chiaasen.stormyweather-第13部分

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　There　wasn't　much　to　choose　from。〃　He　iced　the　groceries；　found　a　pool　chair　and　took　a　position　upwind　of　the　sweaty　Tony　Torres。　The　sky　had　cleared　and　the　summer　sun　blazed　down；　but　it　was　pointless　to　look　for　shade。　There　wasn't　any；　all　the　trees　in　Turtle　Meadow　were　leveled。
　
　Tony　plimented　Edie　Marsh　for　costuming　herself　as　an　authentic　housewife…jeans；　white　Keds；　a　baggy　blouse　with　the　sleeves　turned　up。　His　only　plaint　was　the　sea…green　scarf　in　her　hair。　He　said；　〃Silk　is　a　little　much；　considering　the　circumstances。〃
　
　〃Because　it　clashes　with　those　gorgeous　Bermudas　of　yours？〃　Edie　glared　at　Tony　Torres　as　if　he　were　a　maggot　on　a　wedding　cake。　She　was　disinclined　to　remove　the　scarf；　which　was　one　of　her　favorites。　She　had　boosted　it　from　a　Lord　&　Taylor's　in　Palm　Beach。
　
　〃Suit　yourself；〃　said　Tony。　〃Point　is；　details　are　damn　important。　It's　the　little　things　people　notice。〃
　
　〃I'll　try　and　keep　that　in　mind。〃
　
　Snapper　said；　〃Hey；　Mister　Salesman　of　the　Year；　can　we　run　the　TV　off　that　generator？〃
　
　Tony　said　sure；　if　they　only　had　some　gasoline。
　
　Snapper　tapped　his　wristwatch　and　said；　〃Sally　Jessy　es　on　in　twenty　minutes。　Men　who　seduce　their　daughter…in…law's　mother…in…law。〃
　
　〃No　shit？　We　could　siphon　your　car。〃　Tony　pointed　at　the　rubble　of　his　garage。　〃There's　a　hose　in　there　someplace。〃
　
　Snapper　went　to　find　it。　Edie　Marsh　said　it　was　a　lousy　idea　to　siphon　fuel　from　the　car；　since　they　might　be　needing　speedy　transportation。　Snapper　winked　and　told　her　not　to　worry。　Off　he　went；　ambling　down　the　street；　the　garden　hose　coiled　on　his　left　shoulder。
　
　Edie　expropriated　the　pool　chair。　Tony　Torres　perked　up。　〃Scoot　closer；　darling。〃
　
　〃Wonderful；〃　she　said；　under　her　breath。
　
　The　salesman　fanned　himself　with　the　Miami　Herald　sports　pages。　He　said；　〃It　just　now　hit　me：　Men　who　steal　their　daughter…in…law's　mother…in…law。　That's　pretty　funny！　He　don't　look　like　a　edian；　your　partner；　but　that's　a　good　one。〃
　
　〃Oh；　he's　full　of　surprises。〃　Edie　leaned　back　and　closed　her　eyes。　The　sunshine　felt　good　on　her　face。
　
　The　hurricane　had　transformed　the　trailer　court　into　a　sprawling　aluminum　junkyard。　Ira　Jackson　found　Lot　17　because　of　the　bright　yellow　tape；　that　police　had　roped　around　the　remains　of　the　double…wide　mobile　home　where　his　mother；　Beatrice；　had　died。　After　identifying　her　body　at　the　morgue；　Ira　Jackson　had　driven　directly　to　Suncoast　Leisure　Village；　to　see　for　himself。
　
　Not　one　trailer　had　made　it　through　the　storm。
　
　From　the　debris；　Ira　Jackson　pulled　his　mother's　Craftmatic　adjustable　bed。　The　mattress　was　curled　up　like　a　giant　taco　shell。　Ira　Jackson　crawled　inside　and　lay　down。
　
　He　recalled；　as　if　it　were　yesterday；　the　morning　he　and　his　mother　met　with　the　salesman　to　close　the　deal。　The　man's　name　was　Tony。　Tony　Torres。　He　was　fat；　gassy　and　balding；　yet　extremely　self…assured。　Beatrice　Jackson　had　been　impressed　with　his　pitch。
　
　〃Mister　Torres　says　it's　built　to　go　through　a　hurricane。〃
　
　〃I　find　that　hard　to　believe；　Momma。〃
　
　〃Oh　yes；　Mister　Jackson；　your　mother's　right。　Our　prefabricated　homes　are　made　to　withstand　gusts　up　to　one　hundred　twenty　miles　per　hour。　That's　d　U。S。　government　regulation。　Otherwise　we　couldn't　sell　'em！〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　was　in　Chicago；　beating　up　some　scabs　for　a　Teamsters　local；　when　he'd　heard　about　the　hurricane　headed　for　South　Florida。　He'd　phoned　his　mother　and　urged　her　to　move　to　a　Red　Cross　shelter。　She　said　it　was　out　of　the　question。
　
　〃I　can't　leave　Donald　and　Maria；〃　she　told　her　son。
　
　Donald　and　Maria　were　Mrs。　Jackson's　beloved　miniature　dachshunds。　The　hurricane　shelter　wouldn't　allow　pets。
　
　So　Ira's　mother　had　stayed　home　out　of　loyalty　to　her。　dogs　and　a　misplaced　confidence　that　the　mobile…home　salesman　had　told　the　truth　about　how　safe　it　was。　Donald　and　Maria　survived　the　hurricane　by　squeezing　under　an　oak　credenza　and　sharing　a　rawhide　chew　toy　to　pass　the　long　night。　A　neighbor　had　rescued　them　the　next　morning　and　taken　them　to　a　vet。
　
　Beatrice　Jackson　was　not　so　lucky。　Moments　after　the　hurricane　stripped　the　north　wall　off　her　double…wide；　she　was　killed　by　a　flying　barbecue　that　belonged　to　one　of　her　neighbors。　The　imprint　of　the　grill　remained　visible　on　her　face；　peaceful　as　it　was；　lying　in　the　Dade　County　morgue。
　
　Beatrice's　death　had　no　effect　whatsoever　on　the　mood　of　her　dachshunds；　but　her　son　was　inconsolable。　Ira　Jackson　raged　at　himself　for　letting　his　mother　buy　the　trailer。　It　had　been　his　idea　for　her　to　move　to　Florida…but　that's　what　guys　in　his　line　of　work　did　for　their　widowed　mothers；　got　them　out　of　the　cold　weather　and　into　the　sunshine。
　
　God　help　me；　Ira　Jackson　thought；　tossing　restively　on　the　mechanical　mattress。　I　should've　held　off　another　year。　Waited　till　I　could　afford　to　put　her　in　a　condo。
　
　That　cocksucker　Torres。　A…hundred…twenty…mile…per…hour　gusts。　What　kind　of　scum　would　lie　to　a　widow？
　
　〃Excuse　me！〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　bolted　upright　to　see　a　gray…haired　man　in　a　white　undershirt　and　baggy　pants。　Skin　and　bones。　Wire…rimmed　eyeglasses　that　made　him　look　like　a　heron。　In　one　arm　he　carried　a　brown　shopping　bag。
　
　〃Have　you　seen　an　urn？〃　he　asked。
　
　〃Jesus；　what？〃
　
　〃A　blue　urn。　My　wife's　ashes。　It's　like　a　bottle。〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　shook　his　head。　〃No；　I　haven't　seen　it。〃　He　rose　to　his　feet。　He　noticed　that　the　old　man　was　shaking。
　
　〃I'm　going　to　kill　him；〃　he　said　angrily。
　
　Ira　Jackson　said；　〃Who？〃
　
　〃That　lying　sonofabitch　who　sold　me　the　double…wide。　I　saw　him　here　after　the　hurricane；　but　he　took　off。〃
　
　〃Torres？〃
　
　〃Yeah。〃　The　old　man's　cheeks　colored。　〃I'd　murder　him；　swear　to　God；　if　I　could。〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　said；　〃You'd　get　a　medal　for　it。〃　Humoring　the　guy；　hoping　he'd　run　out　of　steam　and　go　away。
　
　〃Hell；　you　don't　believe　me。〃
　
　〃Sure　I　do。〃　He　was　tempted　to　tell　the　old　man　to　quit　worrying；　Senor　Tony　Torres　would　be　taken　care　of。　Most　definitely。　But　Ira　Jackson　knew　it　would　be　foolish　to　draw　attention　to　himself。
　
　The　old　man　said：　〃My　name's　Levon　Stichler。　I　lived　four　lots　over。　Was　it　your　mother　that　died　here？〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　nodded。
　
　Levon　Stichler　said；　〃I'm　real　sorry。　I'm　the　one　found　her　two　dogs…they're　at　Dr　Tyler's　in　Naranja。〃
　
　〃She'd　appreciate　that；　my　mother。〃　Ira　Jackson　made　a　mental　note　to　pick　up　the　dachshunds　before　the　vet's　office　closed。
　
　The　old　man　said；　〃My　wife's　ashes　blew　away　in　the　hurricane。〃
　
　〃Yeah；　well；　if　I　e　across　a　blue　bottle…〃
　
　〃What　the　hell　could　they　do　to　me？〃　Levon　Stichler　wore　a　weird　quavering　smirk。　〃For　killing　him；　what　could　they　do？　I'm　seventy…one　goddamn　years　old…　what；　life　in　prison？…Big　deal。　I　got　nothing　left　anyhow。〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　said；　〃I　was　you；　I'd　put　it　out　of　my　mind。　Scum　like　Torres；　they　usually　get　what　they　deserve。〃
　
　〃Not　in　my　world；〃　said　Levon　Stichler。　But　the　widow　Jackson's　son　had　taken　the　wind　out　of　his　sails。　〃Hell；　I　don't　know　how　to　find　the　sonofabitch　anyhow。　Do　you？〃
　
　〃Wouldn't　have　a　clue；〃　Ira　Jackson　said。
　
　Levon　Stichler　shrugged　in　resignation；　and　returned　to　the　heap　that　once　was　his　home。　Ira　Jackson　watched　him　poking　through　the　rubble；　stooping　every　so　often　to　examine　a　scrap。　All　around　the　trailer　court；　other　neighbors　of　the　late　Beatrice　Jackson　could　be　seen　hunched　and　scavenging；　picking　up　pieces。
　
　Her　son　opened　his　wallet；　which　contained：　six　hundred　dollars　cash；　a　picture　of　his　mother　taken　in　Atlantic　City；　three　fake　driver's　licenses；　a　forged　Social　Security　card；　a　stolen　Delta　Airlines　frequent　flyer　card；　and　numerous　scraps　of　paper　with　numerous　phone　numbers　from　the　718　area　code。　The　wallet　also　held　a　few　legitimate　business　cards；　including　one　that　said：
　
　Antonio　Torres　
　Senior　Sales　Associate　
　PreFab　Luxury　Homes　
　（305）　555…2200
　
　The　trailer　salesman　had　jotted　his　home　number　on　the　back　of　the　business　card。　Ira　Jackson　kicked　through　his　mother's　storm…soaked　belongings　until　he　found　a　Greater　Miami　telephone　directory。　Th