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bassets jumpsuit； desert tan； his cap was off and his hair was blow…dried to perfection。 He was holding up a sixteen…ounce bottle of Happy Gland Fish Scent； and grinning。
〃Does that stuff really work？〃 Decker asked。 A bit off the point； but he was curious。
〃Hard to say；〃 Gault replied。 〃Stinks like a sack of dead cats； that's for sure。〃
He speeded the tape forward until he found the segment he'd been searching for。 He froze the picture as the angler in the bow of the boat hoisted a fat black bass to show the camera。
〃There！ Look now； pay attention！〃 Gault said。 Excitedly he shuffled on bare knees across the floor to the television screen； one of those custom five…foot monsters that eats up the whole wall。 〃There； Decker； look。 This fish is a ringer！〃
〃How can you tell？〃
〃See here； the eyes are flat。 Not cloudy yet； but flat as tile。 And the color's washed out of the flanks。 No vertical stripes； not a one。 Muck is the color of this fish。〃
〃It doesn't look too healthy；〃 Decker agreed。
〃Healthy？ Man； this fish is DOA。 Check the dorsal。 The guy is fanning the fins for the camera。 Why？ 'Cause they'd fold up otherwise。 This fish is de…fucking…ceased。〃
〃But they just showed the fisherman reeling it in；〃 Decker said。
〃Wrong。 Now watch。〃 Gault backed up the tape and replayed the fight。 The rod was bent； the water around the boat boiled and splashed…but the angles and the editing of the video made it impossible to see the actual size of the bass。 Until the fisherman lifted it for the camera。
〃That rookie caught a fish；〃 Gault said； 〃but not this fish。〃 He hit a button and rewound the tape。 〃Want to watch another one？〃
〃That won't be necessary；〃 Decker said。
〃You see how easy it is to cheat。〃
〃For a TV show； sure。〃
〃It's even easier in a tournament；〃 Gault said； 〃especially when your partner's in on it。 And the weighmaster too。 Not to mention the goddamn sponsors。〃 He went to the kitchen and came back with a beer for Decker and a fresh vodka…tonic for himself。
〃Tell me about what happened in Harney；〃 he said。
〃Met a guy named Skink；〃 Decker said。
Gault whistled and arched his eyebrows。 〃A real fruitbar。 I fished with him once on the St。 John's。〃
〃He's going to help me catch Lockhart。〃
〃Not on my nickel！〃 Gault protested。
〃I need him。〃
〃He's a maniac。〃
〃I don't think so。〃
〃He eats dead animals off the road！〃
〃Waste not； want not；〃 Decker said。 〃He's the only one up there I'd trust。 Without him I quit the case。〃
Gault folded his hands。 Decker drank his beer。
〃All right；〃 Gault said； 〃but be careful。 That guy's got Texas Tower written all over him； and neither of us wants to be there if he ever reaches the top。〃
What Gault meant was： If there's trouble； don't drag my name into it。
〃What else did you do？〃 he asked Decker。
〃Went to a funeral。〃
Gault licked his lower lip nervously。
〃Robert Clinch；〃 Decker said； 〃late of your hire。 Nice of you to tell me。〃
Gault toyed with the stack of fishing videotapes； pretending to organize them。 Without looking up； he asked； 〃Do they know what exactly happened？〃
〃The coroner says it was accidental。〃
Gault smiled thinly。 〃We know that's horseshit； don't we？ The only question in my mind is： How'd they do it？〃
Decker said； 〃My question is： Who？〃
〃Who？ Dickie Lockhart； that's who！〃 Gault said。 〃Don't be stupid； man。 Dickie knew I was closing in and he knew Bobby was working for me。 What do you mean…who？'
〃You're probably right；〃 Decker said； 〃but I'd like to be sure。〃
〃Haven't you been listening？ Christ； don't tell me I've hired a plete moron。〃
〃I met your sister；〃 Decker said。 He liked to save the best for last。
〃Elaine？〃 Gault said。 He looked most unfortable； just as Decker had expected。 It was worth the wait。
〃We had a nice chat；〃 Decker said。 He wanted Gault to be the one who finished the conversation。 He didn't want to be the one to take it any further； but he had to。 He needed to find out if Gault knew everything。
〃You didn't tell me a couple important things。 You didn't tell me about Clinch and you didn't tell me you had a sister up in Harney。〃 Decker's voice had the slightest sting of irritation。
〃She gets around； my sister。〃 Gault drained his glass。 His face was getting red。
Stubborn bastard； Decker thought； have it your way。
〃You knew she was having an affair with Bobby Clinch；〃 he said evenly。
〃Says who？〃 Gault snapped。 The red became deeper。
〃Lanie。〃
〃Lanie？〃
〃That's what they call her。〃
〃Oh； is it now？〃
〃Personally； I don't care if she's screwing the entire American Legion post；〃 Decker said； 〃but I need to know what you know。〃
〃You better shut your mouth； ace！〃 Gault's face was actually purple now。
Decker thought： We really hit a nerve here。 But from the murderous looks he was getting； he figured now wasn't the time to pursue it。 He got up and headed for the door but Gault grabbed his arm and snarled； 〃Wait just a minute。〃 Decker shook free and…rather gently； he thought…guided Gault backward until his butt hit the sofa。
〃Good…bye now；〃 Decker said。
But Gault had lost it。 He lunged and got Decker by the throat。 Gagging； Decker felt manicured fingernails digging into the meat of his neck。 He stared up the length of Gault's brown arms and saw every vein and tendon swollen。 The man's cheeks were flushed but his lips twitched like bloodless worms。
The two men toppled across the low sofa with Gault on top； amber eyeglasses askew。 He was spitting and hollering about what a shiteating punk Decker was； while Decker was trying to squirm free from the neckhold before he passed out。 His vision bloomed kaleidoscopic and his skull roared。 The blood in his head was trying to go south but Dennis Gault wouldn't let it。
A cardinal rule of being a successful private investigator is： Don't slug your own clients。 But sometimes exceptions had to be made。 Decker made one。 He released his fruitless grip on Gault's wrists and； in a clumsy but effective pincer motion； hammered him in the ribs with both fists。 As the wind exploded from Gault's lungs； Decker bucked him over and jumped on top。
Dennis Gault had figured R。 J。 Decker to be strong； but he was unprepared for the force now planted on his sternum。 As his own foolish rage subsided； he fearfully began to wonder if Decker was just getting warmed up。
Gault felt but never saw the two sharp punches that flattened his nose； shattered his designer frames； and closed one eye。 Later； when he awoke and dragged himself to the bathroom； he would marvel in the mirror that only two punches could have done so much damage。 He found a pail of ice cubes waiting on the nightstand； next to a bottle of aspirin。
And a handwritten note from R。 J。 Decker： 〃The fee is now one hundred； asshole。〃
Harney was such a small county that it was difficult to mount a serious high…school athletic program。 There was； after all； only one high school。 The enrollment fluctuated from about one hundred and seventy…five to two hundred and ten； so the pool of sports talent was relatively limited。 In those rare and precious years when Harney High fielded a winning team； the star athletes were encouraged to flunk a year or two in order to delay graduation and prolong the school's victory streak。 A few idealistic teachers spoke out against this unorthodox display of school spirit； but the truth was that many of the top jocks were D students anyway and had fully intended to spend six or seven years in high school。
Football was the sport that Harney loved most； unfortunately； the football team of Harney High had never piled a winning record。 One season； in desperation； they even scheduled three games against the wimpiest parochial schools in Duval County。 Harney lost every game。 The coach was fired； and moved out of town。
Consequently the Harney High athletic department decided to concentrate on another sport； basketball。 The first order of business was to build a gymnasium with a basketball court and some portable bleachers。 The second move was to send a cautious delegation of coaches and teachers into the black neighborhood to recruit some good basketball players。 A few old crackers in Harney huffed and swore about having to watch a bunch of skinny spooks tear up and down the court； and about how it wasn't fair to the good Christian white kids； but then it was pointed out that the good Christian white kids were mostly slow and fat and couldn't make a lay…up from a trampoline。
Once the basketball program was established； the team performed better than anyone had expected。 The first year it made it to the regionals； the next to the state playoffs in the Class Four…A division。 True； the star center of the Harney team was twenty…seven years old； but he looked much younger。 No one raised a peep。 As the team kept winning； basketball eventually captured Harney County's heart。
The Harney High basketball team was called the Armadillos。 It was not the first choice of names。 Originally the school had wanted its team to be the Rattlers； but a Class AA team in Orlando already claimed that nickname。 Second choice was the Bobcats； except that a Bible college in Leesburg had dibs on that one。 It went on like this for several months…the Tigers； the Hawks； the Panthers； all taken； the good names…until finally it came down to either the Owls or the Armadillos。 The school board voted to name the team the Owls since it had six fewer letters and the uniforms would be much less expensive； but the student body rebelled and gathered hundreds of signatures on a typed petition declaring that the Harney Owls was 〃a pussy name and nobody'll ever go to any of the damn games。〃 Without ment the school board reversed its vote。
Once the Harney Armadillos started kicking ass on the basketball court； the local alumnae decided that the school needed an actual mascot； something on the order of the famous San Diego Chicken； only cheaper。 Ideas were submitted in a local contest sponsored by the Sentinel； and a winner was chosen from sixteen entries。 Working on mission； one of the matrons from the Sewing Club stitched together an incredible costume out of old automobile seat covers and floormats。
It was a six…foot armadillo； plete with glossy armored haunches； a long anteater nose （salvaged from a Hoover canister vacuum）； and a scaly tail。
The mascot was to be known as Davey Dillo； and he would perform at each of the home games。 By custom he would appear before the opening tipoff； breakdancing to a tape of Michael Jackson's 〃Billie Jean。〃 Then at halftime Davey Dillo would stage a series of clumsy stunts on a skateboard； to whatever music the band had learned that week。
Davey Dillo's was not a polished act； but the youngsters （at least those under four） thought it was the funniest thing ever to hit the Harney gymnasium。 The grown…ups thought the man inside the armadillo costume had a lot of guts。
On the evening of January 12 the Harney Armadillos were all set to play the Valencia Cropdusters in a battle for first place in the mid…state Four…A division。 Inside the gymnasium sat two hundred fans； more than the coaches and cheerleaders had ever seen； so many fans that； when the national anthem was sung； it actually sounded on key。
The last words…〃home of the brave！〃…were Davey Dillo's regular cue to prance onto the basketball court and wave a single sequined glove on one of his armadillo paws。 Then he would start the dance。
But on this night the popular mascot did not appear。
After a few awkward moments somebody cut off the Michael Jackson tape and put on Ricky Scaggs； while the coaches ordered the players to search the gym。 In all two years of his existence； Davey Dillo had never missed a sporting event at Harney High （even the track and field）； so nobody knew what to think。 Soon the crowd； even the Valencia High fans； began to chant； 〃We want the Dillo！ We want the Dillo！〃
But Davey Dillo was not in the locker room suiting up。 He wasn't oiling the wheels on his skateboard。 He wasn't mending the pink…washcloth tongue of his armadillo costume。
Davey Dillo…rather； the man who created and portrayed Davey Dillo…was missing。
His identity was the worst…kept secret in Harney County。 It was Ott Pickney； of course。
R。 J。 Decker lived in a traile