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 Florida – perfect for a swim with the newest star of the Amazing Kingdom's marine show. His name is Dickie 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 parks – customer participation. 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, but – believe me – it's worth it."

A few yards behind her, Dickie 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...."

Dickie 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 fucking 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 surface – and she was laughing, thank God! 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!" Dickie 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!"

Dickie 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 trick – "

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

"That's not funny, Joe."

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

"I – 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 God."

"Don't worry, Charlie, it'll pass."

With the trainer's help, Maria Rodriguez finally broke free from Dickie the Dolphin's embrace. Cursing, tugging at her tonga, she paddled furiously toward the ladder on the wall of the tank.

"Faster!" Charles Chelsea hollered. "Here he comes again!"

Two hours later, he was still trying to apologize without admitting the truth. "Sometimes they play too rough, that's all."

"Playing?" Maria sniffed sarcastically. "Excuse me, Mr. Chelsea, but I know a dick when I see one." She had changed back to TV clothes, although her hair was still wrapped in a towel. "I ought to sue your ass," she said.

They were sitting in Chelsea's office – the reporter, Charles Chelsea, and Joe Winder. The crew had returned to the truck to put the dish up, just in case.

"Come on," Winder said to Maria, "be a sport."

"What?" She gave him an acid glare. "What did you say?" She whipped the towel off her head and tossed it on the floor.

Very impolite, Winder thought, and unprofessional. "Take it easy," he said. "Nothing unspeakable happened."

Maria pointed a finger in his face and said, "Someone could get killed out there."

Charles Chelsea was miserable. "How can we make it up to you?" he asked Maria Rodriguez. "How about we comp you some passes to the Wild Bill Hiccup show?"

She was gone before he could come up with something better. On her way out, she kicked at the towel.

Joe Winder said, "Don't worry, she won't sue."

"How do you know?"

"It's too embarrassing. Hell, she'll probably destroy the tape on the way back to Miami."

Defensively Chelsea said, "She wasn't supposed to grab the dolphin. No touching is allowed – swimming only."

"This was a terrible idea, Charlie. Who thought of it?"

"Fifty bucks a head. They've got a bunch of these places in the Keys."

Joe Winder asked where Kingsbury had purchased the new dolphin.

"How should I know?" Chelsea snapped. "A dolphin's a dolphin, for Christ's sake. They don't come with a pedigree."

"This one needs a female," Winder said, "before you let tourists in the water."

"Thank you, Doctor Cousteau." The publicity man got up and closed the door. He looked gravely serious when he returned to the desk.

Joe Winder said, "I hope you're not going to make me write a press release about this. I've got more important things to do."

"Me, too." To steel himself, Charles Chelsea tightened his stomach muscles. "Joe, we're going to have to let you go."

"I see."

Chelsea studied his fingernails, trying not to make eye contact with Winder. "It's a combination of things."

"My attitude, I suppose."

"That's a factor, yes. I tried to give some latitude. The hair. The casual clothing."

Winder said, "Anything else?"

"I understand you broke into the vole lab."

"Would you like to hear what I found?"

"Not particularly," Chelsea said.

"A paper written about the blue-tongued mango voles. The one you sent to Will Koocher when you were recruiting him."

Chelsea gave Winder a so-what look. "That it?"

"Funny thing, Charlie. The person who supposedly wrote that paper, this Dr. Sarah Hunt? Rollins College never heard of her." Winder raised his palms in mock puzzlement. "Never on the faculty, never graduated, never even attended – what do you make of that, Charlie?"

"Pedro told me of your ridiculous theory." Chelsea's lips barely moved when he spoke; he looked like a goldfish burping. "Dr. Koocher wasn't murdered, Joe, but in your twisted brain I'm sure you've made some connection between his unfortunate death and this...this typographical error."