ch.nakedcamethemanatee-第2部分

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　〃Perry　Mason？〃　suggested　a　voice　from　the　crowd。
　〃NO；　DAMMIT！　THE　OTHER　ONE！〃
　〃Johnnie　Cochran？〃
　〃YES！　HIM！　SOMEBODY　GET　ME　JOHNNIE　COCH　。。。　COCH　。。。　Cocchhuurrrrgggghhh　。。。　〃
　Although　he　was　a　rookie；　Sereno　had　worked　the　Grove　long　enough　to　see　what　was　ing；　and　thus　stepped　back　quickly　enough　to　avoid　the　sudden　eruption。　Not　everyone　on　the　sidewalk　below　was　so　lucky。　Bedlam　erupted　as　the　crowd；　screaming；　surged　away　from　the　area　directly　underneath　the　puking　giant。　A　rickshaw；　ing　around　the　corner；　was　knocked　over　by　the　fleeing　mob；　sending　an　older　couple　sprawling　into　the　street；　directly　into　the　path　of　a　Harley…Davidson；　whose　driver　turned　right　sharply　in　an　effort　to　avoid　them；　hit　the　curb；　and　was　launched　across　the　sidewalk　into　the　fountain。
　Sereno　sprinted　for　the　stairs；　glancing　at　his　watch。　Nine　o'clock；　straight　up。
　The　night　was　young。
　
　Another　boring　night；　Fay　Leonard　thought；　as　she　locked　up　her　dive　shop　on　South　Dixie　Highway。　She　was　beginning　to　wonder　about　the　shop。　It　had　seemed　like　such　a　good　idea…a　chance　for　her　to　make　a　living　doing　the　one　thing　she　truly　loved。　Problem　was；　she　wasn't　doing　any　diving；　she　was　always　running　the　shop。　It　ate　up　her　days；　and　it　was　starting　to　eat　up　her　nights。　Like；　tonight；　she　had　to　take　two　full　sets　of　rental　scuba　gear　over　to　a　charter　boat　at　Dinner　Key　Marina；　which　meant　driving　into　the　Grove；　which　was　of　course　going　to　be　a　zoo　on　a　Saturday　night。
　Lugging　the　heavy　air　tanks　out　to　her　pickup　truck；　she　thought；　All　this　work；　carrying　all　this　gear　around；　and　I　don't　even　get　to　use　it。
　
　Still　sitting　on　her　porch；　Marion　McAlister　Williams　sat　upright；　ing　abruptly　out　of　her　doze。　She　glanced　around；　nothing　amiss。
　And　yet　something　was　wrong。　She　knew　it。　Something　out　in　the　bay。　She　knew　that　bay；　knew　it　better　than　anybody　else；　knew　things　about　it　she　could　never　explain。　And　right　then；　right　that　second；　she　knew　something　was　going　wrong。　Bad　wrong。
　She　clutched　her　chair　and　listened　to　the　night；　listened　hard；　but　all　she　heard　was　the　Grove　din；　and　frogs。
　But　there　was　something。　She　knew　it。
　
　Just　an　inch　or　two　below　the　bay　surface；　Booger　felt　the　pressure　wave　of　the　approaching　skiff。　He'd　had　that　feeling　before；　and　he　felt　vaguely　unfortable　about　it；　but　even　if　he'd　known　enough　to　get　out　of　the　way；　there　wasn't　really　any　time。
　〃Tell　you　one　thing；〃　Phil　was　saying。　〃If　I　did　steal　somebody's　underwear；　you　can　bet　it　would　at　least　be　clean　underwear。〃
　That　did　it。　Hector；　enraged；　rose　in　the　front　of　the　skiff；　turned　toward　Phil；　pointed；　and　shouted；　〃YOU　KNOW　WHAT　YOU　CAN　DO；　PHIL？　YOU　WANT　TO　KNOW　WHAT　YOU　CAN　DO？　YOU　CAN…〃
　But　Hector　never　did　get　to　tell　Phil　what　he　could　do；　because　at　precisely　that　moment　the　skiff　rammed　into　Booger　and　came　to　an　extremely　sudden　stop。　Hector；　however；　kept　right　on　going；　right　off　the　bow；　still　pointing　vaguely　in　the　direction　of　Phil；　who　sprawled；　face　first；　to　the　floor　of　the　skiff。
　The　force　of　the　collision　likewise　hurled　Phil's　and　Hector's　mystery　cargo　forward；　splintering　the　flimsy　fiberglass　where　the　bungee　cords　were　attached　to　the　seat。　It　slammed　against　the　bow　with　a　crunching　sound；　then　launched　into　the　air　in　an　explosion　of　bilge　water　and　towrope；　then　the　whole　mass　splashed　into　the　bay　about　thirty　feet　in　front　of　the　skiff；　the　seat　cushion　floating　upside　down　and　the　crushed　crate　dangling　a　few　feet　below　from　the　bungee　cords；　trailing　yards　of　towrope。
　Into　this　mess　swam　a　very　alarmed　Booger；　moving　away　from　the　skiff　as　fast　as　a　manatee　can　move。　His　snout　passed　directly　under　the　floating　cushion；　so　that　as　he　surged　forward；　the　bungee　cords　secured　the　flotsam　firmly　to　his　massive　body。　Booger　continued　to　flipper　frantically　forward　in　the　gloom；　saddled　with　the　awkward　weight　of　trash。
　Booger　barely　noticed　it。　His　brain…such　as　it　was…was　focused　entirely　on　one　idea：　getting　out　of　there；　to　someplace　safe。　And　being　a　creature　of　habit；　he　knew　exactly　where　he　was　going。
　Like　so　many　others　on　this　particular　night；　Booger　was　headed　for　Coconut　Grove。
　
　2。　THE　BIG　WET　SLEEP…Les　Standiford
　Rand　Avenue；　10　PM；　a　Saturday　night。　John　Deal　sat　in　his　car　opposite　a　tiny　neighborhood　market；　a　mile　or　more　from　his　destination　on　the　far　side　of　Coconut　Grove。　He　was　locked　in　a　dead　stall；　part　of　an　endless　line　of　unmoving　traffic；　gripping　and　ungripping　the　wheel　of　the　vehicle　he　had　e　to　refer　to　as　the　〃Hog。〃
　The　Hog　had　begun　its　automotive　life　as　a　Cadillac　Seville…but　it　had　long　since　been　transformed　into　a　kind　of　gentleman's　El　Camino；　the　passenger　cabin　cut　in　half；　a　tiny　pickup　bed　created　where　the　back　seat　and　trunk　had　been。　Not　the　sort　of　thing　the　folks　at　Cadillac　would　approve　of；　but　it　wasn't　Deal's　fault。　He'd　had　to　take　it　in　payment　on　a　construction　project　gone　bad；　now　he　couldn't　afford　anything　else。
　The　fact　that　he　was　stuck　in　gridlock　was　his　fault；　however。　Trying　to　make　his　way　through　the　Grove　on　a　Saturday　night…what　had　he　been　thinking　of？　He　should　have　gone　farther　north　on　U。S。　1；　made　his　way　back　down　to　Janice's　apartment　through　the　twisty　little　streets　that　the　Saturday　Night　Drive　crowd　hadn't　discovered　yet。　But　he'd　been　distracted；　rehearsing　his　speech；　reminding　himself　to　stay　posed　no　matter　what　Janice　said　or　did　。。。　and　now　look　what　he'd　done　to　himself。
　He　glanced　in　the　mirror　at　a　chopped　and　channeled　Accord　that　had　nosed　up　to　within　inches　of　his　rear　bumper：　there　seemed　little　chance　of　backing　up；　making　a　U…ey　out　of　this　line。　Worse；　a　relentless　kind　of　music　was　blaring　from　the　Accord；　its　pulsing　bass　line　so　powerful　that　Deal's　mirror　vibrated；　sending　the　black　Accord　into　a　shimmering　mirage　image；　settling　back　into　sharp　definition；　then　blurring　again。　Horns　ahead　and　behind　joined　the　chorus。
　Deal　noticed　an　old　black　man　sitting　on　a　backless　kitchen　chair　outside　the　market；　a　cigarette　burning　between　his　fingers。　His　doleful　gaze　locked　with　Deal's　for　a　moment；　then　turned　away。　Deal　felt　as　if　he'd　been　marked；　somehow：
　Another　Yuppie　lemming；　a　guy　so　rich　he　could　afford　to　fart　around　with　a　perfectly　good　Cadillac　car；　on　his　way　through　shantytown；　headed　for　the　mindless　glitz　up　ahead。
　He　could　get　out；　Deal　thought；　leave　the　Hog　where　it　was；　take　a　seat　beside　the　old　guy；　try　to　convince　him　otherwise。　Explain　how　he　was　on　his　way　to　see　his　estranged　wife；　convince　her　to　e　back　home　again；　how　he　was　having　trouble　with　his　finances；　how　we　were　all　in　this　mess　together；　just　like　the　Benetton　ads　said。　The　old　guy　could　give　him　his　blessing；　they　could　wear　colorful　sweaters　together　and　be　friends。
　Sure。　And　pigs　could　sing　the　Hallelujah　Chorus。
　He　did　get　out　of　the　Hog；　though；　leaving　the　door　wide　open　as　he　stepped　up　into　the　Hog's　bed　for　a　better　look　at　what　might　be　happening。　Slow　was　one　thing；　but　they　hadn't　moved　at　all；　not　for　a　good　ten　minutes。
　What　he　saw　filled　him　with　dismay。　The　junction　of　Main　and　Grand；　a　kind　of　mini…Times　Square　just　opposite　the　multileveled　CocoWalk　mall；　was　bad　enough　on　a　normal　Saturday…endless　streams　of　pedestrians　ignoring　the　signals；　la…de…dah…ing　through　the　inching　traffic；　stopping　to　chat　with　the　drivers；　dodging　rickshaw　drivers　and　bikers　weaving　through　it　all。　But　this　was　way　beyond　normal。
　A　pulsing；　unmoving　throng　had　jammed　the　intersection。　A　roar　wafted　down　the　line　toward　him；　and　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　huge；　naked　man　being　borne　aloft　on　the　uplifted　arms　of　the　crowd。　Then　he　saw　another　figure　bouncing　atop　the　crowd…a　policeman；　he　realized。　Beer　foam　shot　in　streamers　from　cheering　onlookers　massed　at　the　CocoWalk　railings。　Cans　arced　down；　bottles；　what　looked　like　a　shoe。　Then　shirts；　other　articles　of　clothing　fluttering　in　the　breeze。
　Another　roar　from　the　crowd　as　a　topless　girl　jumped　onto　the　hood　of　a　car　and　began　an　energetic　boogie。　Deal　stepped　down　from　the　bed　of　the　Hog；　got　back　in　the　driver's　seat。　The　mob　would　make　its　way　right　down　the　line　of　stalled　traffic；