Double Whammy (48 page)

“We're running through poison,” Skink said, incredulously. “They built a whole fucking resort on poison water.”

“I know, captain.”

“It's my fault.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You don't understand!” Skink turned around and said to Catherine: “He doesn't understand. Do you love this man? Then make him understand. It's my fault.”

Shielding her face from the cold, Catherine said, “You're being too hard on yourself. That's what I think.”

Skink smiled. His classic anchorman teeth were now speckled with dead gnats. “You're quite a lady,” he said. “I wish you'd dump your doctor and go back—”

Suddenly, in front of them, another boat appeared. Just a flat shadow hanging in the darkness, dead across the middle of the canal. Someone in a yellow rain slicker was sitting in the bow of the boat, hunched in the seat.

Skink wasn't even looking, he was talking to Catherine, who had opened her mouth to scream. Desperately Decker leaned hard left on the steering wheel and drew back on the throttle. Fast Eddie's boat nearly went airborne as it struck the other craft a glancing mushy blow on the stem. They spun twice before Decker found the kill switch that cut the engine.

Skink, who had been thrown hard against the engine, got to his feet and took a visual survey. “This is the place,” he said.

The other boat had been bumped up against the bank. Decker waited for his heart to stop hammering before he called to the person in the yellow slicker: “You all right?”

“Screw you!”

“Lanie?”

“Always the vixen,” Skink said. He was stripping off the cheap sharkskin suit that Deacon Johnson had given him for the healing.

“Who is that woman?” Catherine asked.

“Gault's sister,” Decker replied.

“Screw both of you!” Lanie shouted. She was standing in the bow, pointing angrily at them.

“So, where's Dennis?” Decker asked.

“Change the subject,” Skink advised. He was naked now. He was on his knees, leaning over the side of the boat, unwittingly mooning Decker and Catherine. He slapped the flat of his palm on the water.

“I hope your fish croaks,” Lanie shouted at Skink, “like all the rest.” Her voice broke. “Like Dennis.”

Catherine said, “Have I missed something?”

Skink furiously pulled a dead yearling from the canal and heaved it to shore. He slapped and slapped, but no fish rose off the bottom, no fish came to his hand.

Decker rummaged through Eddie's boat until he found a spotlight, which plugged into the boat's cigarette lighter. With Skink still hanging over the side calling and slapping for Queenie, Decker worked the beam along the shoreline. Once he inadvertently flashed it in Lanie's direction; she cursed and spun around in the pedestal seat to face the other way.

Decker spotted the body floating at the end of the canal, near the flood dike. He lowered the twin trolling motors and steered Eddie's boat along the yellow path of the spotlight.

Catherine craned to see what it was, but Decker put his hand on her shoulder.

Dapper Dennis Gault was in shreds. He floated facedown, snarled in twenty-pound fishing line.

“The rhythm of confrontation,” Skink said. “In a way, I almost admire the sonofabitch.”

Decker knew there was nothing to be done.

“This is some sport,” Catherine remarked.

Skink and Decker saw the great fish simultaneously. She surfaced on her side, feebly, near Gault's bloated legs. Her gills had bled from red to pink, and her flanks had blackened. She was dying.

“No, you don't,” Skink said, and dove in. For a big man he made a small splash, entering the water like a needle.

Catherine stood up to watch with Decker. Their breath came out in soft frosty puffs.

“I got her!” Skink shouted. “But damnation!”

Somehow he had become entangled in Dennis Gault's body. For several moments the water churned in a macabre one-sided duel, stiff dead limbs thrashing against the living. Catherine was terrified; it looked as if Gault had come back to life. Skink was in great pain, the foul brackish water searing his raw eye socket. All at once he seemed to be slipping under.

R. J. Decker picked up Fast Eddie's fish gaff and stuck it hard in the meat of Gault's shoulders. He pulled brutishly at the corpse with all his weight, and Skink kicked away, free. He cradled the sluggish fish in his bare arms. He swam with his head out, on his back, otter-style. He was fighting to catch his breath.

“Thanks, Miami,” he wheezed. “Take care.”

With four kicks he made it to shore, and carried the great fish up the slope. Decker didn't need the spotlight to track him—a naked white Amazon running splayfooted along the embankment. He was singing, too, though the melody was indistinct.

Decker gunned the engine and beached the bass boat with a jolt. He jumped ashore and reached out his hand for Catherine. Together they jogged toward the flood dike, but Skink was far ahead. Even toting the fish, he seemed to be running twice as fast.

From the canal behind them, Lanie Gault called Skink's name. Decker heard two shots and reflexively he dragged Catherine to the ground. They looked up to see two small flares explode overhead, drenching the night in vermilion. In a strange way it reminded Decker of the warm safe light of the darkroom. He had no idea why Lanie had fired the flare gun; maybe it was all she had.

They got up and started running again, but by this time Skink had already crested the dike. When they reached the other side, he was gone, vanished into the seam of the universe. As the flares burned out, the red glow drained from the sky and the crystal darkness returned to the marsh.

A washboard ripple lingered on the quiet pool. Frogs peeped, crickets trilled, waterbugs skated through the bulrushes. There was no sign of the great fish, no sign of the man.

“Hear it?” Decker asked.

Catherine brushed the insects away and strained to listen. “I don't think so, Rage.”

“Something swimming.” The gentlest of motions, receding somewhere out in the Glades. Decker was sure of it.

“Wait,” Catherine said, taking his arm, “now I do.”

 

Skinny Dip
Basket Case
Sick Puppy
Lucky You
Stormy Weather
Strip Tease
Native Tongue
Skin Tight
Double Whammy
Tourist Season

 

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