“And I suppose you need to be here.”
“Yeah, damn right. It’s my park and my show. And know what else? You can’t make me go anywhere. I kept my end of the deal. I’m free and clear of you people.”
“You’re still on probation,” said the marshal. “But you’re right, we can’t force you to go anyplace. This visit is a courtesy—”
“And I appreciate the information. I just don’t happen to believe it.” But a part of Francis Kingsbury did believe it. What if the men who stole his files had given up on the idea of blackmail? What if the damn burglars had somehow made touch with the Gotti organization? It strained Kingsbury’s imagination because they’d seemed like such jittery putzes that night at the house. Yet perhaps he’d misjudged them.
“Where’d you get the tip?” he demanded.
Agent Donner was briefly distracted by the cartoon depiction of rodent fellatio that adorned Kingsbury’s forearm. Eventually the marshal looked up and said, “It surfaced during another investigation. I can’t go into details.”
“But, really, you guys think it’s on the level? You think some guineas are coming after me?” Kingsbury struggled to maintain an air of amused skepticism.
Soberly the marshal said, “The FBI is checking it out.”
“Well, regardless, I’m not going to Montana. Just thinking about it hurts my mucous membranes—I got the world’s worst hay fever.”
“So your mind is made up.”
“Yep,” said Kingsbury. “I’m staying put.”
“Then let us provide you with protection here at the park. A couple of men, at least.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I got Pedro.”
At the mention of his name, Pedro Luz’s swollen eyelids parted. He reached up and squeezed the IV bag. Then he tugged the tube out of the needle in his arm, and fitted the end into the corner of his mouth. The sound of energetic sucking filled Francis Kingsbury’s office.
Agent Donner was dumbfounded. In a brittle voice he assured Kingsbury that the marshals would be extremely discreet, and would in no way interfere with the Summerfest Jubilee events. Kingsbury, in a tone approaching politeness, declined the offer of bodyguards. The last thing he needed was federal dicks nosing around the Amazing Kingdom.
“Besides, like I mentioned, there’s Pedro. He’s as tough as they come.”
“All right,” said Agent Donner, casting his eyes once again on the distended, scarified, cataleptic, polyp-headed mass that was Pedro Luz.
Kingsbury said, “I know what you’re thinking but, hell, he’s worth ten of yours. Twenty of yours! Any sonofabitch that would bite off his own damn leg—you tell me, is that tough or what?”
The marshal rose stiffly to leave. “Tough isn’t the word for it,” he said.
The trailer fire had left Carrie Lanier with only three possessions: her Buick Electra, the gun she had taken from Joe Winder and the newly retired raccoon suit. The costume and the gun had been stowed in the trunk of the car. Everything else had been destroyed in the blaze.
Molly McNamara offered her a bedroom on the second floor of the old house. “I’d loan you the condo but the cleaners are in this week,” Molly said. “It’s hard to rent out a place with bloodstains in the carpet.”
“What about Joe?” Carrie said, “I’d like him to stay with me.”
Molly clucked. “Young lady, I really can’t approve. Two unmarried people—”
“But under the circumstances,” Carrie persisted, “with all that’s happened.”
“Oh…I suppose it’s all right.” Molly had a sparkle in her eyes. “I was teasing, darling. Besides, you act as if you’re in love.”
Carrie said it was a long shot. “We’re both very goal-oriented, and very stubborn. I’m not sure we’re heading in the same direction.” She paused and looked away. “He doesn’t seem to fit anywhere.”
“You wouldn’t want him if he did,” Molly said. “The world is full of nice boring young men. The crazy ones are hard to find and harder to keep, but it’s worth it.”
“Your husband was like that?”
“Yes. My lovers, too.”
“But crazy isn’t the word for it, is it?”
Molly smiled pensively. “You’re a smart cookie.”
“Did you know that Joe’s father built Seashell Estates?”
“Oh dear,” Molly said. A dreadful project: six thousand units on eight hundred acres, plus a golf course. Wiped out an egret rookery. A mangrove estuary. And too late it was discovered “that the fairways were leaching fertilizer and pesticides directly into the waters of Biscayne Bay.