Carl Hiaasen – Double Whammy

Thomas Curl spit the nectarine pit into his soapy hand. “Yeah? They caught ’em yet?”

“No,” Gault said, “but the way things are shaping up, maybe it’s best if they don’t.”

“Hell you mean?”

Gault said, “This cop, fucking Cuban, he doesn’t believe a word I say.”

“Who cares, long as New Orleans believes you.”

“Ever heard of extradition?” Gault snapped. “This guy can cause us major problems, son. He can keep Decker away from the Louisiana people a long time. Sit on him for weeks, listen to his story, maybe even buy it.”

“No way,” Curl said.

“We can’t take the chance, Thomas.”

“I done enough for you.”

Gault said, ‘This one’s not for me, it’s for your brother.”

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.

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