ch.nativetongue-第19节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　boundary　line　between　Dade　and　Monroe　counties。　The　Monroe　County　medical　examiner's　man　had　arrived　first　on　the　scene；　and　decided　that　the　dead　man　was　hanging　in　Dade　County　airspace　and　therefore　was　not　his　responsibility。　The　Dade　County　medical　examiner's　man　had　argued　vigorously　that　the　victim　had　most　certainly　plummeted　from　the　Monroe　County　side　of　the　bridge。　Besides　which　the　Dade　County　morgue　was　already　packed　to　the　rafters　with　homicides；　and　it　wouldn't　kill　Monroe　County　to　take　just　one。　Neither　coroner　would　budge；　so　the　dead　body　just　hung　there　for　four　hours　until　the　Monroe　County　medical　examiner　announced　that　he　was　needed　at　a　fatal　traffic　accident　in　Marathon；　and　scurried　away；　leaving　his　colleague　stuck　with　the　corpse…and　now　some　whiny　pain…in…the…ass　PR　man。
　The　coroner　said　to　Charles　Chelsea：　〃We've　got　to　get　some　pictures。　Take　some　measurements。　Preserve　the　scene；　just　in　case。〃
　〃In　case　of　what？　The　poor　jerk　killed　himself。〃　Chelsea　sounded　annoyed。　Preserving　the　scene　was　the　opposite　of　what　he　wanted。
　Trooper　Jim　Tile　removed　his　sunglasses　and　folded　them　into　a　breast　pocket。　〃I　guess　I　can　go　home。　Now　that　we　got　an　expert　on　the　case。〃
　Charles　Chelsea　started　to　rebuke　this　impertinent　flatfoot；　but　changed　his　mind　when　he　took　a　good　look。　The　trooper　was　very　tall　and　very　muscular　and　very　black；　all　of　which　made　Chelsea　edgy。　He　sensed　that　Jim　Tile　was　not　the　sort　to　be　impressed　by　titles；　but　nonetheless　he　introduced　himself　as　a　vice　president　at　the　Amazing　Kingdom　of　Thrills。
　〃How　nifty；〃　said　the　trooper。
　〃Yes；　it　is；〃　Chelsea　said　pleasantly。　Then；　lowering　his　voice：　〃But；　to　be　frank；　we　could　do　without　this　kind　of　spectacle。〃　His　golden　chin　pointed　up　at　the　hapless　corpse。　Then　he　jerked　a　thumb　over　his　shoulder　at　the　chattering　throng　of　onlookers。
　〃All　these　people；〃　Chelsea　said　urgently；　〃were　on　their　way　to　our　theme　park。〃
　〃How　do　you　know？〃　asked　Jim　Tile。
　〃Look　around　here…where　else　would　they　be　going？　What　else　is　there　to　see？〃
　〃In　other　words；　you　would　like　us　to　remove　the　deceased　as　quickly　as　possible。〃
　〃Yes；　exactly；〃　said　Charles　Chelsea。
　〃Because　it's　petition。〃
　The　publicity　man's　eyes　narrowed。　Frostily　he　said；　〃That's　not　at　all　what　I　meant。〃　Giving　up　on　the　black　policeman；　he　appealed　to　the　coroner's　sense　of　propriety：　〃All　the　young　children　hanging　around…they　shouldn't　be　witness　to　something　like　this。　Vacations　are　for　fun　and　fantasy；　not　for　looking　at　dead　bodies。〃
　Jim　Tile　said；　〃They　seem　to　be　enjoying　it。〃
　〃We　didn't　ask　for　an　audience；〃　the　coroner　added。　He　was　accustomed　to　gawkers　in　Miami。　Shopping　malls　were　the　worst；　drug　dealers　were　always　leaving　murdered　rivals　in　the　trunks　of　luxury　automobiles　at　shopping　malls。　The　crowds　were　unbelievable；　pushing　and　shoving；　everybody　wanting　a　peek　at　the　stiff。
　The　coroner　told　Charles　Chelsea：　〃This　always　happens。　It's　just　a　sick　fact　of　human　nature。〃
　〃Well；　can't　you　hurry　up　and　get　him…it…down？　The　longer　it　stays　up　there；　the　more　people　will　stop。〃　Chelsea　paused　to　survey　the　size　of　the　crowd。　〃This　is　horrible；〃　he　said；　〃right　in　the　middle　of　Summerfest。　It's　giving　all　these　folks　the　wrong　idea。〃
　Jim　Tile　couldn't　wait　to　hear　more。　〃The　wrong　idea　about　what？〃
　〃About　Florida；〃　said　Charles　Chelsea。　The　indignation　in　his　tone　was　authentic。　〃This　is　not　the　image　we're　trying　to　promote。　Surely　you　can　understand。〃
　Grimly　he　turned　and　disappeared　into　the　gallery　of　onlookers。
　The　coroner　once　again　fixed　his　attention　on　what　was　hanging　from　the　Card　Sound　Bridge。　He　asked　Jim　Tile；　〃So　what　do　you　think　about　getting　him　down　from　there？〃
　〃Easy；〃　said　the　trooper。　〃I'll　go　up　and　cut　the　line。〃
　〃You　really　think　that's　safe？〃
　Jim　Tile　looked　at　him　curiously。
　〃With　all　these　people　milling　around；〃　said　the　coroner。　〃What　if　he　hits　somebody？　Look　at　all　these　damn　boats。〃　He　frowned　and　shook　his　head。　〃I　think　we've　got　a　serious　liability　risk　here。　Somebody　could　be　injured　or　killed。〃
　〃By　a　falling　corpse；〃　said　Jim　Tile　thoughtfully。
　〃You　betcha。　Look　at　all　these　damn　tourists。〃
　Jim　Tile　took　out　a　bullhorn　and　ordered　the　boats　to　weigh　anchor。　He　also　instructed　the　bystanders　to　get　off　the　jetty　under　threat　of　arrest。　Then　he　went　to　the　top　of　the　bridge　and　quickly　found　what　he　was　looking　for：　a　nest　of　heavy　monofilament　fishing　line　tangled　around　the　base　of　a　concrete　column。　One　end　of　the　monofilament　was　attached　to　the　type　of　flat　plastic　spool　used　by　Cuban　handline　fishermen。　The　other　end　of　the　line　led　over　the　side　of　the　bridge；　and　was　attached　to　the　dead　man's　neck。
　The　trooper　got　a　35…millimeter　camera　out　of　the　patrol　car　and　took　pictures　of　the　column　and　the　knot。　Then　he　got　down　on　his　belly　and　extended　his　head　over　the　side　of　the　bridge　and　snapped　several　aerial…type　photographs　of　the　hanging　corpse。
　After　Jim　Tile　put　the　camera　away；　he　waved　twice　at　the　coroner；　still　standing　on　the　rocks　below。　Then；　when　the　coroner　gave　the　signal；　the　trooper　unfolded　his　pocketknife　and　cut　through　the　monofilament　fishing　line。
　He　heard　the　crowd　go　ooooohhhh　before　he　heard　the　splash。　A　marine　patrol　boat　idled　up　to　the　dead　man　and　fished　him　out　of　the　water　with　a　short…handled　gaff。
　They　were　loading　the　body　into　the　van　when　the　coroner　told　his　theory　to　Jim　Tile。　〃I　don't　think　it's　a　suicide；〃　he　said。
　〃What；　somebody　was　using　him　for　bait？〃
　〃No；　this　is　what　I　think　happened；〃　said　the　coroner；　demonstrating　with　his　arms。　〃You　know　how　these　Cuban　guys　twirl　the　fishlines　over　their　heads　real　fast　to　make　a　long　cast？　It　looks　to　me　like　he　messed　up　and　wrapped　the　damn　thing　tight　around　his　neck；　like　a　bolo。　That's　what　I　think。〃　He　picked　up　a　clipboard　and　began　to　write。　〃What　was　the　color　of　his　eyes？　Brown；　I　think。〃
　〃I　didn't　look；〃　said　Jim　Tile。　He　wasn't　crazy　about　dead　bodies。
　The　man　from　the　medical　examiner's　reached　into　the　van　and　tugged　at　the　woolen　blanket；　revealing　the　dead　man's　features。
　〃I　was　right；〃　said　the　coroner；　scribbling　again。　〃Brown　they　are。〃
　Jim　Tile　stared　at　the　rictus　face　and　said；　〃Damn；　I　know　that　guy。〃　He　wasn't　a　fisherman。
　〃A　name　would　be　nice；〃　the　coroner　said。　〃He　lost　his　wallet　when　he　lost　his　pants。〃
　Angel；　the　trooper　said。　Angel　Gaviria。　〃Don't　ask　me　how　to　spell　it。〃
　〃Where　do　you　know　him　from？〃
　〃He　used　to　be　a　cop。〃　Jim　Tile　yanked　the　blanket　up　to　cover　the　dead　man's　face。　〃Before　he　got　convicted。〃
　〃Convicted　of　what？〃
　〃Everything　short　of　first…degree　murder。〃
　〃Jesus　Christ。　And　here　he　is；　out　of　the　slammer　already。〃
　〃Yeah；〃　said　Jim　Tile。　〃Modeling　neckwear。〃
　
　Bud　Schwartz　had　been　a　two…bit　burglar　since　he　was　seventeen　years　old。　He　was　neither　proud　of　it　nor　ashamed。　It　was　what　he　did；　period。　It　suited　his　talents。　Whenever　his　mother　gave　him　a　hard　time　about　getting　an　honest　job；　Bud　Schwartz　reminded　her　that　he　was　the　only　one　of　her　three　children　who　was　not　in　psychoanalysis。　His　sister　was　a　lawyer　and　his　brother　was　a　stockbroker；　and　both　of　them　were　miserably　fucked　up。　Bud　Schwartz　was　a　crook；　sure；　but　at　least　he　was　at　peace　with　himself。
　He　considered　himself　a　petent　burglar　who　was　swift；　thorough　and　usually　cautious。　The　times　he'd　been　caught…five　in　all…these　were　flukes。　A　Rottweiler　that　wasn't　in　the　yard　the　night　before。　A　nosy　neighbor；　watering　her　begonias　at　three　in　the　goddamn　morning。　A　getaway　car　with　bad　plugs。　That　sort　of　thing。　Occupational　hazards；　in　Bud　Schwartz's　opinion…plain　old　lousy　luck。
　Normally　he　was　a　conservative　guy　who　played　the　odds　and　didn't　like　unnecessary　risks。　Why　he　ever　accepted　the　rat…napping　job　from　Molly　McNamara；　he　couldn't　figure。　Broad　daylight；　thousands　of　people；　the　middle　of　a　fucking　theme　park。　Jesus！　Maybe　he　did　it　just　to　break　the　monotony。　Or　maybe　because　ten　grand　was　ten　grand。
　Definitely　a　score。　In　his　entire　professional　burgling　career；　Bud　Schwartz　had　never　stolen　anything　worth　ten　thousand　dollars。　The　one　time　he'd　pinched　a　Rolex　Oyster；　it　turned　out　to　be　fake。　Another　time　he　got　three　diamond　rings　from　a　hotel　room　on　Key　Biscayne…a　big…time　movie　actress；　too…and　the　fence　informed　him　it　was　all　zircon。　Fucking　paste。　Or　so　said　the　fence。
　Who　could　blame　him　for　saying　yes　to　Molly　McNamara；　or　at　least　checking　it　out？　So　when　he　gets　out　of　jail；　he　rounds　up　Danny　Pogue…Danny；　who's　really　nothing　but　a　pair　of　hands；　somebody　you　drag　along　to　help　carry　the　shit　to　the　car。　But　reliable；　as　far　as　that　goes。　Not　really　smart　enough　to　pull　anything。
　So　together　they　meet　the　old　lady　once；　twice。　Get　directions；　instructions。　Go　over　the　whole　damn　thing　until　they're　bored　to　tears；　except　for　the　part　about　what　to　do　with　the　voles。　Bud　Schwartz　had　assumed　the　whole　point　was　to　free　the　damn　things；　the　way　Molly　talked。　〃Liberate〃　was　the　word　she'd　used。　Of　course；　if　he'd　known　then　what　he　knew　now；　he　wouldn't　have　chucked　that　one　little　rat　into　the　red　convertible。　If　he'd　known　there　were　only　two　of　the　da