The bum grinned again. He shook his head no, in a manner suggesting that Mr. Gash’s car wasn’t worth stealing.
Mr. Gash pointed at the opossum and said, “Your little pal got a name?”
“Yeah: Lunch. He got hit by a dirt bike.”
Mr. Gash thought the bum seemed oddly at ease, being interrogated by a stranger with a handgun.
“You didn’t answer my question, pops. Where’d you come from?”
The bum held up the book. “You should read this.”
“What is it?” Mr. Gash said.
“”The Comedians. By Graham Greene.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He would have enjoyed meeting you.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Mr. Gash took two steps toward the car. He was creeped out by the guy’s attitude, the nonchalant way he handled the dead opossum.
The bum said, “I’ll loan you my copy.”
Mr. Gash got in his car and started the engine. The bum came closer.
“Stop right there, pops.” Mr. Gash, whipping out the semiautomatic. The guy stopped. His weird red iris was aimed up toward the tree-tops, while his normal eye regarded Mr. Gash with a blank and unnerving indifference.
Mr. Gash waggled the gun barrel and said, “You never saw me, understand?”
“Sure.”
“Or the car.”
“Fine.”
“The fuck are you staring at?”
There it was again—that toothpaste-commercial smile.
“Nice hair,” the bum said to Mr. Gash.
“I ought to kill you, pops. Just for that I ought to shoot your sorry homeless ass… ”
But the bum in the homemade checkered skirt turned away. Toting his paperback book and his roadkill opossum, he slowly made his way into the pines, as if Mr. Gash wasn’t there; wasn’t pointing a loaded gun at his back, threatening to blow him away on the count of six.
Mr. Gash sped off, burning rubber. What a motherfreaking nutcase! he thought. I hate this place and I hate this job. A whole goddamn island full of troublemakers!
Mr. Gash turned on the tape and punched the rewind button.
Very soon, he reminded himself. Then I get to go home.
20
The first few times Twilly and Desie made love, McGuinn paid no attention; just curled up on the floor and snoozed. Then one night—the night they freed Palmer—the dog suddenly displayed a rambunctious interest in what was happening up on the mattress. Desie was on the verge of what promised to be a memorable moment when the bed frame heaved violently, and Twilly let out a groan that was notably devoid of rapture. All movement ceased, and the springs fell dolefully silent. Desie felt hot liver-biscuit breath on her cheeks and a crushing weight upon her chest. By the quavering glow of the motel-room television, she saw that the Labrador had leapt upon Twilly’s bare back and planted himself there, all 128 pounds. That alone would have distracted Twilly (who was nothing if not focused while in Desie’s embrace), but the dog had made himself impossible to ignore by clamping his jaws to the base of Twilly’s neck, as if snatching an unsuspecting jackrabbit.
“Bad boy,” Twilly scolded through clenched teeth.
McGuinn was not biting hard, and he didn’t seem angry or even agitated. He was, however, intent.
“Bad dog,” Twilly tried again.
Desie whispered, “I think he’s feeling left out.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Are you hurt?”
“Only my concentration,” Twilly said.
Desie released the headboard and slipped her arms around Twilly’s shoulders. She hooked her fingertips inside the Labrador’s cheeks and tugged gently. McGuinn compliantly let go. Ears pricked in curiosity, the huge dog stared down at Desie. She could hear his tail thwumping cheerfully against Twilly’s thighs.
“Good boy,” Twilly said, the words muffled by Desie’s right breast. “Wanna go for a w-a-l-k?”
McGuinn scrambled off the bed and bounded to the door. Desie used a corner of the top sheet to sop the dog slobber from Twilly’s neck, which also featured a detailed imprint of canine dentition.
“No bleeding,” Desie reported.
“How about hickeys?”
“Maybe he was having a bad dream.”
“Or a really good one.”
They tried again later, after McGuinn’s walk. They waited until they heard him snoring on the carpet near the television. This time it was Twilly whose promising climax got thwarted—the dog flew in out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of Twilly, and knocking Twilly out of Desie.