Bud Schwartz decided he needed more time to think.
A new slide came up on the screen and he told Molly McNamara to wait a second. "Is that an endangered species, too?" he asked.
"Unfortunately not," Molly said. That's Francis X. Kingsbury, the man who's destroying the island."
Danny Pogue lifted his chin out of his hands and said, "Yeah? How?"
"Mr. Kingsbury is the founder and chief executive officer of the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills the so-called amusement park you boys raided the other day. It's a tourist trap, plain and simple. It brings traffic, garbage, litter, air pollution, effluent Kingsbury cares nothing about preserving the habitat. He's a developer."
The word came out as an epithet.
Bud Schwartz studied the jowly middle-aged face on the screen. Kingsbury was smiling, and you could tell it was killing him. His nose was so large that it seemed three-dimensional, a huge mottled tuber of some kind, looming out of the wall.
"Public enemy number one," said Molly. She glared at the picture on the screen. "Yes, indeed. The park is only a smokescreen. We've got reason to believe that Mr. Kingsbury holds the majority interest in a new golfing resort called Falcon Trace, which abuts the Amazing Kingdom. We have reason to believe that Kingsbury's intention is to eventually bulldoze every square inch of ocean waterfront. You know what that means?"
Danny Pogue pursed his lips. Bud Schwartz said nothing; he was trying to guess where the old coot was heading with this.
Molly said, "It means no more crocodiles, no more wood rats, no more swallowtail butterflies."
"No more butterflies?" Danny Pogue looked at her with genuine alarm. "What kinda bastard would do something like that?"
"This kind," said Molly, aiming a stern papery finger at the screen.
"But we can stop him, right?" Bud Schwartz was smiling.
"You can help, yes."
"How?" Danny Pogue demanded. "What do we do?"
Molly said, "I need to know the full extent of Mr. Kingsbury's financial involvement you see, there are legal avenues we could pursue, if only we knew." She flicked off the slide projector and turned on a pair of brass table lamps. "Unfortunately," she said, "Mr. Kingsbury is a very secretive man. Every document we've gotten, we've had to sue for. He is extremely wealthy and hires only the finest attorneys."
From his expression it was clear that Danny Pogue was struggling to keep up. "Go on," he said.
Bud Schwartz inhaled audibly, a reverse sigh. "Danny, we're burglars, remember? What do burglars do?"
Danny Pogue glanced at Molly McNamara, who said, "Your partner's got the right idea."
"Wait a second," said Danny Pogue. "More voles?"
"Jesus Christ, no," Bud Schwartz said. "No more voles."
By now he was planning ahead again, feeling better about his prospects. He was wondering about Francis X. Kingsbury's money, and thinking what a shame that a bunch of greedy lawyers should get so much of it, all for themselves.
TEN
Nina didn't believe him, not for a second.
"You were drinking. You opened your big fat mouth and somebody smacked you."
"No," Joe Winder said. "That's not what happened."
Well, the truth would only frighten her. He sat up and squinted brutally at the sunlight.
"I'm so disappointed in you," Nina said. She studied the bruises on his face, and not out of concern; she was looking for clues.
"I wasn't drinking," said Joe Winder. That much he had to assert, out of pride. "They were muggers, that's all."
Nina pointed to his wallet, which was on the dresser. "Muggers, Joe? Some muggers."
"A car scared them off."
She rolled her eyes. "You're only making it worse."
"What happened to trust?" Winder said. "What happened to true goddamn love?" He got out of bed and tested his legs. Nina watched reproachfully.
"I smell perfume," she said. "Did you bring a woman home last night?"
"No, a woman brought me. She saw me on Card Sound Road and wanted to go to the police. I told her to bring me here so I could be with the love of my life."
"Did you screw her?"
"Only six or seven times." He went to the bathroom and stuck his face under the shower and screamed at the top of his lungs, it hurt so bad. He screamed until his ears reverberated. Then he came out, dripping, and said: "Nina, be reasonable. Who'd make love with me, looking like this?"
"Not me."
"Not anybody. Besides, I was half blind. I probably would've stuck it in her ear by mistake."
Nina smiled. Finally.
Winder asked her who'd called so damn early. The phone is what woke him up.
"Your employer, Mr. Charles Chelsea. He wanted you to know there was a dead person hanging from the bridge this morning."
Joe Winder shuffled back to the shower. This time he stepped all the way in and braced his forehead against the tile. He made the water as hot as he could bear. Maybe the dead man was Angel, he thought, or maybe it was the big guy who'd saved him from Angel.
When Winder got out, Nina stood poised with a towel in her hand. She wore a white halter top and no panties. Winder took the towel and draped it over his head.
"Why do you do this to me," he mumbled.
"Did you hear what I said? About the dead man?" She peeled off the halter and climbed in the shower. "Did you save me some hot water? I've got to shave my legs." She turned the faucet handles and cursed the cold.
"Sorry," said Joe Winder. Raising his voice over the beating of the water: "So why is Chelsea calling me, just because there's some dead guy? The bridge is five miles from the Kingdom."
Nina didn't answer; just filed the question away and kept on shaving. Joe Winder sat down on the toilet and watched the fixtures fog up. Plenty of hot water, he thought; no problem.
When she came out, he remarked how beautiful she looked. "Like a sleek arctic seal."
"Oh stop it."
"Don't dry off, please. Don't ever dry off."
"Get your hand away from there." Nina slapped him sharply. "Put your clothes on. Chelsea's waiting at the office."
Joe Winder said, "I'm phoning in sick."
"No, you're not. You can't." She wrapped the towel around her hair and left the rest bare. "He wasn't calling about the dead person on the bridge, he was calling about the whale."
"Orky?"
Nina opened the bathroom door to let out the steamy humidity. Joe Winder impulsively clutched her around the waist. He pressed his cheek against her damp thigh, and began to hum the tune of "Poor Pitiful Me." Nina pried him loose and said, "I'm glad you don't get beat up every day."
Something was out of alignment in Winder's brain. He blinked three or four times, slowly, but even as the steam cleared it didn't go away. Double vision! The bastards had pounded him that badly. Nina's bare bottom appeared to him as four gleaming porcelain orbs.
Distractedly, he said, "Go on. Something about the whale?"
"Yes," said Nina. She stood before the mirror, checking her armpits for stubble. "Chelsea said the whale is dead."
"Hmmm," said Joe Winder. Orky the Killer Whale.
"And?" he said.
"And, I don't know." Nina stepped into her panties. "He said for you to come right away. He said it was an emergency."
"First let's go to bed." Winder came up behind her. In the mirror he saw two pairs of hands cupping two pairs of nipples. He saw two faces that looked just like his lumpy, lacerated, empurpled nuzzling the tan silky slopes of two feminine necks.
"All right, Joe," Nina said, turning around. "But I've got to be honest: I'm very disappointed in you "
"It wasn't what you think."
" and I'm only doing this because you're in pain." Mechanically Nina took his hand and led him toward the bed. She kicked off her underwear and unwrapped the towel from her hair. Winder was grinning like an idiot.
"I'm warning you," Nina said, "this isn't an act of passion, it's an act of pity."