ch.doublewhammy-第16章

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ne　who　was　against　corruption　was　obviously　against　progress。　Something　had　to　be　done。
　The　development　interests　had　two　choices：　they　could　wait　for　Tyree's　term　to　expire　and　get　him　voted　out　of　office；　or　they　could　deal　around　him。
　Which　is　what　they　did。　They　devoted　their　full　resources　and　attention　to　corrupting　whoever　needed　it　most；　a　task　acplished　with　little　resistance。　The　governor　was　but　one　vote　on　the　state　cabinet；　and　it　was　a　simple　matter　for　his　political　enemies　to　secure　the　loyalty　of　an　opposing　majority。　Money　was　all　it　took。　Similarly；　it　was　simple　（though　slightly　more　expensive）　to　solidify　support　in　the　state　houses　so　that　Clinton　Tyree's　oft…used　veto　was　automatically　overridden。
　Before　long　the　new　governor　found　himself　on　the　losing　side　of　virtually　every　important　political　battle。　He　discovered　that　being　interviewed　by　David　Brinkley；　or　getting　his　picture　on　the　cover　of　Time；　meant　nothing　as　long　as　his　colleagues　kept　voting　to　surrender　every　inch　of　Florida's　beachfront　to　pinky…ringed　condominium　moguls。　With　each　defeat　Clint　Tyree　grew　more　saturnine；　downcast；　and　withdrawn。　The　letters　he　dictated　became　so　dark　and　profane　that　his　aides　were　terrified　to　send　them　out　under　the　state　seal；　and　rewrote　them　surreptitiously。　They　whispered　that　the　governor　was　losing　too　much　weight；　that　his　suits　weren't　always　pressed　to　perfection；　that　his　hair　was　getting　shaggy。　Some　Republicans　even　started　a　rumor　that　Tyree　was　suffering　from　a　dreaded　sexual　disease。
　Meanwhile　the　rich　developers　who　had　tried　to　bribe　him　finally　went　to　trial；　with　the　governor　sitting　as　the　chief　witness　against　them。　It　was；　as　they　say；　a　media　circus。　Clinton　Tyree's　friends　thought　he　held　up　about　as　well　as　could　be　expected；　his　enemies　thought　he　looked　glazed　and　unkempt；　like　a　dope　addict　on　the　witness　stand。
　The　trial　proved　to　be　a　tepid　victory。　The　developers　were　convicted　of　bribery　and　conspiracy；　but　as　punishment　all　they　got　was　probation。　They　were　family　men；　the　judge　explained；　churchgoers；　too。
　By　wretched　coincidence；　the　day　after　the　sentencing；　the　Florida　Cabinet　voted　6…1　to　close　down　the　Sparrow　Beach　Wildlife　Preserve　and　sell　it　to　the　Sparrow　Beach　Development　Corporation　for　twelve　million　dollars。　The　purported　reason　for　the　sale　was　the　unfortunate　death　（from　either　sexual　frustration　or　old　age）　of　the　only　remaining　Karp's　Seagrape　sparrow；　the　species　for　whom　the　verdant　preserve　had　first　been　established。　With　the　last　rare　bird　dead；　the　cabinet　reasoned；　why　continue　to　tie　up　perfectly　good　waterfront？　The　lone　vote　against　the　land　deal　belonged　to　the　governor；　of　course；　and　only　afterward　did　he　discover　that　the　principal　shareholder　in　the　Sparrow　Beach　Development　Corporation　was　none　other　than　his　trusted　running　mate；　the　lieutenant　governor。
　The　morning　after　the　vote；　Governor　Clinton　Tyree　did　what　no　other　Florida　governor　had　ever　done。　He　quit。
　He　didn't　tell　a　soul　in　Tallahassee　what　he　was　doing。　He　simply　walked　out　of　the　governor's　mansion；　got　in　the　back　of　his　limousine；　and　told　his　chauffeur　to　drive。
　Six　hours　later　he　told　the　driver　to　stop。　The　limo　pulled　into　a　bus　depot　in　downtown　Orlando；　where　the　governor　said　goodbye　to　his　driver　and　told　him　to　get　the　hell　going。
　For　two　days　Governor　Clinton　Tyree　was　the　subject　of　the　most　massive　manhunt　in　the　history　of　the　state。　The　FBI；　the　highway　patrol；　the　marine　patrol；　the　Florida　Department　of　Law　Enforcement；　and　the　National　Guard　sent　out　agents；　troops；　psychics；　bloodhounds　and　helicopters。　The　governor's　chauffeur　was　polygraphed　seven　times　and；　although　he　always　passed；　was　still　regarded　as　a　prime　suspect　in　the　disappearance。
　The　search　ended　when　Clinton　Tyree's　notarized　resignation　was　delivered　to　the　Capitol。　In　a　short　letter　released　to　the　press；　the　ex…governor　said　he　quit　the　office　because　of　〃disturbing　moral　and　philosophical　conflicts。〃　He　graciously　thanked　his　friends　and　supporters；　and　closed　the　message　by　quoting　a　poignant　but　seemingly　irrelevant　passage　from　a　Moody　Blues　song。
　After　Clint　Tyree's　resignation；　the　slimy　business　of　selling　off　Florida　resumed　in　the　state　capital。　Those　who　had　been　loyal　to　the　young　governor　began　to　give　interviews　suggesting　that　for　two　whole　years　they'd　known　that　he　was　basically　a　nut。　A　few　intrepid　reporters　depleted　precious　expense　accounts　trying　to　track　down　Clinton　Tyree　and　get　the　real　story；　but　with　no　success。　The　last　confirmed　sighting　was　that　afternoon　when　the　fugitive　governor　had　vanished　from　the　downtown　Orlando　bus　depot。　Using　the　name　Black　Leclere；　he　had　purchased　a　one…way　ticket　to　Fort　Lauderdale；　but　never　arrived。　Along　the　way　the　Greyhound　Scenic　Cruiser　had　stopped　to　refuel　at　an　Exxon　station；　the　driver　hadn't　noticed　that　the　tall　passenger　in　a　blue　pinstriped　suit　who　had　gotten　off　to　use　the　men's　room　had　never　e　back。　The　Exxon　station　was　located　across　from　a　fruit　stand　on　Route　222；　four　miles　outside　the　town　limits　of　Harney。
　Clinton　Tyree　had　selected　Harney　not　only　because　of　its　natural　beauty…the　lake　and　the　ranchlands；　the　cypresses　and　the　pines…but　also　because　of　its　profound　political　retardation。　Harney　County　had　the　lowest　voter　registration　per　capita　of　any　county　in　Florida。　It　was　one　of　the　few　places　to　be　blacklisted　by　both　the　Gallup　and　Lou　Harris　pollsters；　due　to　the　fact　that　sixty…three　percent　of　those　interviewed　could　not　correctly　name　a　vice…president；　any　vice…president；　of　the　United　States。　Four　out　of　five　Harney　citizens　had　not　bothered　to　cast　ballots　during　the　previous　gubernatorial　election；　mainly　because　the　annual　bull…semen　auction　was　scheduled　the　same　day。
　This　was　a　town　where　Clinton　Tyree　was　sure　he'd　never　be　recognized；　where　he　could　build　himself　a　place　and　mind　his　own　business　and　call　himself　Rajneesh　or　Buzz；　or　even　Skink；　and　nobody　would　bother　him。
　Skink　waited　all　day　to　get　rid　of　the　body。　Once　darkness　fell；　he　took　the　truck　and　left　R。　J。　Decker　in　the　shack。　Decker　didn't　ask　because　he　didn't　want　to　know。
　Skink　was　gone　for　an　hour。　When　he　got　back；　he　was　regarbed　in　full　fluorescence。　He　stalked　through　the　screen　door　and　kicked　off　his　Marine　boots。　His　feet　were　bare。　He　had　two　limp　squirrels　under　one　arm；　fresh　roadkills。
　〃The　Armadillo　is　still　there；〃　he　reported。
　Immediately　Decker　guessed　what　had　happened：　Skink　had　hauled　the　other　body　out　to　Morgan　Slough。　And　he　probably　had　hooked　it　on　the　same　fish　stringer。
　〃I　can't　stay　here；〃　Decker　said。
　〃Suit　yourself。　Sheriff　cars　all　over　the　place。　There's　a　pair　of　'em　parked　out　on　the　Mormon　Trail；　and　they　hate　it　out　there；　believe　me。　Could　be　something's　in　the　wind。〃
　Decker　sat　on　the　bare　wooden　floor；　his　back　rubbing　against　the　unvarnished　planks　of　a　bookcase。　He　needed　sleep；　but　every　time　he　closed　his　eyes　he　saw　Ott　Pickney's　corpse。　The　images　were　indelible。　Three　frames；　if　he'd　had　a　camera。
　First：　the　crest　of　the　skull　breaking　the　surface；　Ott's　hair　dripping　to　one　side　like　brown　turtle　grass。
　Then　a　shot　of　the　bloodless　forehead　and　the　wide…open　eyes　focused　somewhere　on　eternity。
　Finally：　a　full　pallid　death　mask；　fastened　grotesquely　on　the　stringer　with　a　loop　of　heavy　wire；　and　suspended　from　the　water　by　Skink's　tremendous　arms；　visible　in　the　lower…left…hand　corner　of　the　frame。
　That　was　how　R。　J。　Decker　was　doomed　to　remember　Ott　Pickney。　It　was　a　curse　of　the　photographic　eye　never　to　forget。
　〃You　look　like　you're　ready　to　quit；〃　Skink　said。
　〃Give　me　another　option。〃
　〃Keep　going　as　if　nothing　happened。　Stay　on　Dickie　Lockhart's　ass。　There's　a　bass　tournament　this　weekend…〃
　〃New　Orleans。〃
　〃Yeah；　well；　let's　go。〃
　〃You　and　me？〃
　〃And　Mr。　Nikon。　You　got　a　decent　tripod；　I　hope。〃
　〃Sure；〃　Decker　said。　〃In　the　car。〃
　〃And　a　six…hundred…millimeter；　at　least。〃
　〃Right。〃　His　trusty　NFL　lens；　it　could　peer　up　a　quarterback's　nostrils。
　〃So？〃　Skink　said。
　〃So　it's　not　worth　it；〃　Decker　said。
　Skink　tore　off　his　shower　cap　and　threw　it　into　a　corner。　He　pulled　the　rubber　band　out　of　his　ponytail　and　shook　his　long　hair　free。
　〃I　got　some　supper；〃　he　said。　〃I'll　eat　all　of　it　if　you're　not　hungry。〃
　Decker　rubbed　his　temples。　He　didn't　feel　like　food。　〃I　can't　believe　they'd　kill　somebody　over　a　goddamn　fish。〃
　Skink　stood　up；　holding　the　dead　squirrels　by　their　hind　legs。　〃This　thing　isn't　about　fishing。〃
　〃Well；　money　then；〃　Decker　said。
　〃That's　only　part　of　it。　If　we　quit；　we　miss　the　rest。　If　we　quit；　we　lose　Dickie　Lockhart；　probably　forever。　They　can't　touch　him　on　the　killings；　not　yet　anyway。〃
　〃I　know；〃　Decker　said。　There　wouldn't　be　a　shred　of　evidence。　Ozzie　Rundell　would　go　to　the　chair　before　he'd　rat　on　his　idol。
　Decker　asked；　〃Do　you　think　they　know　it's　us？〃
　〃Depends；〃　Skink　said。　〃Depends　if　the　other　guy　in　the　pickup　saw　our　faces　this　morning。　Also　depends　if　the　Armadillo　told　'em　about　you　before　he　died。　If　he　told　'em　who　you　are；　then　you've　got　problems。〃
　〃Me？　What　about　you？　It　was　your　gun　that　waxed　the　guy。〃
　〃What　gun？〃　Skink　said；　raising　his　hands。　〃What　gun　you　talking　about；　officer？〃　He　flashed　his　anchorman　smile。　〃Don't　worry　about　me；　Miami。　If　you've　got　the　urge　to　worry；　worry　about　setting　up　some　good　fish　pictures。〃
　Skink　cooked　the　squirrels　on　sticks　over　the　outdoor　fire。　Decker　drank　a　cold　beer　and　felt　the　night　close　down　over　Lake　Jesup。　They　ate　in　silence；　Decker　was　hungrier　than　he'd　thought。　Afterward　they　each　popped　open　another　beer　and　watched　the　embers　burn　down。
　〃Jim　Tile　is　with　us　the　whole　way；〃　Skink　said。
　〃Is　it　safe？〃　Decker　asked。　〃For　him；　I　mean。〃
　〃Not　for　him；　not　for　us。　But　Jim　Tile　is　a　careful　man。　So　am　I。　And　you…you're　catching　on。〃　Skink　balanced　the　beer　can　on　one　knee。　〃There's　an　Eastern　nonstop　to　New　Orleans；〃　he　said；　〃leaves　about　noon　from　Orlando。〃
　Decker　glanced　over　at　him。　〃What　do　you　think？〃
　Skink　said；　〃Probably　smart　if　we　drive　separate。〃
　Decker　nodded。　They'll　never　let　him　on　the　plane；　he　thought；　not　dressed　like　that。　〃Then　I　guess　I'll　see　you　at　the　airport。〃
　Skink　dumped　a　tin　of　water　on　the　last　of　the　coals。　〃Where　you　headed　tonight？〃　he　asked。
　〃There's　somebody　I　need　to　see；〃　Decker　said；　〃though　I'm　not　sure　where　she's　staying。　Actually；　I'm　not　even　sure　she's　still　in　town。　It's　Dennis　Gault's　sister。〃
　Skink　snorted。　〃She's　still　in　town。〃　He　peeled　off　his　rainsuit。　〃She's　at　the　Days　Inn；　least　that's　where　the　little　gumdrop　Vette　is　parked。〃
　〃Thanks；　I　can　find　it。　What　about　the　deputies　up　on　the　Trail？〃
　〃Long　gone；〃　Skink　said。　〃Shift　ended　a　half…hour　ago。〃
　He　walked　Decker　to　the　car。
　〃Be　careful　with　that　lady；〃　Skink　said。　〃If　you　get　the　urge　to　tell　her　your　life　story；　I　understand。　Just　leave　out　the　part　about　today。〃
　〃I'm　too　damn　tired；〃　Decker　sighed。
　〃That's　what　they　all　say。〃
　
　She　was　still　at　the　Days　Inn。　Room　135。　When　she　answered　the　door　she　wore　a　nightshirt。　One　of　those　expensive　silky　tops；　it　barely　came　down　far　enough　to　cover　her　pale　yellow