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〃What's it look like？〃
〃A giant screw？〃
〃It's an auger spike； Mrs。 Torres。 It was supposed to anchor my trailer in the storm。〃
Levon Stichler had choreographed the crime a hundred times in his mind； most recently while sharpening the point of the auger on a whetstone wheel。 The fat face of Tony Torres would make an easy target。 Either of those cavernous hairy nostrils could be forcibly modified to accept the steel bit； which would （according to Levon's calculation） extrude well beyond the nasal cavity and into the brainpan。
The barefoot woman said； 〃Excuse me； but are you fucking nuts？〃
Before Levon Stickler could respond； the tall shape of a man materialized in the kitchen doorway。 Levon Stichler aimed the spike like a lance； and charged。 The woman shouted a sharp warning； and the man threw himself backward onto the wet tile floor。 The auger impaled itself in the wooden shelf of a cabinet； with both hands Levon Stichler could not pull it free。 Frantically he looked down at his intended victim。
〃Oh shit；〃 he said。 〃You're not the one。〃 He released his grip on the spike。 〃You're not the one who sold me the double…wide！〃
Another woman…wild…looking and half dressed… burst from the bedroom。 Together she and the barefoot one helped Snapper rise to his feet。
In an accusatory tone； Levon Stichler said； 〃You are not Tony Torres。〃
〃Like hell；〃 Snapper said。
Edie Marsh moved between the two men。 〃Honey；〃 she said； facing Snapper； 〃Mister Reedy here appears to be nuts。〃
〃Worse than nuts；〃 Bridget asserted。
〃My name's not Reedy。〃
Edie wheeled on the old man。 〃Wait a second…you aren't from Midwest Casualty？〃
Levon Stichler； who by now had gotten a close…up look at Snapper's feral eyes and disfigured mug； felt his brittle old bones turn to powder。 〃Where's Mister Torres？〃 he asked； with noticeably less spunk。
Edie sighed in annoyance。 〃Incredible；〃 she said to Snapper。 〃He's not Reedy。 Can you believe this shit？〃
Snapper wanted to be sure for himself。 He leaned forward until he was two inches from the old man's nose。 〃You're not from the insurance pany？ You're not Dove's boss？〃
Misjudging the situation； Levon Stichler emphatically shook his head no。 Edie Marsh stepped out of the way so Snapper could punch him into unconsciousness。
They sat on the rolled…up sleeping bags and waited for the governor to wake up in the palmettos。
Augustine assumed； as men sometimes do when they've had a particularly glorious time； that he should apologize。
Bonnie Lamb said； 〃For what？ It was my idea。〃
〃No； no； no。 You're supposed to say it was all a terrible mistake。 You got carried away。 You don't know what got into you。 Now you feel rotten and cheap and used； and you want to rush home to your husband。〃
〃Actually I feel pretty terrific。〃
〃Me； too。〃 Augustine kissed her。 〃Forgive me； but I was raised Catholic。 I can't be sure I've had fun unless I feel guilty afterwards。〃
〃Oh； it's guilt you're talking about？ Sure I feel guilty。 So should you； allowing yourself to be seduced by a newlywed。〃 She stood up and stretched her arms。 〃However； Senor Herrera； there's a big difference between guilt and remorse。 I don't feel any remorse。〃
Augustine said； 〃Me； neither。 And I feel guilty that I don't。〃
Bonnie whooped and climbed on his back。 They rolled to the ground in an amorous tangle。
Skink came out of the thicket and smiled。 〃Animals！〃 he bellowed； evangelically。 〃No better than animals； rutting in public！〃
Bonnie and Augustine got up and brushed themselves off。 The governor was a sight。 Twigs and wet leaves stuck to his knotted hair。 Gossamer strands of a broken spider's web glistened from his chin。
He tromped melodramatically toward the campfire； shouting： 〃Fornicators！ Fellaters！ You ought to be ashamed！〃
Augustine winked at Bonnie Lamb。 〃That's one I hadn't thought of： shame。〃
〃Yeah； that's a killer。〃
The governor announced he had a tasty surprise for breakfast。 〃Your carnal frolics awoke me last night；〃 he said； 〃so I went walking the roads。〃
From his fatigues he produced two small； freshly skinned carcasses。 〃Who wants rabbit；〃 he asked； 〃and who wants the squirrel？〃
Later they doused the fire and loaded the truck。 Using the hand…drawn map that Augustine had been given by the helpful Margo and David； they located Calusa Drive with no difficulty。 The black Jeep Cherokee was parked halfway down the street； in front of a badly damaged house； the bawdy mud flaps were impossible to miss。 Skink told Augustine to keep driving。 They left the pickup half a mile away and backtracked on foot。
Bonnie Lamb noticed； uneasily； that Augustine wasn't carrying either the pistol or the dart rifle。 〃Scouting mission；〃 he explained。
They stayed off Calusa and approached on a parallel street； one block north。 When they got close； they cut through a yard and slipped into an abandoned house directly across from 15600。 From the broken window of a front bedroom； they had a clear view of the front door； the garage； the black Cherokee and two other cars in the driveway。
Margo and David were right。 Their stolen license plate had been removed from the Jeep。 Skink said： 〃Here's what happened。 After the guy beat up Brenda； he pulled the tag from the Cherokee and tossed it。 What's on there now probably came off that Chevy。〃
The car parked nearest to the garage was a late…model Caprice。 The license plate was missing。 The second car was a rusty barge of an Oldsmobile with a lacerated vinyl top and no hubcaps。 Augustine said it would be useful to know how many people were inside the house。 Skink grunted in assent。
Bonnie tried to guess what the next move would be。 Notifying the police； she surmised； was not in the governor's plans。 Looking around； she felt a stab of melancholy。 The room had belonged to a baby。 Gaily colored plastic toys were strewn on the floor； a sodden stuffed teddy bear lay facedown in a dank puddle of rainwater。 Mounted on the facing wall were wooden cutouts of popular Disney characters…Mickey Mouse； Donald Duck； Snow White。 Oddly； they made Bonnie Lamb think of her honeymoon and Max。 The first thing he'd bought at the Magic Kingdom was a Mickey golf cap。
I should've known then and there； she thought。 Bless his heart； he probably couldn't help it。
She got up to see the baby's crib。 A mobile of tropical butterflies； fastened to the rail； had been snapped at the stem。 The mattress was splotched with dark greenish mildew。 Shiny red ants trooped across the fuzzy pink blanket。 Bonnie wondered what had happened to the infant and her parents。 Surely they escaped before the roof blew off。
Augustine waved her back to the broken window。 Heart skipping； she knelt between the two men。 What am I doing？ Where is this heading？
Another car drives up to 15600 Calusa。 A white pact。
Man gets out。 Bony and clerical…looking。 Gray hair。 Brown windbreaker； loose dark trousers。 Reminds Bonnie of her landlord back in Chicago。 What was his name？ Wife taught piano。 What the heck was his name？
Standing by his car； the old man puts on a pair of reading glasses。 Looks at a piece of paper； then up at the numerals painted on the house。 Nods。 Takes off the glasses。 Tucks them in the left pocket of his windbreaker。 Pats the right pocket； as if checking for something。
Awfully hot for a jacket； Bonnie's thinking。 Summertime in Miami； how can a person be chilly？
〃Where does he fit？〃 said Augustine。
〃Contractor。 Utility worker。 Something like that；〃 Skink speculated。
Bonnie Lamb watches the old man straighten himself； stride purposefully to the doorway。 Into the house he goes。
Augustine said； 〃I thought I saw a woman。〃
〃Yes。〃 Skink scratched thoughtfully at his beard。
Creedlow！ Bonnie thinks。 That's the ex…landlord's name。 James Creedlow。 His wife； the piano teacher； her name was Regina。 Chicago wasn't so long ago…Bonnie feels ditzy for not remembering。 James and Regina Creedlow； of course。
Augustine said； 〃What now； captain？〃
Skink settled his bristly chin on the windowsill。 〃We wait。〃
Two hours later； the old man still hasn't e out of the house at 15600 Calusa Drive。 Bonnie's worried。
Then another car pulls up。
CHAPTER TWENTY
Neria Torres had no desire to drive all the way to Brooklyn in search of a thieving husband。
〃Then fly；〃 suggested Celeste； the graduate student who shared the Volkswagen van with Neria and Neria's lover； the professor。
The professor's name was Charles Gabler。 His field of interest was parapsychology。 〃Neria won't fly；〃 he said。 〃She's afraid to death of airplanes。〃
〃Wow；〃 said Celeste； cooking on a portable stove in the back of the van。 She was in charge of the macrobiotic menu。
Neria said； 〃It's not just the flying； it's Brooklyn。 How would I find Tony in a place like that？〃
〃I know how；〃 Celeste piped。 〃Hire a psychic。〃
〃Great idea。 We'll call Kreskin。〃
The professor said； 〃Neria； there's no need to be snide。〃
〃Oh yes； there is。〃
She and Dr Gabler had been sorely low of funds when he'd proposed that young Celeste join them a week earlier as they prepared to depart Eugene； Oregon； for Miami。 Young Celeste had been blessed with a fortable trust fund； a generous heart and handsome gravity…defying breasts。 Neria was under no illusions about the professor's motives； but she tried to put aside her concerns。 They needed gas money； and young Celeste kept a world of credit cards in her purse。 Somewhere near Salina； Kansas； Neria felt the need to inform Dr Gabler that he was paying too much attention to their travel panion； that his behavior was not only rude but disrespectful； and that the Great Plains in the heat of summer was no place to relearn the basics of hitchhiking。 The professor seemed to take the warning to heart。
In truth； Neria was growing bored with Dr Gabler and his absurd blue and red crystals。 Mystic healing； my ass…a box of Milk Duds starts to look pretty mystical； you smoke enough dope。 Which was how the professor spent most of his waking hours； sluggishly bequeathing the driving duties to Neria and Celeste。
〃I'd rather go to Miami anyway；〃 Celeste said； measuring out two cups of brown rice。 〃I'd like to work in one of those tent cities。 Cook for the homeless； if they need me。〃
The professor regarded Neria Torres through bloodshot hound…dog eyes。 〃Darling； it's entirely up to you。 We'll go wherever you wish。〃
〃Wow；〃 said Neria。 The mockery was lost on Celeste； who was immersed in a plex recipe。 Neria declared she was going for a walk； and exited the van。
They had parked at a public campground off Interstate 20； outside Atlanta； to discuss which way to go… New York or Miami； north or south。 Neria Torres replayed in her mind the upsetting conversation with the stranger who'd answered Tony's telephone。 The more Neria thought about it； the more doubts she had。 Not that her piggy husband wasn't capable of falling for a twenty…four…year…old blonde； rather； it was highly implausible that one would fall for him。 And Brooklyn？ Hardly a boomtown for the mobile…home trade。 The stranger's story didn't add up。
Neria Torres had tried to confirm the lurid details with Varga； the nosy next…door neighbor； but his telephone was out of order。 Neria was certain about two things： She was entitled to half the hurricane money for the house in Miami。 And her estranged husband was dodging her。
New York was an astronomic long shot。 At least in Florida there'd be a trail。 Neria decided they should head for Miami； as originally planned。
She thought of a way to widen the net： Why not let the cops search for Tony； too？ They were the pros； after all。 Neria backtracked through the campground to a phone booth； where she used her husband's PIN number to call the Metro…Dade police and make a missing…person report。
After a desk officer took the information； he put Neria Torres on hold。 She waited several minutes； growing increasingly impatient。 The sky began to drizzle。 Neria fumed。 She thought of