Skinny Dip by Carl Hiaasen Read Free Book Online Page A

Road 84. It was nearly midnight and Rolvaag was in a hurry to go deal with the rats that might or might not be scampering loose inside his car.
    “The dead wife,” Gallo said, “tell me again how much she’s worth?”
    “Thirteen million, give or take. The trust officers are working up some numbers.”
    “But hubby’s not in line for a penny, right? Not even life insurance?” asked Gallo.
    “Not that I can find, but it’s still early in the game.”
    “Be awful dumb for him to lie about something like that.”
    “I agree.” Rolvaag snuck a glance at his wristwatch. It had been six hours since he’d left the pet store. He hoped the rats hadn’t nibbled a hole in the shoe box.
    “What’s the next of kin say about young Chaz?” Gallo asked.
    “Mrs. Perrone’s parents are deceased and her only brother lives on a sheep farm in New Zealand.”
    Gallo frowned. “Christ, that’s an expensive phone call. Try to keep it short and sweet.”
    “You betcha.” Rolvaag sometimes lapsed into Fargo-speak when Gallo nagged him about something stupid. The detective had moved to Fort Lauderdale from St. Paul because his wife had inexplicably yearned to experience humidity. A decade later she was back in the Twin Cities and Rolvaag was still in Florida, divorced and sweating like a hog for eleven and a half months of the year.
    However, tucked in his briefcase was salvation in the form of a letter from the police chief in Edina, Minnesota, a pleasantly civilized suburb of Minneapolis. The police chief had offered Rolvaag a job working major crimes, of which there were few. Rolvaag intended to give his notice to Captain Gallo as soon as an opening in the conversation presented itself.
    “And I suppose nobody on the cruise ship saw or heard a damn thing,” Gallo was saying. “Pretty girl goes over the side and everybody’s snoozin’.”
    Without a trace of sarcasm Rolvaag explained that he hadn’t had time to interview all 2,048 other passengers, or the crew. “But nobody’s come forward, either,” he added.
    Gallo twirled a set of car keys on the pinkie finger of his right hand. “And the Coast Guard, they’re done?”
    “As of tomorrow noon, yeah. They’ll keep one chopper up until sunset, but that’s mainly for show,” Rolvaag said.
    “Is hubby real upset or what?”
    “He says all the right things, but it’s like he memorized a script.”
    Gallo smiled crookedly. “Karl, even if she floats up somewhere—”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “—unless her neck’s been wrung or he capped her in the noodle—”
    “Right. We can’t prove a thing.”
    “He got a babe stashed somewhere?”
    “I’m checking on that.”
    “But let’s say he does—”
    “I know. It doesn’t automatically mean he killed the wife.” Rolvaag was aware that Gallo, having several girlfriends himself, could be somewhat defensive on the subject of adulterers.
    “But you don’t believe Perrone, I can tell,” Gallo said.
    “I don’t believe we’re getting the whole story about his marriage, no.”
    Gallo laughed. “Karl, you ain’t never gonna get that. Not from any husband, including yours truly.”
    “But your wife isn’t missing at sea.”
    “This one’s buggin’ you, isn’t it? I know ‘cause you got that Norwegian prince-of-gloom look on your face.”
    Rolvaag forced a smile. “It’s just another case,” he said, which was not really how he felt about it.
    “You still got all those giant snakes?” the captain asked.
    “Just the two, yeah. They’re only seven-footers.”
    “And you still feed ‘em those fucking rats?”
    “They won’t eat stir-fry, unfortunately.”
    “I can’t believe the condo commandos haven’t evicted you yet.”
    “They keep trying,” Rolvaag said.
    Most of his neighbors in the building owned small dogs and were terrified at the possibility of Rolvaag’s pythons escaping. His legal costs already had surpassed six thousand dollars.
    “Christ, Karl, they’re fucking reptiles. Why