ch.doublewhammy-第42部分

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　the　father　had　reported　back　to　his　wife。　〃We've　got　zillions　of　raccoons　back　in　Michigan。〃
　When　they　were　alone　again；　Jim　Tile　said；　〃Shawn；　give　me　your　nephew's　address　in　New　Orleans。　Right　now。〃
　〃I'll　give　it　to　you；〃　Shawn　Curl　said；　scribbling　on　the　back　of　a　postcard；　〃but　he　ain't　there。〃
　〃Where　can　I　find　him？〃
　〃Last　time　he　e　through　he　was　on　his　way　to　Miami。〃
　〃When　was　that？〃
　〃Few　days　ago；〃　said　Shawn　Curl。
　〃Where's　he　staying？〃
　〃Some　big　hotel。〃
　〃You're　a　big　help；　Shawn。　I　guess　I'll　have　to　call　Disney　headquarters　after　all。〃
　Shawn　Curl　didn't　like　that　word。　Headquarters。　In　a　sulky　voice　he　said；　〃The　hotel　is　the　Grand　Biscayne　Something。　I　don't　remember　the　whole　name。〃
　〃Why　was　Thomas　going　down　to　Miami？〃
　〃Business；　he　said。〃
　〃What　business　is　he　in？〃
　Shawn　Curl　shrugged。　〃Promotion　is　what　he　calls　it。〃
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃I　couldn't　help　but　notice　that　big　Oldsmobile　out　front；　the　blue　Niney…Eight。　It　looks　brand…new。〃
　Warily　Shawn　Curl　looked　at　the　trooper。　〃No；　I　had　it　awhile。〃
　〃Still　got　the　sticker　in　the　window；〃　Jim　Tile　remarked；　〃and　the　paper　license　tag　from　the　dealer。〃
　〃So？〃
　〃Did　Thomas　give　you　that　new　car？〃
　Shawn　Curl　drew　a　deep　breath。　What　was　the　world　ing　to；　that　a　nigger　could　talk　to　him　like　this？　〃Maybe　he　did　give　it　to　me；〃　Shawn　Curl　said。　〃There's　no　law　'ginst　it。〃
　〃No；　there　isn't；〃　Jim　Tile　said。　He　thanked　Shawn　Curl　for　his　time；　and　walked　toward　the　door。　〃By　the　way；〃　the　trooper　said；　〃that　lion's　humping　one　of　your　llamas。〃
　〃Shit；〃　said　Shawn　Curl；　scrambling　to　find　his　pitchfork。
　
　The　three　boys　went　to　the　high…school　basketball　game　but　they　didn't　stay　long。　Kyle；　the　one　with　the　phony　drivers　license；　had　three　six…packs　in　the　trunk；　along　with　his　stepfather's　。22…caliber　rifle。　Jeff　and　Cole；　both　of　whom　were　on　the　verge　of　flunking　out　anyway；　cared　even　less　about　high…school　basketball　than　Kyle。　The　game　was　just　their　excuse　to　get　out　of　the　house；　something　to　tell　the　parents。　The　teenagers　left　before　the　first　half　was　over。　Kyle　drove　to　the　usual　spot；　a　county　dumpsite　miles　west　of　the　city；　and　there　they　gulped　down　the　six…packs　while　plinking　bottles；　soda　cans；　and　the　occasional　hapless　rat。　Once　the　beer　and　ammunition　were　used　up；　there　was　only　one　thing　left　to　do。　Jeff　and　Cole　called　it　〃bum…bashing；〃　though　it　was　Kyle；　the　biggest　one；　who　claimed　to　have　invented　both　the　phrase　and　the　sport。　That's　what　everyone　at　the　high　school　said；　anyway：　It　must　have　been　Kyle's　idea。
　Every　winter　transients　flock　to　Florida　as　sure　as　the　tourists　and　turkey　buzzards。　Their　numbers　are　not　so　great；　but　often　they　are　more　visible；　sleeping　in　the　parks　and　public　libraries；　panhandling　the　street　corners。　The　weather　is　so　mild　that　there　is　almost　no　outdoor　place　that　a　bum　would　find　uninhabitable　in　southern　Florida。　Paradise　is　how　many　of　them　would　describe　it。　Some　towns　address　the　problem　with　less　tolerance　than　others　（Palm　Beach；　for　example；　where　loitering　is　treated　the　same　as　ax…murder）；　but　usually　the　bums　get　by　with　little　fear　of　incarceration。　The　reason　is　simple；　and　in　it　lies　another　prime　attraction　for　the　nation's　wandering　winos：　there　is　no　room　for　them　in　South　Florida's　jails　because　the　jails　already　are　too　crowded　with　dangerous　criminals。
　Beginning　in　late　December；　then；　the　transients　start　appearing　on　the　streets。　Rootless；　solitary；　and　unwele；　they　are　ideal　victims　for　the　randomly　violent。　Kyle　and　his　high…school　friends　discovered　this　the　very　first　time。　On　a　five…dollar　bet　from　Cole；　Kyle　slugged　a　wino　under　a　bridge。　The　boys　ran　away；　but　nothing　happened。　Of　course　the　transient　never　reported　the　attack…the　local　cops　would　have　laughed　in　his　face。　A　week　later　the　teenagers　tried　it　again　when　they　discovered　an　old　longhair　sleeping　on　a　golf　course　in　Boca　Raton。　This　time　Jeff　and　Cole　pitched　in；　while　Kyle　added　a　few　whacks　with　his　stepfather's　four…iron。　This　time　when　they　ran　away；　the　kids　were　laughing。
　Soon　bum…bashing　became　part　of　the　weekly　recreation；　a　thrill；　something　to　do。　The　boys　were　easily　bored　and　not　all　that　popular　at　school；　shunned　by　the　jocks；　dopers；　and　surfers　alike。　So　whenever　Kyle　could　get　the　car　and　swipe　some　beer　money；　Jeff　and　Cole　were　raring　to　go。　Shooting　the　rifle　always　seemed　to　put　them　in　the　right　mood。
　As　soon　as　they　left　the　dump　they　started　scouting　for　bums　to　bash。　It　was　Jeff　who　spotted　the　guy　curled　up　beneath　the　Turnpike　overpass。　Kyle　drove　by　once；　turned　the　car　around；　and　drove　past　again。　This　time　he　parked　fifty　yards　down　the　road。　The　three　teenagers　got　out　and　walked　back。　Kyle　liked　the　way　it　was　shaping　up…a　dark　stretch　of　highway　with　practically　no　traffic。
　Skink　was　nearly　asleep；　stretched　out　halfway　up　the　concrete　embankment　and　faced　away　from　the　road。　He　heard　someone　ing；　but　assumed　it　was　only　Decker　and　the　Cuban　detective。　As　the　men　got　closer；　their　footsteps　did　not　alarm　Skink　nearly　so　much　as　their　whispering。　He　was　turning　over　to　take　a　look　just　as　Kyle　ran　up　and　kicked　him　brutally　in　the　head。
　Skink　rolled　down　the　embankment　and　lay　still；　facedown　on　the　flat　ground。
　〃Hey；　Mr。　Hobo；〃　said　Kyle；　〃sorry　I　busted　your　shades。〃　He　held　up　the　broken　sunglasses　for　the　others　to　see。
　Jeff　and　Cole　each　took　a　turn　kicking　Skink　in　the　ribs。　〃I　like　his　outfit；〃　Jeff　said。　He　was　a　bony　kid　with　volcanic　pustular　acne。　〃This'd　be　great　for　hunting；〃　he　said；　fingering　the　rainsuit。
　〃Then　take　it；〃　Kyle　said。
　〃Yeah；　go　ahead；〃　Cole　said；　〃even　though　it's　about　ten　sizes　too　big。〃
　〃You'll　look　like　an　orange　tepee；〃　Kyle　teased。
　Jeff　knelt　and　tried　to　roll　Skink　on　his　back。　〃He's　a　big　sumbitch；〃　he　said。　〃Gimme　a　hand。〃
　They　turned　Skink　over　and　stripped　him。
　〃He　looks　dead；〃　Cole　remarked。
　〃Check　out　the　ponytail；〃　Jeff　said。　He　had　climbed　into　Skink's　enormous　rainsuit。　The　hood　flopped　down　over　his　eyes；　and　the　legs　and　arms　were　way　too　long。　The　other　boys　laughed　as　Jeff　did　a　little　jig　under　the　highway　bridge。　〃I'm　Mr。　Hobo！〃　he　sang。　〃Dead　Mr。　Hobo！　Have　a　drink；　make　a　stink…〃
　Jeff　stopped　singing　when　he　saw　the　stranger。　The　man　was　sprinting　toward　them　from　across　the　road。　Jeff　tried　to　warn　Kyle　but　it　was　too　late。
　The　man　took　down　both　Kyle　and　Cole　with　a　diving　knee…high　tackle。　On　the　ground　it　was　madness。　The　man　hit　Cole　three　times；　crushing　his　nose　and　shattering　his　right　cheekbone　with　an　eggshell　sound　that　made　Jeff　want　to　gag。　While　this　was　going　on；　Kyle；　who　was　taller　than　the　stranger；　managed　to　get　on　his　feet　and　grab　the　man　around　the　neck；　from　behind。　But　the　stranger；　still　on　his　knees；　merely　brought　both　elbows　up　sharply　into　Kyle's　groin。　Sickened；　Jeff　watched　his　other　friend　crumple。　Then　the　man　was　on　top　of　Kyle；　aiming　tremendous　jackhammer　punches　at　the　meat　of　his　throat。
　Jeff　turned　from　the　scene　to　run　but　he　stumbled　inside　the　baggy　rainsuit；　got　up；　faltered　again。　A　hand　gripped　the　back　of　his　neck　and　something　cold　pressed　against　the　base　of　his　skull。　A　gun。
　〃Don't　move；　you　little　fuckwad。〃　A　tough…looking　dark　man　with　a　mustache。
　He　dragged　Jeff　back　to　the　overpass；　where　the　bigger　stranger　was　still　straddling　Kyle　and　wordlessly　redesigning　the　young　man's　face。
　〃Stop　it！〃　yelled　the　dark　man　with　the　gun。　〃Decker；　stop！〃
　But　R。　J。　Decker　couldn't　stop；　he　couldn't　even　hear。　Al　Garcia's　voice　echoed　under　the　bridge　but　not　a　word　reached　Decker's　ears。　All　that　registered　in　his　consciousness　was　the　sight　of　a　face　and　the　need　to　punish　it。　Decker　was　working　mechanically；　his　knuckles　raw　and　bloody　and　numb。　He　stopped　punching　only　when　heavy　damp　arms　encircled　his　chest　and　lifted　him　in　the　air；　as　if　he　were　weightless；　and　suspended　him　there　for　what　seemed　like　a　very　long　time。　ing　down；　unwinding　finally；　the　first　thing　Decker　could　hear　was　the　furious　sound　of　his　own　breathing。　The　second　thing；　from　the　beast　with　the　big　arms；　was　a　tired　voice　that　said；　〃Okay；　Miami；　I'm　impressed。〃
　
　Skink　slipped　unconscious　in　the　back　seat。　His　head　sagged　against　R。　J。　Decker's　shoulder　and　the　breath　rattled　deep　in　his　ribs。　Decker　felt　warm　drops　seeping　through　his　shirt。
　〃He's　lost　that　eye；〃　Al　Garcia　said　grimly；　chewing　on　a　cigarette　as　he　drove。
　Decker　had　seen　it　too。　Skink's　left　eye　was　a　jellied　mess…Kyle；　the　big　kid；　had　been　wearing　Texas　roach…stomper　boots。　A　whitish　fluid　oozed　down　Skink's　cheek。
　〃He　needs　a　doctor；〃　Decker　said。
　So　did　the　teenage　thugs；　Garcia　thought；　but　they　would　live…no　thanks　to　Decker。　Barehanded　he　would　have　killed　them　all　if　Skink　hadn't　stopped　him。　Garcia　felt　certain　that　the　kids　wouldn't　tell　the　police　about　the　beating…Jeff；　the　acne　twerp；　was　the　type　to　spill　the　beans　and　the　others　knew　it。　Together　they'd　invent　some　melodramatic　story　of　what　had　happened　under　the　bridge；　something　that　would　play　well　at　school。　Garcia　was　pretty　sure　two　of　them　would　spend　the　rest　of　the　semester　in　the　hospital；　anyway。
　Decker　felt　exhausted　and　depressed。　His　arms　ached　and　his　knuckles　stung。　He　touched　Skink's　face　and　felt　a　crust　of　blood　on　the　big　man's　beard。
　〃Maybe　I　ought　to　give　up；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Don't　be　a　moron。〃
　〃Once　we　get　him　to　a　doctor；　you　drop　me　off　on　the　highway　and　haul　ass　back　to　Dade　County。　Nobody'll　know　a　thing。〃
　〃Fuck　you；〃　Garcia　said。
　〃Al；　it's　not　worth　it。〃
　〃Speak　for　yourself。〃　It　was　Skink。　He　raised　his　head　and　wiped　his　face　with　the　sleeve　of　his　rainsuit。　With　a　forefinger　he　probed　his　broken　eye　socket　and　said；　〃Great。〃
　〃There's　a　hospital　near　the　St。　Lucie　exit；〃　Garcia　said。
　Skink　said；　〃Naw；　just　keep　driving。〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　captain；〃　Decker　said。　〃We　shouldn't　have　left　you　alone。〃
　〃Alone　is　how　I　like　it。〃　He　slid　over　to　the　corner　of　the　back　seat。　His　face　sank　into　the　shadow。
　
　Garcia　pulled　off　the　Turnpike　at　Fort　Pierce　and　stopped　at　a　Pic　'n'　Pay　convenience　store。　Decker　got　out　to　make　a　phone　call。　While　he　was　gone　Skink　stirred　again　and　straightened　up。　In　the