ch.doublewhammy-第49节
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tested his strength。 Still supine； he aimed a fierce upper cut at the pit bull's head。 The punch made little noise and had no effect； but Thomas Curl did not stop。 He shut his eyes and imagined himself on the bag at the Fifth Street Gym； and punched left…breathe…left in a steady tempo。 For the heavy bag drill his ex…manager used to play 〃Midnight Rambler〃 on the PA； so Curl ran the tune through his skull while he pounded on the pit bull。 With each impact a ferocious bolt shot from his mangled arm into the vortex of his neck。 The pain was miserable； but his alone； like any punching bag； the dog felt nothing。 Its grip was immovable and； Thomas Curl began to fear； supernatural。
He dragged himself off the sofa； flipped on the kitchen lights； and began to tear Decker's trailer apart； looking for a tool。 A wooden broom handle proved impotent against the demonic mandibles； a hammer satisfying to the grip； but messy and ineffectual。 Finally； hanging from a pegboard in a utility closet； Thomas Curl found what he was looking for： a small hacksaw。 He struggled into the narrow bathroom and knelt down。 With his deadening right arm he slung the dog carcass into the shower stall； and gazed numbly at the livid mess。 Thomas Curl didn't know whether he was just exhausted or going crazy； but he found it difficult to distinguish which flesh was his and which belonged to the animal。 From the knotted muscle of his shoulder to the pinkish tail of the dog corpse seemed a single evil mass。 Thomas Curl's left hand searched the tile until his fingers found the steel teeth of the hacksaw。 He took a breath； and did what he had to。
Catherine was alone in bed when the doorbell rang。
James the doctor was gone again； this time to Montreal for a big trade show。 He and several other chiropractors had agreed to endorse a new back…pain product called the Miracle VibraCouch； and the Canadian trade show was to be the scene of its unveiling。 Saying good…bye at the car； James had promised to bring back videotapes of all the excitement； and Catherine had said that'll be wonderful and pecked him on the cheek。 James had asked her which model VibraCouch would go best in the Florida room； the tartan or the dusty rose； and Catherine had said neither； I don't want an electric couch in my house； thank…you。 James was pouting as he drove away。
When the bell rang； Catherine slipped into a short chiffon robe and padded barefoot to the door。 The house was bright； and the clock in the alcove said nine…thirty。 She'd overslept again。
Through a window she saw the gray Plymouth Volare parked in the driveway。 Catherine smiled…here we go again。 She checked herself in the mirror and said what the hell； it's hopeless this early in the morning。 When she opened the door she said； 〃Great timing as usual； Rage。〃
But the man turned around and it wasn't R。J。 It was a heavyset stranger wearing R。J。's brown leather coat。 Catherine had bought the coat for him at a western shop near Denver。 The stranger wore it on his shoulders like a cape。 Maybe it wasn't R。J。's coat after all； Catherine thought anxiously； maybe it was one just like it。
〃 'Scuze me；〃 said the man； 〃you Mrs。 Decker？〃
〃Stuckameyer；〃 Catherine said。 〃I used to be Mrs。 Decker。〃
The man had thin sandy hair； a flat crooked nose； and tiny dull eyes。 He handed Catherine a crisp brown office envelope containing a sheaf of legal papers。 Catherine scanned them and looked up quizzically。
〃So？〃 she said。 〃These are my old divorce papers。〃
〃But that is you？ Catherine Decker。〃
〃Where'd you get this stuff？〃 she said irritably。
〃I found it；〃 the man said； 〃at Mr。 Decker's。〃
Catherine studied him closely。 She saw that he was also wearing one of R。J。's knit shirts。 She tried to slam the door but the man blocked it with a black round…toed boot。
〃Don't be a dumb cunt；〃 he said。
Catherine was turning to run when she saw the pistol。 The man pointed it with his right hand extended from under the leather coat。 Something round and mottled and awful was attached to the stranger's arm。 It looked like a football with ears。
〃Oh Jesus；〃 Catherine cried。
〃Don't mind him；〃 the man said； 〃he don't bite。〃
He pushed his way into the house and shut the door。 He shifted the pistol to his other hand； and tucked the dog…headed arm back under the coat。
〃Decker's in some deep shit；〃 said the stranger。
〃Well； I don't know where he is。〃 Catherine pulled her robe tight in the front。
Thomas Curl said； 〃You know why I'm here？〃
〃No； but I know who you are；〃 Catherine said。 〃You're one of the Fish People； aren't you？〃
Jim Tile's patrol car passed Garcia on Route 222 and led them into town； which was as dark as a mortuary。 The trooper took them directly to the house of an old black doctor； who packed and dressed； Skink's seeping eye wound。 Silently Decker and Garcia watched the old man dance a penlight in front of Skink's haggard face and peer into the other eye for quite a long time。 〃He needs a neurologist right away；〃 the doctor said finally。 〃Gainesville's your best bet。〃
Skink himself said nothing。 When they got back to the cabin； he curled up on a mattress and went to sleep。 Jim Tile got the campfire going。 Al Garcia selected an oak stump of suitable width and sat down close to the flames。 〃Now what？〃 he said。 〃We tell ghost stories？〃
R。 J。 Decker said； 〃This is where he lives。〃
〃Unbelievable；〃 the detective muttered。
Jim Tile went to the car and came back with two black…and…white photographs； eight…by…tens。 〃From our friends in the bayou；〃 he said； handing the pictures to R。 J。 Decker。
〃Christ；〃 Decker mumbled。 They were the caught…in…the…act shots of the bass cheaters in the reeds at Lake Maurepas…except that Dickie Lockhart's head had been supered onto one of the other men's bodies。 Decker recognized the mug of Dickie from the bunch he'd shot at the Cajun Classic weigh…in。 Looking at the doctored photographs made him feel angry and； in a way； violated。
〃Somebody swiped my film and had some fun in the darkroom；〃 he said to Jim Tile。 〃I've seen better phonies。〃
〃Sure fooled New Orleans homicide。〃
〃It's still bush；〃 Decker snapped。 〃I can find a half…dozen expert witnesses to say these are tricked。〃
Al Garcia took the prints from Decker and studied them。 〃Nifty；〃 he said。 〃That's how they do it； huh？〃
〃In cages； yeah。〃
〃And how long will those fish stay alive？〃
Decker shrugged。 〃Couple days； I guess。〃
Jim Tile said； 〃There's some other things you ought to know。〃 He told them about his conversation with Ozzie Rundell； and Ozzie's version of Ott Pickney's murder。
〃He also says Lockhart didn't kill Robert Clinch。〃
〃You believe that？〃 Decker asked。
Jim Tile nodded。
Garcia said； 〃Had to be Gault。〃
〃That's my guess too；〃 the trooper agreed； 〃but I'm not sure why he'd do it。〃
R。 J。 Decker thought about it。 Why would Dennis Gault order the murder of a man he had recruited to work for him？ Lanie might know； she might even be part of the reason。
Jim Tile said； 〃There's a guy named Thomas Curl； a real shitkicker。 He and his brother killed your friend Ott。 My bet is they did Bobby Clinch too。〃
〃The Louisiana boys；〃 Decker said。
Jim Tile said； 〃It just so happens that Lemus Curl is missing。 Family says he fell into Lake Okeechobee。〃
Garcia looked curiously at Decker； who tried not to react。
〃But the other Curl；〃 Jim Tile went on； 〃Thomas Curl； is in Miami。〃
〃Fuck me；〃 said Al Garcia。
Decker said； 〃Let me guess： Curl is looking for me。〃
〃Most likely；〃 Jim Tile said。 〃By phone I tracked him to some ritzy hotel in the Grove； but then he took off。〃
〃What's the connection to Gault？〃
〃He paid for Curl's room；〃 Jim Tile said。
He took a piece of paper from his left breast pocket； unfolded it carefully and handed it to Decker。 〃Meanwhile；〃 Jim Tile said； 〃Mr。 Gault is going fishing。〃
It was a promotional flier for the Dickie Lockhart Memorial Bass Blasters Classic。 In the firelight Garcia read it aloud over Decker's shoulder： 'The richest tournament in history。 Entry fee is only three thousand dollars； but hurry…the field will be limited to fifty boats。〃
Decker couldn't believe it； the ballsiness of these guys。 〃Three thousand bucks；〃 he said。
〃It is amazing；〃 Jim Tile remarked。 Long ago he had given up trying to understand the cracker mentality。 He wondered if the Cuban cop would have the same difficulty。
Garcia said； 〃Dennis Gault I can figure out。 He's a greedy little egomaniac who wants trophies for his penthouse。 But what's the rest of the shit with this tournament？〃
Decker explained the Outdoor Christian Network and its vast stake in the Lunker Lakes development。 'They're going to use the TV fish hype to sell townhouses。 Everybody does it these days。 Mazda has golf； Lipton has tennis； OCN has bass。 The demographics match up nicely。〃
Al Garcia looked extremely amused。 〃You're telling me；〃 he said； 〃that grown men will sit down for hours in front of a television set and watch other men go fishing。〃
〃Millions；〃 Decker said； 〃every weekend。〃
〃I don't ever want to hear you talk about crazy Cubans；〃 Garcia said； 〃never again。〃
A flicker of a smile crossed Jim Tile's face； and then he grew serious。 〃Gault is the bi
