Stormy Weather

So he offered Snapper forty-seven thousand dollars. "That's how it splits three ways."

Snapper swung the flashlight to Fred Dove's face. He said, "You figured that up in your head? No pencil and paper, that's pretty good."

Yeah, thought Edie Marsh. Thank you, Dr Einstein.

Fred Dove said to Snapper: "Do we have a deal?"

"Fair is fair." He rose from the BarcaLounger and made his way to the garage. Within moments the portable generator belched to life. Snapper returned to the living room and turned on the solitary lightbulb. Then, kneeling beside Fred Dove and Edie Marsh, he cut the curtain sash off their wrists.

"Let's go eat," he said. "I'm fuckin' starved."

Fred Dove rose shakily. He modestly locked his hands in front of his crotch. "I'm taking this thing off," he declared.

"The rubber?" Snapper gave him a thumbs-up. "You do that." He glanced at Edie, who made no effort to cover her breasts or anything else. She eyed Snapper in a dark poisonous way.

He said, "That's how you goin' to De

Wordlessly Edie walked behind the Naugahyde recli-ner, picked up the crowbar she'd left there, took two steps toward Snapper, and swung at him with all her strength. He went down squalling.

Weapon in hand, Edie Marsh straddled him. Her damp and tangled hair had fallen to cover the bruised half of her face. To Fred Dove, she looked untamed and dazzling and alarmingly capable-of homicide. He feared' he was about to witness his first.

Edie inserted the sharp end of the crowbar between Snapper's deviated jawbones, pi

"Kick me again," she said, "and I'll have your balls in a blender."

Fred Dove snatched his pants and his briefcase, and ran.

They returned the borrowed speedboat to the marina and went back to Coral Gables. With great effort they carried the man known as Skink into Augustine's house.

Max Lamb was u

Then, Jim Tile: "I've tried every prayer I know."

As Bo

She followed him to the living room and sat beside him on the sofa. There, in sensational detail, he described the torture he'd received at the hands of the one-eyed misfit.

"The dog collar," Bo

"That's right. Look at my neck." Max opened the top buttons of his shirt, which he'd borrowed from Augustine. "See the burns? See?"

Bo

"Absolutely!" Max Lamb detected doubt in his wife's voice. "Christ, Bo

She squeezed his hand. "I still don't understand why-why he did it in the first place."

"With a fruitcake like that, who knows." Max Lamb purposely didn't mention Skink's disgust with the hurricane videos; he remembered that Bo

She said, "I think he needs professional help."

"No, sweetheart, he needs a professional jail." Max lifted his chin and blew smoke at the ceiling.

"Honey, let's think about this—"

But he pulled away from her, bolting for the phone, which Augustine had just hung up. "I'd better call Pete Archibald," Max Lamb said over his shoulder, "let everyone at Rodale know I'm OK."

Bo

Bo

Skink's good eye blinked open. "Better," he said, thickly.

She set the coffeepot on the bedstand. "It was monkey tranquilizer," she explained.

"Never to be combined with psychoactive drugs," said Skink, "particularly toad sweat."

Bo

"Asked me what?" Skink rasped.

"About the dead guy in the TV dish," the trooper said. Then, to Bo

"Though I do admire the style," said Skink.

Bo

"I believe you. I do."

The governor finished the coffee and asked for another cup. He told Bo

Bo

Skink nodded. "We all need one of those." With difficulty he rolled out of bed and began stripping off his wet clothes. Jim Tile led him to the shower and started the water. When the trooper returned, carrying the governor's plastic cap, he asked Bo

"He wants to prosecute." She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the shower run.

Augustine came into the room and said, "Well?"

"I can arrest him tonight," Jim Tile told Bo

"You'd do that-arrest your own friend?"

"Better me than a stranger," the trooper said. "Don't feel bad about this, Mrs. Lamb. Your husband's got every right."

"Yes, I know." Prosecuting the governor was the right thing-a person couldn't be allowed to run around kidnapping tourists, no matter how offensively they behaved. Yet Bo