SKIN TIGHT by Carl Hiaasen

“Plane tickets,” Rudy sad. “I’m taking you on a trip.”

“Really?”

“To Costa Rica. The climate is ideal for your recovery.”

“For how long?”

Rudy said, “A month or two, maybe longer. As long as it takes, darling.”

“But I’m supposed to do a Password with Jack Klugman.”

“Out of the question,” said Rudy. “You’re in no condition for that type of stress. Now get some sleep.”

“What’s that noise?” she asked, lifting her head.

“The doorbell, sweetheart. Lie still now.”

“Costa Rica,” Heather murmured. “Where’s that, anyhow?”

Rudy kissed her on the forehead and told her he loved her.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Whoever was at the door was punching the button like it was a jukebox. Rudy hurried down the stairs and checked through the glass peephole.

Chemo signaled mirthlessly back at him.

“Shit.” Rudy sighed, thought of his Jaguar, and opened the door.

“Why did you destroy my car?”

“Teach you some manners,” Chemo said. Another bandaged woman stood at his side.

“Maggie?” Rudy Graveline said. “Is that you?”

Chemo led her by the hand into the big house. He found the living room and made himself comfortable in an antique rocking chair. Maggie Gonzalez sat on a white leather sofa. Her eyes, which were Rudy’s only clue to her mood, seemed cold and hostile.

Chemo said, “Getting jerked around is not my favorite thing. I ought to just kill you.”

“What good would that do?” Rudy said. He stepped closer to Maggie and asked, “Who did your face?”

“Leaper,” she said.

“Leonard Leaper? Up in New York? I heard he’s good—rriind if I look?”

“Yes,” she said, recoiling. “Rogelio, make him get away!”

“Rogelio?” Rudy looked quizzically at Chemo.

“It’s your fucking fault,” he said. “That’s the name you put on the tickets. Now leave her alone.” Chemo stopped rocking. He eyed Rudy Graveline as if he were a palmetto bug.

The surgeon sat near Maggie on the white leather sofa and said to Chemo, “So how’re the dermabrasions healing?”

Self-consciously the killer’s hand went to his chin. “All of a sudden you’re concerned about my face. Now that you’re afraid.”

“Well, you look good,” Rudy persisted. “Really, it’s a thousand percent improvement.”

“Jesus H. Christ.”

Irritably Maggie said, “Let’s get the point, okay? I want to get out of here.”

“The money,” Chemo said to the doctor. “We decided on one million, even.”

“For what!” Rudy was trying to stay cool, but his tone was trenchant.

Chemo started rocking again. “For everything,” he said. “For Maggie’s videotape. For Stranahan. For stopping that TV show about the dead girl. That’s worth a million dollars. In fact, the more I think about it, I’d say it’s worth two.”

Rudy folded his arms and said, “You do everything you just said, and I’ll gladly give you a million dollars. As of now, you get nothing but expenses because you haven’t done a damn thing but stir up trouble.”

“That’s not true,” Maggie snapped.

“We’ve been busy,” Chemo added. “We got a big surprise.”

Rudy said, “I’ve got a big surprise, too. A malpractice suit. And guess whose name is on the witness list?”

He jerked an accusing thumb at Maggie, who said, “That’s news to me.”

Rudy went on, “Some fellow named Nordstrom. Lost his eye in some freak accident and now it’s all my fault.”

Maggie said, “I never heard of a Nordstrom.”

“Well, your name is right there in the file. Witness for the plaintiff. Why should I pay you people a dime?”

“All the more reason,” Chemo said. “I believe it’s called hush money.”

“No,” said the doctor, “that’s not the way it goes.”

Chemo stood up from the rocker. He took two large steps across the living room and punched Rudy Graveline solidly in the gut. The doctor collapsed in a gagging heap on the Persian carpet. Chemo turned him over with one foot. Then he cranked up the Weed Whacker.

“Oh God,” cried Rudy, raising his hands to shield his eyes. Quickly Maggie moved out of the way, her facial bandages crinkled in trepidation.

“I got a new battery,” Chemo said. “A Die-Hard. Watch this.”

He started weed-whacking Rudy’s fine clothes. First he shredded the shirt and tie, then he tried trimming the curly brown hair on Rudy’s chest. The doctor yelped pitiably as nasty pink striations appeared beneath his nipples.