ch.doublewhammy-第30节

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　〃Go　ahead。〃　Decker　slumped　back　on　the　bed　and　closed　his　eyes。　Soon　he　heard　water　running　in　the　bathroom。　He　wished　it　were　rain。
　Lanie　came　out；　still　dripping。　Already　the　purple　ligature　bars　were　fading。
　〃Well；　here　we　are；〃　she　said；　a　bit　too　brightly。　〃Another　night；　another　motel。　Decker；　we're　in　a　rut。〃
　〃So　to　speak。〃
　〃Remember　the　last　time？〃
　〃Sure。〃
　〃Well；　don't　get　too　damn　excited；〃　she　said；　scowling。　She　wrapped　herself　in　the　towel。
　Decker　had　always　been　a　sucker　for　fresh…out…of…the…shower　women。　With　considerable　effort　he　pushed　ahead　with　purposeful　conversation。　〃Dennis　told　you　I　was　here。〃
　〃He　mentioned　it；　yeah。〃
　〃What　else　did　he　mention？〃
　〃Just　about　Dickie　and　the　tournament；　that's　all；〃　Lanie　said。　She　sat　on　the　bed　and　crossed　her　legs。　〃What's　with　you？　I　came　all　this　way　and　you　act　like　I've　got　a　disease。〃
　〃Rough　day；〃　Decker　said。
　She　reached　over　and　took　his　hand。　〃Don't　worry　about　your　weird　friend；　he'll　find　his　way　back　to　Harney。〃
　Decker　said；　〃He　forgot　his　plane　ticket。〃　Not　to　mention　the　insistent　New　Orleans　bail　bondsman；　the　airline　disturbance　was　a　federal　rap。
　〃He'll　be　fine；〃　Lanie　said。　〃Put　him　on　a　highway　and　he'll　eat　his　way　home。〃
　Decker　perked　up。　〃So　you　know　about　Skink？〃
　〃He's　a　legend；〃　Lanie　said。　She　started　unbuttoning　Decker's　shirt。　〃One　rumor　is　he's　a　mass　murderer　from　Oregon。　Another　says　he's　ex…CIA；　helped　kill　Trujillo。　One　story　goes　he's　hiding　from　the　Warren　mission。〃
　〃Those　are　first…rate；〃　Decker　said；　but　he　had　nothing　more　plausible　to　offer　in　the　way　of　Skink　theories。　A　bomber　for　the　Weather　Underground。　Owsley's　secret　chemist。　Lead　singer　for　the　Grass　Roots。　Take　your　pick。
　〃e　under　the　covers；〃　Lanie　said；　and　before　Decker　knew　it　the　towel　was　on　the　floor　and　she　was　sliding　between　the　muslin　sheets。　〃e　on；　you　tell　me　about　your　rough　day。〃
　This；　thought　Decker；　from　a　woman　who'd　just　been　strung　up　nude　by　a　madman。　Good　old　irrepressible　Lanie　Gault。
　
　Later　she　got　hungry。　Decker　said　there　was　a　good　burger　joint　down　the　street；　but　Lanie　nagged　him　into　driving　all　the　way　to　New　Orleans。　She　tossed　her　overnight　bag　in　the　back　seat　and　announced　that　she'd　get　her　own　room　in　the　Quarter　because　she　didn't　want　to　stay　at　the　Quality　Court；　in　case　Skink　returned。　Decker　didn't　blame　her　one　bit。
　They　went　to　the　Acme　for　raw　oysters　and　beer。　Lanie　kept　making　suggestive　oyster　remarks　while　Decker　smiled　politely；　wishing　like　hell　he　were　back　in　Miami；　alone　in　his　trailer。　He　had　enjoyed　rolling　around　in　bed　with　her…at　least　he'd　thought　so　at　the　time…but　was　having　difficulty　recalling　any　of　the　prurient　details。
　
　Shortly　after　midnight　he　excused　himself；　went　to　a　pay　phone　on　Iberville；　and　called　Jim　Tile　in　Florida。　Decker　told　him　what　had　happened　with　Skink；　Lanie；　and　the　bass　tournament。
　〃Man；〃　the　trooper　said。　〃He　tied　her　up？〃
　〃And　took　off。〃
　〃e　on　home；〃　Tile　said。
　〃What　about　Skink？〃
　〃He'll　be　all　right。　He　gets　these　moods。〃
　Decker　told　Tile　about　Skink's　histrionics　on　the　airplane。　〃He　has　arraignment　tomorrow；〃　Decker　said。　〃In　the　federal　building　on　Poydras。　If　he　calls；　Jim；　please　remind　him。〃
　Tile　said；　〃Don't　hold　your　breath。〃
　
　Lanie　had　ordered　another　dozen　on　the　half…shell　while　Decker　was　on　the　phone。
　〃I'm　stuffed；〃　he　said；　but　ate　one　anyway。
　〃Dennis　says　you're　getting　close　to　Lockhart。〃
　She'd　been　trying　all　night　to　find　out　what　happened　with　the　tournament。　Decker　hadn't　said　much。
　Lanie　said；　〃I　heard　on　the　radio　that　Dickie　won。〃
　〃That's　right。〃　Radio？　What　kind　of　radio　station　covers　a　fish　tournament？　Decker　wondered。
　〃Did　he　cheat　again？〃　Lanie　asked。
　〃I　don't　know。　Probably。〃　Decker　paused。　〃I'll　send　your　brother　a　full　report。〃
　〃He'll　be　pissed。〃
　Tough　shit；　Decker　wanted　to　say。　But　instead：　〃We're　not　giving　up。〃
　〃You　and　Bigfoot？〃
　〃He's　got　a　particular　talent。〃
　〃Not　with　women；〃　Lanie　said。
　
　Decker　dropped　her　off　at　the　Bienville　House。　His　feelings　were　not　the　least　bit　wounded　when　she　didn't　invite　him　to　stay　the　night。
　He　took　his　time　driving　back　to　Hammond。　It　was　past　two　in　the　morning；　but　I…10　was　loaded　with　big　trucks　and　semis；　city…bound。　Their　headlights　made　Decker's　eyes　water。
　At　the　junction　near　Laplace　he　decided　to　take　Route　51　instead　of　the　new　interstate。　The　bumpy　unlit　two…lane　was　Skink's　kind　of　highway。　Decker　flicked　on　his　brights　and　drove　slowly；　hoping　against　all　reason　to　spot　the　big　orange　rainsuit　skulking　roadside。　By　the　time　Decker　reached　Pass　Manchac　all　he'd　seen　was　a　gray　fox；　two　baby　raccoons；　and　a　fresh…dead　water　moccasin。
　Decker　pumped　the　brakes　as　he　drove　by　the　Sportsman's　Hide…out。　Someone　had　left　the　spotlights　on　at　the　dock。　It　made　no　sense；　the　tournament　was　over；　the　bassers　long　gone。　Decker　negotiated　a　sleepy　U…turn　and　went　back。
　When　he　got　out　of　the　car；　he　noticed　that　the　lake　air　was　not　nearly　as　chilly　as　the　night　before。　Too　late　for　the　fishermen；　the　wind　had　finally　shifted　from　north　to　south；　it　was　a　balmy　Gulf　breeze　that　made　the　spotlights　tremble　on　the　poles。
　One　of　the　beams　aimed　at　the　tournament　scoreboard；　another　more　or　less　at　the　giant　aquarium。
　Decker　wondered　if　anyone　had　remembered　to　free　the　bass。　He　strolled　down　to　the　docks　to　see。
　The　aquarium　pump　labored；　grinding　noisy　bubbles。　The　water　had　turned　a　silty　shade　of　brown。　With　the　back　of　his　hand　Decker　wiped　a　window　in　the　condensation　and　peered　into　the　glass　tank。　Right　away　he　spotted　three　dead　fish；　gaping　and　jelly…eyed；　rolling　slow…motion　with　the　current　along　the　bottom。　Decker　felt　like　a　tourist　at　some　Charles　Addams　rendition　of　Marineland。
　The　shadow　of　something　larger　drifted　over　the　dead　bass。　Decker　glanced　toward　the　top　of　the　ten…foot　tank；　but　looked　away　when　the　spotlight　caught　him　flush　in　the　eyes。
　To　escape　the　glare　he　climbed　the　wooden　stairs　to　the　weigh…　master's　platform；　which　overlooked　both　the　scoreboard　and　the　release　tank。　From　this　vantage　Decker　spotted　more　dead　bass　floating　on　the　surface；　and　something　else；　whorling　slowly　in　the　backwash　of　the　pump。　The　form　was　big…shouldered　and　brown…at　first　Decker　thought　it　might　be　a　sea　cow；　somebody's　sick　idea　of　a　joke。
　When　the　thing　drifted　by；　he　got　a　better　look。
　It　was　a　man；　floating　facedown；　a　chunky　man　dressed　in　a　brown　jumpsuit。
　Decker　watched　the　corpse　go　around　the　tank　again。　This　time；　when　it　floated　by；　he　grabbed　the　stiff　cold　shoulders　and　flipped　it　over　with　a　splash。
　Dickie　Lockhart's　eyes　stared　wide　but　were　long　past　seeing。　He　wore　a　plum…sized　bruise　on　his　right　temple。　If　the　blow　hadn't　killed　him　outright；　it　had　definitely　rendered　him　unfit　for　a　midnight　swim。
　The　killer's　final　touch　was　diabolical；　and　not　without　wit：　a　fishing　lure；　the　redoubtable　Double　Whammy；　had　been　hooked　through　Dickie　Lockhart's　lower　lip。　It　hung　off　Dickie's　face　like　a　queer　Christmas　ornament。　Unfortunately；　being　just　as　dead　as　Dickie；　none　of　the　bass　in　the　aquarium　could　appreciate　the　piquancy　of　the　killer's　gesture。
　R。　J。　Decker　lowered　the　corpse　back　into　the　water　and　walked　quickly　to　the　car。　The　scene　screamed　for　a　photograph；　but　it　screamed　something　else　too。　Decker　heard　it　all　the　way　back　to　the　motel　and　even　afterward；　deep　into　fitful　dreams。
　
　According　to　his　official　church　biography；　Charles　Weeb　had　turned　to　God　after　an　anguished　boyhood　of　poverty；　abuse；　and　neglect。　His　father　had　died　a　drunk　and　his　mother　had　died　a　dope　fiend；　though　not　before　selling　Charlie's　two　sisters　to　a　Chinese　slavery　ring　in　exchange　for　sixty…five　dollars　and　three　grams　of　uncut　opium。
　The　imagined　fate　of　the　missing　Weeb　sisters　was　a　recurring　theme　in　Charlie's　TV　sermons　on　the　Outdoor　Christian　Network；　nothing　sucked　in　money　faster　than　a　lingering　close…up　of　those　snapshots　of　the　two　little　girls；　June…Lee　and　Melissa；　under　the　plaintive　caption：　〃WHAT　HAS　SATAN　DONE　WITH　THESE　ANGELS？〃
　The　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　knew；　of　course。　The　angels　in　question　were　both　alive　and　well；　and　presumably　still　working　for　Mr。　Hugh　Hefner　in　the　same　capacity　that　had　first　attracted　Reverend　Weeb's　attention。　He　had　personally　clipped　their　childhood　photographs　from　the　pages　of　Playboy　magazine…that　hokey　section　featuring　family　pictures　of　the　centerfold　as　a　little　girl。　Charlie　Weeb　had　long　since　forgotten　the　real　names　of　these　models；　or　even　what　month　and　year　they　had　starred　in　the　publication。　However；　he　wasn't　the　least　bit　worried　that　the　pictures　would　be　recognized　and　his　scheme　revealed；　since　no　devout　OCN　viewer　could　ever　admit　to　looking　at　such　a　magazine。　The　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　made　sure　to　regularly　warn　his　flock　that　Playboy　was　a　passport　to　hell。
　In　fact　Charlie　Weeb　had　no　sisters；　just　an　older　brother　named　Bernie；　who　had　been　busted　selling　phony　oil　leases　from　a　North　Miami　boiler　room　and　was　now　doing　seven　years　for　wire　fraud。　Weeb's　father　had　been　a　shoe　salesman　with　an　ulcer　intolerant　of　alcohol；　his　mother　was