chiaasen.stormyweather-第61部分

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。〃
　
　Bonnie　felt　crummy　that　she'd　given　Snapper　the　idea。
　
　Skink　said；　〃Speaking　for　myself；　yes；　I'm　sure　they're　delightful。　But　some　other　time。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　felt　herself　blush。　Nobody　spoke。　Snapper　began　to　hum　again；　acpanied　by　the　metered　squeak　of　the　windshield　wipers。　Ahead；　on　the　ocean　side　of　the　highway；　Edie　saw　the　electric…blue　sign　for　the　Paradise　Palms　Resort　Motel。
　
　Skink　shook　Levon　Stichler　out　of　the　carpet；　dumping　him　like　a　sack　of　flour　on　the　terrazzo。　Somebody　yanked　off　the　gag　and　the　blindfold。
　
　The　old　man's　eyes　watered　at　the　sudden　brightness。
　
　A　woman's　voice：　〃You　again。〃
　
　Levon　blinked　until　a　face　came　into　focus…the　redhead　from　the　hurricane　house　at　Turtle　Meadow。　The　chiffon　scarf；　Levon's　blinder；　dangled　from　her　festively　painted　fingernails。　Standing　next　to　the　redhead　was　a　wild…looking　blonde。　She　said；　〃What's　your　name；　sweetheart？〃
　
　The　redhead　wore　a　diaphanous　black　bustier；　fishnet　stockings　and　stiletto　heels。　The　blonde　wore　a　silver　lame　teddy　that　made　her　shimmer　like　the　hood　ornament　on　a　Silver　Shadow。　The　air　was　sugary　with　perfume；　pure　heaven；　after　three　hours　of　gagging　on　mildew　and　carpet　fuzz。　When　Levon　Stichler　sat　up；　he　found　himself　in　the　center　of　an　attentive　circle：　the　two　prostitutes；　the　thug　in　the　pinstriped　suit；　the　pretty　long…haired　brunette；　another　young　woman；　with　creamy　skin　and　delicate　features；　and　a　large　bearded　man　wearing　a　flowered　shower　cap。　The　bearded　man　was　polishing　a　glass　eye　on　the　sleeve　of　his　jacket。
　
　They　were　gathered　in　a　small　motel　room。　Levon　Stichler　said：　〃What's　this　all　about？〃　The　prostitutes　introduced　themselves。　Bridget　and　Jasmine。
　
　Snapper　dropped　to　a　crouch。　Roughly　he　pinched　the　back　of　the　old　man's　neck。　〃You　tried　to　kill　me；　'member？〃
　
　〃It　was　a　mistake。　I　told　you。〃
　
　〃Here's　the　deal：　You're　gone　stay　down　here　two；　maybe　three　days　with　the　girls。　They're　gone　fuck　ya　and　blow　ya　till　you　can't　walk。　Plus　they　gone　take　some　pitchers。〃
　
　Levon　was　skeptical。　The　man　reeked　of　liquor　and　spoke　as　if　he　had　a　mouthful　of　marbles。
　
　〃Just　shoot　me　and　get　it　over　with。〃
　
　〃We're　not　shooting　anybody。〃　It　was　the　pretty　brunette。　〃Honest；〃　she　said；　〃long　as　you　behave。〃
　
　Snapper　said；　〃Maybe　you're　too　old　to　get　it　up　or　maybe　you　like　guys…I　don't　fuckin'　care。　Point　is；　you　stay　here　with　these　girls　till　I　call　and　say　it's　OK　to　leave。　Then　what　you　do；　you　take　your　sweet　time　gettin'　back　to　Miami。　By　that　I　mean；　stand　on　the　highway　with　your　thumb　out。　Unnerstand？〃
　
　Levon　stammered　and　blinked。　Snapper　swatted　him　twice　across　the　face。
　
　Edie　Marsh　said：　〃I　don't　think　Mister　Stichler　realizes　the　alternative。　The　alternative　is　we　go　to　the　cops　and　tell　how　you　tried　to　murder　Snapper　and　rape　me　with　that　trailer　spike。　Your　family'll　think　you've　gone　senile。　The　photographs　won't　help…Grandpa　doing　pony　rides　with　two　call　girls。〃
　
　Levon　glanced　up　at　Bridget　and　Jasmine。　They　were　large　and　scary。　He　could　tell　they'd　worked　together　before。
　
　〃Think　of　it　as　a　vacation；〃　said　Edie。　〃Hey；　you're　allowed　to　have　fun；〃
　
　〃I　wish　I　could。〃
　
　〃Uh…oh。〃　Bridget　knelt　beside　him。　〃Prostate？〃
　
　The　old　man　nodded　somberly。　〃It　was　removed　last　year。〃
　
　Jasmine　told　him　to　cheer　up。　〃We'll　think　of　something。〃
　
　Skink；　fitting　his　glass　eye　into　its　socket；　advised　Levon　Stichler　to　do　what　he　was　told。　〃It's　still　better　than　getting　shot。〃
　
　Bridget　said；　〃Gee；　thanks。〃
　
　Snapper　paid　the　prostitutes　from　a　wad　of　the　stolen　roofing　money；　which　they　counted；　divided　and　put　away。　They　turned　their　backs　so　he　wouldn't　peek　inside　their　pocketbooks；　which　bulged　with　the　other　cash　given　to　them　ten　minutes　earlier　by　Avila；　and　ten　minutes　before　that　by　the　good…looking　young　man　with　the　。38　Special。
　
　〃Is　there　ice　in　the　bucket？〃　Bonnie　Lamb　asked。　The　hooker　named　Jasmine　told　her　to　help　herself。　Bonnie　scooped　two　handfuls　of　cubes　and　pressed　them　to　her　cheeks。
　
　The　one…eyed　man　helped　the　prostitutes　lift　Levon　Stichler　to　his　feet。　Snapper　poked　the　old　man's　Adam's　apple　with　the　barrel　of　the　gun。　〃Don't　try　nuthin'　stupid；〃　he　said。　〃These　young　girls　can　crack　coconuts　in　their　legs。　Killing　a　skinny　old　fart　like　you　is　no　problem　whassoever。〃
　
　Levon　Stichler　didn't　doubt　it　for　a　moment。　〃Don't　worry；　mister。　I'm　no　hero。〃
　
　The　redhead　pinched　his　butt　playfully。　〃We'll　see　about　that。〃
　
　Augustine　was　hiding　behind　a　Dumpster　when　the　black　Cherokee　with　the　cheesy　mud　flaps　arrived　at　the　Paradise　Palms。　His　spirits　leaped　when　he　saw　Bonnie　Lamb　get　out；　followed　by　the　governor。　The　driver　was　a　brown…haired　woman　in　a　lavender　top；　probably　the　one　from　the　driver's　license　photo；　Edith　Deborah　Marsh；　age　twenty…nine。　She　was　the　next　to　get　out　of　the　Jeep。　From　the　passenger　side：　a　lanky　sallow　man　in　a　rumpled　suit；　no　necktie。　He　carried　a　gun　and　a　bottle；　and　seemed　unsteady。　His　crooked　jaw　was　made　conspicuous　by　a　street　light。　Augustine　had　no　doubt。　It　was　him；　the　one　who'd　attacked　Brenda　Rourke；　the　one　the　prostitutes　had　told　him　about。　Snapper　in　real　life；　〃Lester　Parsons〃　on　the　motel　register。
　
　The　man　opened　the　hatch　of　the　Cherokee　and　barked　something　at　Skink；　who　removed　a　long　lumpy　bundle　and　hoisted　it　across　his　back。　Once　the　procession　disappeared　into　the　motel；　Augustine　ran　to　the　Jeep；　climbed　in　the　cargo　well　and　quietly　closed　the　hatch。　He　flattened　himself　below　the　rear　window；　placing　the　。38　at　his　right　side。　With　both　hands　he　held　the　dart　rifle　across　his　chest。
　
　This；　he　thought；　would　be　something　to　tell　the　old　man。　Make　those　fat　wormy　veins　in　his　temples　pop　up。
　
　Dad　wouldn't　dream　of　risking　his　neck　unless　vast　sums　of　money　were　at　stake。　Love；　loyalty　and　honor　weren't　part　of　the　dope　smuggler's　creed。　Augustine　could　hear　the　incredulity：　A。G。；　why　the　hell　would　you　do　such　a　crazy　thing？
　
　Because　the　man　deserved　it。　He　beat　up　a　lady　cop　and　stole　her　mother's　wedding　ring。　He　was　scum。
　
　Don't　be　an　idiot。　You　could've　been　killed。
　
　He　kidnapped　the　woman　I　love。
　
　I　raised　an　idiot！
　
　No　you　didn't。　You　didn't　raise　anybody。
　
　Whenever　Augustine　wrote　his　father；　he　made　a　point　of　mentioning　how　much　money　he'd　given　away　to　ex…girlfriends；　obscure　charities　and　ultraliberal　political　causes。　He　imagined　his　father's　face　turning　gray　with　dismay。
　
　You　disappoint　me；　A。G。
　
　This　from　a　dumb　shit　who　ran　aground　at　full　throttle　with　thirty…three　kilos　in　the　bilge　and　the　entire　Bahamian　National　Defense　Force　in　pursuit。
　
　〃You　disappoint　me。〃
　
　Right。　Augustine　listened　to　the　rain　thrumming　against　the　roof　of　the　truck。　It　made　him　drowsy。
　
　He　hadn't　expected　to　see　his　father　waiting　when　he　awoke　from　the　a；　so　he　wasn't　disappointed。　Predominantly　he　was　thrilled　to　be　alive。　The　person　at　his　bedside　was　a　middle…aged　Haitian　nurse　named　Lucy。　She　told　him　about　the　plane　crash；　the　months　of　slumber。　Augustine　hugged　her　tearfully。　Lucy　showed　him　a　letter　from　his　father；　sent　from　the　prison　in　Talladega；　she'd　read　the　letter　aloud　to　Augustine　when　he　was　unconscious。　She　volunteered　to　read　it　again。
　
　Son；　I　hope　you　are　alive　to　read　these　words。　I'm　sorry　the　way　things　turned　out。　Dad　should've　signed　off　right　there；　but　grace　and　decency　were　never　his　strong　suits。
　
　Everything　I　did　was　for　you；　he　wrote。　Every　move　I　made；　right　or　wrong。
　
　Which　was　crap；　an　unnecessary　lie。　It　mildly　saddened　Augustine　but　didn't　embitter　him。　He　was　beyond　all　that。　The　airplane　accident　had　pruned　his　emotions　down　to　the　roots。　Nothing　affected　him　the　way　it　had　before；　which　was　fine。　He　decided　everyone　could　benefit　from　a　short　a。　Wipe　the　slate　clean。
　
　So　what　if　it　took　him　years　to　e　up　with　a　new　agenda？　Here　it　was。　Here　she　was。
　
　Dad　would　not　approve。　Fortunately；　Dad　was　not　a　factor。
　
　Augustine　heard　the　closing　of　a　door；　footsteps　slapping　in　the　puddles；　voices　advancing　across　the　motel　parking　lot。　He　took　three　deep　breaths。　Checked　the　safety　on　the　dart　rifle。
　
　He　was　glad　for　the　weather；　which　misted　the　Jeep's　windows　and　made　him　invisible　from　the　outside。　The　voices　grew　sharper…two　men　arguing。　Augustine　didn't　recognize　them。　Perhaps　Snapper　and　somebody　else；　but　who？
　
　Loud　words　broke　through　the　whisper　of　the　rain。　Augustine　decided　not　to　give　himself　away　unless　Bonnie　Lamb　was　in　trouble。　The　argument　moved　closer。　Then　came　a　deep　huff；　the　sounds　of　a　clumsy　struggle；　a　bottle　shattering　on　the　pavement。
　
　One　of　the　men　blurted：　〃Hold　the　damn　gun　while　I　strangle　this　fucker。〃
　
　Snapper's　consternation　about　the　two　remaining　bullets　in　the　。357　was　well　founded。　A　crack　marksman　he　was　not。
　
　A　police　report　dated　July　7；　1989；　showed　that　one　Lester　Maddox　Parsons　was　arrested　for　shooting　Theodore　〃Sunny〃　Shea　outside　the　Satellite　Grille　in　Dania；　Florida。　The　victim　was　not　just　a　garden…variety　crack　dealer；　as　Snapper　claimed　after