Carl Hiaasen - Flush

“What!”

“That's right, Noah.” She buried her nose in a tissue. “And I think it's all 'cause of your daddy and that gamblin' boat.”

I'd never been so close to a woman with a tattoo-or, I should say, a tattoo I could see for myself. Rado claimed that his older sister had gone off to college and gotten a tiny zebra butterfly tattooed on her butt. Thom and I had to take his word for this, since neither of us had ever seen enough of Rado's sister to confirm the story.

Strange as it sounds, the more I stared at the tattoo on Shelly's arm, the more natural it looked. The barbed wire definitely suited her personality.

“Relax. The pistol ain't real,” she said. “It's a lighter.”

When she pulled the trigger, a bright blue flame flared from the barrel.

“It looks pretty bad, though, huh? Bad enough to scare anybody tries to give me trouble,” Shelly said.

For more than an hour we'd been heading down the highway, obviously to nowhere in particular. Shelly kept saying she had more to tell me, but then she'd get worked up about Lice Peeking and what a “total zero” he was, and how she must be a fool to care about him. Afterward she'd cry and sniffle for a while, but just when I thought she had a grip on herself it would start all over again.

We were all the way to Sugarloaf Key before she turned the Jeep around and grumbled, “Where the heck was I goin'?” On the way back she pulled into the parking lot on the Marathon end of the old Seven Mile Bridge. The place was full of tourists who were tinkering with their cameras, getting ready to shoot pictures of the sunset. It was too cloudy for a green flash, and besides, I was too distracted to stand there and look for it.

“What makes you think Lice is… you know…”

“Dead? Number one, he hasn't called up beggin' to come home,” Shelly said, “which is totally not like him. Number two, none of his local party pals have heard from him, not a peep. Number three was that ugly bald gorilla who came to the trailer that night, and number four was the blood in my car.”

Again she pointed at the stain on the dashboard. I tried not to stare at it. Shelly being so worried made me worried, too.

“But who would kill him? And what's it got to do with my dad?” I asked.

She sighed impatiently. “Noah, you got any idea how much money Dusty Muleman makes off the Coral Queen ?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Between fifteen and twenty grand just from the casino tables,” she said. “Subtract the food for the customers, the pay for the crew, and he's still clearin' ten thousand, minimum, every night.”

“Dollars?” I couldn't believe it.

“Gambling is a mega-huge business, kid, because the world is crawlin' with suckers,” Shelly said. “Don't forget that Lice had a big mouth. Suppose he blabbed to somebody that he was gonna help your daddy, and suppose Dusty found out. He'd have a cow if he thought the feds were gonna rush in and shut down the Coral Queen. How far do you figure he'd go to stop that from happenin'? You're a smart boy, Noah, think about it.”

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to believe that Dusty Muleman had murdered Lice Peeking, all because my father had made a deal with Lice to get his testimony.

She said, “Don't worry, I'm still gonna keep my promise. I'm gonna help you clear your daddy's name.”

“But why?”

“Maybe 'cause it's the right thing to do. Or maybe 'cause now I've got a dog in this fight.”

“You want to nail Dusty, too.”

“If he hurt my man, you bet I do,” Shelly said. “If he harmed one hair on that lazy, worthless, lice-covered head…”

She was either tougher than I'd thought, or crazier than I'd thought.

“It's way too dangerous,” I told her. “Forget about it.”

“Too late.”

She stuck the gun-shaped cigarette lighter in the waist of her jeans and got out of the Jeep. She was still limping slightly from kicking the toilet bowl, but apparently her foot wasn't broken. I followed her onto the old bridge, where we leaned against the warped railing and looked down at the green-blue water ripping through the pilings. The sun was halfway gone, and all around us the cameras were clicking.

“What else did you want to tell me?” I asked Shelly.

“This morning I went to see Dusty.”

“Alone? That's nuts!”

“Noah, I used to live with the man. We were engaged to be married, for God's sake,” she said. “Anyhow, I asked could I have back my old bartending job on the Coral Queen. I gave a big sob story about Lice bailin' out on me, and how I was hurtin' for money.”

The breeze delivered a whiff of Shelly's tangerine perfume, which actually smelled pretty nice. I noticed she was wearing only two silver hoops in each ear, and I figured that maybe she'd pawned all the others, like her promise ring.

“Did Dusty give you the job?” I asked.

“Yup. I start tomorrow night.”

Shelly had guts, no doubt about it. She was going undercover to nail Dusty Muleman, the man she suspected of ordering her boyfriend killed. It was odd, but she looked more sad than scared.

I said, “Please don't do this. Stay away from that boat.”

“What if I told you I really did need the dough.”

“It's not worth it,” I heard myself say. “I don't want something bad happening to you, too.”

“Aw, nothing's gonna happen.” Now she sounded like the old Shelly, incredibly calm and sure of herself.

“If you're not afraid, how come you're carrying around that fake gun?” I asked.

“Good question.” She took the lighter out of her jeans and casually tossed it off the bridge. “I was gonna start smokin' again, but you just talked me out of it. Thanks, Noah.”

She smiled, and then did something totally outrageous. She leaned over and kissed the top of my head, the way Mom used to do when I was small. It was just a quick peck, but I felt my face turn red.

“My momma used to say, ‘Keep your friends close, girl, but keep your enemies closer,'” said Shelly. “Don't worry about me, Noah. I know how to handle Captain Muleman.”

A few of the tourists started clapping, which they sometimes do in the Keys at the moment the sun disappears over the horizon. Why, I've got no earthly idea. Sunset on the water ought to be a quiet and easy time, but I guess some people can't stand a little silence.

“Speaking of mommas,” Shelly said, “yours'll start freakin' out, we don't get you home pretty soon.”

That night, before bed, I took the rust dust out of my pocket and showed it to Abbey. I told her all about the bogus sewage tank at the boat dock; about Lice suddenly disappearing and the bloodstains in the Jeep; about Shelly going back to her old job on the Coral Queen to help us nail Dusty Muleman.

Abbey was her usual skeptical self. “You're saying that the same goon who grabbed me at the marina kidnapped Lice Peeking and snuffed him? No way.”

“It's a possibility,” I said.

“In Miami, yeah. But this is the Keys!”

When I told her how much money Dusty was making from the casino boat, Abbey's eyes widened.

“What if we went to the police and told them everything?” she asked excitedly.

“They'd think we're a couple of whack jobs. We need witnesses, Abbey, not just a hole in a sewer tank.”

“Does this Shelly person have a plan?”

“We're still working on it,” I said.

“ We? Oh, great.”

“Any ideas would be welcome.”

“Noah, this isn't a game,” my sister said. “If there's a killer out there-which I doubt, but if it's true-there's only one possible plan.”

“Which is?”

“We pack up and move to Canada immediately. You, me, Mom, Dad-we drive straight to Saskatchewan and move in with Grandpa Kenneth and Grandma Janet. Why are you looking at me like that?”