Stormy Weather

He folded a piece of paper into Skink's hand and got into the patrol car. Wordlessly Skink settled in the bed of Augustine's pickup and lay down. His good eye was fixed on the clouds, and his arms were folded across his chest. .

Augustine asked Jim Tile: "What do we do with him?"

"That's entirely up to you." The trooper sounded exhausted.

Bo

"What about the guy who did it?"

"They haven't caught him," the trooper replied, "and they won't." He strapped on the seat belt, locked the door, adjusted his sunglasses. "Place used to be something special," he said absently. "Long, long time ago."

A feral cry rose from the bed of the pickup truck. Jim Tile blinked over the rims of his shades. "It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Lamb. You and your husband do what's right. The captain, he'll understand."

Then the trooper drove off.

On the way to the airport hotel, where Max Lamb had reserved a day room for her, Bo

Through the back window of the truck, Bo

She said, "I wonder what's on that piece of paper."

"My guess," said Augustine, "it's either a name or an address."

"Of what?"

"It's just a guess," he said, but he told her anyway.

That night he didn't have to say good-bye, because Bo

Shortly after noon on August 28, the telephone in Tony Torres's kitchen started ringing.

Snapper told Edie Marsh to get it.

"You get it," she said.

"Real fu

Snapper couldn't walk; the blow from the crowbar had messed up his right leg. He was laid out in the BarcaLounger with his knee packed in three bags of ice, which Edie had purchased for fifty dollars on Quail Roost Drive from some traveling bandit in a fish truck. The fifty bucks came out of Snapper's big score against the Whitmarks. He didn't tell Edie Marsh how much money remained in his pocket. He also didn't mention the trooper's gun in the Cherokee, in the event she blew her top again.

The phone continued ringing. "Answer it," Snapper said. "Maybe it's your Santy Claus boyfriend."

Edie picked up the phone. On the other end, a woman's voice said: "Hullo?"

Edie hung up. "It wasn't Fred," she said.

"The fuck was it?"

"I didn't ask, Snapper. We're not supposed to be here, remember?" She said it sounded like' long distance.

"What if it's the insurance company? Maybe the check's ready."

Edie said, "No. Fred would tell me."

Snapper hacked out a laugh. "Fred's gone, you dumb twat. You scared him off!"

"How much you wa

"Right, he can't stay away, you're such a fantastic piece a ass."

"You can't even imagine," Edie said, showing some tongue. Maybe she wasn't hot enough for a young Ke

Again the phone rang. Edie Marsh said, "Shit."

"For Christ's sake, gimme a hand." Snapper writhed irritably on the BarcaLounger. "Come on!"

Bracing a forearm on Edie's shoulder, he hobbled to the kitchen. She plucked the receiver off the hook and handed it to him.

"Yo," Snapper said.

"Hullo?" A woman. "Tony, is that you?"

"Hmmphrr," answered Snapper, cautiously.

"It's me. Neria."

Who? Frigid drops from the ice pack dripped down Snapper's injured leg. The purple kneecap felt as if it were about to burst, like a rotten mango. Edie pressed close, trying to hear what the caller was saying.

"Tony, I been tryin' to get through for days. What's with the house?"

Then Snapper remembered: The wife! Tony Torres had said her name was Miriam or Neria, some Cuban thing. He'd also said she'd be coming back for her cut of the insurance.

"Bad co

"What's going on? I call next door and Mister Varga, he said the hurricane totaled our house and now there's strangers living there. Some woman, Tony. You hear me? And Mister Varga said you shot a hole in the garage. What the hell's going on down there?"

Snapper held the receiver at arm's length, like it was a stick of dynamite. His bottom jaw shoveled in and out; the joints of his face made a popping sound that gave Edie the creeps.

"Tony?" squeaked the voice on the telephone.

Edie took it from Snapper's hand and said, "I'm very sorry. You've got the wrong number." Then she hung up.

At first all Snapper could say was, "Goddamn."

"The wife?"

"Yeah. Goddamn."

Edie Marsh helped him pogo to the chair. The ice crunched as he sat down. "Where's your Santy Claus boyfriend live?"

"SomeRamada."

"Goddamn. We don't got much time."

Edie said, "Where's Mrs. Torres? Is she here in Miami?"

"Hell if I know. Get me to the car."

"I've got some more bad news. The dogs came back this morning."

"The wiener dogs?"

"We can't just leave them here. They need to be fed."

With both hands Snapper choked his throbbing leg and said, "Never again. I swear to Christ."

"Oh yeah," Edie Marsh said, "like this is some fun picnic for me. Here, give me your arm."

Avila's new customer took the Turnpike south. Before long the Cadillac was pi