ch.doublewhammy-第9节

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　〃Maybe　you're　right。〃
　〃You　need　to　relax；〃　Ott　said；　〃you　really　do。〃
　They　climbed　in　the　Toyota　and　like　clockwork　Pickney　lit　up　a　Camel。　He　couldn't　do　it　outdoors；　in　the　fresh　air；　Decker　thought；　it　had　to　be　in　a　stuffy　cab。　He　felt　like　getting　out　and　hiking　back　to　the　motel。　Give　himself　some　time　to　think　about　this　Lanie　business。
　〃Clarisse　didn't　give　me　diddly　for　this　story；〃　Ott　plained。　〃A　bitter；　bitter　woman。　I'd　much　rather　have　been　interviewing　your　saucy　new　friend。〃
　Decker　said；　〃Who　was　she；　anyway？〃
　〃A　very　hot　number；〃　Ott　said。　〃Don't　tell　me　she's　already　got　your　dick　in　a　knot。〃
　〃She　seemed　to　know　who　I　am。　Or　at　least　what　I　do。〃
　〃I'm　not　surprised。〃
　〃She　said　her　name　was　Lanie。〃
　〃Lovely；　lovely　Lanie；〃　Ott　sang。　
　〃Then　you　know　her。〃
　〃R。J。；　everybody　knows　Lanie　Gault。　Her　brother's　one　of　the　biggest　bass　fishermen　in　the　country。〃
　
　Dickie　Lockhart　missed　the　big　funeral　because　he　had　to　fly　to　New　Orleans　and　meet　with　his　boss。
　The　boss　was　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb；　president；　general　manager；　and　spiritual　mander　of　the　Outdoor　Christian　Network；　which　syndicated　Dickie　Lockhart's　television　show。
　Lockhart　was　not　a　remotely　religious　person…each　Sunday　being　occupied　by　fishing…so　he'd　never　bothered　to　ascertain　precisely　which　denomination　was　espoused　by　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb。　Whenever　the　two　men　met；　Weeb　never　mentioned　sin；　God；　Jesus　Christ；　the　Virgin　Mary；　or　any　of　the　A…list　apostles。　Instead　Weeb　mainly　talked　about　ratings　and　revenues　and　why　some　of　Lockhart's　big　sponsors　were　going　soft　on　him。　During　these　discussions　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　often　became　exercised　and　tossed　around　terms　like　〃shithead〃　and　〃cocksucker〃　more　freely　than　any　preacher　Dickie　Lockhart　had　ever　met。
　Two　or　three　times　a　year；　Lockhart　would　be　summoned　to　New　Orleans　for　a　detailed　review　of　Fish　Fever；　Lockhart's　immensely　popular　television　show。　The　Reverend　Charles　Weeb；　who　naturally　had　his　own　evangelical　show　on　the　Outdoor　Christian　Network；　seemed　to　possess　an　unmon　interest　in　Lockhart's　low…budget　fishing　travelogue。
　On　the　day　of　Bobby　Clinch's　funeral　the　two　men　met　in　a　pink　suite　in　a　big　hotel　on　Chartres　Street。　The　room　was　full　of　fruit　baskets　and　plimentary　bottles　of　booze。　On　a　credenza　by　the　door　stood　an　odd　collection　of　tiny　statuary…plastic　dashboard　saints　that　various　hotel　workers　had　dropped　off　so　that　the　Reverend　Weeb　might　bestow　a　small　blessing；　if　he　had　time。
　〃Nutty　Catholics；〃　Weeb　grumbled。　〃Only　know　how　to　do　two　things…screw　and　beg　forgiveness。〃
　〃Can　I　have　an　apple？〃　Dickie　Lockhart　asked。
　〃No；〃　said　Charles　Weeb。　He　wore　an　expensive　maroon　jogging　suit　that　he'd　bought　for　cash　on　Rodeo　Drive　in　Beverly　Hills。　As　always；　his　straw…blond　hair　looked　perfect。　Weeb　also　had　straw…blond　eyebrows　which；　Dickie　Lockhart　guessed；　were　bed　with　as　much　care　as　the　hair。
　Weeb　propped　his　Reeboks　on　the　coffee　table；　slipped　on　a　pair　of　reading　glasses；　and　scanned　the　latest　Nielsens。
　〃Not　too　terrible；〃　he　said。
　〃Thank　you；〃　Lockhart　said。　Meetings　were　not　his　strong　suit；　he　was　already　daydreaming　about　Bourbon　Street；　and　what　might　happen　later。
　〃You　want　to　explain　Macon？〃　Charlie　Weeb　said；　peering　over　the　rims。
　Lockhart　shrank　into　the　sofa。　He　had　no　idea　what　the　boss　was　talking　about。　Had　he　missed　a　fishing　tournament？　Maybe　a　promotional　gig　for　one　of　the　top　sponsors？　Wasn't　Macon　where　Happy　Gland　Fish　Scent　was　manufactured？
　〃Macon；〃　Weeb　sighed。　His　tone　was　that　of　a　disappointed　parent。　〃We　lost　Macon　to　that　shiteating　cocksucker。〃
　〃Spurling？〃
　〃Who　else！〃　Weeb　crumpled　the　Nielsens。
　Ed　Spurling　hosted　a　show　called　Fishin'　with　Fast　Eddie；　which　was　broadcast　by　satellite　to　one　hundred　and　seventeen　television　stations。　One　more；　counting　Macon。
　In　the　fierce　battle　for　TV　bass…fishing　supremacy；　Ed　Spurling　was　Dickie　Lockhart's　blood　rival。
　〃Macon；〃　Dickie　said　morosely。　Georgia　was　damn　good　bass　country；　too。
　〃So　it's　one　hundred　twenty…five　stations　to　one…eighteen；〃　the　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　remarked。　〃Too　damn　close　for　fort。〃
　〃But　we've　got　some　overlap；〃　Lockhart　noted。　〃Mobile；　Gulfport；　and　Fort　Worth。〃
　Weeb　nodded。　〃Little　Rock　too；〃　he　said。
　These　were　cable　systems　that　carried　both　bass　programs；　a　few　markets　could　easily　support　more　than　one。
　〃Guess　I　forgot　to　tell　you；〃　Weeb　said。　〃You　lost　the　dinnertime　slot　in　Little　Rock。　They　bumped　you　to　Sunday　morning；　after　Ozark　Bowling。〃
　Lockhart　groaned。　Spurling's　lead…in　was　Kansas　City　Royals　baseball；　a　blockbuster。　It　didn't　seem　fair。
　〃You　see　what's　happening；〃　the　reverend　said　darkly。
　〃But　the　show's　doing　good。　Did　you　see　the　one　from　Lake　Jackson？〃
　〃Shaky　lens　work。〃　Weeb　sneered。　〃Looked　like　your　video　ace　had　the　DTs。〃
　〃We　do　our　best；〃　the　fisherman　muttered；　〃on　a　thousand　lousy　bucks　per　episode。〃　That　was　the　Fish　Fever　budget；　excluding　Dickie　Lockhart's　salary。　Travel　money　was　so　tight　that　Lockhart　drove　a　Winnebago　between　locations　to　save　on　motels。
　Weeb　said；　〃Your　show　needs　a　damn　good　jolt。〃
　〃I　caught　three　ten…pounders　at　Lake　Jackson！〃
　〃Spurling's　got　a　new　theme　song；〃　Weeb　went　on。　〃Banjos。　Mac　Davis　on　the　vocals。　Have　you　heard　it？〃
　Lockhart　shook　his　head。　He　wasn't　much　for　arguing　with　the　boss；　but　sometimes　pride　got　the　best　of　him。　He　asked　Charles　Weeb；　〃Did　you　see　the　latest　BBRs？〃
　Published　by　Bass　Blasters　magazine；　the　Bass　Blasters　Ratings　（BBR）　ranked　the　country's　top　anglers。　The　BBR　was　to　bass　fishing　what　the　Nielsens　were　to　the　TV　networks。
　〃Did　you　notice　who's　number　one？〃　Dickie　Lockhart　asked。　〃Again？〃
　〃Yeah。〃　Weeb　took　his　sneakers　off　the　coffee　table　and　sat　up。　〃It's　a　good　fucking　thing；　too；　because　right　now　all　we　got　going　for　us　is　your　name；　Dickie。　You're　a　winner　and　viewers　like　winners。　'Course；　I　see　where　Mr。　Spurling　won　himself　a　tournament　in　mid…Tennessee…〃
　〃The　minor　leagues；　Reverend　Weeb。　I　smoked　him　at　the　Atlanta　Classic。　He　finished　eighth；　and　no　keepers。〃
　Weeb　stood　up　and　smoothed　the　wrinkles　from　his　expensive　jogging　suit。　Then　he　sat　down　again。　〃As　I　said；　we're　very　pleased　you're　on　top。　I　just　hate　to　see　you　slipping；　that's　all。　It　happens；　if　you're　not　careful。　Happens　in　business；　happens　in　fishing　too。　One　and　the　same。〃
　Weeb　tore　open　a　fruit　basket　and　tossed　Lockhart　an　apple。　Lockhart　felt　like　telling　Weeb　how　much　his　jogging　suit　looked　like　K…Mart　pajamas。
　The　Reverend　Charles　Weeb　said；　〃This　is　the　majors；　Dickie。　If　you　don't　win；　you　get　benched。〃　He　took　off　his　glasses。　〃I　truly　hope　you　keep　winning。　In　fact；　I　strongly　remend　it。〃
　On　this　matter；　of　course；　Dickie　Lockhart　was　way　ahead　of　him。
　
　Decker　honked　twice　as　he　drove　up　to　Skink's　shack。　Short；　polite　honks。　The　last　thing　he　wanted　to　do　was　surprise　a　man　in　a　shooting　mood。
　The　shack　had　a　permanent　lean；　and　looked　as　if　a　decent　breeze　could　flatten　it。　Except　for　the　buzz　of　horseflies；　the　place　stood　silent。　Decker　stuck　his　hands　in　his　pockets　and　walked　down　to　the　lake。　Across　the　water；　several　hundred　yards　away；　a　sleek　boat　drifted　with　two　fishermen；　plugging　the　shoreline。　Every　time　one　of　them　cast　his　lure；　the　shiny　monofilament　made　a　gossamer　arc　over　the　water　before　settling　to　the　surface。　The　pointed　raspberry　hull　of　the　fishermen's　boat　glistened　under　the　noon　sun。　Decker　didn't　even　bother　to　try　a　shout。　If　Skink　were　fishing；　he'd　be　alone。　And　never　in　a　boat　like　that。
　Decker　trudged　back　to　the　shack　and　sat　on　the　porch。　Seconds　later　he　heard　a　cracking　noise　overhead；　and　Skink　dropped　out　of　an　old　pine　tree。
　He　got　up　off　the　ground　and　said；　〃I'm　beginning　not　to　despise　you。〃
　〃Nice　to　hear；〃　Decker　said。
　〃You　didn't　go　inside。〃
　〃It's　not　my　house；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Precisely；〃　Skink　grumped；　clomping　onto　the　porch。　〃Some　people　would've　gone　in　anyway。〃
　Daylight　added　no　nuances　or　definition　to　Skink's　appearance。　Today　he　wore　camouflage　fatigues；　sunglasses；　and　a　flowered　shower　cap　from　which　sprouted　the　long　braid　of　silver…gray　hair。
　He　poured　coffee　for　Decker；　but　none　for　himself。
　〃I　got　fresh　rabbit　for　lunch；〃　Skink　said。
　〃No　thanks。〃
　〃I　said　fresh。〃
　〃I　just　ate；〃　Decker　said　unconvincingly。
　〃How　was　the　funeral？〃
　Decker　shrugged。　〃Did　you　know　Robert　Clinch？〃
　〃I　know　them　all；〃　Skink　said。
　〃Lanie　Gault？〃
　〃Her　brother's　the　big　tycoon　who　hired　you。〃
　〃Right。〃　Decker　had　been　relieved　when　Ott　had　told　him　that　Dennis　Gault　was　Lanie's　brother。　A　husband　would　have　been　disconcerting　news　indeed。
　Decker　said；　〃Miss　Gault　thinks　there's　something　strange　about　the　way　Bobby　Clinch　died。〃
　Skink　was　on　his　haunches；　working　on　the　fire。　He　didn't　answer　right　away。　Once　the　tinder　was　lit；　he　said；　〃Good　rabbit　is　tough　to　e　by。　They　tend　to　get　all　the　way　smushed　and　there's　no　damn　meat　left。　The　best　ones　are　the　ones　that　just　barely　get　clipped　and　knocked　back　to　the　shoulder　of　the　road。　This　one　here；　you'd　hardly　know　it　got　hit。　Meat's　perfect。　Might　as　well　dropped　dead　of　a　bunny　heart　att