Bad Monkey (Andrew Yancy, 1)

by Carl Hiaasen

Yancy knew the sheriff was sending the arm to Miami because Miami was the floating-human-body-parts capital of America.

escrow

“Gold is the way to go. You ever listen to Glenn Beck? Maybe he’s got a few shingles loose, but that weird little crybaby is right about gold.”

trotters?”

surly

mottled

insect. The crunch sounded like a boot heel on a pistachio. There

dour

blithe

cocksucker.

mook.

peons,

cartel

finca

manacles?—

aspen.

cacophony

culpability

Which, the guy who attacked him? Nick had no goddamn idea who it was. Never saw the man’s face. Eve insisted she didn’t get a good look, either. Some black dude, is what she said—a gem of a clue, here in the Bahamas. Very fucking useful.

Lol

He couldn’t stop railing about what had happened. Which, what are the odds of getting randomly stabbed in your own yard during a hurricane?

Lol

“Oh great,” he muttered. “Now I gotta take a leak.” “You can still void?” Eve said buoyantly. “That’s a super healthy sign, Nicky. And I see your toes moving, too!” “Yeah, that’s right, they’re dancing a tango. Now bring me something—a jar or a bowl, I don’t care.” Eve went to the kitchen and came back with an empty wine bottle. Stripling scowled. “Get serious. My dick won’t fit in there.” “Sure it will.” “It’s bigger than a goddamn cork!”

Lmao!!!

She was holding a Waterford tumbler full of ice, peach vodka and soda. It came from a table set belonging to her maternal grandparents, now deceased. Nick could sense that Eve was reluctant to deploy the sentimental heirloom for urine collection.

Interpol

It wasn’t impossible for a clever person to get lost and stay lost in the Bahamian out-islands—if you were blessed with a spouse who was content to sit around weaving straw handbags or painting kindergarten faces on coconut husks. Keeping Eve settled would require a locale that offered shoe shopping, Pilates, sushi bars, a hair salon and a dog groomer.

So funny! Like a Key West version of Boris and Natasha!

tartan

periodontics.

Reminded her that he wasn’t some gutless boiler-room hack who’d copped a plea, paid back the money and ratted out his brother scammers. No, he’d given up a healthy arm and committed two cold-blooded murders so he could keep his riches and stay clear of prison. He was the real deal, an epic badass!

"Epic badass!" Lol

stoked

allegations

“You, Andrew. There’s been, huh, a complaint filed on Stoney’s. Worse than the usual, okay? Some widow from Ponte Vedra wound up in the ER with a three-aught

pink wormy thingy hangs down in your throat?” “The uvula,” Yancy said. “She got a fish hook stuck in her uvula. I’m betting she ordered the Cuban yellowtail.” “Man, that’s amazing. How’d you know?” “Brennan doesn’t check the gut for hooks when he cooks a fish whole.” “How come?” “Because he’s a bumblefuck.” “I need you pronto back in the saddle, Andrew. This one made the Citizen. The widow lady, she’s got an in with the governor.”

visage

grouper

Kiwanians

yarn

Evan Shook’s wife advised him to hang on to his shriveled little nuts because she and her new attorney were coming with a blowtorch.

portico.

“Do some of her voodoo shit and pull a name out of some dead chicken’s asshole.”

feds.”

OR.

maundering

needlefish

“Oh no, the arm was definitely your father’s. He had it removed by a surgeon. That was key to the whole scam, see? So everyone would think he’s dead. The feds were getting ready to bust him, so he decided to have a quote-unquote boating accident.”

warbled

trailblazing,”

affidavit

sodomized

rhetorical.”

dossier

meerschaum