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would be easier to go somewhere and start over without having to clean up the mess first. |
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Red reached back in his car and put on his sweat-soaked Bailey in the hope it would afford him some protection against the sun. The stench was everywhere. There were dead animals, dead birds, and even, like they had discovered at Pasquel Morgan's place, dead people. Unaware that he had already started to do it again, he found himself mentally trudging back through the list. There was Morgan, the two security guards at the island end of the bridge, the dock boy who had volunteered to ride out the storm at the Marinaand the bodies of the two young Mexicans. The last two were hard to figureone skinny, one fat. Their bloated bodies had been discovered wedged in the pilings along with the remains of their splintered skiff down by the public pier. What, Red wondered, could possibly have possessed the two young men to try to row across the inlet to the mainland in the teeth of an approaching hurricane? |
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The respite was over. The two men were walking toward him. He took a deep drag off his cigar and braced himself. It was only midmorning, but Red Gleason had already put in a full day. "What'cha got?" he asked. Merle was the one who had called him which in itself was unusual, because Merle was the |
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