Double Whammy

In the tub Thomas reached over and turned on the hot water. He was careful not to get the telephone wet, in case it might electrocute him.

Gault said, "I need you to find Decker. Before the cops."

"What about that crazy gorilla?"

"They probably split up by now."

"I don't want to fuck with him. Culver said he's mean as a moccasin."

Gault said, "Culver's afraid of a tit in the dark. Besides, from what Elaine says, Skink isn't the type to stick with Decker. They probably split up, like I said."

Thomas Curl was not convinced. He remembered the neatly centered bullet hole in his brother's forehead.

"What's the pay?"

"Same as before," Gault said.

"Double if I got to deal with the gorilla."

"Hell, you ought to do it for free," Gault said. Greed was truly a despicable vice, he thought. "For Christ's sake, Thomas, these are the guys who killed Lemus. One or both, it's up to you. Decker's the one that worries me most. He's the one that could hurt us in court. We're talking hard time, too."

Thomas Curl did not like the idea of being sent to the state penitentiary even for a day. There was also something powerfully attractive, even romantic, about avenging his brothers death.

"Where do I start?" he asked.

"Way behind, unfortunately," Gault said. "Decker's already running. The trick is to find out where, because he sure as hell won't be coming your way."

"Not unless I got somethin' he wants," said Thomas Curl.

Catherine said: "This won't work, not with him in the bathroom." She got out of bed and began to dress.

From behind the bathroom door, a voice grumped: "Pay no attention to me."

Decker dolefully watched Catherine button her blouse. This is what I get, he thought; exactly what I deserve. He said to her, "This man's a distraction, you're right."

"I don't know what I was thinking," Catherine said, stepping into a pink slip. "James is furious as it is, and now I'm an hour late."

"Sorry," Decker said.

"Here, give me a hand with this zipper."

"Nice skirt," Decker said. "It's silk, isn't it?"

"I can't stand these damn zippers on the side."

Decker peeked at the label. "Jesus, Catherine, a Gucci."

She frowned. "Stop it, R.J. I know what you're up to."

As always.

Decker rolled out of bed and groped around the floor for his jeans. It was dark outside, time to go. Muffled scraping noises emanated from the bathroom. Decker couldn't imagine what Skink was doing in there.

Catherine brushed out her hair, put on some pale pink lipstick.

"You look positively beatific," Decker said. "Pure as the driven snow."

"No thanks to you." She turned from the mirror and took his hands. "I'd give anything to forget about you, you bastard."

Decker said, "Could try hypnosis. Or hallucinogens."

Catherine put her arms around him. "Cut the bullshit, pal, it's all right to be scared. This is the most trouble you've ever been in."

"I believe so," Decker said.

Catherine kissed him on the neck. "Watch out for yourself, Rage. And him too."

"We'll be fine." He handed Catherine her Louis Vuitton purse and her one-hundred-percent-cashmere sweater.

Before she walked out the door she said, "I just want you to know, it wouldn't have been a mercy fuck. It would have been the real thing."

Decker said, "I got that impression, yeah."

He couldn't believe how much he still loved her.

Somehow Skink had wedged himself between the bathroom sink and the toilet, compressed his bulk into a massive, musty cube on the tile floor. At first Decker couldn't even pinpoint the location of his head; the wheezing seemed to come from under the toilet tank. Decker knelt down and saw Skink's scaly face staring out from behind the water pipes. He looked like a bearded iguana.

"Why'd you turn on the light?" he asked.

"So I wouldn't step on your vital organs."

"Worse things could happen," Skink said.

Freud would have a picnic, Decker thought. "Look, captain, we've got to get going."

"I'm safe right here," Skink observed.

"Not really," Decker said. "You're hiding under a toilet in a hundred-dollar beachfront hotel room. Someone's bound to complain."

"You think?"

Decker nodded patiently. "It's much safer back in Harney," he said. "If we leave now, we'll be back at the lake by midnight."

"You mean it?"

"Yes."

"I'll kill you, Miami, if this is a trap. I'll fucking cut out your bladder and wring it in your hair."

"It's no trap," Decker said. "Let's go."

It took forty-five minutes to disengage Skink from the plumbing. In the process the sink snapped clean off its legs; Decker left it lying on the bed.

In the lobby of the hotel he rented a Ford Escort. He got it out of the underground parking and pulled around back to the hotel's service entrance, where Skink was waiting by the dumpsters. As Skink got in the car, Decker noticed something white tucked under one arm.

"Whatcha got there?" he said.

"Seagull." Skink held up the limp bird by its curled orange feet. "Hasn't been dead more than ten minutes. I scarfed it off the grille of that seafood truck."

"Lucky us," Decker said thinly.