ch.doublewhammy-第43部分

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　Culver　scowled　and　said；　〃We'll　see　about　that。〃
　
　Jim　Tile　lived　alone　in　a　two…bedroom　apartment　on　Washington　Drive；　in　the　black　neighborhood　of　Harney。　He　had　been　married　for　three　years　until　his　wife　had　gone　off　to　Atlanta　to　bee　a　big…time　fashion　model。　Jim　Tile　could　have　gone　with　her；　since　he　had　been　offered　an　excellent　job　with　the　Georgia　Bureau　of　Investigation；　but　he　had　chosen　to　stay　with　the　highway　patrol　in　Florida。　His　loyalty　had　been　rewarded　with　a　protracted　tour　of　duty　in　the　most　backward…thinking　and　racist　county　in　the　state。　To　stop　a　car　for　speeding　in　Harney　was　to　automatically　invite　a　disgusting　torrent　of　verbal　abuse…the　whites　hated　Jim　Tile　because　he　was　black；　and　the　blacks　hated　him　for　doing　a　honky's　job。　Rough　words　were　expected；　and　occasionally　somebody　would　sneak　up　and　cut　the　tires　on　his　patrol　car　late　at　night；　but　it　seldom　went　any　further。　In　all　the　years　only　one　person　had　been　foolhardy　enough　to　try　to　fight　Trooper　Jim　Tile。　The　boy's　name　was　Dekle；　and　he　was　eighteen；　as　big　and　white　as　a　Frigidaire；　and　just　about　as　intelligent。　Dekle　had　been　doing　seventy　in　a　school　zone　and　had　run　down　a　kitten　before　Jim　Tile　caught　up　and　forced　him　off　the　road。　At　the　time　Jim　Tile　was　new　to　Harney；　and　the　Dekle　boy　remarked　how　he　had　never　seen　a　chocolate　state　trooper　before。　Now　you　have；　said　Jim　Tile；　so　turn　around　and　put　your　hands　on　the　roof　of　the　car。　At　which　point　Dekle　punched　Jim　Tile　with　all　his　strength　and　was　astounded　to　see　the　trooper　merely　rock　back　slightly　on　his　heels；　when　any　other　human　being　would　have　fallen　flat　on　his　back；　out　cold。　The　fight　did　not　last　long；　perhaps　thirty　seconds；　and　years　afterward　Dekle's　right　arm　still　hung　like　a　corkscrew　and　he　still　got　around　with　the　aid　of　a　special　Lucite　cane；　which　his　mother　had　purchased　from　a　mail…order　house　in　Tampa。　Even　in　a　place　where　there　was　no　shortage　of　booze　or　stupidity；　no　one　in　Harney　had　since　gotten　drunk　enough　or　dumb　enough　to　take　a　poke　at　the　black　trooper。　Most　folks；　including　Ozzie　Rundell；　wouldn't　consider　giving　the　man　any　lip。
　They　found　the　apartment　on　Washington　Drive　easily；　Jim　Tile's　black…and…tan　Ford　police　cruiser　was　out　front。
　Culver　parked　his　mother's　truck。　He　got　a　pistol　from　under　the　front　seat　and　tucked　it　into　the　back　of　his　dungarees。
　〃What's　that　for？〃　Ozzie　asked　worriedly。
　〃It's　a　bad　neighborhood；　Oz。〃
　〃I　ain't　going　in　there　with　a　gun；〃　Ozzie　said　in　a　brittle　voice。　〃I　ain't！〃
　〃Fine；〃　Culver　said。　〃You　sit　out　here　in　the　parking　lot　with　all　these　jigaboos。　I'm　sure　they'll　love　the　prospect　of　a　fat　little　cracker　boy　like　you。〃
　Ozzie　looked　around　and　knew　that　his　brother　was　right。　The　streets　were　full　of　black　faces；　including　some　frightfully　muscular　teenagers　slam…dunking　basketballs　through　a　rusty　hoop　nailed　to　a　telephone　pole。　Ozzie　decided　he　didn't　want　to　stay　in　the　truck　after　all。　He　followed　Culver　up　to　Jim　Tile's　apartment。
　The　trooper　was　finishing　dinner；　and　getting　ready　to　go　out　on　the　night　shift。　He　came　to　the　door　wearing　the　gray；　sharply　pressed　trousers　of　his　uniform；　but　no　shirt。　The　Rundell　brothers　were　awestruck　by　the　dimensions　of　his　chest　and　arms。
　After　stammering　for　a　second；　Culver　finally　said；　〃We　need　to　talk　about　the　guy　lives　up　on　the　lake。〃
　〃Our　boat　got　sunk；〃　Ozzie　warbled；　without　explanation。
　Jim　Tile　let　them　in；　motioned　toward　two　chairs　at　the　dinette。　The　Rundell　brothers　sat　down。
　〃Skink　is　his　name；　right？〃　Culver　said。
　〃What's　the　connection；〃　Jim　Tile　asked　mildly；　〃between　the　man　on　the　lake　and　your　boat？〃
　Ozzie　started　to　say　something；　got　lost；　and　looked　to　his　brother　for　help。　Culver　said；　〃We　heard　Mr。　Skink　is　the　one　who　sunked　it。〃
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃Well；　Mr。　Skink　is　out　of　town。〃
　〃It　happened　out　of　town；〃　Culver　said。　〃At　a　tournament　up　in　Louisiana。〃
　〃Did　you　go　to　the　police？〃　Jim　Tile　asked。
　〃Not　yet；〃　Culver　said。　He　had　wanted　to；　but　Thomas　Curl　had　said　it　was　a　bad　idea。　He　said　the　police　would　be　busy　with　Dickie's　murder；　and　it　wouldn't　be　right　to　bother　them　over　a　bass　boat。　Besides；　the　boat　had　been　recovered　out　of　the　water；　and　it　was　Thomas　Curl's　opinion　that　it　could　be　repaired。　Ozzie　said　great；　but　Culver　didn't　like　the　idea。　Culver　wanted　a　brand…new　boat；　and　he　wanted　the　man　named　Skink　to　buy　it　for　him。
　〃Well；　if　you　haven't　talked　to　the　police　in　Louisiana；　then　I　suggest　you　do；〃　Jim　Tile　said。　〃Once　there's　a　warrant；　one　of　Sheriff　Lockhart's　deputies　can　go　out　to　Lake　Jesup　and　arrest　him。〃
　Culver　Rundell　doubted　if　Sheriff　Barley　Lockhart　was　much　interested　in　a　boat　theft；　not　with　his　famous　nephew　turning　up　murdered　in　Louisiana。　Barley　had　caught　a　flight　to　New　Orleans　two　days　after　the　killing；　and　had　not　yet　returned。　Before　leaving；　the　sheriff　dramatically　informed　the　Harney　Sentinel　that　his　presence　had　been　requested　to　assist　in　the　homicide　investigation；　but　in　reality　the　Louisiana　authorities　merely　wanted　somebody　to　acpany　Dickie's　autopsied　body　back　to　Florida。
　〃It's　a　jurisdictional　problem；〃　Trooper　Jim　Tile　said　to　the　Rundell　brothers。　〃I　really　can't　help。〃
　〃You　can　take　us　to　see　Mr。　Skink；〃　Culver　said。
　〃Why？　You　know　where　he　lives…drive　out　there　yourself。〃
　To　Ozzie's　ear；　Jim　Tile's　response　sounded　as　close　to　a　definite　no　as　you　could　get。　But　Culver　wasn't　giving　up。
　〃No　way；〃　Culver　said。　〃I　heard　he's　got　a　big　gun；　shoots　at　people　just　for　the　fun　of　it。　He　doesn't　know　me　or　my　brother；　and　he　might　just　open　fire　if　we　was　to　drive　up　unannounced。　You；　he　knows。　Even　if　he's　crazy　as　they　say；　he　won't　shoot　a　damn　police　car。〃
　The　low；　even　tone　of　Jim　Tile's　voice　did　not　change。　〃I　told　you；　he's　out　of　town。〃
　〃Well；　let's　go　see。〃
　〃No；〃　said　Jim　Tile；　rising。　〃I　have　to　go　to　work。〃
　〃Momma's　truck；〃　Ozzie　blurted。　〃Maybe　we　oughta　go；　Culver。〃
　Annoyed；　Culver　glanced　at　his　brother。　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃I'm　worried　about　Momma's　truck　out　there。　Maybe　we　should　go…〃
　〃The　truck'll　be　fine；〃　Culver　said。
　〃I　don't　know；〃　Jim　Tile　said；　parting　the　Venetian　blinds。　〃It's　a　pretty　rough　neighborhood。〃
　Ozzie　looked　stricken。
　〃Oh；　settle　down；〃　Culver　said　angrily。　Then；　to　Jim　Tile：　〃You；　why　won't　you　help　us？　I　lost　a　twenty…thousand…dollar　rig　because　of　that　bastard！〃
　Jim　Tile　was　still　looking　out　the　window。　〃So　that's　your　mother's　pickup？〃
　〃Ours　is　in　the　impound；　up　New　Orleans；〃　Ozzie　said。
　〃The　red　one；〃　Jim　Tile　said。
　〃Yeah；〃　Culver　grunted；　secretly　impressed　that　the　trooper　would　remember　the　color。
　Then　Jim　Tile　said　to　Ozzie：　〃What　about　the　green　one？〃
　The　color　washed　out　of　Ozzie's　cheeks。　His　eyelids　fluttered；　as　if　he　were　about　to　faint。
　〃What　green　one？〃　Culver　said；　slow　to　put　it　together。
　〃The　one　your　brother　was　driving　week　before　last；〃　Jim　Tile　said；　〃out　on　the　Gilchrist。　About　dawn；　one　morning。〃
　〃When？〃　Ozzie　hiccuped。　〃Wasn't　me。　Our　truck　is　red。〃
　〃You　and　two　other　guys；〃　Jim　Tile　said；　〃and　the　truck　was　green。　Out…of…state　tags。〃
　Finally　Culver　was　picking　up　on　the　train　of　conversation。　He　tried　to　help　Ozzie　as　best　he　could；　even　though　he　felt　like　strangling　him。
　〃I　remember　that　day；〃　Culver　improvised；　watching　his　brother's　eyes　grow　big。　〃You　and　some　boys　went　fishing　up　at　the　slough。　I　remember　'cause　you　took　a　couple　Shakespeare　plug　rods　out　of　the　shop；　along　with　some　Johnson　spoons　and　purple　skirts。〃
　Ozzie's　lips　were　like　chalk。　His　bottom　jaw　went　up　and　down　until　finally　he　said；　〃Oh；　yeah。〃
　Culver　said；　〃I　remember　'cause　you　didn't　want　to　try　live　shiners；　even　though　I　told　you　to。　You　said　there　was　too　much　heavy　cover；　so　you'd　prefer　dragging　those　damn　weedless　spoons。〃
　Jim　Tile　was　buttoning　his　shirt。　〃So；　Ozzie；〃　he　said；　〃You　guys　catch　anything？〃
　〃Sure；〃　Ozzie　said；　glancing　at　the　door；　as　if　he　were　about　to　run。
　〃What'd　you　catch？〃
　〃Our　truck　is　red；〃　Ozzie　Rundell　said；　licking　his　lips。　His　shoulders　twitched　and　his　eyes　rolled　up　and　fixed　on　the　ceiling。　His　cheeks　puffed　out；　l