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Nell Bellamy sat down； neat and plump； in a chair by the window。 〃Oh； Teddy；〃 she said softly。
At that moment Brian Keyes could have murdered Skip Wiley； could have grabbed his wild blond mane and snapped his neck。 In his derangement Wiley had e to see his own life as a headline； getting bigger and more sensational each day。 Everything El Fuego said and did； or ordered done； was devised with one test： how it would look in print。 Sparky Harper gagging on a rubber alligator； for instance…masterful； in a way。 For days Keyes had been thinking about Wiley's macabre front…page reality。 Now he thought： Skip ought to be here to watch this woman cry。
〃I think it was the same people who stabbed me；〃 Keyes said。 〃They're very dangerous； Mrs。 Bellamy。 They're fanatical。〃
〃The Nachos？〃 Nell Bellamy asked。 〃But why would they kill my husband？ He's just a realtor。〃
〃They're killing off tourists；〃 Keyes said。
Nell nodded as if she understood； as if Florida was finally making sense。 〃Well； the police warned me not to believe the newspaper。〃
〃The police are wrong； Mrs。 Bellamy。〃
〃A detective told me Teddy must've drowned。 He said there's no such thing as The Nachos。〃
〃They had Teddy's swimming trunks；〃 Keyes said。
〃Oh no；〃 Nell said； stricken。 〃What did they do to him？ I mean； how 。。。 ？〃
Keyes felt terrible。 He held out his hand and Nell Bellamy took it。 〃They told me it was quick and painless；〃 he said。 〃I'm very sorry。〃
From nowhere Nell produced a handful of pink Kleenexes and dabbed at her eyes。 〃You're a brave man； Mr。 Keyes。 Risking your life the way you did。〃 She posed herself and took a paisley checkbook from her purse。 〃How much do I owe you？〃
〃Put that away；〃 Keyes said。 〃Please； Mrs。 Bellamy。〃
〃You're very kind。〃
No； I'm not； Keyes said to himself。
〃Is there any chance；〃 Mrs。 Bellamy said； 〃of finding Teddy's body？〃
〃None；〃 said Keyes； thinking of Pavlov the crocodile。
The door opened and the two beefy Shriners came into the room。 They wore business suits and mauve fez hats。
〃You're a popular fellow；〃 Burt the Shriner said。 〃Lots of visitors。 Mr。 Mulcahy from the newspaper was here。 So was Detective Keefe。 Later there was a Sergeant Garcia； kind of a rude fellow。 Also some television types asking for an interview。 One of those Live…Eye jobs。〃
〃We told them to e back another day；〃 said the Shriner named James； 〃when you were up to snuff。〃
〃I asked Burt and James to keep an eye on the door；〃 Nell Bellamy explained。 〃Hope you don't mind。〃
〃Not at all。 Thank you。〃 Keyes knew what Garcia and the other visitors had wanted： a firsthand account of his noche with Las Noches。 Cab Mulcahy doubtlessly had figured out the Wiley connection。 Keyes wondered what the old boy would do now。
〃We knew it'd be like Grand Central Station up here after that newspaper article；〃 Burt said。 〃We thought you'd appreciate a little peace and quiet。〃 He looked at Mrs。 Bellamy and said； 〃So what's the verdict； Nellie？〃
〃Mr。 Keyes said the newspaper was right。〃
〃Slavic murderers！ Wearing wigs！〃
〃No；〃 Brian Keyes said。 〃That part was wrong。〃
〃But the part about Ted being killed； that was true；〃 Nell told the Shriners。 They stole his bathing trunks。〃
〃Lord God；〃 Burt said； 〃those bastards。〃
James put a meaty arm around Nell Bellamy's shoulders and she went for the Kleenex again。
Burt waited a decent interval； than asked： 〃What are the chances that the police will catch these people？〃
〃Fifty…fifty；〃 Keyes replied； without conviction。
〃Not good enough；〃 James said。
〃Piss poor；〃 Burt concurred。 Mr。 Keyes； what's your timetable？ Are you going to stick with this case？〃
〃Absolutely。〃
〃Good。 We'd like to tag along。〃
〃Nellie's going back to Evanston；〃 James said protectively。 〃Tonight。〃
〃But not us； sir； we have a score to settle；〃 Burt declared。 〃What about it； Mr。 Keyes？ We're not professionals； not like you； but we can take care of ourselves。 I'm pretty good with a handgun…〃
〃Pretty good！〃 James interjected。 〃Jeez。〃
〃And James himself has some martial…arts experience。 Black belt； yellow belt； you name it。 Plus a pilot's license。 What about it； Mr。 Keyes； think you could use some help？〃
Well hell； thought Brian Keyes； why not？
〃I'd be grateful；〃 Keyes told them。
〃Good； then it's settled。〃
〃Just one thing。〃
〃Yes； Mr。 Keyes？〃
〃About those hats。 You have to wear them all the time？〃
There was an awkward moment of silence； as if Keyes had breached some sacred Shriner wont。 Burt and James glanced at one another； and even Nell Bellamy looked up； her face mostly hidden by a mask of pink tissue。
〃It's a fez；〃 Burt said； touching the purple crown。 〃What about it？〃
〃Would you like one？〃 James offered。 〃Maybe without a tassel。〃
〃Never mind；〃 Keyes said。 He pressed the button to ring for a nurse。 It was time to check out。
The annual petition for Miami's Orange Bowl queen had attracted the usual chorus line of debutantes； fashion models； ex…cheerleaders； and slick sorority tarts。
Jesus Bernal； who'd spent the whole day building a bomb； was overwhelmed。 As far as he was concerned； this was a dandy way to take your mind off plastique。
〃You ever seen this much pussy？〃 he asked Viceroy Wilson。
〃Sure；〃 Wilson said。 〃Dallas。 Super Bowl Eight。〃
Two touchdowns； three blow…jobs； and a cowgirl sandwich。 God； he was such a lowlife in those days。 All hard…on； no purpose。 Wilson shook his head at the memory and lighted a joint。
〃Not here！〃 Bernal snapped。 〃Remember； we're supposed to be security guards。〃
〃Well； I feel so secure I'm gonna smoke some weed。〃
They stood in darkness at the rear of the Civic Center。 The stage was bathed in kliegs。 It was dress rehearsal and the auditorium was empty； except for a skeleton orchestra； some TV technicians； and the contestants themselves。 The women milled onstage； tugging at their gumdrop…colored swimsuits and poofing their hair。 The air conditioning was running full blast； and Jesus Bernal had never seen so many erect nipples in one congregation。
〃The fourth one from the left；〃 Bernal said。 〃Her name is Maria。〃
〃No way；〃 said Viceroy Wilson。 He really couldn't see a damn thing with the sunglasses on。
〃How about the redhead？ Rory McWhat's…her…face。〃
〃Forget it； Hay…zoos。 She don't have a prayer。 Freckles look rotten on TV。〃
〃She made it to the semifinals；〃 Bernal said。
〃Sympathy vote。 Mark my words。〃
Viceroy Wilson was having as good a time as his abstemious revolutionary ethic would allow。 Whenever Wilson found himself distracted by lust； he sublimated rigorously。 And whenever he sublimated； he was struck by a vestigial urge to run with a football。 Right now he wanted to run down the center aisle； hurdle onstage； and steamroller the emcee。 The emcee had a voice that could take the paint off your car。
〃They're going to fire your ass for smoking；〃 Bernal scolded。 〃You'll wreck everything。〃
〃Know what you need？ You need about eight Quaaludes。 Calm your Cuban ass right down。〃
Jesus Bernal was appalled at the lack of regimentation within Las Noches de Diciembre。 Viceroy Wilson； who personified this insubordination； wouldn't have lasted ten minutes with the First Weeke