Free Flush by Carl Hiaasen Page A

flushing the holding tank into the basin. Everything Dad said was true.

    I’m sure he thought so at the time.

    It’s all going to come out sooner or later. You just wait.

    Mr. Shine plainly didn’t believe me.
    Please tell your mother that I’ll call later,
    he said, and turned to leave.

    Can I ask one more question?

    Of course, Noah.

    Is my mom going to divorce my dad?

    Mr. Shine looked like he’d swallowed a bad clam.
    What?
    he croaked.
    Where in the world did you get that idea?

    Well, is she?

    He licked nervously at his lips.
    Noah, quite frankly, I’m not comfortable with this conversation.

    Hey, I’mnot comfortable with the idea of Mom and Dad splitting up,
    I said,
    but Abbey and I have a right to know. Don’t we?

    By now Mr. Shine was backing away from the door.
    You should speak directly with your parents about these concerns,
    he said,
    and in the meantime, don’t jump to conclusions… .

    For an older guy he could move pretty fast. In a matter of moments he had hustled to his car and sped away.
    I went back inside and replayed the videotape of Dad’s interview. I kept wondering what Mr. Shine had come to tell my mother, although I had a feeling that his definition of good news might be different from mine.
    Later I climbed up on the roof to readjust the TV dish, or try. I wiggled the darn thing around so that it was aimed upward at the sky, although I had no idea exactly where the satellites were orbiting. It wouldn’t have surprised me to start getting MTV from Kyrgyzstan.
    I unhooked the incriminating bucktail jig from the dish and started scaling down the rain gutter. Just then I heard honking, and a green Jeep Cherokee wheeled into our driveway. Shelly poked her blond head out the window and hollered my name.
    I dropped to the ground and went to see what she wanted.

    Hop in,
    she told me,
    and hurry it up. I’m not gettin’ any younger.

    I got in because I was scared to say no. The thought of Shelly chasing me down and dragging me feet-first into her Jeep was not appealing.
    As I fumbled to put on the seat belt, she peeled out of the driveway and raced toward Highway One. It was a while before I got up the nerve to ask where we were going.

    Why? You got a hot date or somethin’?
    she said.
    I decided not to mention the silver-barreled gun that lay on the console between us.

    Shelly, is something wrong?

    She laughed sourly.
    You don’t miss a trick, do you?

    Even though she was wearing black sunglasses, I could tell she’d been crying. She was still sniffling and her voice sounded scratchy.

    ‘Member what I told you about Lice runnin’ away?

    Yes, ma’am.

    Well, turns out I had it wrong,
    she said.

    Did he come home?
    I asked.
    Shelly shook her head.
    They finally towed the Jeep back from Cutler Ridge. Two hundred bucksI had to pawn my promise ring to pay for it,
    she said.
    Know how I spent my morning, Noah?

    No, ma’am.

    Scrubbing bloodstains off the upholstery!

    I had thought it felt damp on the seat.
    Blood? You sure?

    See, I missed a spot.
    Shelly pointed to a dark reddish smudge on the dashboard.
    I don’t think Lice ran away,
    she confided.
    I think he got snatched. And
    here she made a hard left turn, nearly spilling the gun onto my lap
    I think whoever snatched him killed him.

    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 tattooor, 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