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With his bum knee； Snapper was easy to catch。 His speed was further hindered by the unwieldy facial contraption； which snagged in the vines and branches。 He went down in the same basic configuration as had Eric Schultz…limbs splayed； nose down。 It took only a moment for Snapper to realize it was a woman hanging off his shoulders； and not a large one。 The casual manner in which he shook free suggested to Bonnie that her rabbit punches were ineffective。 Unlike young Eric Schultz； Lester Maddox Parsons had been to prison； where he'd learned much about dirty fighting。 He wasn't about to let a one…hundred…pound girl get a clear shot at his jewels。
With both arms he swung the Frenchman's suitcase； knocking Bonnie sideways against the gnarled trunk of an old buttonwood。 She landed flat on her back； punching frenetically。 The red steel bar across Snapper's cheeks blocked her best jabs。 He quickly pinned her wrists； but she stopped kicking only when he dug a knee into her pubic bone。
Beneath the dull deadening weight of his torso； she gradually lost sight of the buzzards and the gathering clouds。 Her next view was a glistening； pink； fistulous cave…his mouth； stretched in the shape of a permanent scream。 He panted from exertion； hot； necrotic gusts。 Bonnie wanted to gag。 Something wet and wormy settled on the cleft of her chin。
A lip。
She took it in her teeth and bit hard。 Snapper yowled and pulled away。 A half second later； Bonnie was stunned by a sharp blow to her temple。 The Club。 The bastard was trying to beat her with it； using frenzied； snorting sweeps of his head。 She had no way to protect herself。 Snapper wouldn't release her arms because he didn't need his own for the attack； his gourd was doing all the work。 Bonnie was dazed by another white burst of pain。 She shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to see his goggling wet hole of a face。 She made herself go limp； thinking that unconsciousness would be fine and dandy。
Snapper imagined himself a wild bull in the ring； goring at will。 The bitch was helpless beneath him； hardly twitching。 He paused to catch his breath； spit blood； and congratulate himself for so cleverly converting a handicap to a martial asset。 The cop on the TV mercial was right； The Club was indestructible！ Despite the stinging of his lip and the burning in his knee and the electric throbbing in the joints of his jaw； Snapper didn't feel so bad。 His pride outweighed the pain。 Certainly he'd earned the rights to the Frenchman's hurricane money。
That's when a hand moved between his legs； lightly； like a sparrow on a branch。
〃Nnnngggguuuhhh！！〃
The bitch grabbed him。 Snapper bellowed。 He thrashed his head； trying to pummel her with the heavy end of The Club。 Then he realized it couldn't be the girl squeezing his balls； because both her wrists remained pinned in the dirt。 She wasn't moving a muscle。 It had to be somebody else。
Then； from a distance； he heard： 〃No！ Don't do that。〃
He tried to hold still。 Tried to breathe without whimpering。 Tried to turn ever so slightly； to see who the fuck had at least one （and possibly both） of his nuts in their ringers。
Again the voice； this time closer： 〃Don't do it！ Don't！〃
The one…eyed freak； calling out。
Who's he talking to？ Snapper wondered。 Don't do what？
Then the gun went off at his head； and he knew。
Max Lamb was surprised to find a woman sleeping in the front seat of his rental car。 He recognized her as the one whom the state trooper had dropped off in the parking lot earlier that afternoon。
She sat up； brushing her long brown hair from her eyes。 〃It was raining。 I had no place to go。〃 Not the least bit bashful。
〃That's OK；〃 Max said。 He wormed out of the Day…Glo poncho and tossed it in the back seat。
〃My name is Edie。〃 She reached out to shake his hand。
He took it； stiffly。 She had a strong grip。
〃I'm Max；〃 he said。 Then he heard himself saying： 〃You need a lift back to Miami？〃
Edie Marsh nodded gratefully。 That's what she'd been counting on。 One way or another； all rental cars ultimately returned to Miami。
She said； 〃I would've tried hitching a ride； but there was lightning。〃
〃Yeah； I heard。〃
Somehow Max missed the ramp to the Turnpike； it wasn't easy； but he did。 Edie didn't plain。 A lift was a lift。 All the roads went the same direction anyway。
〃Where are you from； Max？〃 He looked perfectly harmless； but still she wanted to get him talking。 Silent brooding made her edgy。
〃New York。 I'm in advertising。〃
〃No kidding。〃
And off he went。 During the next hour； Edie learned a great deal about Madison Avenue。 Max was absolutely elated to discover that she'd been a glutton for Plum Crunchies cereal。 And she remembered his slogan； word for word！
〃What others have you done？〃 she asked brightly。
Max was tempted to tell her about Intimate Mist but thought better of it。 Not everyone felt fortable on the subject of douches。
〃Bronco cigarets；〃 he said。
〃Really！〃
〃Speaking of which； would you mind if I smoked？〃
〃Not at all；〃 said Edie Marsh。
He offered her a menthol。 She declined politely。 As smoke filled the car； she rolled down the window and tried not to cough herself blue。 〃When are you going back to New York？〃
〃Tomorrow；〃 Max said。 He grew quiet again。
Edie said： 〃If you tell me； I'll tell you。〃
Max looked perplexed。
She said； 〃You know…what we were doing with that cop。 Me ing； you going。〃
〃Oh。〃 After a pause： 〃I'm not in any kind of trouble； if that's what you mean。〃
Dryly she said； 〃I had a hunch you're no Ted Bundy。〃
What eyes！ Max thought。 What an interesting woman！ He had reason to believe she was aware of her impact。
He said； 〃How about this： If you don't tell me； I won't tell you。 What's over is over。〃
〃I like that approach。〃
〃Let's just agree we've had a bad day。〃
〃And how。〃
In South Dade they hit heavy traffic where the storm had blown ashore； taking down everything。 Edie Marsh had seen the destruction the day after the hurricane； but it seemed much worse to her now。 She was surprised to find herself fighting back tears。
Out of nowhere Max said： 〃Hey； I bet I can guess what kind of car you drive。〃 Apparently trying to take their minds off what they saw： two unshaven men； on a street corner； fighting over a five…gallon jug of fresh water。 Their wives and children watching anxiously from the sidewalk。
〃Seriously；〃 Max was saying。 〃It's a knack I've got。 Matching people to their cars。〃
〃Based on。。。 ？〃
〃Intuition； I guess you'd say。〃
Edie said； 〃OK； give it a try。〃
Max； eyeing her up and down； like he was guessing her weight： 〃Nissan 300？〃
〃Nope。〃
〃A280Z？〃
〃Try an Acclaim。〃
He winced。 〃I had you figured for a sports import。〃
〃Well； I'm flattered；〃 Edie said； with a soft laugh。
There was a brutal truth at the heart of Max's silly game。 Eligible young Kennedys and even sons of sitting presidents did not customarily flag down women in 1987 Plymouths。
Later； after Ma