ch.nativetongue-第39部分

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　〃Wouldn't　do　a　damn　bit　of　good；〃　said　Jim　Tile。　〃But　I　tell　you　what…I'd　appreciate　if　you'd　let　me　know　what's　going　on　down　here。〃
　〃The　usual；〃　Skink　said。　〃The　bad　guys　are　kicking　our　collective　ass。〃
　〃We　got　a　dead　body　off　the　bridge；　a　guy　named　Angel　Gaviria。　You　know　about　that；　right？〃　The　trooper　didn't　wait　for　an　answer。　〃The　coroner　is　saying　suicide　or　accident；　but　I　was　there　and　I　don't　think　it's　either　one。　The　deceased　was　a　well…known　scum…bucket　and　they　don't　usually　have　the　decency　to　kill　themselves。　Usually　someone　else　does　the　honor。〃
　〃Jim；　we　live　in　troubled　times。〃
　〃The　other　day　I　pull　over　a　blue　Ford　sedan　doing　eighty…six　down　the　bridge。　Turns　out　to　be　a　Feeb。〃
　〃FBI？〃　Skink　perked　up。　〃All　the　way　down　here？〃
　〃Hawkins　was　his　name。　He　badges　me；　we　get　to　chatting。　Turns　out　he's　working　a　case　at　the　Amazing　Kingdom。　Something　to　do　with　militant　bunny　buggers　and　missing　blue…tongued　rats。〃　Jim　Tile　gave　a　lazy　laugh。　〃Now　this　is　the　FBI；　interviewing　elves　and　cowboys　and　fairy　princesses。　I　don't　suppose　you　can　fill　me　in。〃
　Skink　was　pleased　that　the　feds　had　taken　notice　of　events　in　North　Key　Largo。　He　said；　〃All　I　know　is　bits　and　pieces。〃
　〃Speaking　of　which；　what　can　you　tell　me　about　killer　whales？　This　morning　a　semi　rolls　over　and　I　got　stinking　gobs　of　dead　whale　all　over　my　nice　clean　blacktop。　I'm　talking　tonnage。〃
　Skink　said；　〃That　would　explain　the　buzzard　shit　on　this　state　vehicle。〃　Secretly　he　wished　he　could　have　been　there　to　witness　the　spectacle。
　〃You　think　it's　funny？〃
　〃I　think；〃　said　Skink；　〃you　should　prepare　for　the　worst。〃
　Jim　Tile　took　off　his　Stetson　and　lowered　his　face　in　front　of　the　dashboard　vents；　the　cool　air　felt　good　on　his　cheeks。　A　gumdrop…shaped　sports　car　blew　by　doing　ninety…plus；　and　the　trooper　barely　glanced　up。　He　radioed　the　dispatcher　in　Miami　and　announced　he　was　going　off　duty。　〃I'm　tired；〃　he　said　to　Skink。
　〃Me；　too。　You　haven't　seen　anybody　from　Game　and　Fish；　have　you？〃
　〃The　panther　patrol？　No；　I　haven't。〃　Jim　Tile　sat　up。　〃I　haven't　seen　the　plane　in　at　least　a　month。〃
　Skink　said；　〃Must've　broken　down。　Else　they're　working　the　Fokahatchee。〃
　〃Listen；〃　the　trooper　said；　〃I　won't　ask　about　the　dead　guy　on　the　bridge；　and　I　won't　ask　about　the　whale…〃
　〃I　had　nothing　whatsoever　to　do　with　the　whale。〃
　〃Fair　enough；〃　said　Jim　Tile；　〃but　what　about　torching　those　bulldozers　up　on　905？　Were　you　in　on　that？〃
　Skink　looked　at　him　blankly。　The　trooper　described　what　had　happened　that　very　afternoon　at　the　Falcon　Trace　construction　project。　〃They're　looking　for　a　guy　who　used　to　work　at　the　Kingdom。　They　say　he's　gone　nuts。　They　say　he's　got　a　gun。〃
　〃Is　that　right？〃　Skink　tugged　pensively　at　his　beard。
　〃Do　you　know　this　person？〃
　〃Possibly。〃
　〃Then　could　you　possibly　get　him　a　message　to　stop　this　shit　before　it　gets　out　of　hand？〃
　〃It's　already　out　of　hand；〃　Skink　said。　〃The　sons…of…bitches　are　beating　up　little　old　ladies。〃
　〃Damn。〃　The　trooper　stared　out　the　window　of　the　car。　A　trio　of　mosquitoes　bounced　off　the　glass　and　circled　his　head。　Skink　reached　over　and　snatched　the　insects　out　of　the　air。　Then　he　opened　the　window　and　let　them　buzz　away　into　the　thick　fragrant　night。
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃I'm　worried　about　you。〃
　Skink　grinned。　〃That's　a　good　one。〃
　〃Maybe　I　should　haul　you　in　after　all。〃
　〃Wouldn't　stick。　No　one　saw　me　do　it；　and　no　one　found　the　gun。　Hell；　they　wouldn't　even　hold　me　overnight。〃
　〃Yeah；　they　would；〃　Jim　Tile　said；　〃on　my　word。〃
　Skink's　smile　went　away。
　The　trooper　said；　〃The　charge　wouldn't　stick；　that's　true。　But　I　could　take　you　out　of　circulation　for　a　month　or　two。　Let　the　situation　simmer　down。〃
　〃Why？〃　Skink　demanded。　〃You　know　I'm　right。　You　know　what　I'm　doing　is　right。〃
　〃Not　shooting　rental　cars。〃
　〃A　lapse　of　judgment；〃　Skink　admitted。　〃I　said　I　was　sorry；　for　God's　sake。〃
　Jim　Tile　put　a　hand　on　his　friend's　shoulder。　〃I　know　you　think　it's　the　right　thing；　and　the　cause　is　good。　But　I'm　afraid　you're　gonna　lose。〃
　〃Maybe　not；〃　Skink　said。　〃I　think　the　Mojo's　rising。〃
　The　trooper　always　got　lost　when　Skink　started　quoting　old　rock…and…roll　songs；　someday　he　was　going　to　sit　Skink's　shiny　ass　down　and　make　him　listen　to　Aretha。　Put　some　soul　in　his　system。　Jim　Tile　said；　〃I've　got　a　life；　too。　Can't　spend　the　rest　of　it　looking　out　for　you。〃
　Skink　sagged　against　the　car　door。　〃Jim；　they're　paving　the　goddamn　island。〃
　〃Not　the　whole　thing…〃
　〃But　this　is　how　it　begins；〃　Skink　said。　〃Jesus　Christ；　you　ought　to　know。　This　is　how　it　begins！〃
　There　was　no　point　in　pushing　it。　The　state　had　bought　up　nearly　all　North　Key　Largo　for　preservation；　the　Amazing　Kingdom　and　the　Falcon　Trace　property　were　essentially　all　that　remained　in　private　hands。　Still；　Skink　was　not　celebrating。
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃This　guy　you　recruited…〃
　〃I　didn't　recruit　him。〃
　〃Whatever。　He's　in　it；　that's　the　main　thing。〃
　〃Apparently　so；〃　Skink　said。　〃Apparently　he's　serious。〃
　〃So　locking　you　up　won't　do　any　good；　will　it？　Not　with　him　still　out　there。〃　The　trooper　put　on　his　hat　and　adjusted　it　out　of　habit。　In　the　darkness　of　the　car；　Skink　couldn't　read　the　expression　on　his　friend's　face。　Jim　Tile　said；　〃Promise　me　one　thing；　all　right？　Talk　some　sense　to　the　boy。　He's　new　at　it；　Governor；　and　he　could　get　hurt。　That　stunt　with　the　bulldozers；　it's　not　cool。〃
　〃I　know；〃　said　Skink；　〃but　it's　got　a　certain　flair。〃
　〃Listen　to　me；〃　Jim　Tile　said　sternly。　〃Already　he's　got　some　serious　people　after　his　ass；　you　understand？　There's　things　I　can　help　with　and　things　I　can't。〃
　Skink　nodded。　〃I'll　talk　to　him；　I　promise。　And　thanks。〃
　Then　he　was　gone。　Jim　Tile　reached　across　to　shut　the　door　and　his　arm　instantly　was　enveloped　by　an　influx　of　mosquitoes。　Frenzied　humming　filled　the　car。
　He　stomped　the　accelerator　and　the　big　Crown　Victoria　sprayed　a　fusillade　of　gravel　into　the　mangroves。　Westbound　at　a　hundred　fifteen　miles　an　hour；　the　trooper　rolled　down　the　windows　to　let　the　wind　suck　the　bugs　from　the　car。
　〃Two　of　them。〃　His　words　were　swallowed　in　the　roar　of　the　open　night。　〃Now　I　got　two　of　the　crazy　bastards。〃
　
　TWENTY…ONE
　Carrie　Lanier's　place　was　furnished　as　exquisitely　as　any　mobile　home。　It　had　a　microwave；　an　electric　can　opener；　a　stove；　a　nineteen…inch　color　TV；　two　paddle　fans　and　a　Naugahyde　convertible　sofa　where　Joe　Winder　slept。　But　there　was　no　music；　so　on　his　third　day　as　a　fugitive　Winder　borrowed　Carrie's　car　and　went　back　to　the　apartment　to　retrieve　his　stereo　system　and　rock　tapes。　He　was　not　totally　surprised　to　find　that　his　place　had　been　broken；　entered　and　ransacked；　judging　by　the　viciousness　of　the　search；　Pedro　Luz　was　the　likely　intruder。　The　inventory　of　losses　included　the　portable　television；　three　champagne　glasses；　a　tape　recorder；　the　plumbing　fixtures；　the　mattress；　a　small　Matisse　print　and　the　toaster。　One　of　Nina's　pink　bras；　which　she　had　forgotten；　had　been　desecrated　ominously　with　cigarette　burns；　and　hung　from　a　Tiffany　lamp。　Also；　the　freshwater　aquarium　had　been　shattered；　and　the　twin　Siamese　fighting　fish　had　been　killed。　It　appeared　to　Joe　Winder　that　their　heads　were　pinched　off。
　The　stereo　tuner　and　tape　deck　escaped　harm；　though　the　turntable　was　in　pieces。　A　pair　of　hedge　clippers　protruded　from　one　of　the　speakers；　the　other；　fortunately；　was　undamaged。
　〃It's　better　than　nothing；〃　Joe　Winder　said　when　he　got　back　to　the　trailer。　〃Low　fidelity　is　better　than　no　fidelity。〃
　While　he　reassembled　the　ponents；　Carrie　Lanier　explored　the　box　of　cassettes。　Every　now　and　then　she　would　smile　or　go　〃Hmmm〃　in　an　amused　tone。
　Finally　Winder　looked　up　from　the　nest　of　colored　wires　and　said；　〃You　don't　like　my　music？〃
　〃I　like　it　just　fine；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　learning　a　lot　about　you。　We've　got　The　Kinks。　Seeger　live　at　Cobo　Hall。　Mick　and　the　boys。〃
　〃Living　in　the　past；　I　know。〃
　〃Oh；　baloney。〃　She　began　to　stack　the　tapes　alphabetically　on　a　shelf　made　from　raw　plywood　and　cinder　blocks。
　〃Do　you　have　a　typewriter？〃　he　asked。
　〃In　the　closet；〃　Carrie　said。　〃Are　you　going　to　start　writing　again？〃
　〃I　wouldn't　call　it　writing。〃
　She　got　out　the　typewriter；　an　old　Olivetti　manual；　and　made　a　place　for　it　on　the　dinette。　〃This　is　a　good　idea；〃　she　said　to　Joe　Winder。　〃You'll　feel　much　better。　No　more　shooting　at　heavy　machinery。〃
　He　reminded　her　that　he　hadn't　actually　pulled　the　trigger　on　the　bulldozers。　Then　he　said；　〃I　stopped　writing　a　long　time　ago。　Stopped　being　a　journalist；　anyway。〃
　〃But　you　didn't　burn　out；　you　sold　out。〃
　〃Thanks；〃　Winder　said；　〃for　the　reminder。〃
　It　was　his　fault　for　staggering　down　memory　lane　in　the　first　place。　Two　nights　earlier；　Carrie　had　quizzed　him　about　the　newspaper　business；　wanted　to　know　what　kind　of　stories　he'd　written。　So　he'd　told　her　about　the　ones　that　had　stuck　with　him。　The　murder　trial　of　a　thirteen…year…old　boy　who'd　shot　his　little　sister　because　she　had　borrowed　his　Aerosmith　album　without　asking。　The　marijuana…smuggling　ring　led　by　a　fugitive　former　justice　of　the　Florida　Supreme　Court。　The　bribery　scandal　in　which　dim…witted　Dade　County　building　inspectors　were　caught　soliciting　Lotto　tickets　as　payoffs。　The　construction　of　a　47　million　superhighway　by　a　Mafia　contractor　whose　formula　for　high…grade　asphalt　included　human　body　parts。
　Joe　Winder　did　not　mention　the　story　that　had　ended　his　career。　He　offered　nothing　about　his　father。　When　Carrie　Lanier　had　asked　why　he'd　left　the　newspaper　for　public　relations；　he　simply　said；　〃Because　of　the　money。〃　She　had　seemed　only　mildly　interested　in　his　short　time　as　a　Disney　World　flack；　but　was　impressed　by　the　reckless　sexual　behavior　that　had　gotten　him　fired。　She　said　it　was　a　healthy　sign　that　he　had　not　bee　a　corporate　drone；　that　the　spark　of　rebellion　still　glowed　in　his　soul。　〃Maybe　in　my　pants；〃　Winder　said；　〃not　in　my　soul。〃
　Carrie　repeated　what　she　had　told　him　the　first　night：　〃You　could　always　go　back　to　being　a　reporter。〃
　〃No；　I'm　afraid　not。〃
　〃So　what　is　it　you　want　to　type…love　letters？　Maybe　a　confession？〃　Mischievously　she　tapped　the　keys　of　the　Olivetti；　two　at　a　time；　as　if　she　were　playing　〃Chopsticks。