chiaasen.stormyweather-第15节

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d　the　more　personal　touch　afforded　by　crowbars；　aluminum　softball　bats；　nunchaku　sticks；　piano　wire；　cutlery；　or　gym　socks　filled　with　lead　fishing　sinkers。　Any　would　have　done　the　job　nicely　on　Tony　Torres；　but　Ira　Jackson　had　brought　nothing　but　his　bare　fists　to　the　salesman's　house。
　
　〃What　is　it　you　want？〃　Tony　Torres　demanded。
　
　〃An　explanation。〃
　
　〃Which　I　just　gave　you。〃　Tony's　eyes　watered　from　peering　into　the　sun's　glare；　and　he　was　growing　worried。　Edie　the　Ice　Maiden　had　disappeared　with　Ira　Jackson's　dogs…what　the　hell　was　that　all　about？　Were　they　in　on　something？　And　where　was　the　freak　in　the　bad　suit；　his　so…called　bodyguard？
　
　Tony　said　to　Ira　Jackson：　〃I　think　it's　time　for　you　to　go。〃　He　motioned　with　the　shotgun　toward　the　street。
　
　〃This　is　how　you　treat　dissatisfied　customers？〃
　
　A　jittery　laugh　burst　from　the　salesman。　〃Sport；　you　ain't　here　for　no　refund。〃
　
　〃You're　right。〃　Ira　Jackson　was　pleased　by　the　din　of　the　neighborhood…hammers；　drills；　saws；　electric　generators。　All　the　folks　preoccupied　with　putting　their　homes　back　together。　The　noise　would　make　it　easier　to　cover　the　ruckus；　if　the　mobile…home　salesman　tried　to　put　up　a　struggle。
　
　Tony　Torres　said；　〃You　think　I　don't　know　to　use　this　twelve…gauge；　you're　makin'　a　big　mistake。　Check　out　the　hole　in　that　garage　door。〃
　
　Ira　Jackson　whistled。　〃I'm　impressed；　Mister　Torres。　You　shot　a　house。〃
　
　Tony's　expression　hardened。　〃I'm　counting　to　three。〃
　
　〃My　mother　was　hit　by　a　damn　barbecue。〃
　
　〃One！〃　the　salesman　said。　〃Every　second　you　look　more　like　a　looter；　mister。〃
　
　〃You　promised　her　the　place　was　safe。　All　those　poor　people…how　the　hell　do　you　sleep　nights？〃
　
　〃Two！〃
　
　〃Relax；　you　fat　fuck。　I'm　on　my　way。〃　Ira　Jackson　turned　and　walked　slowly　toward　the　street。
　
　Tony　Torres　took　a　deep　breath；　his　tongue　felt　like　sandpaper。　He　lowered　the　Remington　until　it　rested　on　one　of　his　kneecaps。　He　watched　Beatrice　Jackson's　son　pause　in　the　driveway　and　kneel　as　if　tying　a　shoe。
　
　Craning　to　see；　Tony　shouted：　〃Move　it；　sport！〃
　
　The　cinder　block　caught　him　by　surprise…first；　the　sheer　weight　of　it；　thirty…odd　pounds　of　solid　concrete；　second；　the　fact　that　Ira　Jackson　was　able　to　throw　such　a　hefty　object；　shot…putter　style；　with　such　distressing　accuracy。
　
　When　it　struck　the　salesman's　chest；　the　cinder　block　knocked　the　shotgun　from　his　hands；　the　beer　from　his　bladder　and　the　breath　from　his　lungs。　He　made　a　sibilant　exclamation；　like　a　water　bed　rupturing。
　
　So　forceful　was　the　cinder　block's　impact　that　it　doubled　Tony　Torres　at　the　waist；　causing　the　chaise　longue　to　spring　on　him　like　an　oversized　mousetrap。　The　moans　he　let　out　as　Ira　Jackson　dragged　him　to　the　car　were　practically　inaudible　over　the　chorus　of　his　neighbors'　chain　saws。
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　SEVEN
　
　
　The　Dade　County　Medical　Examiner's　Office　was　quiet；　neat　and　modern…nothing　like　Bonnie　Lamb's　notion　of　a　big…city　morgue。　She　admired　the　architect's　thinking；　the　design　of　the　building　successfully　avoided　the　theme　of　violent　homicide。　With　its　brisk　and　clerical…looking　layout；　it　could　have　passed　for　the　regional　headquarters　of　an　insurance　pany　or　a　mortgage　firm；　except　for　the　dead　bodies　in　the　north　wing。
　
　A　friendly　secretary　brought　coffee　to　Bonnie　Lamb　while　Augustine　spoke　privately　to　an　assistant　medical　examiner。　The　young　doctor　remembered　Augustine　from　a　week　earlier；　when　he　had　e　to　claim　his　uncle's　snakebitten　remains。　The　medical　examiner　was　intrigued　to　learn　from　Augustine　that　the　tropical　viper　that　had　killed　Felix　Mojack　now　roamed　free。　He　E…mailed　a　memorandum　to　Jackson　Memorial；　alerting　the　emergency　room　to　requisition　more　antivenin；　just　in　case。　Then　he　took　a　Xeroxed　copy　of　Bonnie　Lamb's　police　report　down　the　hall。
　
　When　he　returned；　the　medical　examiner　said　the　morgue　had　two　unidentified　corpses　that　loosely　matched　the　physical　description　of　Max　Lamb。　Augustine　relayed　the　news　to　Bonnie。
　
　〃You　up　for　this？〃　he　asked。
　
　〃If　you　go　with　me。〃
　
　It　was　a　long　walk　to　the　autopsy　room；　where　the　temperature　seemed　to　drop　fifteen　degrees。　Bonnie　Lamb　took　Augustine's　hand　as　they　moved　among　the　self…draining　steel　tables；　where　a　half…dozen　bodies　were　laid　out　in　varying　stages　of　dissection。　The　room　gave　off　a　cloying　odor；　the　sickly…sweet　mingling　of　chemicals　and　dead　flesh。　Augustine　felt　Bonnie's　palm　go　cold。　He　asked　her　if　she　was　going　to　faint。
　
　〃No；〃　she　said。　〃It's　just　。。。　God；　I　thought　they'd　all　be　covered　with　sheets。〃
　
　〃Only　in　the　movies。〃
　
　The　first　John　Doe　had　lank　hair　and　sparse；　uneven　sideburns。　He　was　the　same　race　and　age；　but　otherwise　bore　no　resemblance　to　Max　Lamb。　The　dead　man's　eyes　were　greenish　blue；　Max's　were　brown。　Still；　Bonnie　stared。
　
　〃How　did　he　die？〃
　
　Augustine　asked：　〃Is　it　Max？〃
　
　She　shook　her　head　sharply。　〃But　tell　me　how　he　died。〃
　
　With　a　Bic　pen；　the　young　medical　examiner　pointed　to　a　dime…sized　hole　beneath　the　dead　man's　left　armpit。　〃Gunshot　wound；〃　he　said。
　
　Augustine　and　Bonnie　Lamb　followed　the　doctor　to　another　table。　Here　the　cause　of　death　was　no　mystery。　The　second　John　Doe　had　been　in　a　terrible　accident。　He　was　scalped　and　his　face　pulverized　beyond　recognition。　A　black　track　of　autopsy　stitches　ran　from　his　breast　to　his　pelvis。
　
　Bonnie　stammered；　〃I　don't　know；　I　can't　tell…〃
　
　〃Look　at　his　hands；〃　the　medical　examiner　said。
　
　〃No　wedding　ring；〃　Augustine　observed。
　
　〃Please。　I　want　her　to　look；〃　the　medical　examiner　said。　〃We　remove　the　jewelry　for　safekeeping。〃
　
　Bonnie　dazedly　circled　the　table。　The　bluish　pallor　of　the　dead　man's　skin　made　it　difficult　to　determine　his　natural　plexion。　He　was　built　like　Max…narrow　shoulders；　bony　chest；　with　a　veined　roll　of　baby　fat　at　the　midsection。　The　arms　and　legs　were　lean　and　finely　haired；　like　Max's。。。。
　
　〃Ma'am；　what　about　the　hands？〃
　
　Bonnie　Lamb　forced　herself　to　look；　and　was　glad　she　did。　The　hands　were　not　her　husband's；　the　fingernails　were　grubby　and　gnawed。　Max　believed　religiously　in　manicures　and　buffing。
　
　〃No；　it's　not　him。〃　She　spoke　very　softly；　as　if　trying　not　to　awaken　the　man　with　no　face。
　
　The　doctor　wanted　to　know　if　her　husband　had　any　birthmarks。　Bonnie　said　she　hadn't　noticed；　and　felt　guilty…as　if　she　hadn't　spent　enough　time　examining　the　details　of　Max's　trunk　and　extremities。　Couldn't　most　lovers　map　their　partner's　most　intimate　blemishes？
　
　〃I　remember　a　mole；〃　she　said　in　a　helpful　tone；　〃on　one　of　his　elbows。〃
　
　〃Which　elbow？〃　asked　the　medical　examiner。
　
　〃I　don't　recall。〃
　
　〃Like　it　matters；〃　said　Augustine；　restlessly。　〃Check　both　his　arms；　OK？〃
　
　The　doctor　checked。　The　dead　man's　elbows　had　no　moles。　Bonnie　turned　away　from　the　body　and　laid　her　head　against　Augustine's　chest。
　
　〃He　was　driving　a　stolen　motorcycle；〃　the　doctor　explained；　〃with　a　stolen　microwave　strapped　to　the　back。〃
　
　Augustine　sighed　irritably。　〃A　hurricane　looter。〃
　
　〃Right。　Smacked　a　lumber　truck　doing　eighty。〃
　
　〃Now　he　tells　us；〃　said　Bonnie　Lamb。
　
　The　wash　of　relief　didn't　hit　her　until　she　was　back　in　Augustine's　pickup　truck。　It　wasn't　Max　at　the　morgue；　because　Max　is　still　alive。　This　is　good。　This　is　cause　to　be　thankful。　Then　Bonnie　began　to　tremble；　imagining　her　husband　gutted　like　a　fish　on　a　shiny　steel　tray。
　
　When　they　returned　to　the　neighborhood　where　Max　Lamb　had　vanished；　they　found　the　rental　car　on　its　rims。　The　hood　stood　open　and　the　radiator　was　gone。　Augustine's　note　on　the　windshield　wiper　was　untouched…a　testament；　he　remarked；　to　the　low　literacy　rate　among　car　burglars。　He　offered　to　call　a　wrecker。
　
　〃Later；〃　Bonnie　said；　tersely。
　
　〃That's　what　I　meant。　Later。〃　He　locked　the　truck　and　set　the　alarm。
　
　They　walked　the　streets　for　nearly　two　hours；　Augustine　with　the　。38　Special　wedged　in　his　belt。　He　thought　Max　Lamb's　abductor　might　have　holed　up；　so　they　checked　every　abandoned　house　in　the　subdivision。　Walking　from　one　block　to　the　next；　Bonnie　struck　up　conversations　with　people　who　were　patching　their　battered　homes。　She　hoped　one　of　them　would　remember　seeing　Max　on　the　morning　after　the　hurricane。　Several　residents　offered　colorful　accounts　of　monkey　sightings；　but　Bonnie　spoke　with　no　one　who　recalled　the　kidnapping　of　a　tourist。
　
　Augustine　drove　her　to　the　Metro　police　checkpoint；　where　she　contacted　a　towing　service　and　the　rental…car　agency　in　Orlando。　Then　she　made　a　call　to　the　apartment　in　New　York　to　get　her　messages。　After　listening　for　a　minute；　she　pressed　the　pound　button　on　the　telephone　and　handed　the　receiver　to　Augustine。
　
　〃Unbelievable；〃　she　said。
　
　It　was　Max　Lamb's　voice　on　the　line。　The　static　was　so　heavy　he　could　have　been　calling　from　Tibet：　〃Bonnie；　darling；　everything's　OK。　I　don't　believe　my　life's　in　danger；　but　I　can't　say　when　I'll　be　free。　It's　too　hairy　to　explain　over　the　phone…uh；　hang　on；　he　wants　me　to　read　something。　Ready？　Here　goes：　〃'I　have　nothing　to　do　with　the　creaking　machinery　of　humanity…I　belong　to　the　earth！　I　say