chiaasen.stormyweather-第61部分

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　〃Who　are　they；　Leon？〃
　
　〃I　don't　know。　Friends　and　cousins　of　Tony；　I　heard。　They　got　two　dogs　bark　half　the　night。　I　figured　Tony's　letting　'em　watch　the　place。〃
　
　Varga　shared　his　theory：　Neria's　husband　was　lying　low；　due　to　adverse　publicity　about　the　mobile…home　industry。　〃Every　damn　one　blew　to　smithereens　in　the　storm；〃　Varga　related。　〃The　papers　and　TV　are　making　a　big　stink。　Supposedly　there's　going　to　be　an　investigation。　The　FBI　is　what　they　say。〃
　
　〃Oh；　e　off　it。〃
　
　〃That's　the　rumor；〃　Varga　said。　〃Your　Tony；　he's　no　fool。　I　think　he's　making　himself　invisible　till　all　this　cools　down；　these　people　e　to　their　senses。　I　mean；　it's　not　his　fault　those　trailers　fell　apart。　God's　will　is　what　it　was。　He's　testing　us；　same　as　He　did　with　Noah。〃
　
　〃Except　Noah　wasn't　insured；〃　said　Neria　Torres。
　
　Mr。　Varga　was　right　about　one　thing：　Tony　wouldn't　stick　around　if　there　was　heat。　His　style　was　to　take　a　nice　hotel　room　and　ride　things　out。　In　the　meantime；　he'd　have　some　of　his　deadbeat　relatives　or　white…trash　salesmen　pals　stay　with　their　bimbos　in　the　house　on　Calusa。　Tony　wouldn't　be　far　away；　never　would　he　skip　town　without　getting　his　paws　on　the　Midwest　Casualty　money。
　
　Neria　was　buoyed。　The　story　about　the　young　blonde　and　Brooklyn　obviously　was　bullshit；　a　ruse　cooked　up　by　her　husband。　Wishful　thinking；　too；　Neria　mused。　Talking　to　Mr。　Varga　validated　her　decision　to　return　to　Miami。
　
　〃Are　you　really　heading　home？〃　he　asked。　〃You　and　the　mister　give　it　one　more　try？〃
　
　〃Stranger　things　have　happened；〃　said　Neria　Torres。　She　made　Mr。　Varga　swear　on　a　stack　of　Holy　Bibles　not　to　breathe　a　word。　She　said　it　would　ruin　everything　if　Tony　found　out　she　was　ing。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…THREE
　
　
　Snapper　instructed　Edie　Marsh　to　take　the　Turnpike；　and　watch　the　damn　speedometer。　He　was　pressed　against　the　passenger…side　door；　keeping　the　stolen　。357　pointed　at　the　freak　in　the　army　greens。　The　young　woman　was　no　immediate　threat。
　
　The　stranger　blinked　like　a　craggy　tortoise。　He　said：　〃How　much　you　get　for　her　ring？〃
　
　Snapper　frowned。　The　fucker　knew…but　how？　Edie　Marsh　didn't　take　her　eyes　off　the　road。　〃What's　he　talking　about？　Whose　ring？〃
　
　Snapper　spied；　in　the　lower　margin　of　his　vision；　the　wandering　prow　of　his　jawbone。　He　said；　〃Everybody　shut　the　fuck　up！〃
　
　Leaning　forward；　the　longhair　said　to　Edie：　〃Your　rough…tough　boyfriend　beat　up　a　policewoman。　Ripped　off　her　gun　and　her　mother's　wedding　band…he　didn't　tell　you？〃
　
　Edie　shivered。　Maybe　it　was　his　breath　on　the　nape　of　her　neck；　or　the　slow　rumble　of　his　voice；　or　what　he　was　saying。　Meanwhile　Snapper　waved　the　police　pistol　and　hollered　for　the　whole　world　to　shut　up　or　fucking　die！
　
　He　jammed　a　CD　into　the　dashboard　stereo：　ninety…five　decibels　of　country　heartache。　Within　minutes　his　fury　passed；　soothed　by　Reba's　crooning　or　possibly　the　five　white　pills　Edie　had　given　him　back　at　the　house。　OK；　boy；　now　think。
　
　The　original　plan　was　to　waylay　the　nutty　old　man　with　the　hookers。　No　problem　there。　A　guy　Snapper　knew　from　his　Lauderdale　days；　Johnny　Horn；　had　a　small　motel　down　in　the　Keys。　Ideal　spot　for　Levon　Stichler　to　take　a　short　vacation。　Snapper's　idea　was　to　get　one　a　them　cheap　disposable　cameras；　so　the　hookers　could　take　some　pictures；　the　kind　a　respectable　man　wouldn't　want　his　grandkiddies　to　see。　Two　or　three　days　tied　naked　to　a　motel　bed；　the　old　fart　wouldn't　care　to　recall　he'd　ever　set　foot　at　15600　Calusa　Drive。　If　he　promised　to　behave；　then　possibly　the　disposable　camera　would　get　disposed　of。　The　old　man　could　make　his　way　back　to　Miami　with　nothing　but　a　bed　rash　and　a　sore　cock　to　show　for　the　experience。
　
　Best　of　all；　Snapper　wouldn't　have　to　pay　for　the　motel　room　in　the　Keys；　because　Johnny　Horn　owed　him　a　favor。　Two　years　back；　Snapper　had　more　or　less　repossessed　a　Corvette　convertible　from　the　freeloading　boyfriend　of　one　of　Johnny　Horn's　ex…wives。　Snapper　had　driven　the　Corvette　straight　to　the　Port　of　Miami　and；　in　broad　daylight；　parked　it　on　a　container　ship　bound　for　Cartagena。　It　was　a　high…risk　deal；　and　Johnny　said　for　Snapper　to　call　the　Paradise　Palms　anytime　he　needed　a　place　to　crash　or　hide　out　or　take　some　girl。
　
　Snapper　had　dreamed　up　the　plan　for　old　man　Stichler　all　by　himself；　without　Edie's　input。　He　surely　didn't　want　to　throw　all　that　cleverness　out　the　window；　but　he　couldn't　conceive　of　how　to　fit　the　new　intruders　into　his　scheme；　and　he　was　too　fogged　from　the　pills　to　improvise。　It　seemed　easier　to　kill　the　one…eyed　freak　and　his　woman　panion…and　as　long　as　Snapper　was　being　so　bold；　why　not　do　loony　old　Levon　as　well？　That　way；　Snapper　reasoned；　he　wouldn't　have　to　pay　the　two　whores　anything；　except　for　gas　money　and　possibly　a　seafood　dinner。
　
　On　the　downside：　How　to　get　rid　of　three　dead　bodies？　The　logistics　were　daunting。　Snapper　suspected　that　his　droopy　brain　wasn't　up　to　the　challenge。　Killing　took　energy；　and　Snapper　all　of　a　sudden　felt　like　sleeping　for　three　weeks　solid。
　
　He　worked　up　a　pep　talk　for　himself；　recalling　what　a　wise　guy　once　told　him　in　prison：　Dumping　bodies　is　like　buying　real　estate…location；　location；　location。　Snapper　thought：　Look　around；　boy。　You　got　your　mangrove　islands；　your　Everglades；　your　Atlantic…mother…fucking…Ocean。　What　more　you　want？　A　fast　shot　to　the　head；　then　let　the　sharks　or　the　gators　or　the　crabs　finish　the　job。　What's　so　damn　difficult　about　that？
　
　But　Jesus；　the　stakes　were　high；　one　measly　fuckup　and　it's　back　to　Raiford　for　the　rest　of　my　life。　Probably　locked　in　a　ten…by…ten　with　some　humongous　horny　black　faggot　weight　lifter。　Clean　and　jerk　my　skinny　ass　till　I　walk　like　Julia　Roberts。
　
　And　shooting　people　is　awful　noisy。　Edie　Marsh　wouldn't　go　for　it；　Snapper　knew　for　a　fact。　She'd　make　quite　a　stink。　And　killing　Edie　with　the　others　was　impractical　because　（a）　he　didn't　have　enough　bullets　and　（b）　he　couldn't　cash　the　insurance　checks　without　her。　Damn。
　
　〃What　is　it？〃　Edie　shouted　over　Reba。
　
　Snapper　made　a　sarcastic　zipper　motion　across　his　lips。　He　thought：　I'm　so　goddamn　tired。　If　only　I　could　have　a　nap；　it　would　e　to　me。　A　new　plan。
　
　The　one…eyed　stranger　began　to　sing　along　with　the　stereo。　Snapper　scrutinized　him　coldly。　How'd　he　know　about　the　lady　trooper？　Snapper's　hands　had　a　slight　tremor。　His　lips　were　as　dry　as　ash。　What　if　the　bitch　had　gone　and　died？　What　if　first　she'd　gotten　a　good　look　at　him；　or　maybe　the　Jeep？　What　if　it　was　already　on　TV；　and　every　cop　in　Florida　was　in　the　hunt？
　
　Snapper　told　himself　to　knock　it　off；　think　positive。　For　the　first　time　in　days；　his　busted…up　knee　didn't　hurt　so　much。　That　was　something　to　be　glad　about。
　
　The　young　woman　in　the　back　seat　joined　her　flaky　panion　in　song。　She　was　winging　it　with　the　lyrics；　but　that　was　all　right　with　Snapper；　her　voice　was　pretty。
　
　Edie　Marsh　tapped　the　rim　of　the　steering　wheel　and　acted　peeved　at　the　amateur　chorus。　After　about　three　minutes　she　reached　out　and　poked　the　Off　button　on　the　CD　player。　Reba　fell　silent；　and　so　did　the　chorus。
　
　Snapper　announced　that　the　next　selection　was　Travis　Tritt。
　
　〃Spare　us；〃　Edie　said。　〃Hell's　your　problem？〃
　
　The　woman　in　the　back　seat　spoke　up：　〃My　name's　Bonnie。　This　is　the　governor。　He　prefers　to　be　called　'captain。'　〃
　
　〃Skink　will　be　fine；〃　said　the　one…eyed　man。　〃And　I　would　kill　for　some　Allman　Brothers。〃
　
　Snapper　demanded　to　know　what　they　wanted；　why　they'd　been　snooping　at　the　Torres　house。　The　man　who　called　himself　Skink　said：　〃We　were　looking　for　you。〃
　
　〃How　e？〃
　
　〃As　a　favor　to　a　friend。　You　wouldn't　know　him。〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　said；　〃You're　not　making　a　damn　bit　of　sense。〃
　
　Something　shifted　in　the　bed　of　the　Jeep。　The　sound　was　followed　by　a　faint　quavering　moan。
　
　From　the　woman；　Bonnie：　〃What　are　your　names？〃
　
　Edie　Marsh　rolled　her　eyes。　Bonnie　caught　it　in　the　rearview。
　
　Snapper　said；　〃Fuckin'　idiots；　the　both　of　'em。〃
　
　〃All　I　meant；〃　said　Bonnie　Lamb；　〃is　what　should　we　call　you？〃
　
　〃I'm　Farrah　Fawcett；〃　Edie　said。　Nodding　at　Snapper：　〃He's　Ryan　O'