ch.doublewhammy-第5部分

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　to　shrink　away。
　〃Nice　meeting　you；〃　Decker　said。
　Kilpatrick　nodded　again　as　he　slipped　out　of　the　office。
　〃Good　kid；〃　Ott　Pickney　said　avuncularly。　〃He's　learning。〃
　Decker　helped　himself　to　a　cup　of　coffee。　His　legs　were　stiff　from　the　long　drive。
　〃What　the　hell　brings　you　here？〃　Ott　asked　amiably。
　〃Fish；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Didn't　know　you　were　a　basser。〃
　〃I　thought　I'd　give　it　a　try；〃　Decker　said。　〃They　say　Harney's　a　real　hotspot　for　the　big　ones。〃
　〃Lunkers；〃　Ott　said。
　Decker　looked　at　him　quizzically。
　〃In　these　parts；　they're　not　big　ones；　they're　lunkers；〃　Ott　explained。　〃The　most　mammoth　bass　in　the　hemisphere。〃
　〃Hawgs；〃　Decker　said；　remembering　one　of　Dennis　Gaulfs　phrases。
　〃Sure；　you　got　it！〃
　〃Where's　the　best　place　to　try；　this　time　of　year？〃
　Ott　Pickney　sat　down　at　his　desk。　〃Boy；　R。J。；　I　really　can't　help　you　much。　The　man　to　see　is　Jamie　Belliroso；　our　sports　guy。〃
　〃Where　can　I　find　him？〃
　〃Maui；〃　Ott　Pickney　said。
　Jamie　Belliroso；　it　turned　out；　was　one　of　a　vanishing　breed　of　sportswriters　who　would　accept　any　junket　tossed　their　way；　as　long　as　gourmet　food　and　extensive　travel　were　involved。　This　month　it　was　a　marlin…fishing　extravaganza　in　Hawaii；　sponsored　by　a　pany　that　manufactured　polyethylene　fish　baits。　Jamie　Belliroso's　air　fare；　room；　and　board　would　all　be　paid　for　with　the　quiet　understanding　that　the　name　of　the　bait　pany　would　be　mentioned　a　mere　eight　or　ten　times　in　his　feature　article；　and　that　the　name　of　the　pany　would　be　spelled　correctly…which；　in　Belliroso's　case；　was　never　a　sure　thing。　In　the　meantime；　the　blue　marlin　were　striking　and　Jamie　was　enjoying　the　hell　out　of　Maui。
　〃When　will　he　be　back？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃Who　knows；〃　Ott　said。　〃From　Hawaii　he's　off　to　Christmas　Island　for　bonefish。〃
　Decker　said；　〃Anyone　else　who　could　help　me？　Someone　mentioned　a　guide　named　Dickie　Lockhart。〃
　Ott　laughed。　〃A　guide？　My　friend；　Dickie's　not　a　guide；　he's　a　god。　A　big…time　bass　pro。　The　biggest。〃
　〃What　does　that　mean？〃
　〃It　means　he　wouldn't　be　seen　in　the　same　boat　with　a　greenhorn　putz　like　you。　Besides；　Dickie　doesn't　hire　out。〃
　Decker　decided　not　to　mention　Dennis　Gaulf's　grave　allegations。　Ott　was　obviously　a　huge　fan　of　Dickie　Lockhart's。　Decker　wondered　if　the　whole　town　was　as　starstruck。
　〃There's　a　couple　good　guides　work　out　on　the　lake；〃　Ott　suggested。　〃Think　they're　up　to　two　hundred　dollars　a　day。〃
　The　world　has　gone　mad；　Decker　thought。　〃That's　too　rich　for　my　blood；〃　he　said　to　Ott。
　〃Yeah；　it's　steep　all　right；　but　they　don't　give　the　tourist　much　choice。　See；　they　got　a　union。〃
　〃A　union？〃　It　was　all　too　much。
　〃The　Lake　Jesup　Bass　Captains　Union。　They　keep　the　charter　rates　fixed；　I'm　afraid。〃
　〃Christ；　Ott；　I　came　here　to　catch　a　fish　and　you're　telling　me　the　lake's　locked　up　by　the　fucking　Izaak　Walton　division　of　the　Teamsters。　What　a　swell　little　town　you've　got　here。〃
　〃It's　not　like　that；〃　Ott　Pickney　said　in　a　you…don't…understand　tone。　〃Besides；　there's　other　options。　One；　rent　yourself　a　skiff　and　give　it　a　shot　alone…〃
　〃I　wouldn't　know　where　to　start；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Or　two；　you　can　try　this　guy　who　lives　out　at　the　lake。〃
　〃Don't　tell　me　he's　not　in　the　union？〃
　〃He's　the　only　one；〃　Ott　said。　〃When　you　meet　him　you'll　know　why。〃　Ott　rolled　his　eyeballs　theatrically。
　Decker　said；　〃I　sense　you're　trying　to　tell　me　the　man　is　loony。〃
　〃They　say　he　knows　the　bass；〃　Ott　said。　〃They　also　say　he's　dangerous。〃
　Decker　was　in　the　market　for　a　renegade。　The　mystery　man　sounded　like　a　good　possibility。
　〃What　does　he　charge？〃　Decker　asked；　still　playing　the　rube。
　〃I　have　no　idea；〃　Ott　said。　〃After　you　see　him；　you　may　want　to　reconsider。　In　that　case　you　can　hook　up　with　one　of　the　regulars　out　of　Rundell's　marina。〃
　Decker　shook　his　head。　〃They　sound　like　hot　dogs；　Ott。　I　just　want　to　relax。〃
　Ott's　brow　wrinkled。　〃I　know　these　folks；　R。J。　I　like　'em；　too。　Now　I　won't　sit　here　and　tell　you　bassers　are　pletely　normal；　'cause　that's　not　true　either。　They're　slightly　manic。　They　got　boats　that'll　outrace　a　Corvette；　and　they're　fairly　crazy　out　on　the　water。　Just　the　other　day　I　wrote　up　a　young　man　who　flipped　his　rig　doing　about　sixty　on　the　lake。　Hit　a　cypress　knee　and　punched　out。〃
　〃He　died？〃
　〃It　was　dawn。　Foggy。　Guess　he　was　racing　his　pals　up　to　the　fishing　hole。〃　Pickney　chuckled　harshly。　〃No　brakes　on　a　boat；　partner。〃
　〃Didn't　the　same　thing　happen　a　few　years　ago　in　one　of　those　big　tournaments？〃　Decker　said。　〃I　read　about　it　in　the　Orlando　papers。　Two　boats　crashed　on　the　way　out。〃
　Ott　said；　〃Yeah；　over　on　Apopka。　Officially　it's　a　grand…prix　start；　but　the　boys　call　it　a　blast…off。　Fifty　boats　taking　off　from　a　dead　stop。〃　Ott　shaped　his　hands　into　two　speedboats　and　gave　a　demonstration。　〃Kaboom！　Hell；　those　tournaments　are　something　else；　R。J。　You　ought　to　do　a　color　layout　sometime。〃
　〃I've　heard　all　kinds　of　stuff　goes　on。　Cheating　and　everything。〃
　〃Aw；　I　heard　that　too；　and　I　just　can't　believe　it。　How　in　the　world　can　you　cheat？　Either　you've　got　fish　on　a　stringer；　or　you　don't。〃　Ott　sniffed　at　the　idea。　〃I　know　these　folks　and　I　don't　buy　it；　not　for　a　second。　Texas；　maybe；　sure。　But　not　here。〃
　Ott　Pickney　acted　like　it　was　all　city　talk。　He　acted　like　the　desk　made　him　an　authority…his　desk；　his　newsroom；　his　town。　Ott's　ego　was　adapting　quite　well　to　the　rural　life；　Decker　thought。　The　wise　old　pro　from　Miami。
　Pickney　perked　up。　〃You　on　expense　account？〃
　〃A　good　one；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Buy　me　lunch？〃
　〃Sure；　Ott。〃
　〃The　guy　at　the　lake；　his　name　is　Skink。　As　I　said；　they　talk　like　he's　only　got　one　oar　in　the　water；　so　watch　your　step。　One　time　we　sent　a　kid　to　write　a　little　feature　story　about　him　and　this　Skink　took　an　ax　and　busted　the　windows　out　of　the　kid's　car。　He　lives　in　a　cabin　off　the　old　Mormon　Trail。　You　can't　miss　it；　R。J。；　it's　right　on　the　lake。　Looks　like　a　glorified　outhouse。〃
　〃Skink　what？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃That's　his　whole　name；〃　Ott　Pickney　said。　'That's　all　he　needs　up　here。〃　He　rolled　his　chair　back　and　clomped　his　shoes　up　on　the　bare　desk。　〃See；　sport；　you're　not　in　Miami　anymore。〃
　
　The　man　named　Skink　said；　〃Go。〃
　〃I　need　to　talk　to　you。〃
　〃You　got　thirty　seconds。〃　The　man　named　Skink　had　a　gun。　A　Remington；　Decker　noted。　The　rifle　lay　across　his　lap。
　It　was　a　large　lap。　Skink　appeared　to　be　in　his　late　forties；　early　fifties。　He　sat　in　〃a　canvas　folding　chair　on　the　porch　of　his　cabin。　He　wore　Marine…style　boots　and　an　orange　rainsuit；　luminous　even　in　the　twilight。　The　shape　and　features　of　his　face　were　hard　to　see；　but　Skink's　silver…flecked　hair　hung　in　a　braided　rope　down　his　back。　Decker　figured　long　hair　was　risky　in　this　part　of　the　woods；　but　Skink　was　substantial　enough　to　set　his　own　style。
　〃My　name　is　Decker。〃
　〃You　from　the　IRS？〃　The　man's　voice　was　deep　and　wet；　like　mud　slipping　down　a　drain。
　〃No；〃　Decker　said。
　〃I　pay　no　taxes；〃　Skink　said。　He　was　wearing　a　rainhat；　though　it　wasn't　raining。　He　was　also　wearing　sunglasses　and　the　sun　was　down。　〃I　pay　no　attention　to　taxes；〃　Skink　asserted。　〃Not　since　Nixon；　the　goddamn　thief。〃
　〃I'm　not　from　the　government；〃　Decker　said　carefully。　〃I'm　a　private　investigator。〃
　Skink　grunted。
　〃Like　Barnaby　Jones；〃　Decker　ventured。
　Skink　raised　the　rifle　and　aimed　at　Decker's　heart。　〃I　pay　no　attention　to　television；〃　he　said。
　〃Forget　I　mentioned　it。　Please。〃
　Skink　held　the　gun　steady。　Decker　felt　moisture　bead　on　the　back　of　his　neck。　〃Put　the　gun　away；〃　he　said。
　〃I　don't　know；〃　Skink　said。　〃I　feel　like　shooting　tonight。〃
　Decker　thought：　Just　my　luck。　〃I　heard　you　do　some　guiding；〃　he　said。
　Skink's　gun　lowered　a　fraction　of　an　inch。　〃I　do。〃
　〃For　bass；〃　Decker　said。　〃Bass　fishing。〃
　〃Hundred　bucks　a　day；　no　matter。〃
　〃Fine；〃　Decker　said。
　〃You'll　call　me　captain？〃
　〃If　you　want。〃
　Skink　lowered　the　rifle　all　the　way。　Decker　reached　into　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　one…hundred…dollar　bill。　He　unfolded　it；　smoothed　it　out；　and　offered　it　to　Skink。
　〃Put　it　away。　Pay　when　we　get　your　fish　in　the　boat。〃　Skink　looked　annoyed。　〃You　act　like　you　still　want　to　talk。〃
　For　some　reason　the　banjo　music　from　Deliverance　kept　tinkling　in　Decker's　head。　It　got　louder　every　time　he　took　a　good　look　at　Skink's　face。
　〃Talk；〃　Skink　said。　〃Quick。〃　He　reached　over　and　set　the　rifle　in　a　corner；　its　barrel　pointing　up。　Then　he　removed　the　sunglasses。　His　eyes　were　green；　not　hazel　or　olive；　but　deep　green；　like　Rocky　Mountain　evergreens。　His　eyebrows；　tangled　and　ratty；　grew　at　an　angle　that　gave　his　tanned　face　the　cast　of　perpetual　anger。　Decker　wondered　how　many　repeat　customers　a　guide　like　Skink　could　have。
　〃Do　you　fish　the　tournaments？〃
　〃Not　anymore；〃　Skink　said。　〃If　it's　tournament　fish　you're　after；　keep　your　damn　money。〃
　〃It's　cheaters　I'm　after；〃　Decker　said。　；
　Skink　sat　up　so　suddenly　that　his　plastic　rainsuit　squeaked。　The　forest…green　eyes　impaled　R。J。　Decker　while　the　mouth　chewed　hard　on　the　corners　of　its　mustache。　Skink　took　a　deep　breath　and　when　his　chest　filled；　he　looked　twice　as　big。　It　was　only　when　he　got　to　his　feet　that　Decker　saw　what　a　diesel　he　truly　was。
　〃I'm　hungry；〃　Skink　said。　He　took　ten　steps　toward　his　truck；　stopped；　and　said；　〃Well；　Miami；　e　on。〃
　
　As　the　pickup　bounced　down　the　old　Mormon　Trail；　Decker　said；　〃Captain；　how'd　you　know　where　I　was　from？〃
　〃Haircut。〃
　〃That　bad？〃
　〃Distinctive。〃
　〃Distinctive〃　was　not　a　word　Decker　expected　to　hear　from　the　captain's　lips。　Obviously　this　was　not　the　type　of　fellow　you　could　sort　out　in　a　day；　or　even　two。
　Skink　steered　the　truck　onto　Route　222　and　headed　south。　He　drove　slow；　much　slower　than　he　had　driven　on　the　trail。　Decker　noticed　that　he　hunched　himself　over　the　wheel；　and　peered　hawklike　through　the　windshield。
　〃What's　the　matter？〃　Decker　asked。
　〃Hush。〃
　Cars　and　trucks　were　flying　by　at　sixty　miles　an　hour。　Skink　was　barely　doing　twenty。　Decker　was　sure　they　were　about　to　get　rear…ended　by　a　tractor…trailer。
　〃You　all　right？〃
　〃I　pay　no　attention　to　the　traffic；〃　Skink　said。　He　turned　the　wheel　hard　to　the　right　and　took　the　truck　off　the　road；　skidding　in　the　gravel。　Before　Decker