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第27部分

chiaasen.stormyweather-第27部分

小说: chiaasen.stormyweather 字数: 每页4000字

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idents to stay out of the Sunshine State for a few years; 〃so we can gather our senses。〃 He announced a goal of Negative Population Growth and proposed generous tax incentives for counties that significantly reduced human density。 Tyree couldn't have caused more of an uproar had he been preaching satanism to preschoolers。
 
 The view that the new governor was mentally unstable was reinforced by his refusal to accept bribes。 More appallingly; he shared the details of these illicit offers with agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation。 In that manner; one of the state's richest and most politically connected land developers got shut down; indicted and convicted of corruption。 Clearly Clinton Tyree was a menace。
 
 No previous governor had dared to disrupt the business of paving Florida。 For seventy glorious years; the state had shriveled safely in the grip of those most efficient at looting its resources。 Suddenly this reckless young upstart was inciting folks like a damn munist。 Save the rivers。 Save the coasts。 Save the Big Cypress。 Where would it end? Time magazine put him on the cover。 David Brinkley called him a New Populist。 The National Audubon Society gave him a frigging medal。。。。
 
 One night; in a curtained booth of a restaurant called the Silver Slipper; a pact was made to stop the madman。 His heroics in Southeast Asia made him immune to customary smear tactics; so the only safe alternative was to neutralize him politically。 It was a straightforward plan: No matter what the new governor wanted; the legislature and cabinet would do the opposite…a voting pattern to be ensured by magnanimous contributions from bankers; contractors; real estate brokers; hoteliers; farm conglomerates and other special…interest groups that were experiencing philosophical differences with Clinton Tyree。
 
 The strategy succeeded。 Even the governor's fellow Democrats felt sufficiently threatened by his reforms to abandon him without punction。 Once it became clear to Glint Tyree that the freeze was on; he slowly began to e apart。 Each defeat in the legislature hit him like a sledge。 His public appearances were marked by bilious oratory and dark mutterings。 He lost weight and let his hair grow。 During one cryptic press conference; he chose not to wear a shirt。 He wrote acidulous letters on official stationery; and gave interviews in which he quoted at length from Carl Jung; Henry Thoreau and David Crosby。 One night the state trooper assigned to guard the governor found him creeping through a graveyard; Clinton Tyree explained his intention was to dig up the remains of the late Napoleon Bonaparte Broward; the governor who had first schemed to drain the Everglades。 Tyree's idea was to distribute Governor Broward's bones as souvenirs to visitors in the capitol rotunda。
 
 Meanwhile the ravaging of Florida continued unabated; as did the ining stampede。 A thousand fortune…seekers took up residence in the state every day; and there was nothing Glint Tyree could do about it。
 
 So he quit; fled Tallahassee on a melancholy morning in the back of a state limousine; and melted into the tangled wilderness。 In the history of Florida; no governor had ever before resigned; in fact; no elected officeholder had made such an abrupt or eccentric exit from public life。 Journalists and authors hunted the missing Clinton Tyree but never caught up with him。 He moved by night; fed off the road; and adopted the solitary existence of a swamp rattler。 Those who encountered him knew him by the name of Skink; or simply 〃captain;〃 a solemn hermitage interrupted by the occasional righteous arson; aggravated battery or highway sniping。
 
 Only one man held the runaway governor's plete trust…the Highway Patrol trooper who had been assigned to guard him during the gubernatorial campaign and later had e to work at the governor's mansion; the same trooper who was driving the limousine on the day Clinton Tyree disappeared。 It was he alone who knew the man's whereabouts; kept in touch and followed his movements; who was there to help when Clinton Tyree went around the bend; which he sometimes did。 The trooper had been there soon after his friend lost an eye in a vicious beating; again after he shot up some rental cars in a roadside spree; again after he burned down an amusement park。
 
 Some years were quieter than others。
 
 〃But he's been waiting for this hurricane;〃 Jim Tile said; twirling a spoonful of spaghetti。 〃There's cause to be concerned。〃
 
 Augustine said: 〃I've heard of this guy。〃
 
 〃Then you understand why I need to talk to Mrs。 Lamb。〃
 
 〃Mrs。 Lamb;〃 Bonnie said; caustically; 〃can't believe what she's hearing。 You think this lunatic's got Max?〃
 
 〃An old lady in the neighborhood saw a man fitting the governor's description carrying a man fitting your husband's description。 Over his shoulder。 Buck naked。〃 Jim Tile paused to allow Mrs。 Lamb to form a mental picture of the scene。 He said; 〃I don't know about the lady's eyesight; but it's worth checking out。 You mentioned a tape you made…the kidnapper's voice。〃
 
 〃It's back at the house;〃 said Augustine。
 
 〃Would you mind if I listened to it?〃
 
 Bonnie said; 〃This is ludicrous; what you're saying…〃
 
 〃Humor me;〃 said Jim Tile。
 
 Bonnie pushed away her plate of lasagna; half eaten。 〃What's your interest?〃
 
 〃He's my friend。 He's in trouble;〃 the trooper said。
 
 〃All I care about is Max。〃
 
 〃They're both in danger。〃
 
 Bonnie demanded to know about the fat man in the morgue。 The trooper said he'd been strangled and impaled on a TV satellite dish。 The motive didn't appear to be robbery。
 
 〃Did your 'friend' do that; too?〃
 
 〃They're talking to some dumb goober from Alabama; but I don't know。〃
 
 To Bonnie; it was all incredible。 〃You did say 'impaled'?〃
 
 〃Yes; ma'am。〃 The trooper didn't mention the mock crucifixion。 Mrs。 Lamb was plenty upset already。
 
 Through clenched teeth she said; 〃This place is insane。〃
 
 Jim Tile was in full agreement。 Tiredly he looked at Augustine。 〃I'm just tracking down a few leads。〃
 
 〃e on back to the house。 We'll play that tape for you。〃
 
 Ira Jackson's intention had been to kill the mobile…home salesman and then drive home to New York and arrange that came naturally。 Avila had said it was important to make lots of noise; like legitimate roofers; so the black guys staged a truss…hammering contest; with the Latin guy as referee。 The white crackhead was left to cut plywood for the decking。
 
 Snapper waited in the cab of the truck; which smelled like stale Coors and marijuana。 Mercifully the sky darkened after about an hour; and a hard thunderstorm broke loose。 While the roofers scrambled to load the truck; Snapper told Nathaniel Lewis they'd return first thing in the morning。 Lewis handed him a cashier's check for three thousand dollars。 The check was made out to Fortress Roofing; Avila's bogus pany。 Snapper thought it was a very amusing name。
 
 He got in the stolen Jeep Cherokee and headed south。 The crew followed in the truck。 Avila had advised Snapper to move around; don't stay in one area。 A smart strategy; Snapper agreed。 They made it to Cutler Ridge ahead of the weather。 Snapper found an expensive ranch…style house sitting on two acres of pinelands。 Half the roof had been torn off by the hurricane。 A Land Rover and a black Infiniti were parked in the tiled driveway。
 
 Jackpot; Snapper thought。
 
 The lady of the house let him in。 Her name was Whitmark; and she was frantic for shelter。 She'd been scouting the rain clouds on the horizon; and the possibility of more flooding in the living room had sent her dashing to the medicine chest。 The 〃roofing foreman〃 listened to Mrs。 Whitmark's woeful story: 〃The pile carpet already was ruined; as was Mr。 Whit…mark's state…of…the…art stereo system; and of course mildew had claimed all the drapery; the linens and half her winter evening wardrobe; the Italian leather sofa and the cherry buffet had been moved to the west wing; but…〃
 
 〃We can start this afternoon;〃 Snapper cut in; 〃but we need a deposit。〃
 
 Mrs。 Whitmark asked how much。 Snapper pulled a figure out of his head: seven thousand d

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