket　her　half　of　the　windfall。　If　the　battle　went　to　court；　Dr　Gabler's　bleary　presence　during　the　proceedings　would　not；　Neria　Torres　knew；　work　in　her　favor。
　
　These　were　the　thoughts　she　carried　into　sleep　at　the　motel　in　Bonifay。　Had　it　been　a　deeper　sleep；　or　had　the　room's　Eisenhower…vintage　cooling　unit　been　a　few　decibels　louder；　Neria　Torres　might　not　have　been　awakened　by　the　muffled　suckling　and　amorous　hmmm…hmmms　from　the　nearby　bed。　But　awakened　she　was。
　
　Except　for　cracking　her　eyelids；　Neria　didn't　move　a　muscle　at　first。　Instead　she　lay　listening　in　disgusted　fascination；　struggling　to　arrange　her　emotions。　On　the　one　hand；　she　was　vastly　relieved　to　have　found　a　solid　excuse　for　jettisoning　the　professor。　On　the　other　hand；　she　was　furious　that　the　sneaky　little　shit　would　be　so　crude　and　thoughtless。　Over　the　years；　Tony　Torres　undoubtedly　had　cheated　on　her　now　and　again…but　never　while　she　was　sleeping　in　the　same　room！
　
　Eventually；　it　was　the　immodest　giggling　of　young　Celeste　that　galvanized　Neria　Torres。　She　sprang　from　the　bed；　turned　on　all　the　lights；　snatched　up　the　velvet　satchel　containing　Dr　Gabler's　special　healing　crystals　and　began　whaling　deliriously　on　the　writhing　mound　of　bedsheets。　The　satchel　was　heavy　and　the　stones　were　sharp；　taking　a　toll　on　the　professor's　unfirm　flesh。　With　an　effeminate　cry；　he　scuttled　to　the　bathroom　and　chained　the　door。　Meanwhile　the　graduate　student　cowered　nude　and　tearful　on　the　mattress。　The　stubble　on　Dr　Gabler's　chin　had　left　a　telltale　path　of　abraded；　roseate　blotches　from　her　neck　to　her　quivering　belly。　Neria　Torres　noticed；　with　fierce　satisfaction；　a　faint　ma　of　a　scar　beneath　each　of　young　Celeste's　perfect　breasts；　an　Earth　Mother　with　implants！
　
　Repeatedly　she　gasped；　〃I'm　sorry；　Neria；　please　don't　kill　me！　Please　don't。。。〃
　
　Neria　threw　the　satchel　of　crystals　to　the　floor。　〃Celeste；　you　know　what　I　hope　for　you？　I　hope　that　asshole　hiding　in　the　John　is　the　highlight　of　your　entire　goddamn　life。　Now　where's　the　keys　to　the　van？〃
　
　Hours　later；　at　a　busy　truck　stop　in　Gainesville；　Neria　tried　another　call　to　Mr。　Varga；　her　former　neighbor　in　Miami。　This　time　his　phone　was　working；　Varga　answered　on　the　third　ring。　He　insisted　he　knew　nothing　about　Neria's　husband　and　a　young　blond　hussy　loading　up　a　rental　truck。
　
　〃Fact；　I　haven't　seen　Tony　since　maybe　two　days　after　the　hurricane。〃
　
　〃Are　there　still　strangers　at　the　house？〃　Neria　asked。
　
　〃All　the　time；　people　e　and　go。　But　no　blondes。〃
　
　〃Who　are　they；　Leon？〃
　
　〃I　don't　know。　Friends　and　cousins　of　Tony；　I　heard。　They　got　two　dogs　bark　half　the　night。　I　figured　Tony's　letting　'em　watch　the　place。〃
　
　Varga　shared　his　theory：　Neria's　husband　was　lying　low；　due　to　adverse　publicity　about　the　mobile…home　industry。　〃Every　damn　one　blew　to　smithereens　in　the　storm；〃　Varga　related。　〃The　papers　and　TV　are　making　a　big　stink。　Supposedly　there's　going　to　be　an　investigation。　The　FBI　is　what　they　say。〃
　
　〃Oh；　e　off　it。〃
　
　〃That's　the　rumor；〃　Varga　said。　〃Your　Tony；　he's　no　fool。　I　think　he's　making　himself　invisible　till　all　this　cools　down；　these　people　e　to　their　senses。　I　mean；　it's　not　his　fault　those　trailers　fell　apart。　God's　will　is　what　it　was。　He's　testing　us；　same　as　He　did　with　Noah。〃
　
　〃Except　Noah　wasn't　insured；〃　said　Neria　Torres。
　
　Mr。　Varga　was　right　about　one　thing：　Tony　wouldn't　stick　around　if　there　was　heat。　His　style　was　to　take　a　nice　hotel　room　and　ride　things　out。　In　the　meantime；　he'd　have　some　of　his　deadbeat　relatives　or　white…trash　salesmen　pals　stay　with　their　bimbos　in　the　house　on　Calusa。　Tony　wouldn't　be　far　away；　never　would　he　skip　town　without　getting　his　paws　on　the　Midwest　Casualty　money。
　
　Neria　was　buoyed。　The　story　about　the　young　blonde　and　Brooklyn　obviously　was　bullshit；　a　ruse　cooked　up　by　her　husband。　Wishful　thinking；　too；　Neria　mused。　Talking　to　Mr。　Varga　validated　her　decision　to　return　to　Miami。
　
　〃Are　you　really　heading　home？〃　he　asked。　〃You　and　the　mister　give　it　one　more　try？〃
　
　〃Stranger　things　have　happened；〃　said　Neria　Torres。　She　made　Mr。　Varga　swear　on　a　stack　of　Holy　Bibles　not　to　breathe　a　word。　She　said　it　would　ruin　everything　if　Tony　found　out　she　was　ing。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…THREE
　
　
　Snapper　instructed　Edie　Marsh　to　take　the　Turnpike；　and　watch　the　damn　speedometer。　He　was　pressed　against　the　passenger…side　door；　keeping　the　stolen　。357　pointed　at　the　freak　in　the　army　greens。　The　young　woman　was　no　immediate　threat。
　
　The　stranger　blinked　like　a　craggy　tortoise。　He　said：　〃How　much　you　get　for　her　ring？〃
　
　Snapper　frowned。　The　fucker　knew…but　how？　Edie　Marsh　didn't　take　her　eyes　off　the　road。　〃What's　he　talking　about？　Whose　ring？〃
　
　Snapper　spied；　in　the　lower　margin　of　his　vision；　the　wandering　prow　of　his　jawbone。　He　said；　〃Everybody　shut　the　fuck　up！〃
　
　Leaning　forward；　the　longhair　said　to　Edie：　〃Your　rough…tough　boyfriend　beat　up　a　policewoman。　Ripped　off　her　gun　and　her　mother's　wedding　band…he　didn't　tell　you？〃
　
　Edie　shivered。　Maybe　it　was　his　breath　on　the　nape　of　her　neck；　or　the　slow　rumble　of　his　voice；　or　what　he　was　saying。　Meanwhile　Snapper　waved　the　police　pistol　and　hollered　for　the　whole　world　to　shut　up　or　fucking　die！
　
　He　jammed　a　CD　into　the　dashboard　stereo：　ninety…five　decibels　of　country　heartache。　Within　minutes　his　fury　passed；　soothed　by　Reba's　crooning　or　possibly　the　five　white　pills　Edie　had　given　him　back　at　the　house。　OK；　boy；　now　think。
　
　The　original　plan　was　to　waylay　the　nutty　old　man　with　the　hookers。　No　problem　there。　A　guy　Snapper　knew　from　his　Lauderdale　days；　Johnny　Horn；　had　a　small　motel　down　in　the　Keys。　Ideal　spot　for　Levon　Stichler　to　take　a　short　vacation。　Snapper's　idea　was　to　get　one　a　them　cheap　disposable　cameras；　so　the　hookers　could　take　some　pictures；　the　kind　a　respectable　man　wouldn't　want　his　grandkiddies　to　see。　Two　or　three　days　tied　naked　to　a　motel　bed；　the　old　fart　wouldn't　care　to　recall　he'd　ever　set　foot　at　15600　Calusa　Drive。　If　he　promised　to　behave；　then　possibly　the　disposable　camera　would　get　disposed　of。　The　old　man　could　make　his　way　back　to　Miami　with　nothing　but　a　bed　rash　and　a　sore　cock　to　show　for　the　experience。
　
　Best　of　all；　Snapper　wouldn't　have　to　pay　for　the　motel　room　in　the　Keys；　because　Johnny　Horn　owed　him　a　favor。　Two　years　back；　Snapper　had　more　or　less　repossessed　a　Corvette　convertible　from　the　freeloading　boyfriend　of　one　of　Johnny　Horn's　ex…wives。　Snapper　had　driven　the　Corvette　straight　to　the　Port　of　Miami　and；　in　broad　daylight；　parked　it　on　a　container　ship　bound　for　Cartagena。　It　was　a　high…risk　deal；　a