Double Whammy Read Online Free Page B

man-to-man with the serious bass angler back home. Dickie’s TV accent was much thicker and gooier than his real-life accent, an exaggeration that was necessary to meet the demographic of the show, which was basically male Deep Southern grit-suckers. As he cast his lure and reeled it in, Dickie Lockhart would confide exactly what brand of crankbait he was using, what pound line was on the reel, what kind of sunglasses (amber or green) worked better on a bright day. The patter carried an air of informality and friendliness, when in fact the point was to shill as many of Dickie Lockhart’s sponsors’ products as possible in twenty-four minutes of live tape. The crankbait was made by Bagley, the line by Du Pont, the reel by Shimano, the sunglasses by Polaroid, and so on. Somehow, when Dickie stared into the camera and dropped these bald-faced plugs, it didn’t seem so cheap.
    At about noon a third bass boat raced up to the fishing spot, and Dickie started hollering like a madman. “Goddammit, stop the tape! Stop the tape!” He hopped up and down on the bow and shook his fist at the man in the other boat. “Hey, can’t you see we’re filming a goddamn TV show here? You got the whole frigging lake but you gotta stop here and wreck the tape!” Then he saw that the other angler was Ozzie Rundell, Culver’s brother, so Dickie stopped shouting. He didn’t apologize, but he did pipe down.
    â€œDidn’t mean to interrupt,” Ozzie said. He was a mumbłer. Dickie Lockhart told him to speak up.
    â€œDidn’t mean to interrupt!” Ozzie said, a bit louder. In his entire life he had never boated a bass over four pounds, and was in awe of Dickie Lockhart,
    â€œWell?” Dickie said.
    â€œI thought you’d want to know.”
    Dickie shook his head. He kicked a button on the bow and used the trolling motor to steer his boat closer to Ozzie’s. When the two were side by side, Dickie said impatiently, “Now start over.”
    â€œI thought you’d want to know. They found Bobby Clinch.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œDead.”
    Ozzie would get around to answering the questions, but not in the order he was asked. His mind worked that way.
    â€œHow?” Dickie said.
    â€œIn Lake Harney.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œFlipped his boat and drowned,” Ozzie said.
    â€œGoddamn,” said Dickie Lockhart. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œYesterday,” Ozzie said in conclusion.
    Dickie turned to the cameraman and said, “Well, that’s it for the day.”
    Ozzie seemed thrilled just to be able to touch the deck of the champion’s boat. He gazed at Dickie Lockhart’s fishing gear the way a Little Leaguer might stare at Ted Williams’ bat. “swell, sorry to interrupt,” he mumbled.
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” Dickie Lockhart said. “They stopped biting two hours ago.”
    â€œWhat plug you usin’?” Ozzie inquired.
    â€œMy special baby,” Dickie said, “the Double Whammy.”
    The Double Whammy was the hottest lure on the pro bass circuit, thanks in large measure to Dickie Lockhart For the last eight tournaments he’d won, Dickie had declared it was the amazing Double Whammy that had tricked the trophy fish. His phenomenal success with the hire—a skirted spinnerbait with twin silver spoons—had not been duplicated by any other professional angler, though all had tried, filling their tackleboxes with elaborate variations and imitations. Most of the bassers caught big fish on the Double Whammy, but none caught as many, or at such opportune times, as Dickie Lockhart.
    â€œIt’s a real killer, huh?” Ozzie said.
    â€œYou betcha,” Dickie said. He took the fishing line in his front teeth and bit through, freeing the jangling lure. “You want it?” he asked.
    Ozzie Rundell beamed like a kid on Christmas morning. “Shoot yeah!”
    Dickie