Native Tongue Part 51

Someone knocked twice on the office door and came ina"a short round man with thin brown hair and small black eyes. A hideous polyester-blend s.h.i.+rt identified him as a valued customer. Pinned diagonally across the man's chest was a wrinkled streamer that said "OUR FIVE-MILLIONTH SPECIAL GUEST!" In the crook of each arm sat a stuffed toy animal with reddish fur, pipestem whiskers and a merry turquoise tongue.

Vance and Violet Vole.

"For my nieces," the man explained. "I got so much free stuff I can hardly fit it in the car."

Kingsbury smiled stiffly. "The big winner, right? That's you."

"Yeah, my wife can't f.u.c.kin" believe it."

"Didn't you hear it, the fire alarm? Everybody else, I mean, off they went."

"But I didn't see no fire," the man said. "No smoke, neither." He arranged the stuffed animals side by side on Kingsbury's sofa.

The guy's a total yutz, Kingsbury thought. Does he want my autograph or what? Maybe a snapshot with the big cheese.

"What's that you got there?" the man asked. "By the way, the name's Rossiter." He nodded toward a plaid travel bag that lay open on Kingsbury's desk. The bag was full of cash, mostly twenties and fifties.

The man said, "Looks like I wasn't the only one had a lucky day."

Kingsbury snapped the bag closed. I'm very busy, Mr. Rossiter. What's the problema"something with the new car, right? The color doesn't match your wife's eyes or whatever."

"No, the car's great. I got no complaints about the car."

Then what?" Kingsbury said. "The parade, I bet. That last song, I swear to Christ, I don't know where that s.h.i.+t came froma""

"You kiddin' me? It was beautiful. It was Puccini."

Kingsbury threw up his hands. "Whatever. Not to be rude, but what the f.u.c.k do you want?"

The man said, "I got a confession to make. I cheated a little this morning." He shrugged sheepishly. "I cut in line so we could be the first ones through the gate. That's how I won the car."

It figures, thought Kingsbury. Your basic South Florida clientele.

The man said, "I felt kinda lousy, but what the h.e.l.l. Opportunity knocks, right? I mean, since I had to be here anywaya""

"Mr. Rossiter, do I look like a priest? All this stuff, I don't need to hear ita""

"Hey, call me Lou," the man said, "and I'll call you Frankie." From his Sansibelt slacks he withdrew a.38-caliber pistol with a silencer.

Francis Kingsbury's cheeks went from pink to gray. "Don't tell me," he said.

"Yeah," said Lou, "can you believe it?"

THIRTY-SIX.

Francis X. Kingsbury asked the hit man not to shoot.

"Save your breath," said Lou.

"But, look, a fantastic new world I built here. A place for little tykes, you saw for yourselfa"roller coasters and clowns and talking animals. Petey Possum and so forth. I did all this myself."

"What a guy," said Lou.

Kingsbury was unaccustomed to such bald sarcasm. "Maybe I make a little dough off the operation, so what? Look at all the f.u.c.king happiness I bring people!"

"I enjoyed myself," Lou admitted. "My wife, she's crazy about the Twirling Teacups. She and her mother both. I almost spit up on the d.a.m.n thing, to be honest, but my wife's got one a them cast-iron stomachs."

Kingsbury brightened. "The Twirling Teacups, I designed those myself. The entire ride from scratch."

"No s.h.i.+t?"

The hit man seemed to soften, and Kingsbury sensed an opening. "Look, I got an idea about paying back the Zubonis. It's a big construction deal, we're talking millions. They'd be nuts to pa.s.s it upa"can you make a phone call? Tell 'em it's once in a lifetime."

Lou said, "Naw, I don't think so."

"Florida waterfronta"that's all you gotta say. Florida f.u.c.king waterfront, and they'll be on the next plane from Newark, I promise."

"You're a good salesman," said the hit man, "but I got a contract."

Kingsbury nudged the plaid travel bag across the desk. "My old lady, she wanted me to go on a tripa"Europe, the whole nine yards. I was thinking why not, just for a couple months. She's never been there."

Lou nodded. "Now's a good time to go. The crowds aren't so bad."

"Anyhow, I emptied the cash registers after the parade." Kingsbury patted the travel bag. "This is just from ticket sales, not concessions, and still you're talking three hundred and forty thousand. Cash-ola."

"Yeah? That's some vacation, three hundred forty grand."

"And it's all yours if you forget about the contract."

"h.e.l.l," said Lou, "it's mine if I don't."

Outside there was a bang, followed by a hot crackling roar. When Kingsbury spun his chair toward the window, his face was bathed in flickering yellow light.

"Lord," he said.

The Wet w.i.l.l.y was on firea"hundreds of feet of billowed latex, squirming and thras.h.i.+ng like an eel on a griddle. White sparks and flaming bits of rubber hissed into the tropical sky, and came down as incendiary rain upon the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills. Smaller fires began to break out everywhere.

Francis Kingsbury s.h.i.+vered under his hairpiece.

Lou went to the window and watched the Wet w.i.l.l.y burn. "You know what it looks like?"

"Yes," Kingsbury said.

"A giant Trojan."

"I know."

"It ain't up to code, that's for sure. You must've greased some county inspectors."

"Another good guess," Kingsbury said. Why did the alarm cut off? he wondered. Where did all the firemen go?

Lou farted placidly as he walked back to the desk. "Well, I better get a move on."

Kingsbury tried to hand him the telephone. "Please," he begged, "call the Zuboni brothers."

"A deal's a deal," Lou said, checking the fit of the silencer.

"But you saw for yourself!" Kingsbury cried. "Another five years, G.o.dd.a.m.n, I'll be bigger than Disney."

Lou looked doubtful. "I wasn't gonna say anything, but what the h.e.l.l. The car and the prizes are great, don't get me wrong, but the park's got a long ways to go."

Petulantly, Kingsbury said, "Fine, let's hear it."

"It's the bathrooms," said Lou. "The f.u.c.kin" Port Authority's got cleaner bathrooms."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, and it wouldn't hurt to keep an extra roll a toilet paper in the stalls."

"Is that it? That's your big gripe?"

Lou said, "People notice them things, they really do." Then he stepped toward Francis X. Kingsbury and raised the pistol.

Joe Winder led her through the dense hammock, all the way to the ocean's edge. It took nearly an hour because Carrie wore high heels. The gown kept snagging on branches, and the insects were murder.

"I'm down two pints," she said, scratching at her ankles.

"Take off the shoes. Hurry." He held her hand and waded into the water.

"Joe!" The gown rose up around her hips; the sequins sparkled like tiny minnows.

"How deep are we going?" she asked.

At first the turtle gra.s.s tickled her toes, then it began to sting. Winder kept walking until the water was up to his chest.

"See? No more bugs."

"You're full of tricks," Carrie said, clinging to his arm. From the flats it was possible to see the entire curving sh.o.r.e of the island, including the naked gash made by the bulldozers at Falcon Trace. She asked if the trees would ever come back.

"Someday," Joe Winder said, "if the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds leave it alone."

Stretching toward the horizon was a ribbon of lights from the cars sitting b.u.mper-to-b.u.mper on County Road 905a"the exodus of tourists from the Amazing Kingdom. Winder wondered if Skink had waited long enough to make his big move.

He listened for the distant sound of sirens as he moved through the shallows, following the sh.o.r.eline south. The warm hug of the tide soothed the pain in his chest. He pointed at a pair of spotted leopard rays, pus.h.i.+ng twin wakes.

"What else do you see?" Carrie said.

"Turtles. Jellyfish. A pretty girl with no shoes." He kissed her on the neck.

"How far can we go like this?" she asked.

"Big Pine, Little Torch, all the way to Key West if you want."

She laughed. "Joe, that's a hundred miles." She kicked playfully into the deeper water. "It feels so good."

"You sang beautifully tonight. Watch out for the coral."

When Carrie stood up, the water came to her chin. Blowing bubbles, she said, "I didn't know you liked opera."

"I hate opera," Winder said, "but you made it wonderful."

She splashed after him, but he swam away.

They didn't leave the ocean until the road was clear and the island was dark. They agreed it would be best to get out of Monroe County for a while, so they took Card Sound Road toward the mainland. The pavement felt cool under their feet. They wanted to hold hands, but it hampered their ability to defend themselves against the swarming mosquitoes. Every few minutes Winder would stop walking and check the sky for a change in the light. One time he was sure he heard a helicopter.

Carrie said, "What's your feeling about all this?"

"Meaning Kingsbury and the whole mess."

"Exactly."

"There's thousands more where he came from."

"Oh, brother," Carrie said. "I was hoping you'd gotten it all out of your system."

"Never," said Winder, "but I'm open to suggestions."

"All right, here's one: Orlando."

"G.o.d help us."

"Now wait a second, Joe. They're shooting commercials at those new studios up there. I've got my first audition lined up for next week."

"What kind of commercial?"

"The point is, it's national exposure."

"Promise me something," Winder said. "Promise it's not one of those personal-hygiene products."

"Fabric softener. The script's not bad, all things considered."

"And will there be singing?"