"You were precluded from being a good sheriff the instant the sperm hit the egg. And if you worried so much about being a good sheriff, you should have thought of that before you took that girl to the motel. Before you posed for all those nice dirty pictures that we've got of you. You know, pig, you do what we want you to, just so we don't send those pictures around. We're just cutting you in on the money because we like you. We really do. You're a sweet guy. For a pig."
She turned and walked back to the sofa and lay down on it. Her giant globes flattened against her chest and she began idly to inspect her nipples as she spoke.
"First, Washington got involved by sending McAndrew. And we warned them, no more. And then they send this Remo Blomberg."
"That fairy? A government man?"
"Yes, with your usual perception, you would think he was a fairy, wouldn't you? Well, now you're going to get a message to Washington. You're going to tell them that because they keep sending people in here, it's going to cost them. Exactly one million dollars. Small, used bills. Not in sequence. And they're going to give the money to you. And you're going to bring it here and put it in that refrigerator.
"And this is going to be the last money delivery for you. And to celebrate we've got a big bonus for you.
You could use $25,000, couldn't you? You could buy a matched set of pearl-handled revolvers. A genuine gold statuette of the raising of the flag at Mount Suribachi. Lapel flag pins for all your friends. Season tickets for the gas chamber."
She rolled onto her side, her breasts preceding her by a split second and looked at Wyatt. "Unless you don't want that," she said. "Unless you want those nice photographs of you in the motel being sent to every home in San Aquino. You want that instead?"
Wyatt swallowed. His seat was really uncomfortable now. "No, I don't want that. You know that. But how'm I going to convince anybody in Washington to listen to me?"
"If you had even the brain that's normal for a pig, you'd figure that out. I've told you that Remo Blomberg is a government man. So call him. Tell him. He'll get the message to the government for you and he'll get the money for you. Oh, and another thing you can tell them is that we're going to give them a little taste tomorrow. An earthquake. Not a big one. Just a little number eight on the scale. But if we don't get the million, we're going to give them the works. We'll rip California right off the continent."
"Should I tell that to this Jewboy, Blomberg?"
"Yes. And make sure that's all you tell him. You mention us and you'll wind up in a ditch sucking your own guts."
"Should I kill him after I get the money?"
"That order's cancelled, pig, because frankly we don't think you're man enough to. We're going to take care of him ourselves."
"The usual way?"
"The usual way. We'll give him some pleasant memories to carry to the grave."
"If you screw up, it'll happen to you. But without the pleasant memories. Now I think you better get out of here. Jacki'll be back any minute and the sight of you makes her sick. Just don't forget. We want that money here tomorrow night. The quake'll be in the afternoon. Don't stand under any bridges."
Wyatt shuffled to his feet. "All right, Jill. But I don't like it."
"And I don't like your calling me Jill, as if we were friends. To you, I'm ma'am."
"Yes, ma'am. No offense intended."
"All right, pig. Beat it."
On his way back to town, Sheriff Wade Wyatt had other thoughts on his mind. It wasn't fair for a man's life to be ruined, just because he had made one mistake. How was he to know that girl in the motel had been a pro and that he was being framed with pictures? They had given him a set of the pictures. He'd be a laughing stock if anybody ever saw them. He didn't know what had gotten into him, acting the pervert like that. All that French stuff. No wonder the Frenchies didn't amount to anything. They were all sick. Sex sick.
And he hadn't even liked it. That's what made it worse.
Now the twins had the pictures and so they had Sheriff Wade Wyatt. Imagine him, working not only against his own country, but against the sovereign state of California.
He wished he knew what to do.
But she had said this was the last one. Maybe it'd be over then.
Back at his office, Wyatt put his feet up on the desk and looked at the phone a long time, before lifting it up and getting a number from information.
Blomberg got on, the sheriff told him he had to see him right away. "Be glad to come," the fag said. "How's your stomach feeling?" he asked before hanging up.
Wyatt thought back to the afternoon. The two men in a ditch. He reached for the wastepaper basket and heaved into it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
On his way to Wyatt's office, Remo wondered what the sheriff wanted to talk about. Probably Curpwell's death. Well, Remo would tell him nothing about that, Musso belonged to Remo. Personally.
Of course, it might not be Curpwell. Maybe it was something important. A Red plot to fluoridate the water. Schools brainwashing children.
Maybe something about the earthquake people. Somehow Quake's machine was under all this. Remo would bet on that. He couldn't wait for the chance to try extracting some information from Jacki and Jill.
He parked the red car in front of the low two-story frame building which housed a men's shop on the first floor with Wyatt's office upstairs.
Remo took the stairs two at a time. The door was open. Remo walked in without knocking.
Wyatt was sitting at his desk. He still looked puke-white, Remo thought. Maybe he'd found out someone was poisoning his food.
"Close the door, Blomberg," Wyatt said, standing up.
Remo shoved the door shut with his foot and sat in a fabric-covered chair that Wyatt waved him to. The sheriff deposited his bulk back down in his own swivel chair.
"Well, sheriff," Remo said. "What's on your mind?"
Wyatt swallowed, getting his words accurately in his mind, then hooked his thumbs under his belt loops and leaned back.
"Blomberg," he said, finally, "I don't think you're a department store owner."
"Sure, I am," Remo said. "It's the big red building down the block. I'm having the signs changed tomorrow."
"I don't mean that," Wyatt said. "I know you own the store. What I mean is, well, I think you do other work too."
"Other work?" Remo said.
"Yeah. Like I think you work for the government." He held up a hand to silence Remo. "Now I don't expect you to tell me anything, so don't say anything. But just listen, because this is important."
"All ears, sheriff," Remo said, crossing his legs at the knee.
"I got a call tonight from the quake people. They told me on the phone there's going to be a quake tomorrow. A big one. But they want me to get a message to Washington. They want a million dollars or else they'll pull a quake that'll split California in half."
"What are you telling me for? I don't have a million dollars," Remo said.
"Well, it's like I said. I kinda think you work for the government. Now there's no way I can get that million dollar message to Washington. They're just going to think I'm some kind of California nougat. But I thought maybe you could get the message through. These people are dangerous and they're serious. They'll rip the whole state apart. Blornberg. Damn it, what I'm telling you is I need your help."