chiaasen.stormyweather-第36部分

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　〃This　is　your　old　friend　Gar　Whitmark；〃　he　said。　〃Your　crew　of　gypsy　fakers　hit　my　wife　for　seven　grand。　My　wife　is　not　well；　Avila。　If　I　don't　see　my　money　by　tomorrow　morning；　you'll　be　in　the　county　jail　by　tomorrow　night。　And　I　will　arrange　for　you　to　share　a　cell　with　Paul　Pick…Percy。〃
　
　The　threat　brutally　jarred　Avila　wide　awake。　Paul　Pick…Percy　was　a　notorious　cannibal。　Currently　he　awaited　trial　on　charges　of　killing　and　eating　his　landlord；　who　had　neglected　to　repair　a　leaky　ball　cock　in　Paul　Pick…Percy's　toilet　tank。　Recently　Paul　Pick…Percy　had　also　been　found　guilty　of　killing　and　eating　a　tardy　cable…TV　repairman　and　a　rude　tollbooth　attendant。
　
　Avila　said：　〃Seven　thousand？　Mister　Whitmark；　I　swear　to　God　I　don't　know　nothing　about　this。〃
　
　〃Suit　yourself…〃
　
　〃Wait；　now　hold　on。。。。〃　Avila　sat　upright　in　bed。　〃Tell　me　supposedly　what　happened；　OK？〃
　
　〃There　is　no　fucking　'supposedly。'〃　Gar　Whitmark　related　his　wife's　pitiable　tale。
　
　〃And　the　truck　was　ours；　you're　sure？〃
　
　〃I'm　holding　the　receipt；　dipshit。　'Fortress　Roofing'　is　what　it　says。〃
　
　Avila　grimaced。　〃Who　signed　it？〃
　
　Gar　Whitmark　said　the　signature　was　illegible。　〃My　wife　said　the　guy　had　a　fucked…up　jaw　made　him　look　like　a　moray　eel。　Plus　he　wore　a　bad　suit。〃
　
　〃Shit；〃　Avila　said。　Exactly　what　he'd　feared。
　
　〃Is　this　ringing　a　bell？〃　Gar　Whitmark's　sarcasm　was　heavy　and　ominous。
　
　Avila　sagged　against　the　headboard　of　his　bed。　〃Sir；　you'll　get　your　money　back　first　thing。〃
　
　〃Damn　straight。　And　a　new　roof　as　well。〃
　
　〃What？〃
　
　〃You　heard　me；　noodle　dick。　The　seven　grand　your　people　stole；　plus　you're　picking　up　the　bill　when　my　new　roof　gets　done。　By　real　roofers。〃
　
　Avila's　stomach　pitched。　Gar　Whitmark　probably　lived　in　a　goddamn　ranch　house　way　down　south；　with　all　the　other　millionaires。　Avila　figured　he'd　be　looking　at　twenty　thousand；　easy；　for　a　new　roof　job。　He　said；　〃That　ain't　really　fair。〃
　
　〃You'd　rather　do　dinner　with　Chef　Pick…Percy？〃
　
　〃Aw；　Christ；　Mister　Whitmark。〃
　
　〃I　didn't　think　so。〃
　
　Avila　got　out　of　bed　and　went　to　the　backyard　to　round　up　two　roosters；　which　he　took　to　the　garage　for　beheading。　He　hoped　the　sacrifice　would　be　favorably　received。　After　a　short　scuffle；　the　deed　was　done。　Avila　dripped　the　warm　blood　into　a　plastic　pail　filled　with　pennies；　bleached　cat　bones　and　turtle　shells。　The　pail　was　placed　at　the　feet　of　a　ceramic　statue　of　Change；　the　saint　of　lightning　and　fire。　The　child…sized　statue　wore　a　robe；　colored　beads　and　a　gold…plated　crown。　Kneeling　in　beseechment；　Avila　raised　his　blood…flecked　arms　toward　the　heavens　and　asked　Change　to　please　strike　Snapper　dead　as　a　fucking　doornail　for　screwing　up　the　roofer　scam。
　
　Avila　wasn't　sure　the　ceremony　would　work。　He　was　relatively　new　to　the　study　of　santeria　and；　characteristically；　hadn't　bothered　to　research　it　thoroughly。　Avila　had　begun　dabbling　in　the　blood　practices　when　he　first　learned　the　authorities　were　investigating　him　for　bribery；　several　cocaine　dealers　of　his　acquaintance　swore　that　santeria　worship　had　kept　them　out　of　jail；　so　Avila　figured　there　was　nothing　to　lose　by　trying。　In　Hialeah　he　conferred　with　a　genuine　santero　priest；　who'　offered　to　teach　him　the　secrets　of　the　religion；　rooted　in　ancient　Afro…Cuban　customs。　The　history　was　infinitely　too　deep　and　mystical　for　Avila；　and　soon　he　grew　impatient　with　the　lessons。
　
　All　he　really　wanted；　he　explained　to　the　santero；　was　the　ability　to　put　curses　on　his　enemies。　Lethal　curses。
　
　The　priest　wailed　and　told　him　to　get　lost。　But　Avila　went　home　convinced　that；　from　the　mumbo　jumbo　he'd　seen；　he　could　teach　himself　the　basics　of　hexing。　For　his　deity　Avila　picked　the　saint　Change；　because　he　liked　the　macho　name。　For　his　first　target　he　chose　the　county　prosecutor　leading　the　investigation　against　corrupt　building　inspectors。
　
　Pennies　were　easy　to　e　by；　as　were　old　animal　bones；　Avila's　grandmother　lived　four　blocks　from　a　pet　cemetery　in　Medley。　Obtaining　blood　was　the　biggest　obstacle　for　Avila；　who　had　no　zeal　for　performing　live　sacrifices。　The　first　few　times；　he　tried　pleasing　Chango　by　sprinkling　the　coins　and　bones　with　steak　juices　and　。。　homemade　bouillon。　Nothing　happened。　Evidently　the　santeria　saints　preferred　the　fresh　stuff。
　
　One　rainy　Sunday　afternoon；　Avila　bought　himself　a　live　chicken。　His　wife　was　cooking　a　big　dinner　for　the　cousins；　so　she　banished　Avila　from　the　kitchen。　He　put　a　Ginsu　knife　in　his　back　pocket　and　smuggled　the　victim　to　the　garage。　As　soon　as　Avila　began　spreading　newspapers　on　the　floor；　the　chicken　sensed　trouble。　Avila　was　astounded　that　a　puny　five…pound　bird　could　make　such　a　racket　or　put　up　such　spirited　resistance。　The　crudely　staged　sacrifice　eventually　was　pleted；　but　Avila　emerged　scratched；　pecked　and　smeared　with　bloody　feathers。　So　was　his　wife's　cream…colored　Buick　Electra。　Her　ear…splitting　tirade　caused　the　cousins　to　forgo　dessert　and　head　home　early。
　
　Two　days　later；　the　magic　happened。　The　prosecutor　targeted　by　Avila's　chicken　curse　fell　and　dislocated　a　shoulder　in　the　shower。　At　the　time；　he　was　in　the　pany　of　an　athletic　prostitute　named　Kandi；　who　was　thoughtful　enough　not　only　to　call　911　but　to　make　herself　available　for　numerous　press　interviews。　Given　the　media　uproar；　the　State　Attorney　suggested　that　the　fallen　prosecutor　take　an　indefinite　leave　of　absence。
　
　The　corruption　investigation　wasn't　derailed；　merely　reassigned。　Nevertheless；　Avila　was　convinced　that　the　santeria　spell　was　a　success。　Later　attempts　to　replicate　the　results　proved　fruitless　（and　messy）；　but　Avila　blamed　his　own　inexperience；　plus　a　lack　of　suitable　facilities。　Perhaps；　during　the　sacrifices；　he　was　chanting　the　wrong　phrases；　or　chanting　the　right　phrases　in　the　wrong　order。　Perhaps　he　was　performing　the　ceremonies　at　a　bad　time　of　day　for　the　mercurial　Change。　Or　perhaps　Avila　was　simply　using　inferior　poultry。
　
　While　he　ended　up　plea…bargaining　with　the　replacement　prosecutor；　Avila's　faith　in　the　witchcraft　of　bones　and　blood　remained　unshaken。　He　decided　Snapper's　transgression　was　heinous　enough　to　merit　the　offering　of　two　chickens　instead　of　one。　If　that　didn't　work；　he'd　invest　in　a　billy　goat。
　
　The　roosters　did　not　succumb　quietly；　the　clamor　awakening　Avila's　wife；　aunt　and　mother。　The　women　burst；　into　the　garage　to　find　Avila　singing　Spanish　gibberish　to　his　cherished　ceramic　statue。　Avila's　wife　instantly　spied　red　droplets　and　a　waxen　fragment　of　chicken　beak　on　the　left　front　fender　of　her　Electra；　and　savagely　took　to　striking　her　husband　with　a　garden　rake。
　
　On　the　other　side　of　Dade　County；　Snapper　dozed　peacefully　in　a　dead　man's　Naugahyde　recliner。　He　felt　no　pain　from　the　supernatural　hand　of　Chango；　nor　did　he　feel　the　hateful　glare　of　Edie　Marsh；　who　was　stretched　out　on　the　mildewed　carpet　and　trussed　to　a　naked　insurance　man。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　FOURTEEN
　
　
　As　the　candles　melted　to　lumps；　Snapper's　shadow　flickered　and　shrunk　on　the　pale　bare　walls。　His　profile　reminded　Edie　Marsh　of　a　miniature　tyrannosaurus。
　
　For　laughs；　he　refused　to　let　Fred　Dove　remove　the　red　condom。
　
　〃That's　mean；〃　Edie　said。
　
　〃Well；　I'm　one　mean　motherfucker；〃　Snapper　proclaimed。　〃You　don't　believe　me；　there's　a　lady　cop　in　the　hospital　you　should　see。〃
　
　When　he　yawned；　the　misaligned　mandible　waggled　horizontally；　then　appeared　to　disengage　altogether　from　his　face。　He　looked　like　a　snake　trying　to　swallow　an　egg。
　
　Edie　said；　〃What　is　it　you　want？〃
　
　〃You　know　damn　well。〃　Snapper　held　the　flashlight　on　Fred　Dove's　retreating　cock。　〃Where'd　you　find　a　red　rubber？〃　he　asked。　〃Mail　order；　I　bet。　Looks　like　a　Santy　Claushat。〃
　
　From　the　floor；　the　insurance　man　gave　a　disconsolate　whimper。　Edie　leaned　her　head　against　the　small　of　his　back。　Snapper　had　positioned　them　butt…to…butt；　binding　their　hands　with　a　curtain　sash。　In　Fred　Dove's　briefcase　Snapper　found　the　business　cards　and　policy　folders　from　Midwest　Casualty。　From　that　it　was　easy　to　figure　out…Edie　on　her　knees；　and　so　on。　Snapper　marveled　at　the　exquisite　timing　of　his　en