chiaasen.stormyweather-第58部分

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　Augustine　noticed　a　young　towheaded　boy；　rigid　in　a　shredded　patio　chair　outside　a　battered　house。　Most　of　the　roof　was　gone；　so　a　skin　of　cheap　blue　plastic　had　been　stapled　to　the　beams　for　shade　and　shelter。　It　puckered　and　flapped　in　the　breeze。
　
　The　towheaded　boy　looked　only　ten　or　eleven　years　old。　He　held　a　stainless…steel　Ruger　Mini…14；　which　he　raised　from　his　lap　as　Augustine　passed　on　the　sidewalk。　In　a　thin　high　pitch；　the　boy　yelled：　〃Looters　will　be　shot！〃
　
　The　warning　matched　a　message　spray…painted　in　two…foot　letters　on　the　front　wall：　lootersbewair！！
　
　Augustine　turned　to　face　the　child。　〃I'm　not　a　looter。　Where's　your　father？〃
　
　〃Out　for　lumber。　He　told　me　watch　the　place。〃
　
　〃You're　doing　a　good　job。〃　Augustine　stared　at　the　powerful　rifle。　A　bank　robber　had　used　the　same　model　to　shoot　down　five　FBI　agents　in　Suniland；　a　few　years　back。
　
　The　boy　explained：　〃We　had　looters；　night　after　the　hurry…cane。　We　were　stayin'　with　Uncle　Rick；　he　lives　somewheres　called　Dania。　They　came　through　while　we's　gone。〃
　
　Augustine　slowly　stepped　forward　for　a　closer　look。　The　clip　was　fitted　flush　in　the　Ruger；　all　systems　Go。　The　boy　wore　a　severe　expression；　squinting　at　Augustine　as　if　he　stood　a　hundred　yards　away。　The　boy　fidgeted　in　the　flimsy　chair。　One　side　of　his　mouth　wormed　into　a　creepy　lopsided　frown。　Augustine　half　expected　to　hear　banjo　music。
　
　The　boy　went　on：　〃They　got　our　TVs　and　CD　player。　My　dad's　toolbox；　top。　I'm　'posed　to　shoot　the　bastards　they　e　back。〃
　
　〃Did　you　ever　fire　that　gun　before？〃
　
　〃All　the　time。〃　The　child's　hard　gray…blue　eyes　flickered　with　the　lie。　The　Mini…14　was　heavy。　His　little　arms　were　tired　from　holding　it。　〃You　better　go　on　now；〃　he　advised。
　
　Augustine　nodded；　backing　away。　〃Just　be　careful；　all　right？　You　don't　want　to　hurt　the　wrong　person。〃
　
　〃My　dad　said　he's　gone　booby…trap　everything　so's　next　time　they'll　be　damn　sorry。　He　went　to　the　hardware　store。　My　mom　and　Debbie　are　still　up　at　Uncle　Rick's。　Debbie's　my　half…sister；　she's　seven。〃
　
　〃Promise　you'll　be　careful　with　the　gun。〃
　
　〃She　stepped　on　a　rusty　nail　and　got　infected。〃
　
　〃Promise　me　you'll　take　it　easy。〃
　
　〃OK；〃　said　the　boy。　A　droplet　of　sweat　rolled　down　a　pink；　sunburned　cheek。　It　surely　tickled；　but　the　boy　never　took　a　hand　off　the　rifle。
　
　Augustine　waved　good…bye　and　went　on　up　the　road。　When　he　arrived　at　the　house　where　he'd　left　Bonnie　Lamb　and　the　governor；　he　found　it　empty。　Across　the　street；　at　15600　Calusa；　the　black　Jeep　Cherokee　was　gone　from　the　driveway。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…TWO
　
　
　Augustine　sprinted　across　the　street。　He　pulled　the　pistol　when　he　reached　the　doorway。　There　was　no　answer　when　he　called　Bonnie's　name。　Cautiously　he　went　through　the　house。　It　was　empty　of　life。　The　air　was　stale；　mildew　and　sweat；　except　for　one　of　the　bedrooms…strong　perfume　and　sex。　A　hall　closet　was　open；　revealing　nothing　unusual。　A　plaque　on　the　living…room　wall　indicated　the　house　belonged　to　a　salesman；　Antonio　Torres。　The　hurricane　had　done　quite　a　number　on　the　place。　In　the　backyard　Augustine　saw　two　miniature　dachshunds　tied　to　a　sprinkler。　They　barked　excitedly　when　they　spotted　him。
　
　He　sat　down　in　a　Naugahyde　recliner　and　tried　to　reconstruct　what　could　have　happened　in　the　twenty　minutes　he'd　been　gone。　Obviously　something　had　inspired　the　governor　to　make　his　move。　Surely　he'd　ordered　Bonnie　to　wait　across　the　street；　but　she'd　probably　followed　him　just　the　same。　Augustine　had　to　assume　they　were　now　in　the　Jeep　with　the　bad　guy；　headed　for　an　unknown　destination。
　
　Augustine　tore　through　the　house　once　more；　searching　for　clues。　In　the　rubble　of　the　funky…smelling　bedroom　was　an　album　of　water…stained　photographs：　the　salesman；　his　spouse；　and　a　multitude　of　well…fed　relatives。　Brenda　Rourke　had　not　recalled　her　attacker　as　an　overweight　Hispanic　male；　and　the　pictures　of　Antonio　Torres　showed　no　obvious　facial　deformity。　Augustine　decided　it　couldn't　be　the　same　man。　He　moved　to　the　kitchen。
　
　Hidden　in　a　large　saucepan；　in　a　cupboard　over　the　double　sink；　was　a　woman's　leather　purse。　Inside　was　a　wallet　containing　a　Florida　driver's　license　for　one　Edith　Deborah　Marsh；　white　female。　Date　of　birth：　5…7…63。　The　address　was　an　apartment　in　West　Palm　Beach。　The　picture　on　the　license　was　unusually　revealing：　a　pretty　young　lady　with　smoky；　predatory　eyes。　The　photo　tech　at　the　driver's　bureau　had　outdone　himself。　Folded　neatly　in　the　woman's　purse　were　pink　carbons　of　two　insurance　settlements　from　Midwest　Casualty；　one　for　60；000　and　one　for　141；000。　The　claims　were　for　hurricane　damage　to　the　house　at　15600　Calusa；　and　bore　signatures　of　Antonio　and　Neria　Torres。　Interestingly；　the　insurance　papers　were　dated　that　very　day。　Augustine　was　intrigued　that　Ms　Edith　Marsh　would　have　these　documents　in　her　possession；　and　took　the　liberty　of　transferring　them　to　his　own　pocket。
　
　It　was　an　interesting　twist；　but　Augustine　doubted　it　would　help　him　locate　Bonnie　and　the　governor。　The　key　to　the　mystery　was　the　creep　with　the　crooked　jaw。　He'd　be　the　one　carrying　Brenda　Rourke's　service　revolver。　He'd　be　the　one　at　the　wheel　of　the　Cherokee。　Yet　the　house　yielded　no　traceable　signs。
　
　With　every　passing　moment；　the　creep　was　getting　farther　away。　Augustine　experienced　a　flutter　of　panic；　thinking　of　what　might　happen。　It　was　inconceivable　that　the　governor　would　be　cooperative　during　an　abduction。　Resistance　was　in　the　man's　blood。　A　。357　aimed　at　his　forehead　would　only　enhance　the　challenge。　And　if　he　screwed　up；　Bonnie　Lamb　would　be　lost。
　
　Augustine　ached　with　dread。　His　impulse　was　to　get　in　the　truck　and　start　driving；　desperate　widening　grids　and　circles；　in　a　wild　hope　of　spotting　the　Jeep。　The　creep　had　only　a　short　head　start；　but　also　the　considerable　advantage　of　knowing　which　direction　he　was　going。
　
　Then　Augustine　thought　of　Jim　Tile；　the　state　trooper。　One　shout　on　the　police　radio　and　every　cop　in　South　Florida　would　know　to　keep　an　eye　open　for　the　Cherokee。　Augustine　had　made　a　point　of　memorizing　the　new　tag：　PPZ…350。　Save　the　Manatee。
　
　He　picked　up　the　kitchen　phone　to　get　the　number　for　the　Highway　Patrol。　That's　when　he　noticed　his　old　friend；　the　redial　button。
　
　He'd　learned　the　trick　while　keeping　house　with　the　demented　surgical　intern；　the　one　who　ultimately　knifed　him　in　the　shower。　Whenever　he　found　her　gone；　Augustine　would　touch　the　redial　button　to　determine　if　she'd　been　phoning　around　town　to　score　more　Dilaudid；　or　pawn　items　stolen　from　his　house。　Before　long　he　was　able　to　recognize　the　voices　of　her　various　dope　dealers　and　fences；　before　hanging　up。　In　that　way；　the　redial　button　had　been　a　valuable　tool　for　predicting　his　girlfriend's　moods　and　tracing　missing　property。
　
　So　he　punched　it　now；　to　find　out　the　last　number　dialed　from　15600　Calusa　before　Skink　and　Bonnie　disappeared。　After　three　rings；　a　friendly　female　voice　answered：　〃Paradise　Palms。　Can　I　help　you？〃
　
　Augustine　hesitated。　He　knew　of　only　one　Paradise　Palms；　a　seaside　motel　down　in　Islamorada。　He　gave　it　a　shot。　〃My　brother　just　called　a　little　while　ago。　From　Miami。〃
　
　〃Oh　yes。　Mister　Horn's　friend。〃
　
　〃Pardon　me？〃
　
　〃The　owner。　Mister　Horn。　Your　brother's　name　is　Lester？〃
　
　〃Right；〃　said　Augustine；　flying　blind。
　
　〃He's　the　only　Miami　booking　we've　had　today。　Did　he　want　to　cancel？〃
　
　〃Oh　no；〃　Augustine　said。　〃No；　I　just　want　to　make　sure　the　reservation　is　all　set。　See；　we're　supposed　to　surprise　him　down　there…it's　his　birthday　tomorrow。　We're　going　to　take　him　deep…sea　fishing。〃
　
　The　woman　at　the　motel　said　the　dolphin　were　hitting　offshore；　and　advised　him　to　try　the　docks　at　Bud　'n'　Mary's　to　arrange　a　charter。　〃Would　you　like　me　to　call　over　there？〃
　
　〃No；　that's　all　right。〃
　
　〃Does　Mister　Horn　know？〃
　
　〃Know　what？〃　said　Augustine。
　
　〃That　it's　Lester's　birthday。　He'll　be　so　sorry　he　missed　it…he's　in　Tampa　on　business。〃
　
　〃Oh；　that's　too　bad；〃　Augustine　said。　〃I　meant　to　ask…what　time's　my　brother　getting　in？　So　we　can　make　sure　everything's　arranged。　You　know；　for