The Pope of Palm Beach by Tim Dorsey

Author:Tim Dorsey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

The Present

A vulture circled. A turtle crossed the road. An alligator watched with two eye bumps that looked like knot holes on a log floating down a drainage canal.

Serge grunted with a lug wrench, tightening the final nut on the spare tire that replaced the shot-out one.

“Someone’s pulling over,” said Coleman. “And the tarp is moving.”

Serge looked over into the bed of the pickup truck. Groaning from under the tarp as the hostage beneath it regained consciousness and attempted to stand. Serge whacked the rising spot with the wrench, and the tarp fell flat and quiet. Headlights lit up Serge and Coleman. Another truck parked behind them.

A man in a uniform got out and hitched up his pants like a southern sheriff. His vehicle had a winch and tool compartments. “You fellas need any help?”

“No, Mr. Road Ranger.” Serge leaned casually against the side of the pickup and sipped a thermos. “But thank you for your service. Everyone takes the road ranger for granted, tirelessly driving up and down the highways and byways of America, looking for stranded motorists with families huddled in a ditch, watching steam pour out from under the hood and wondering how they will survive to see another sunrise, as if their plane had gone down in the Himalayas, until suddenly, ‘Hooray! It’s the road ranger! He’s our hero!’ You guys should wear capes and get all the girls. If you have a petition I can sign to that effect, because I remember the day long before road rangers when we all had to depend on each other, and small-town folks actually stopped to help neighbors in distress. Then those days passed and now drivers see broken-down motorists and immediately construct a belief system giving them a free pass not to stop and help: ‘If you hadn’t been lazy, you could have afforded a more dependable vehicle, and you’re probably on welfare or drugs or both, not to mention in this country illegally. In fact now that I think about it, I’m glad you’re broken down. Fuck you people.’” Serge’s hand shot out. “They hit the pedal and zoom! Speeding right on by. But not the road ranger. You guys are policy-neutral. Thank you.”

The man scratched his head.

A groaning from under the tarp.

Serge and Coleman began coughing.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” asked the ranger. “Did I hear something?”

Serge pointed over the man’s shoulder. “Is that a broken-down car with small children and a pregnant woman in labor?”

The ranger spun around. “Where!”

Serge reached over and conked the tarp with the wrench again. “Sorry, it’s just a tree. My eyes must have been playing tricks in this light.” He knelt next to the truck, pumping a metal handle to lower the tire jack. “That just about does it. We’ll be on our merry way.” A muffled groan. He tossed the jack hard onto the tarp. “Thanks again for all you do! Go get the girls!”

Serge climbed in the pickup, and Coleman got in the Nova. The ranger continued staring in puzzlement as both vehicles drove off into the dark swamp.

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