Part 51 (1/2)

Someone knocked twice on the office door and came ina”a short round man with thin brown hair and small black eyes. A hideous polyester-blend s.h.i.+rt identified him as a valued customer. Pinned diagonally across the man's chest was a wrinkled streamer that said ”OUR FIVE-MILLIONTH SPECIAL GUEST!” In the crook of each arm sat a stuffed toy animal with reddish fur, pipestem whiskers and a merry turquoise tongue.

Vance and Violet Vole.

”For my nieces,” the man explained. ”I got so much free stuff I can hardly fit it in the car.”

Kingsbury smiled stiffly. ”The big winner, right? That's you.”

”Yeah, my wife can't f.u.c.kin” believe it.”

”Didn't you hear it, the fire alarm? Everybody else, I mean, off they went.”

”But I didn't see no fire,” the man said. ”No smoke, neither.” He arranged the stuffed animals side by side on Kingsbury's sofa.

The guy's a total yutz, Kingsbury thought. Does he want my autograph or what? Maybe a snapshot with the big cheese.

”What's that you got there?” the man asked. ”By the way, the name's Rossiter.” He nodded toward a plaid travel bag that lay open on Kingsbury's desk. The bag was full of cash, mostly twenties and fifties.

The man said, ”Looks like I wasn't the only one had a lucky day.”

Kingsbury snapped the bag closed. I'm very busy, Mr. Rossiter. What's the problema”something with the new car, right? The color doesn't match your wife's eyes or whatever.”

”No, the car's great. I got no complaints about the car.”

Then what?” Kingsbury said. ”The parade, I bet. That last song, I swear to Christ, I don't know where that s.h.i.+t came froma””

”You kiddin' me? It was beautiful. It was Puccini.”

Kingsbury threw up his hands. ”Whatever. Not to be rude, but what the f.u.c.k do you want?”

The man said, ”I got a confession to make. I cheated a little this morning.” He shrugged sheepishly. ”I cut in line so we could be the first ones through the gate. That's how I won the car.”

It figures, thought Kingsbury. Your basic South Florida clientele.

The man said, ”I felt kinda lousy, but what the h.e.l.l. Opportunity knocks, right? I mean, since I had to be here anywaya””

”Mr. Rossiter, do I look like a priest? All this stuff, I don't need to hear ita””

”Hey, call me Lou,” the man said, ”and I'll call you Frankie.” From his Sansibelt slacks he withdrew a.38-caliber pistol with a silencer.

Francis Kingsbury's cheeks went from pink to gray. ”Don't tell me,” he said.

”Yeah,” said Lou, ”can you believe it?”

THIRTY-SIX.

Francis X. Kingsbury asked the hit man not to shoot.

”Save your breath,” said Lou.

”But, look, a fantastic new world I built here. A place for little tykes, you saw for yourselfa”roller coasters and clowns and talking animals. Petey Possum and so forth. I did all this myself.”

”What a guy,” said Lou.

Kingsbury was unaccustomed to such bald sarcasm. ”Maybe I make a little dough off the operation, so what? Look at all the f.u.c.king happiness I bring people!”

”I enjoyed myself,” Lou admitted. ”My wife, she's crazy about the Twirling Teacups. She and her mother both. I almost spit up on the d.a.m.n thing, to be honest, but my wife's got one a them cast-iron stomachs.”

Kingsbury brightened. ”The Twirling Teacups, I designed those myself. The entire ride from scratch.”

”No s.h.i.+t?”

The hit man seemed to soften, and Kingsbury sensed an opening. ”Look, I got an idea about paying back the Zubonis. It's a big construction deal, we're talking millions. They'd be nuts to pa.s.s it upa”can you make a phone call? Tell 'em it's once in a lifetime.”

Lou said, ”Naw, I don't think so.”

”Florida waterfronta”that's all you gotta say. Florida f.u.c.king waterfront, and they'll be on the next plane from Newark, I promise.”

”You're a good salesman,” said the hit man, ”but I got a contract.”

Kingsbury nudged the plaid travel bag across the desk. ”My old lady, she wanted me to go on a tripa”Europe, the whole nine yards. I was thinking why not, just for a couple months. She's never been there.”

Lou nodded. ”Now's a good time to go. The crowds aren't so bad.”

”Anyhow, I emptied the cash registers after the parade.” Kingsbury patted the travel bag. ”This is just from ticket sales, not concessions, and still you're talking three hundred and forty thousand. Cash-ola.”

”Yeah? That's some vacation, three hundred forty grand.”

”And it's all yours if you forget about the contract.”

”h.e.l.l,” said Lou, ”it's mine if I don't.”

Outside there was a bang, followed by a hot crackling roar. When Kingsbury spun his chair toward the window, his face was bathed in flickering yellow light.

”Lord,” he said.

The Wet w.i.l.l.y was on firea”hundreds of feet of billowed latex, squirming and thras.h.i.+ng like an eel on a griddle. White sparks and flaming bits of rubber hissed into the tropical sky, and came down as incendiary rain upon the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills. Smaller fires began to break out everywhere.

Francis Kingsbury s.h.i.+vered under his hairpiece.

Lou went to the window and watched the Wet w.i.l.l.y burn. ”You know what it looks like?”

”Yes,” Kingsbury said.

”A giant Trojan.”

”I know.”