Native Tongue Part 20

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake."

Skink said, "We're in dangerous territory now."

"I don't care," Winder said. "Tell me what happened. It had something to do with the mango voles, I'm sure."

"Yes," said Skink.

Nina announced that she was leaving. "I'm getting eaten alive, and we're going to miss the movie."

"Screw the movie," said Joe Winder, perhaps too curtly.

For Nina was suddenly gonea"down the trail, through the woods. Snapping twigs and m.u.f.fled imprecations divulged her path.

"Call me Mr. Charm," Winder said.

Skink chuckled. "You'd better go. This can wait."

"I want to know more."

"It's the voles, like you said." He reached into his secondhand trousers and took out a bottle so small it couldn't have held more than four ounces. He pressed it into the palm of Joe Winder's right hand.

"Ah, the magic bug goop!"

"No," Skink said. "Now take off, before Snow White gets lost in the big bad forest."

Blindly Winder jogged down the trail after his girlfriend. He held one arm across his face to block the branches from slashing him, and weaved through the low viny trees like a halfback slipping tacklers.

Nina had given up her solo expedition forty yards from Skink's campsite, and that's where Winder found her, leaning against the slick red trunk of a gumbo-limbo.

"Get us out of here," she said, brushing a squadron of plump mosquitoes from her forehead.

Out of breath, Winder gave her a hug. She didn't exactly melt in his arms. "You were doing fine," he said. "You stayed right on the trail."

They were in the car, halfway to Homestead, when she spoke again: "Why can't you leave it alone? The guy's nothing but trouble."

"He's not crazy, Nina."

"Oh right."

"A man was murdered. I can't let it slide."

She picked a b.u.t.tonwood leaf from her sleeve, rolled down the window and flicked the leaf away. She said, "If he's not crazy, then how come he lives the way he does? How come he wears that electric collar?"

"He says it keeps him on his toes." Joe Winder plugged a Zevon tape in the stereo. "Look, I'm not saying he's normal. I'm just saying he's not crazy."

"Like you would know," Nina said.

FIFTEEN.

On Sunday, July 22, Charles Chelsea got up at eight-thirty, showered, shaved, dressed (navy slacks, Cordovan loafers, blue oxford shirt, burgundy necktie), trimmed his nose hairs, splashed on about three gallons of Aramis and drove off to work in his red Mazda Miata, for which he had paid thirty-five hundred dollars over dealer invoice.

Chelsea had two important appointments at the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills. One of them would be routine, and one promised to be unpleasant. He had not slept well, but he didn't feel exceptionally tired. In fact, he felt surprisingly confident, composed, tough; if only he could remain that way until his meeting with Joe Winder.

A crew from Channel 7 was waiting outside the main gate. The reporter was an attractive young Latin woman wearing oversized sungla.s.ses. Chelsea greeted her warmly and told her she was right on time. They all got in a van, which was driven by a man wearing a costume of bright neoprene plumes. The man introduced himself as Baldy the Eagle, and said he was happy to be their host. He began a long spiel about the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills until Charles Chelsea flashed his ID badge, at which point the bird man shrugged and shut up. Chelsea slapped his arm when he tried to b.u.m a Marlboro off the Channel 7 cameraman.

When they arrived at the killer-whale tank, Chelsea stepped from the van and held the door for the reporter, whose first name was Maria. Chelsea led the way inside the marine stadium, where the TV crew unpacked and began to set up the equipment. Chelsea sat next to Maria in the front row, facing the empty blue pool. Above them, men on scaffolds were sandblasting the word "Orky" from the coral-colored wall.

Chelsea said, "I guess the others will be along soon."

Maria removed her sungla.s.ses and brushed her hair. She took out a spiral notebook and flipped to a blank page.

"The other stations," Chelsea said, "they must be running a little late."

Five others had received the same fax as Channel 7 had. Surely more crews would show upa"it was Sunday, after all, the slowest news day of the week.

Maria said, "Before we go on the aira""

"You want some background," Chelsea said helpfully. "Well, to be perfectly frank, Orky's death left us with a rather large vacancy. Here we have this beautiful salt.w.a.ter tank, as you see, and a scenic outdoor stadium. A facility like this is too special to waste. We thought about getting another whale, but Mr. Kingsbury felt it would be inappropriate. He felt Orky was irreplaceable."

Charles Chelsea glanced over Maria's shoulder to see the Minicam pointed at him. Its red light winked innocuously as the tape rolled. The cameraman was on his knees. Squinting through the viewfinder, he signaled for Chelsea to keep talking.

"Are we on?" the PR man said. "What about the mike? I don't have a mike."

The cameraman pointed straight up. Chelsea raised his eyes. A gray boom microphone, the size of a fungo bat, hung over his head. The boom was controlled by a sound man standing to Chelsea's right. The man wore earphones and a Miami Dolphins warm-up jacket.

Maria said, "You mentioned Orky. Could you tell us what your staff has learned about the whale's death? What exactly killed it?"

Chelsea fought to keep his Adam's apple from bobbing spasmodically, as it often did when he lied. "The tests," he said, "are still incomplete."

Maria's warm brown eyes blinked inquisitively. "There's a rumor that the whale died during an encounter with an employee of the Amazing Kingdom."

"Oh, that's a good one." Chelsea laughed stiffly. "Where did you hear that?"

"Is it true?"

The camera's blinking red light no longer seemed harmless. Charles Chelsea said, "I'm not going to dignify such a question by responding."

The reporter said nothing, just let the tape roll. Let him choke on the silence. It worked.

"We did have a death that night," Chelsea admitted, toying with his cuffs. "An employee of the park apparently took his own life. It was very, very tragica""

"What was the name of this employee?"

Chelsea's tone became cold, reproachful. "It is our strict policy not to discuss such matters publicly. There is an issue of privacy, and respect for the family."

Maria said, "The rumor isa""

"We don't respond to rumors, Ms. Rodriguez." Now Chelsea was leaning forward, lecturing. The boom mike followed him. "Would you like to hear about our newest attraction, or not?"

She smiled like a moray eel. "That's why we're here."

Oh no it isn't, thought Chelsea, trying not to glare, trying not to perspire, trying not to look like the unvarnished shill he was.

"I brought a bathing suit," Maria said, "as you suggested."

"Maybe we should wait for the others."

"I think we're it, Mr. Chelsea. I don't think any of the other stations are coming."

"Fine." He tried not to sound disappointed.

The cameraman stopped taping. Chelsea dabbed his forehead in relief; he needed to collect himself, recover from the ambush. Everybody wants to be Mike Wallace, he thought bitterly. Everybody's a harda.s.s.

Maria picked up a tote bag and asked directions to the lady's room. When she returned, she was wearing a tight melon-colored tonga that required continual adjustment. At the sight of her, Charles Chelsea inadvertently licked the corners of his mouth. It wasn't so bad after all, coming to work on a Sunday.

"Should I get in?" Maria asked.

"Sure." Chelsea signaled across the pool to a young man dressed in khaki shorts. This was one of the trainers.

Maria slipped into the whale pool, dipped her head underwater, and smoothed her hair straight back. The tape was rolling again.

Eyes twinkling, she smiled up at the camera. The guy with the boom mike leaned over the wall of the tank to capture her words.

"Hi, this is Maria Rodriguez. Today we're visiting the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills in North Key Largo. As you can see, it's a gorgeous summer daya""

Chelsea was thinking: Good girl, stick to the fluff.

"a"and we're about to meet the newest star of the Kingdom's outdoor marine show. His name is d.i.c.kie the Dolphin...cut! Hold it, Jimmy."

The cameraman stopped the tape. Bobbing in the whale pool, Maria groped beneath the surface, frowned and spun away. Chelsea could see that she was struggling to realign the bathing suit.

"d.a.m.n thing's riding up my crack."

"Take your time," said the cameraman. "We got plenty of light."

Moments later, Maria was ready again; fresh, sleek, languid. She splashed herself lightly in the face so that droplets glistened in her eyelashes; Charles Chelsea was transfixed.

"Hi, this is Maria Rodriguez reporting from the Amazing Kingdom of Thrills in North Key Largo. As you can see, it's a gorgeous summer day in South Floridaa"perfect for a swim with the newest star of the Amazing Kingdom's marine show. His name is d.i.c.kie the Dolphin and, starting tomorrow, you can swim with him, too!"

Chelsea cued the trainer, who pulled the pin on the gate to the whale pool. Pushing a V-shaped wake, the dolphin charged from the holding tank and sounded.

The TV reporter continued: "It's the latest concept in marine theme parksa"customer partic.i.p.ation. Instead of sitting in the bleachers and watching these remarkable mammals do tricks, you can actually get in the water and play with them. It costs a little more, buta"believe mea"it's worth it."

A few yards behind her, d.i.c.kie the Dolphin rolled, blowing air noisily. Maria kept her poise, glancing over one shoulder with a breezy, affectionate smile. Chelsea was impressed; she had the whole script memorized.

Turning back to the camera, Maria said: "To be in the water with these gentle, intelligent creatures is an experience you'll never forget. Scientists say the dolphin's brain is actually larger than ours, and much of their complex social behavior remains a mystery...."

d.i.c.kie the Dolphin surfaced lazily near Maria, who grabbed its dorsal fin with both hands. Chelsea stood up quickly and waved a warning, but it was too late. The dolphin carried the TV reporter across the top of the water; she closed her eyes and squealed with childlike excitement.

"Great f.u.c.king video," remarked Jimmy the cameraman, panning expertly with the action.

The boom man said, "She's getting out of range."

Charles Chelsea cupped his hands and shouted. "Let go! No rides allowed!"

Maria couldn't hear a word. She was holding her breath underwater while the dolphin imitated a torpedo. Every few seconds her long brown legs would slice the surface as she was dragged along, like the tail of a kite. Chelsea bit his lip and watched in queasy silence. Finally Maria splashed to the surfacea"and she was laughing, thank G.o.d! She thought it was all in fun, and maybe it was.

The sound man scurried along the rim of the tank and repositioned the boom. Giggling, short of breath, Maria's eyes found the camera. She said, "Folks, this is unbelievable. Bring the family, you're gonna love it!" d.i.c.kie the Dolphin appeared at her side, and she stroked its sleek flank. Wondrously, it seemed to nuzzle her bosom with its snout.

"He's so adorable" Maria exclaimed.

From the feeding platform on the side of the tank, the trainer called out, "Hey, be careful!" Then he started peeling off his khakis.

"Such friendly animals," Maria was saying. "Notice how they always look like they're smiling!"

d.i.c.kie the Dolphin slapped its tail on the surface and pushed even closer. Maria threw both arms around the slippery mammal, which obligingly rolled on its back.

Chelsea saw the trainer dive in. He saw Maria's expression change from tenderness to awe. Then he saw the dolphin hook her with its flippers and drag her down.

When she broke to the top, Maria's giggle had become a low fearful moan. As the dolphin's dark form appeared beneath her, she seemed to rise from the water. Then, just as slowly, the creature drew her under.

The cameraman muttered that he was running out of tape. A voice behind him said: "You'll miss the best part."

It was Joe Winder. He stood next to Charles Chelsea, who was clutching the rail with knuckles as pink as shrimp. In the water, the trainer was trying without much success to separate the dolphin from the TV reporter.

Chelsea said to Winder: "Maybe it's a new tricka""

"It's no trick. He's trying to boink her."

"That's not funny, Joe."

Winder pointed. "What do you think that is? See?"

"Ia"I don't know."

"It's a dolphin shlong, Charlie. One of Nature's marvels."

Chelsea began to stammer.

"They get in moods," Joe explained. "Same as dogs."

"My G.o.d."