ch.doublewhammy-第52章
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ht probably he had been hired for just that reason…to fill some stupid minority handicap quota。 Shawn Curl decided he'd better be civil； or else the big spade might snitch on him to the Fish and Game Department for the way the wild animals were being treated。
〃What ken we do you for； officer？〃
Jim Tile stood at the counter eyeing a display of bootleg Mickey Mouse dolls。 Each stuffed Mickey had a Confederate flag poking out of its paw。 Jim Tile picked up one of the Mickeys and turned it over。
〃 'Made in Thailand；' 〃 he read aloud。
Shawn Curl coughed nervously。
〃Nine…fifty for one of these？〃 the trooper asked。
Shawn Curl said； 〃Not for you。 For you； half…price。〃
〃A discount；〃 Jim Tile said。
〃For all peace officers； yessir。 That's our standard discount。〃
Jim Tile put the mouse doll back on the counter and said； 〃Does Disney know you're selling this crap？〃
Shawn Curl worked his jaw sideways。 〃Far as I know it's all legal； officer。〃
Jim Tile looked around the gift shop。 〃They could sue you for everything；〃 he said； 〃such as it is。〃
〃Hey； I ain't dune nuthin' nobody else ain't dune。〃
After scanning the shelves…cluttered with painted coconut heads； rubber alligators； chipped conch shells； bathtub sharks； and other made…for…Florida rubbish…Jim Tile's disapproving brown eyes settled again on the bogus Mickey Mouse doll。 〃The Disney people；〃 he said； 〃they won't go for this。 That rebel flag is enough to get their lawyers all excited。〃
Exasperated； Shawn Curl puffed out his cheeks。 〃Who sent you here； anyway？〃
〃I'm looking for young Thomas。〃
〃He ain't here。〃
The trooper said； 〃Tell me where I can find him。〃
〃S'pose you got a warrant。〃
〃What I got；〃 said Jim Tile； 〃is his uncle。 By the balls。〃
A family of tourists walked in； the kids darting underfoot while the mother eyed the merchandise uneasily。 The father peered tentatively at the zoo grounds through a window behind the cash register。 Jim Tile guessed they wouldn't stay long。 They didn't。 〃Raccoons； that's all；〃 the father had reported back to his wife。 〃We've got zillions of raccoons back in Michigan。〃
When they were alone again； Jim Tile said； 〃Shawn； give me your nephew's address in New Orleans。 Right now。〃
〃I'll give it to you；〃 Shawn Curl said； scribbling on the back of a postcard； 〃but he ain't there。〃
〃Where can I find him？〃
〃Last time he e through he was on his way to Miami。〃
〃When was that？〃
〃Few days ago；〃 said Shawn Curl。
〃Where's he staying？〃
〃Some big hotel。〃
〃You're a big help； Shawn。 I guess I'll have to call Disney headquarters after all。〃
Shawn Curl didn't like that word。 Headquarters。 In a sulky voice he said； 〃The hotel is the Grand Biscayne Something。 I don't remember the whole name。〃
〃Why was Thomas going down to Miami？〃
〃Business； he said。〃
〃What business is he in？〃
Shawn Curl shrugged。 〃Promotion is what he calls it。〃
Jim Tile said； 〃I couldn't help but notice that big Oldsmobile out front； the blue Niney…Eight。 It looks brand…new。〃
Warily Shawn Curl looked at the trooper。 〃No； I had it awhile。〃
〃Still got the sticker in the window；〃 Jim Tile remarked； 〃and the paper license tag from the dealer。〃
〃So？〃
〃Did Thomas give you that new car？〃
Shawn Curl drew a deep breath。 What was the world ing to； that a nigger could talk to him like this？ 〃Maybe he did give it to me；〃 Shawn Curl said。 〃There's no law 'ginst it。〃
〃No； there isn't；〃 Jim Tile said。 He thanked Shawn Curl for his time； and walked toward the door。 〃By the way；〃 the trooper said； 〃that lion's humping one of your llamas。〃
〃Shit；〃 said Shawn Curl； scrambling to find his pitchfork。
The three boys went to the high…school basketball game but they didn't stay long。 Kyle； the one with the phony drivers license； had three six…packs in the trunk； along with his stepfather's 。22…caliber rifle。 Jeff and Cole； both of whom were on the verge of flunking out anyway； cared even less about high…school basketball than Kyle。 The game was just their excuse to get out of the house； something to tell the parents。 The teenagers left before the first half was over。 Kyle drove to the usual spot； a county dumpsite miles west of the city； and there they gulped down the six…packs while plinking bottles； soda cans； and the occasional hapless rat。 Once the beer and ammunition were used up； there was only one thing left to do。 Jeff and Cole called it 〃bum…bashing；〃 though it was Kyle； the biggest one； who claimed to have invented both the phrase and the sport。 That's what everyone at the high school said； anyway： It must have been Kyle's idea。
Every winter transients flock to Florida as sure as the tourists and turkey buzzards。 Their numbers are not so great； but often they are more visible； sleeping in the parks and public libraries； panhandling the street corners。 The weather is so mild that there is almost no outdoor place that a bum would find uninhabitable in southern Florida。 Paradise is how many of them would describe it。 Some towns address the problem with less tolerance than others （Palm Beach； for example； where loitering is treated the same as ax…murder）； but usually the bums get by with little fear of incarceration。 The reason is simple； and in it lies another prime attraction for the nation's wandering winos： there is no room for them in South Florida's jails because the jails already are too crowded with dangerous criminals。
Beginning in late December； then； the transients start appearing on the streets。 Rootless； solitary； and unwele； they are ideal victims for the randomly violent。 Kyle and his high…school friends discovered this the very first time。 On a five…dollar bet from Cole； Kyle slugged a wino under a bridge。 The boys ran away； but nothing happened。 Of course the transient never reported the attack…the local cops would have laughed in his face。 A week later the teenagers tried it again when they discovered an old longhair sleeping on a golf course in Boca Raton。 This time Jeff and Cole pitched in； while Kyle added a few whacks with his stepfather's four…iron。 This time when they ran away； the kids were laughing。
Soon bum…bashing became part of the weekly recreation； a thrill； something to do。 The boys were easily bored and not all that popular at school； shunned by the jocks； dopers； and surfers alike。 So whenever Kyle could get the car and swipe some beer money； Jeff and Cole were raring to go。 Shooting the rifle always seemed to put them in the right mood。
As soon as they left the dump they started scouting for bums to bash。 It was Jeff who spotted the guy curled up beneath the Turnpike overpass。 Kyle drove by once； turned the car around； and drove past again。 This time he parked fifty yards down the road。 The three teenagers got out and walked back。 Kyle liked the way it was shaping up…a dark stretch of highway with practically no traffic。
Skink was nearly asleep； stretched out halfway up the concrete embankment and faced away from the road。 He heard someone ing； but assumed it was only Decker and the Cuban detective。 As the men got closer； their footsteps did not alarm Skink nearly so much as their whispering。 He was turning over to take a look just as Kyle ran up and kicked him brutally in the head。
Skink rolled down the embankment and lay still； facedown on the flat ground。
〃Hey； Mr。 Hobo；〃 said Kyle； 〃sorry I busted your shades。〃 He held up the broken sunglasses for the others to see。
Jeff and Cole each took a turn kicking Skink in the ribs。 〃I like his outfit；〃 Jeff said。 He was a bony kid with volcanic pustular acne。 〃This'd be great for hunting；〃 he said； fingering the rainsuit。
〃Then take it；〃 Kyle said。
〃Yeah； go ahead；〃 Cole said； 〃even though it's about ten sizes too big。〃
〃You'll look like an orange tepee；〃 Kyle teased。
Jeff knelt and tried to roll Skink on his back。 〃He's a big sumbitch；〃 he said。 〃Gimme a hand。〃
They turned Skink over and stripped him。
〃He looks dead；〃 Cole remarked。
〃Check out the ponytail；〃 Jeff said。 He had climbed into Skink's enormous rainsuit。 The hood flopped down over his eyes； and the legs and arms were way too long。 The other boys laughed as Jeff did a little jig under the highway bridge。 〃I'm Mr。 Ho
