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gsbury。〃
Chelsea's upper lip was a constellation of tiny droplets。 He tried to pull away。 〃Let me go； Joe。 If you know what's good for you。〃
〃They painted their tongues； Charlie。 Think of it。 They took these itty…bitty animals and dyed their tongues blue； all in the name of tourism。〃
Straining against Winder's grasp； Chelsea said； 〃You're talking crazy。〃
Joe Winder licked him across the face。
〃Stop it！〃
Winder slurped him again。 〃It's your color； Charlie。 Very snappy。〃
His tongue waggled in mockery； Chelsea eyed the fat blue thing as if it were a poisonous slug。
〃You can fire me；〃 Winder announced； 〃but I won't go away。〃
He climbed off the desk； careful not to drop the bottle of food coloring。 Chelsea swiftly began plucking tissues from a silver box and wiping his face； examining each crumpled remnant for traces of the dye。 His fingers were shaking。
〃I should have you arrested；〃 he hissed。
〃But you won't；〃 Winder said。 〃Think of the headlines。〃
He was halfway to the door when Chelsea said； 〃Wait a minute； Joey。 What is it you want？〃
Winder kept walking； and began to laugh。 He laughed all the way down the hall； a creepy melodic warble that made Charles Chelsea shudder and curse。
SIXTEEN
As a reward for the successful theft of Francis X。 Kingsbury's files； Molly McNamara allowed Bud Schwartz and Danny Pogue to keep the rented Cutlass for a few days。
On the evening of July 22； they drove down Old Cutler Road； where many of Miami's wealthiest citizens lived。 The homes were large and fortable…looking； and set back impressively from the tree…shaded road。 Danny Pogue couldn't get over the size of the yards； the tall old pines and colorful tropical shrubbery； it was beautiful； yet intimidating。
〃They got those Spanish bayonets under the windows；〃 he reported。 〃God； I hate them things。〃 Wicked needles on the end of every stalk…absolute murder； even with gloves。
Bud Schwartz said； 〃Don't sweat it； we'll find us a back door。〃
〃For sure they got alarms。〃
〃Yeah。〃
〃And a goddamn dog； too。〃
〃Probably so；〃 said Bud Schwartz； thinking： Already the guy's a nervous wreck。
〃You ever done a house like this？〃
〃Sure。〃 Bud Schwartz was lying。 Mansions； that's what these were； just like the ones on 〃Miami Vice。〃 The bandage on his bad hand was damp with perspiration。 Hunched over the steering wheel； he thought： Thank God for the rental…at least we got a car that'll move。
To cut the tension； he said： 〃Ten bucks it's a Dobie。〃
〃No way；〃 said Danny Pogue。 〃I say Rottweiler； that's the dog nowadays。〃
〃For the Yuppies； sure； but not this guy。 I'm betting on a Dobie。〃
Danny Pogue fingered a pimple on his neck。 〃Okay； but give me ten on the side。〃
〃For what？〃
〃Give me ten on the color。〃 Danny Pogue slugged him softly on the shoulder。 〃Black or brown？〃
Bud Schwartz said； 〃I'll give you ten if it's brown。〃
〃Deal。〃
〃You're a sucker。 Nobody in this neighborhood's got a brown Doberman。〃
〃We'll see；〃 said Danny Pogue。 He pointed as they passed a crimson Porsche convertible parked on a cobbler drive。 A beautiful dark…haired girl； all of seventeen； was washing the sports car under a quartet of halogen spotlights。 The girl wore a dazzling green bikini and round reflector sunglasses。 The sun had been down for two hours。
Danny Pogue clapped his hands。 〃Jesus； you see that？〃
〃Yeah； hosing down her Targa。 And here we are in the middle of a drought。〃 Bud Schwartz braked softly to peer at the name on a cypress mailbox。 〃Danny； what's that house number？ I can't see it from here。〃
〃Four…oh…seven。〃
〃Good。 We're almost there。〃
〃I was wondering；〃 said Danny Pogue。
〃Yeah； what else is new。〃
〃Do I get twenty bucks if it's a brown Rottweiler？〃
〃They don't e in brown；〃 said Bud Schwartz。 〃I thought you knew。〃
It wasn't a Doberman pinscher or a Rottweiler。
〃Maybe some type of weasel；〃 whispered Danny Pogue。 〃Except it's got a collar on it。〃
They were kneeling in the shadow of a sea…grape tree。 〃One of them beady…eyed dogs from Asia；〃 said Bud Schwartz； 〃or maybe it's Africa。〃 Dozing under the electric bug lamp； the animal showed no reaction to the sizzle and zap of dying moths。
Carefully Bud Schwartz inserted four Tylenol No。 3 tablets into a ten…ounce patty of prime ground sirloin。 With his good hand he lobbed the meat over the fence。 It landed with a wet slap on the patio near the pool。 The weasel…dog lifted its head； barked once sharply and got up。
Danny Pogue said； 〃That's the ugliest goddamn thing I ever saw。〃
〃Like you're Mel Gibson； right？〃
〃No； but just look。〃
The dog found the hamburger and gulped it in two bites。 When its front legs began to wobble； Danny Pogue said； 〃Jesus； what'd you use？〃
〃About a hundred milligrams of codeine。〃
Soon the animal lay down； snuffling into a stupor。 Bud Schwartz hopped the fence and helped his crutch…less partner across。 The two burglars crab…walked along a low cherry hedge until they reached the house。 Through a glass door they saw that all the kitchen lights were on； in fact； lamps glowed in every window。 Bud Schwartz heard himself take a short breath； he was acting against every instinct； every fundamental rule of the trade。 Never ever break into an occupied dwelling…especially an occupied dwelling protected by four thousand dollars' worth of electronic burglar alarm。
Bud Schwartz knew the screens would be wired； so busting the windows was out of the question。 He knew he couldn't jimmy the sliding door because that would trip the contact； also setting off the alarm。 The best hope was cutting the glass door in such a way that it wouldn't trigger the noise detectors； he could see one of the matchbook…sized boxes mounted on a roof beam in the kitchen。 Its tiny blue eye winked insidiously at him。
〃What's the plan？〃 asked Danny Pogue。
Bud Schwartz took the glass cutter out of his pocket and showed it to his partner； who hadn't the faintest idea what it was。 Bud Schwartz got to his knees。 〃I'm going to cut a square；〃 he said； 〃big enough to crawl through。〃
〃Like hell。〃 Danny Pogue was quite certain they would be arrested any moment。
Bud Schwartz dug the blades of the glass cutter into the door and pressed with the full strength of his good arm。 The door began to slide on its rollers。 〃Damn；〃 said Bud Schwartz。 Cold air rushed from the house and put goose bumps on his arms。
Danny Pogue said： 〃Must not be locked。〃
The door coasted open。 No bells or sirens went off。 The only sound came from a television； probably upstairs。
They slipped into the house。 Bud Schwartz's sneakers squeaked on the kitchen tile； hopping on one leg； Danny Pogue followed his partner through the living room； which was decorated hideously in black and red。 The furniture was leather； the carpeting a deep stringy shag。 On a phony brick wall over the fireplace hung a painting that was； by Bud Schwartz's astonished calculation； larger than life…sized。 The subject of the painting was a nude blond with a Pepsodent smile and breasts the size of soccer balls。 She wore a yellow visored cap； and held a flagstick over her shoulder。 A small brass plate announced the title of the work： 〃My Nineteenth Hole。〃
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