cpatricia.unnaturalexposure-第25部分

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　'Fish　oil's　real　valuable。　The　Algonquin　Indians　used　cogies　to　fertilize　their　corn。'
　'What　the　hell's　a　cogy？'　Martinez　asked。
　'Another　name　for　those　nasty　little　suckers。　Where'd　you　go　to　school？'
　'Doesn't　matter。　Least　I　don't　got　to　smell　that　for　a　living。　Unless　I'm　out　here　with　a　schleps　like　you。'
　'What　the　hell's　a　schlep？'
　The　banter　continued　as　Martinez　pushed　the　throttle　up　more；　engines　rumbling；　bow　dipping。　We　sailed　by　duck　blinds　and　floats　marking　crab　pots　as　rainbows　followed　in　the　spray　of　our　wake。　He　pushed　the　speed　up　to　twenty…three　knots　and　we　cut　into　the　deep　blue　water　of　the　bay；　where　no　pleasure　boats　were　out　this　day；　only　an　ocean　liner　a　dark　mountain　on　the　horizon。
　'How　far　is　it？'　I　asked　Martinez；　hanging　on　to　the　back　of　his　chair；　and　grateful　for　my　suit。
　'Eighteen　miles　total。'　He　raised　his　voice；　riding　waves　like　a　surfer；　sliding　in　sideways　and　over；　his　eyes　always　ahead。　'Ordinarily；　it　wouldn't　take　long。　But　this　is　worse　than　usual。　A　lot　worse；　really。'
　His　crew　continued　checking　depth　and　direction　detectors　as　the　GPS　pointed　the　way　by　satellite。　I　could　see　nothing　but　water　now；　moguls　rising　in　front；　and　behind；　waves　clapping　hard　like　hands　as　the　bay　attacked　us　from　all　sides。
　'What　can　you　tell　me　about　where　we're　going？'　I　almost　had　to　shout。
　'Population　of　about　seven　hundred。　Until　about　twenty　years　ago　they　generated　their　own　electricity；　got　one　small　airstrip　made　of　dredge　material。　Damn。'　The　boat　slammed　down　hard　in　a　trough。　'Almost　broached　that　one。　That'll　turn　you　over　in　a　flash。'
　His　face　was　intense　as　he　rode　the　bay　like　a　bronco；　his　crewmen　unfazed　but　alert　as　they　held　on　to　whatever　they　could。
　'Economy's　based　on　blue　crabs；　soft…shell　crabs；　ship'em　all　over　the　country；'　Martinez　went　on。　'In　fact；　rich　folks　fly　private　planes　in　all　the　time　just　to　buy　crabs。'
　'Or　that's　what　they　say　they're　buying；'　someone　remarked。
　'We　do　have　a　problem　with　drunkenness；　bootlegging；　drugs；'　Martinez　went　on。　'We　board　their　boats　when　we're　checking　for　life　jackets；　doing　drug　interdictions；　and　they　call　it　being　overhauled。'　He　smiled　at　me。
　'Yeah；　and　we're　the　guards；'　a　guardsman　quipped。　'Look　out；　here　e　the　guards。'
　'They　use　language　any　way　they　want；'　Martinez　said；　rolling　over　another　wave。　'You　may　have　a　problem　understanding　them。'
　'When　does　crab　season　end？'　I　asked；　and　I　was　more　concerned　about　what　was　being　exported　than　I　was　about　the　way　Tangiermen　talked。
　'This　time　of　year　they're　dredging；　dragging　the　bottom　for　crabs。　They'll　do　that　all　winter；　working　fourteen；　fifteen　hours　a　day；　sometimes　gone　a　week　at　a　time。'
　Starboard；　in　the　distance；　a　dark　hulk　protruded　from　the　water　like　a　whale。　A　crewman　caught　me　looking。
　'World　War　Two　Liberty　ship　that　ran　aground；'　he　said。　'Navy　uses　it　for　target　practice。'
　At　last；　we　were　slowing　as　we　approached　the　western　shore；　where　a　bulkhead　had　been　built　of　rocks；　shattered　boats；　rusting　refrigerators；　cars　and　other　junk；　to　stop　the　island　from　eroding　more。　Land　was　almost　level　with　the　bay；　only　feet　above　sea　level　at　its　highest　ground。　Homes；　a　church　steeple　and　a　blue　water　tower　were　proud　on　the　horizon　on　this　tiny；　barren　island　where　people　endured　the　worst　weather　with　the　least　beneath　their　feet。
　We　chugged　slowly　past　marshes　and　tidal　flats。　Old　gap…toothed　piers　were　piled　high　with　crab　pots　made　of　chicken　wire　and　strung　with　colored　floats；　and　battle…scarred　wooden　boats　with　round　and　boxy　sterns　were　moored　but　not　idle。　Martinez　whelped　his　horn；　and　the　sound　ripped　the　air　as　we　came　through。　Tangiermen　with　bibs　turned　expressionless；　raw　faces　on　us；　the　way　people　do　when　they　have　private　opinions　that　aren't　always　friendly。　They　moved　about　in　their　crab　shanties　and　worked　on　their　nets　as　we　docked　near　fuel　pumps。
　'Like　most　everybody　else　here；　the　chief's　name　is　Crockett；'　Martinez　said　as　his　crew　tied　us　down。　'Davy　Crockett。　Don't　laugh。'　His　eyes　searched　the　pier　and　a　snack　bar　that　didn't　look　open　this　time　of　year。　'e　on。'
　I　followed　him　out　of　the　boat；　and　wind　blowing　off　the　water　felt　as　cold　as　January。　We　hadn't　gone　far　when　a　small　pickup　truck　quickly　rounded　a　corner；　tires　loud　on　gravel。　It　stopped；　and　a　tense　young　man　got　out。　His　uniform　was　blue　jeans；　a　dark　winter　jacket　and　a　cap　that　said　Tangier　Police；　and　his　eyes　darted　back　and　forth　between　Martinez　and　me。　He　stared　at　what　I　was　carrying。
　'Okay；'　Martinez　said　to　me。　'I'll　leave　you　with　Davy。'　To　Crockett；　he　added；　'This　is　Dr　Scarpetta。'
　Crockett　nodded。　'Y'all　e　on。'
　'It's　just　the　lady　who's　going。'
　'I'll　ride　you　to　there。'
　I　had　heard　his　dialect　before　in　unspoiled　mountain　coves　where　people　really　are　not　of　this　century。
　'We'll　be　waiting　for　you　here；'　Martinez　promised　me；　walking　off　to　his　boat。
　I　followed　Crockett　to　his　truck。　I　could　tell　he　cleaned　it　inside　and　out　maybe　once　a　day；　and　liked　Armor　All　even　more　than　Marino　did。
　'I　assume　you've　been　inside　the　house；'　I　said　to　him　as　he　cranked　the　engine。
　'I　haven't。　Was　a　neighbor　that　did。　And　when　I　was　noticed　about　it；　I　called　for　Norfolk。'
　He　began　to　back　up；　a　pewter　cross　swinging　from　the　key　chain。　I　looked　out　the　window　at　small　white　frame　restaurants　with　hand…painted　signs　and　plastic　seagulls　hanging　in　windows。　A　truck　hauling　crab　pots　was　ing　the　other　way　and　had　to　pull　over　to　let　us　pass。　People　were　out　on　bicycles　that　had　neither　hand　brakes　nor　gears；　and　the　favorite　mode　of　travel　seemed　to　be　scooters。
　'What　is　the　decedent's　name？'　I　began　taking　notes。
　'Lila　Pruitt；'　he　said；　unmindful　that　my　door　was　almost　touching　someone's　chain　link　fence。　'Widder　lady；　don't　know　how　aged。　Sold　receipts　for　the　tourists。　Crab　cakes　and　things。'
　I　wrote　this　down；　not　sure　what　he　was　saying　as　he　drove　me　past　the　Tangier　bined　School；　and　a　cemetery。　Headstones　leaned　every　way；　as　if　they　had　been　caught　in　a　gale。
　'What　about　when　she　was　last　seen　alive？'　I　asked。
　'In　Daby's；　she　was。'　He　nodded。　'Oh；　maybe　June。'
　Now　I　was　hopelessly　lost。　'I'm　sorry；'　I　said。　'She　was　last　seen　in　some　place　called　Daby's　way　back　in　June？'
　'Yes'em。'　He　nodded　as　if　this　made　all　the　sense　in　the　world。
　'What　is　Daby's　and　who　saw　her　there？'
　'The　store。　Daby's　and　Son。　I　can　get　you　to　it。'　He　shot　me　a　look；　and　I　shook　my　head。　'I　was　in　it　for　shopping　and　saw　her。　June；　I　think。'
　His　strange　syllables　and　cadences　sprung；　tongued　and　rolled　over　each　other　like　the　water　of　his　world。　There　was　thur；　can't　was　cain't；　things　was　thoings；　do　was　doie。
　'What　about　her　neighbors？　Have　any　of　them　seen　her？'　I　asked。
　'Not　since　days。'
　'Then　who　found　her？'　I　asked。
　'No　one　did。'
　I　looked　at　him　in　despair。
　'Just　Mrs　Bradshaw　e　in　for　a　receipt；　went　on　in　and　had　the　smell。'
　'Did　this　Mrs　Bradshaw　go　upstairs？'
　'Said　she　not。'　He　shook　his　head。　'She　went　on　straight　for　me。'
　'The　decedent's　address？'
　'Where　we　are。'　He　was　slowing　down。　'School　Street。'
　Catty…corner　to　Swain　Memorial　Methodist　Church；　the　white　clapboard　house　was　two　stories；　with　clothes　still　on　the　line　and　a　purple　martin　house　on　a　rusting　pole　in　back。　An　old　wooden　rowboat　and　crab　pots　were　in　a　yard　scattered　with　oyster　shells；　and　brown　hydrangea　lined　a　fence　where　there　was　a　curious　row　of　white…painted　cubbyholes　facing　the　unpaved　street。
　'What　are　those？'　I　asked　Crockett。
　'For　where　she　sold　receipts。　Quarter　each。　Drop　it　in　a　slot。'　He　pointed。　'Mrs　Pruitt　didn't　do　direct　much　with　no　one。'
　I　finally　realized　that　he　was　talking　about　recipes；　and　pulled　up　my　door　handle。
　'I'll　here　be　waiting；'　he　said。
　The　expression　on　his　face　begged　me　not　to　ask　him　to　go　inside　that　house。
　'Just　keep　people　away。'　I　got　out　of　his　truck。
　'Don't　have　to　worrisome　about　that　none。'
　I　glanced　around　at　other　small　homes　and　trailers　in　their　sandy…soil　yards。　Some　had　family　plots；　the　dead　buried　wherever　there　was　high　ground；　headstones　worn　smooth　like　chalk　and　tilted　or　knocked　down。　I　climbed　Lila　Pruitt's　front　steps；　noticing　more　headstones　in　the　shadows　of　junipers　in　a　corner　of　her　yard。
　The　screen　door　was　rusting　in　spots；　and　the　spring　protested　loudly　as　I　entered　an　enclosed　porch　sloping　toward　the　street。　There　was　a　glider　upholstered　in　floral　plastic；　and　beside　it　a　small　plastic　table；　where　I　imagined　her　rocking　and　drinking　iced　tea　while　she　watched　tourists　buying　her　recipes　for　a　quarter。　I　wondered　if　she　had　spied　to　make　sure　they　paid。
　The　storm　door　was　unlocked；　and　Hoyt　had　thought　to　tape　on　it　a　homemade　sign　that　warned；　SICKNESS：　DO　NOT　ENTER！！　I　supposed　he　had　figured　that　Tangiermen　might　not　know　what　a　biological　hazard　was；　but　he　had　made　his　point。　I　stepped　inside　a　dim　foyer；　where　a　portrait　of　Jesus　praying　to　His　Father　hung　on　the　wall；　and　I　smelled　the　foul　odor　of　deposing　human　flesh。
　In　the　living　room　was　evidence　that　someone　had　not　been　well　for　a　while。　Pillows　and　blankets　were　disarrayed　and　soiled　on　the　couch；　and　on　the　coffee　table　were　tissues；　a　thermometer；　bottles　of　aspirin；　liniment；　dirty　cups　and　plates。　She　had　been　feverish。　She　had　ached；　and　had　e　in　here　to　make　herself　fortable　and　watch　TV。
　Eventually；　she　had　not　been　able　to　make　it　out　of　bed；　and　that　was　where　I　found　her；　in　a　room　upstairs　with　rosebud　wallpaper　and　a　rocker　by　the　window　overlooking　her　street。　The　full…length　mirror　was　shrouded　with　a　sheet；　as　if　she　could　not　bear　to　see　her　reflection　anymore。　Hoyt；　old…world　physician　that　he　was；　had　respectfully　pulled　bed　covers　over　the　body　without　disturbing　anything　else。　He　knew　better　than　to　rearrange　a　scene；　especially　if　his　visit　was　to　be　followed　by　mine。　I　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　and　took　my　time。　The　stench　seemed　to　make　the　walls　close　in　and　turn　the　air　black。
　My　eyes　wandered　over　the　cheap　brush　and　b　on　the　dresser；　the　fuzzy　pink　slippers　beneath　a　chair　that　was　covered　with　clothes　she　hadn't　had　the　energy　to　put　away　or　was