He’d learned the trick while keeping house with the demented surgical intern, the one who ultimately knifed him in the shower. Whenever he found her gone, Augustine would touch the redial button to determine if she’d been phoning around town to score more Dilaudid, or pawn items stolen from his house. Before long he was able to recognize the voices of her various dope dealers and fences, before hanging up. In that way, the redial button had been a valuable tool for predicting his girlfriend’s moods and tracing missing property.
So he punched it now, to find out the last number dialed from 15600 Calusa before Skink and Bonnie disappeared. After three rings, a friendly female voice answered:
“Paradise Palms. Can I help you?”
Augustine hesitated. He knew of only one Paradise
Palms, a seaside motel down in Islamorada. He gave it a shot. “My brother just called a little while ago. From Miami.”
” Oh yes. Mister Horn’s friend.”
“Pardon me?”
“The owner. Mister Horn. Your brother’s name is Lester?”
“Right,” said Augustine, flying blind.
“He’s the only Miami booking we’ve had today. Did he want to cancel?”
“Oh no,” Augustine said. “No, I just want to make sure the reservation is all set. See, we’re supposed to surprise him down there-it’s his birthday tomorrow. We’re going to take him deep-sea fishing.”
The woman at the motel said the dolphin were hitting offshore, and advised him to try the docks at Bud ‘n’ Mary’s to arrange a charter. “Would you like me to call over there?”
“No, that’s all right.”
“Does Mister Horn know?”
“Know what?” said Augustine.
“That it’s Lester’s birthday. He’ll be so sorry he missed it-he’s in Tampa on business.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Augustine said. “I meant to ask-what time’s my brother getting in? So we can make sure everything’s arranged. You know, for the surprise party.”
“Of course. He told us to expect him late this afternoon.”
“That’s perfect.”
“And don’t you worry. I won’t say a word to spoil it.”
Augustine said, “Ma’am, I cannot thank you enough.”
After a day of inept drinking and arduous self-pity, Max Lamb took a flight from Guadalajara to Miami. There he intended to quit smoking, reclaim his brainwashed spouse and reconstruct his life. Another honeymoon was essential-but, this time, someplace far from Florida.
Hawaii, Max thought. Maybe even Australia.
His head was a cinder block. The tequila hangover fueled vivid, horrific dreams on the plane. Once he awakened clawing at an invisible shock collar, his neck on fire. In the nightmare it was Bonnie and not the kidnapper wielding the Tri-Tronics remote control, diabolically pushing the buttons. An hour later came another dream; again his wife. This time they were making love on the deck of an airboat, skimming across the Everglades under a blue porcelain sky. Bonnie was on top of him with her eyes half open, the sawgrass whipping her cheeks. Clinging to her bare shoulder was a monkey-the same psoriatic pest that Max had videotaped after the hurricane! In the dream, Max couldn’t see the face of the airboat driver, but believed it was the quiet young man who juggled skulls. As Bonnie bucked her hips, the vile monkey hung on like a tiny wrangler. Suddenly it rose on its hind legs to display a miniature pink erection. That’s when Max screamed and woke up. He was wide-eyed but calmer by the time the plane landed.
Then, at the Miami airport, his tequila phantasms were reignited by a newspaper headline:
Remains in Fox Hollow Identified as Mob Figure; Believed Mauled, Devoured by Escaped Cat
Max bought the paper and read the story in horror. A gangster named Ira Jackson had been gobbled by a wild lion that broke out of a wildlife farm during the storm. The gruesome details heightened the urgency of Max’s mission.
He arrived at Augustine’s home with a prepared speech and, if necessary, a legal threat. The lights were off. Nobody answered the door. In the absence of confrontation, Max was emboldened to slip around to the backyard.
The sliding glass door on the porch was unlocked. Inside the house, it was stuffy and warm. Max started the air conditioner and turned on every lamp he could find. He wanted to advertise his presence; he didn’t want -to be found creeping through the halls in darkness, like a common burglar.