chiaasen.stormyweather-第41部分

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；　but　she　was　the　best　thing　young　Mr。　Dove　had　ever　seen。　Besides；　he　couldn't　back　out　of　the　deal　now。　He'd　already　put　in　for　the　phony　claim。
　
　Again　the　phone　rang。　Edie　Marsh　said；　〃Shit。〃
　
　〃For　Christ's　sake；　gimme　a　hand。〃　Snapper　writhed　irritably　on　the　BarcaLounger。　〃e　on！〃
　
　Bracing　a　forearm　on　Edie's　shoulder；　he　hobbled　to　the　kitchen。　She　plucked　the　receiver　off　the　hook　and　handed　it　to　him。
　
　〃Yo；〃　Snapper　said。
　
　〃Hullo？〃　A　woman。　〃Tony；　is　that　you？〃
　
　〃Hmmphrr；〃　answered　Snapper；　cautiously。
　
　〃It's　me。　Neria。〃
　
　Who？　Frigid　drops　from　the　ice　pack　dripped　down　Snapper's　injured　leg。　The　purple　kneecap　felt　as　if　it　were　about　to　burst；　like　a　rotten　mango。　Edie　pressed　close；　trying　to　hear　what　the　caller　was　saying。
　
　〃Tony；　I　been　tryin'　to　get　through　for　days。　What's　with　the　house？〃
　
　Then　Snapper　remembered：　The　wife！　Tony　Torres　had　said　her　name　was　Miriam　or　Neria；　some　Cuban　thing。　He'd　also　said　she'd　be　ing　back　for　her　cut　of　the　insurance。
　
　〃Bad　connection；〃　Snapper　mumbled　into　the　receiver。
　
　〃What's　going　on？　I　call　next　door　and　Mister　Varga；　he　said　the　hurricane　totaled　our　house　and　now　there's　strangers　living　there。　Some　woman；　Tony。　You　hear　me？　And　Mister　Varga　said　you　shot　a　hole　in　the　garage。　What　the　hell's　going　on　down　there？〃
　
　Snapper　held　the　receiver　at　arm's　length；　like　it　was　a　stick　of　dynamite。　His　bottom　jaw　shoveled　in　and　out；　the　joints　of　his　face　made　a　popping　sound　that　gave　Edie　the　creeps。
　
　〃Tony？〃　squeaked　the　voice　on　the　telephone。
　
　Edie　took　it　from　Snapper's　hand　and　said；　〃I'm　very　sorry。　You've　got　the　wrong　number。〃　Then　she　hung　up。
　
　At　first　all　Snapper　could　say　was；　〃Goddamn。〃
　
　〃The　wife？〃
　
　〃Yeah。　Goddamn。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　helped　him　pogo　to　the　chair。　The　ice　crunched　as　he　sat　down。　〃Where's　your　Santy　Claus　boyfriend　live？〃
　
　〃SomeRamada。〃
　
　〃Goddamn。　We　don't　got　much　time。〃
　
　Edie　said；　〃Where's　Mrs。　Torres？　Is　she　here　in　Miami？〃
　
　〃Hell　if　I　know。　Get　me　to　the　car。〃
　
　〃I've　got　some　more　bad　news。　The　dogs　came　back　this　morning。〃
　
　〃The　wiener　dogs？〃
　
　〃We　can't　just　leave　them　here。　They　need　to　be　fed。〃
　
　With　both　hands　Snapper　choked　his　throbbing　leg　and　said；　〃Never　again。　I　swear　to　Christ。〃
　
　〃Oh　yeah；〃　Edie　Marsh　said；　〃like　this　is　some　fun　picnic　for　me。　Here；　give　me　your　arm。〃
　
　Avila's　new　customer　took　the　Turnpike　south。　Before　long　the　Cadillac　was　pinned　in　traffic…construction　trucks；　eighteen…wheelers；　Army　convoys；　ambulances；　sightseers；　National　Guardsmen；　and　hundreds　of　queasy　insurance　adjusters；　all　heading　into　the　hurricane　zone。　Ground　Zero。
　
　〃Looks　like　a　bombing　range；〃　said　the　man　calling　himself　Rick　Reynolds。
　
　〃Sure　does。　Where's　your　house？〃
　
　〃We　got　a　ways　yet。〃　As　the　car　inched　along；　the　man　turned　up　the　radio：　Rush　Limbaugh；　making　wisecracks　about　the　wife　of　some　candidate。　Avila　didn't　think　the　jokes　were　all　that　funny；　but　the　man　chuckled　loyally。　After　the　program　ended；　a　news　report　announced　that　the　President　of　the　United　States　was　flying　to　Miami　to　see　the　storm　damage　firsthand。
　
　〃Great；〃　said　Avila。　〃You　think　traffic　sucks　now；　just　wait。〃
　
　The　man　said；　〃Yeah；　one　time　I　got　stuck　behind　Reagan's　motorcade　in　the　Holland　Tunnel。　Talk　about　a　fuck　story…two　hours　we're　breathing　fumes。〃
　
　Avila　inquired　how　long　the　man　had　been　in　Dade　County。　Couple　months；　he　answered。　Moved　down　from　New　York。
　
　〃And　I　never　saw　nuthin'　like　this。〃
　
　Avila　said；　〃Me；　neither。〃
　
　〃I　don't　get　it。　Some　houses　go　down　like　dominoes；　some　don't　lose　a　shingle。　How's　that　happen？〃
　
　Avila　checked　his　wristwatch。　He　wondered　if　the　guy　had　the　fifteen　grand　on　him；　or　maybe　in　the　trunk　of　the　car。　He　glanced　in　the　back　seat：　a　crumpled　road　map　and　two　empty　Mister　Donut　boxes。
　
　The　man　said；　〃My　guess　is　somebody　got　paid　off。　There's　no　other　way　to　make　sense　of　it。〃
　
　Avila　kept　his　eyes　ahead。　〃This　ain't　New　York；〃　he　said。　Finally　the　traffic　started　to　move。
　
　The　customer　said　a　trailer　park　not　far　from　his　neighborhood　got　blown　to　smithereens。　〃Old　lady　was　killed；〃　he　said。
　
　〃Man；　that's　rough。〃
　
　〃Wonderful　old　lady。　But　every　single　trailer　got　destroyed；　every　damn　one。〃
　
　Avila　said；　〃Storm　of　the　century。〃
　
　〃No；　but　here's　the　thing。　The　tie…downs　on　those　mobile　homes　was　rotted　out。　The　augers　was　sawed　off。　Anchor　disks　missing。　Now　you　tell　me　some　inspector　didn't　get　greased。〃。
　
　Avila　shifted　unfortably。　〃Straps　rot　fast　in　this　heat。　How　much　farther？〃
　
　〃Not　long。〃
　
　The　customer　picked　up　Krome　Avenue　to　168th　Street。　There　he　turned　back　east　and　drove　for　a　mile　to　a　subdivision　called　Fox　Hollow；　which　had　eroded　to　more　or　less　bare　foundations　in　the　hurricane。　The　man　parked　in　front　of　the　skeletal　remains　of　a　small　tract　home。
　
　Avila　got　out　of　the　Cadillac　and　said；　〃God；　you　weren't　kidding。〃
　
　The　roof　of　the　house　was　totally　blown　away；　gables；　beams；　trusses；　everything。　Avila　was　stunned　that　Mr。　Reynolds　was　allowing　his　family　to　remain　in　such　an　unprotected　structure。　Avila　followed　him　inside；　stepping　over　the　wind…flattened　doors。　The　place　looked　abandoned　except　for　the　kitchen；　where　a　pack　of　stray　dogs　fought　over　rancid　hamburger　in　the　overturned　refrigerator。　Avila's　customer　grabbed　an　aluminum　baseball　bat　and　chased　the　mongrels　off。
　
　Peeking　into　the　flooded　bedrooms；　Avila　saw　no　sign　of　the　customer's　family。　Immediately　he　felt　the　whole　day　go　sour。　Just　to　be　sure；　he　said；　〃So　where's　your　ninety…year…old　grandmother？〃
　
　〃Dead　and　buried；〃　Ira　Jackson　replied；　slapping　the　bat　in　the　palm　of　one　hand；　〃on　beautiful　Staten　Island。〃
　
　As　the　man　from　New　York　prepared　to　nail　him　to　a　pine　tree；　Avila　concluded　that　Snapper　was　responsible　for　hiring　the　attacker。
　
　Clearly　the　plan　was　to　murder　Avila　and　take　control　of　his　crooked　roofers。　Where　was　the　mighty　fist　of　Chango？　Avila　wondered　grimly。　Had　the　double…chicken　sacrifice　misfired？
　
　Then　the　man　from　New　York　explained　himself…　who　he　was；　what　had　happened　to　his　mother；　and　why　Avila　must　die　a　horrible　drawn…out　death。　At　first　Avila　pleaded　innocence；　feigning　outrage　at　the　fate　of　Beatrice　Jackson。　Soon　he　realized　that　the　survival　skills　so　essential　to　a　county　bureaucrat…the　ability　on　a　moment's　notice　to　shift　blame；　dodge　responsibility　and　misplace　crucial　paperwork…were　of　no　use　to　him　now。
　
　Avila　reasoned　it　was　better　to　tell　the　truth　than　to　have　it　tortured　out　of　him。　So；　out　of　sheer　bladder…shriveling　fear；　he　confessed　to　Ira　Jackson。
　
　Yes；　it　was　he　who'd　been　assigned　to　approve　the　mobile　homes　at　Suncoast　Leisure　Village。　And　yes；　he'd　failed　to　perform　thorough　and　timely　inspections。　And…yes；　yes！　God　forgive　me！…he'd　taken　bribes　to　overlook　code　violations。
　
　〃Didn't　you　see　those　goddamn　rotten　straps？〃　demanded　Ira　Jackson；　who　was　making　a　crucifix　with　fallen　roof　beams。
　
　〃No；〃　Avila　admitted。
　
　〃The　augers？〃
　
　〃No；　I　swear。〃
　
　〃Never　even　checked？〃　Ira　Jackson　pounded　ferociously　with　a　hammer。
　
　〃I　didn't　see　them；〃　Avila　said　morosely；　〃because　I　never　drove　out　there。〃
　
　Ira　Jackson's　hammer　halted　in　midair。　Avila；　who　was　lashed　to　a　broken　mode　in　a　bathroom；　lowered　his　eyes　in　a　pantomime　of　shame。　That's　when　he　saw　that　the　toilet　bowl　was　alive　with　bright…green　frogs　and　mottled　brown　snakes；　splashing　beneath　him　in　fetid　water。
　
　With　a　shiver　he　said；　〃I　never　went　to　the　trailer　park。　The　guy　sent　me　the　money…〃
　
　〃How　much？〃
　
　〃Fifty　bucks　a　unit。　He　sent　it　to　the　office；　so　I　figured　what　the　hell；　why　waste　gas？　Instead　of　driving　all　the　way　down　there；　I。。。〃　Here　Avila　caught　himself。　It　seemed　unnecessary　to　reveal　that　he'd　played　golf　on　the　afternoon　he　was　supposed　to　inspect　Suncoast　Leisure　Village。
　
　〃。。。I　didn't　go。〃
　
　〃You're　shittin'me。〃
　
　〃No。　I'm　very；　very　sorry。〃
　
　The　expression　on　Ira　Jackson's　face　caused　Avila　to　reeval