ch.doublewhammy-第51部分

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course；　he　fully　intended　for　Eddie　Spurling　to　win　the　whole　shebang　with　the　fattest　stringer　of　monster　bass　conceivable。　Charlie　Weeb　had　yet　to　discuss　the　importance　of　this　matter　with　Eddie；　but　he　was　sure　Eddie　would　understand。　Certain　details　had　to　be　arranged。　Nothing　could　be　left　to　chance…not　on　live　cable　television。
　Charlie　Weeb　was　feeling　downright　optimistic　until　he　learned　about　the　fish　kill。　He　never　imagined　that　all　the　bass　would　die；　but　he　really　didn't　care　to　hear　some　elaborate　scientific　explanation。　He　knew　this：　Under　no　circumstances　would　the　fishing　tournament　be　canceled。　If　necessary　he　would　simply　purchase　another　truckload　of　bass；　and　somehow　slip　them　into　the　lake　the　day　of　the　tournament。　Maybe　the　pinhead　hydrologist　could　work　a　few　miracles；　buy　him　a　few　extra　hours。　It　could　be　done；　Charlie　Weeb　was　sure。
　As　a　long…term　sales　gimmick；　the　big　bass　tournament　held　much　promise。　However；　the　short…term　fiscal　crisis　demanded　immediate　attention。
　To　this　end　the　lap　dancer　from　Louie's　had　given　Charlie　Weeb　new　spiritual　inspiration。
　He　sat　up　in　bed　and　reached　for　the　phone。
　〃Deacon　Johnson；　please。〃
　A　sleepy　voice　came　on　the　line。
　Weeb　said；　〃Izzy；　wake　up。　It's　me。〃
　〃It's　three　in　the　morning；　man。〃
　〃Tough　shit。　Are　you　listening？〃
　〃Yeah；〃　said　Deacon　Johnson。
　〃Izzy；　I　want　to　do　a　healing　on　Sunday's　show。〃
　Deacon　Johnson　coughed　up　something　in　his　throat。
　〃You　sure？〃　he　said。
　〃Positive。　Unless　you　got　any　other　brilliant　ideas　to　solve　the　cash…flow　problem。〃
　Deacon　Johnson　said；　〃Healings　are　tricky；　Charles。〃
　〃Hell；　you　don't　have　to　tell　me！　That's　why　I　quit　doing　'em。　But　these　are　desperate　times；　Izzy。　I　figure　we　tape　a　couple　fifteen…second　promos　tomorrow；　start　pushing　the　thing　hard。　Goose　the　ratings　by　the　weekend…I　bet　we'll　do　a　million…two。〃
　〃A　million…two？〃　Deacon　Johnson　said。　〃For　a　sheep？〃
　〃Screw　the　sheep。　I'm　talking　about　a　real　person。〃
　Deacon　Johnson　didn't　respond　right　away。　The　Reverend　Weeb　said；　〃Well？〃
　〃We've　never　done　a　human　being　before；　Charles。〃
　〃We've　never　dropped　twenty…four　mill　before；　Izzy。　Look；　I　want　you　to　set　it　up　the　same　as　we　did　with　the　animals。　Find　me　a　good　one。〃
　Deacon　Johnson　was　not　enthusiastic；　but　he　knew　better　than　to　balk。
　〃Get　me　a　little　kid　if　you　can；〃　Charlie　Weeb　was　saying；　〃or　a　teenager。　No　geezers　and　no　housewives。〃
　〃I'll　try；〃　said　Deacon　Johnson。　The　logistics　of　the　feat　would　be　formidable。
　〃Blond；　if　possible；〃　Weeb　went　on。　Every　heartbreaking　detail　spelled　more　money…he　knew　this　from　his　experience　promoting　the　tragic　tale　of　June…Lee　and　Melissa；　the　two　mythical　Weeb　sisters　sold　into　Chinese　slavery。　〃No　redheads；〃　Weeb　instructed　Deacon　Johnson。　〃You　get　me　a　little　blond　kid　to　heal；　Izzy；　and　I　swear　we'll　do　a　million…two。〃
　Deacon　Johnson　said；　〃I　guess　you　wouldn't　consider　a　practice　run。　Say；　with　a　goat。〃
　
　An　hour　out　of　　Fort　Lauderdale；　Skink　started　to　pluck　the　dead　seagull　in　the　back　seat。　Every　so　often　he　threw　a　handful　of　gray…white　feathers　out　the　window。　Garcia　adjusted　the　rearview　and　watched；　disbelieving。　After　R。　J。　Decker　explained　the　custom；　Garcia　decided　to　pull　off　the　Turnpike　for　a　dinner　break。　They　dropped　Skink　near　the　Delray　Beach　overpass　to　let　him　roast　the　bird　in　private。　Garcia　offered　some　matches；　but　as　he　got　out　of　the　car　Skink　mumbled；　〃Don't　need　any。〃
　Decker　said；　〃We're　driving　into　town　for　some　burgers。　Meet　you　back　here　in　about　an　hour。〃
　〃Fine；〃　Skink　said。
　〃You'll　be　waiting；　right？〃
　〃Most　likely。〃
　A　hunching　ursine　shape　in　the　darkness；　Skink　gathered　kindling　as　they　drove　away。
　Waiting　in　a　line　of　cars　at　the　Burger　King　drive…through；　Garcia　said　to　Decker；　〃So　the　bottom　line　is；　these　Gomers　are　murdering　each　other　over　fish。〃
　〃It's　money　too；　Al。　Prizes；　endorsements；　TV　contracts。　Fishing's　just　the　sizzle。　And　not　all　these　guys　are　dumb　peckerwoods。〃
　The　detective　chuckled。　〃Guess　not。　They　tricked　your　ass；　didn't　they？〃
　〃Nicely；〃　Decker　said。　On　the　trip　he　had　told　Garcia　about　Dennis　Gault；　the　photographs；　Dickie　Lockhart；　and　Lanie。　The　part　about　Lanie　was　not　Decker's　favorite。　〃All　I　can　figure；〃　he　said；　〃is　she　remembered　my　name　from　that　fashion　shoot　in　Sanibel。　Probably　read　about　the　Bennett　case　too…it　made　all　the　papers。〃　The　Sun's　unsparing　headline　had　read：　〃STAFF　PHOTOG　CONVICTED　IN　BEATING　OF　PREP　FOOTBALL　STAR。〃
　Garcia　said；　〃Gault　must've　creamed　when　his　sister　suggested　you　for　the　mark。　Big　ex…con　photographer　with　a　bad　temper；　down　on　his　luck。〃
　〃Made　to　order；〃　Decker　agreed　glumly。
　〃What　about　the　pictures　of　Lockhart　cheating？　New　Orleans　sent　Xerox　copies；　but　still　they　look　pretty　good。〃
　Decker　said；　〃They've　got　to　be　tricked　up。〃
　〃Just　so　you　know；　I　served　a　warrant　on　your　trailer。　Took　every　single　roll　from　your　camera　bag…had　our　lab　soup　the　film。〃
　〃And？〃
　〃Garbage。　Surveillance　stuff　for　that　insurance　case；　that's　all。　No　fish　pictures；　R。J。〃
　There　you　had　it。　Lanie　had　probably　swiped　the　good　stuff　out　of　his　bag　at　the　motel　in　Hammond。　Her　brother　would've　had　no　trouble　finding　a　good　lab　man　to　doctor　the　prints。　Decker　said；　〃Jesus；　Al；　what　the　hell　do　I　do　now？〃
　〃Well；　in　my　official　capacity　as　a　sworn　law…enforcement　officer　of　the　state　of　Florida；　I'd　advise　you　to　turn　yourself　in；　agree　to　the　extradition；　and　trust　your　fate　to　the　justice　system。　As　a　friend；　I'd　advise　you　to　stay　the　fuck　out　of　Louisiana　until　we　get　you　some　alibi　witnesses。〃
　〃We？〃　Decker　was　surprised。　〃Al；　you'll　get　in　all　kinds　of　trouble　if　they　find　out　you're　helping　me。　You're　probably　already　in　the　jackpot　for　taking　a　duty　car　out　of　Dade　County。〃
　Garcia　smiled。　〃Didn't　I　tell　you？　I　went　on　sick　leave　two　days　ago。　Indefinite…doctor　says　my　damn　shoulder's　out　of　whack　again。　The　lieutenant　wasn't　thrilled；　but　what's　he　gonna　do？　Half　the　guys　retire　they　get　a　lousy　hangnail。　Me；　I　get　popped　point…blank　with　a　sawed…off　and　I　only　miss　twenty…three　days。　They　can't　bitch　about　a　week　here　and　there　for　therapy。〃
　〃Sick　leave；〃　Decker　mused。　'That　explains　your　unusually　charming　disposition。〃
　〃Don't　be　a　smartass。　Right　now　I'm　the　only　friend　you　got。〃
　〃Not　quite；〃　Decker　said。
　
　According　to　Ozzie　Rundell；　Thomas　Curl's　Uncle　Shawn　lived　just　outside　of　Orlando。　He　ran　a　moldy　roadside　tourist　trap　called　Sheeba's　African　Jungle　Safari；　located　about　four　miles　west　of　the　Disney　World　entrance　on　U。S。　92。　Ozzie　had　offered　to　draw　a　map；　but　Jim　Tile　said　no　thanks；　he　didn't　need　directions。
　The　broken…down　zoo　wasn't　hard　to　find。　In　the　six　years　since　Shawn　Curl　had　purchased　the　place　from　Leroy　and　Sheeba　Barnwell；　the　once…exotic　menagerie　had　shrunk　to　its　current　cheerless　census　of　one　emaciated　lion；　two　balding　llamas；　three　goats；　a　blind　boa　constrictor；　and　seventeen　uncontrollably　nasty　raccoons。　A　big　red　billboard　on　U。S。　92　promised　a　〃DELIGHTFUL　CHILDREN'S　PETTING　zoo；〃　but　in　actuality　there　was　nothing　at　Sheeba's　to　pet；　not　safely；　anyway。　Shawn　Curl's　insurance　pany　had　summarily　canceled　his　policy　after　the　ninth　infectious　raccoon　bite；　so　Shawn　Curl　had　put　up　a　twelve…foot　hurricane　fence　to　keep　the　tourists　away　from　the　animals。　The　only　consistent　money…making　enterprise　at　the　African　Jungle　Safari　was　the　booth　with　plastic　palm　trees　where；　for　3。75；　tourists　could　be　photographed　draping　the　blind　boa　constrictor　around　their　necks。　Since　snakes　have　no　eyelids；　the　tourists　didn't　know　that　the　boa　constrictor　was　blind。　They　were　also　unaware　that；　except　for　a　tiny　space　where　the　feeding　tube　fit；　the　big　snake's　mouth　had　been　expertly　stitched　shut　with　a　Singer　sewing　machine。　In　these　litigious　times；　Shawn　Curl　wasn't　taking　any　more　chances。
　He　didn't　know　what　to　think　when　the　musclebound　black　state　trooper　walked　into　the　gift　shop；　Shawn　Curl　had　never　seen　a　black　trooper　in　Orlando　before。　He　noticed　that　the　man　walked　with　a　slight　limp；　and　thought　probably　he　had　been　hired　for　just　that　reason…to　fill　some　stupid　minority　handicap　quota。　Shaw