“I’m sorry about that.”
“Hell, it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you didn’t end up like the nurse shark.” He shook his head. “God knows what set them off. Do you have any idea what happened?”
“Sure. Mike went down and the sharks ignored him. I was underwater ten seconds and every shark in the tank started acting as if it were dinnertime and I was the early-bird special.”
“Dammit.” He slammed his hand down on his desk. “What the hell is going on around here? First Eddy is attacked, then you.”
“Maybe the whales and fish have had it with us, like the birds in Hitchcock’s movie.”
Austin scotched that theory with a doubtful frown.
“I don’t believe it either,” I said. “Speaking of Eddy, I’d like to see the wet suit he was wearing when his body was found.”
Austin went over to a closet and unlocked the door with a key from his pocket. He pulled a wet suit off a wooden hanger, brought it over, and spread it across his desk. It was like the one I wore in the shark tank, orange red with black three-inch stripes running vertically along the arms, sides, and legs.
“The police had this for a while, but they didn’t know what to do with it. I persuaded them to give it back to me so the media wouldn’t get hold of it and do another hatchet job.” He laughed. “Frankly, I don’t know what to do with it either. Here’s what you’re looking for.”
Austin pointed to the black neoprene just above the elbow. I pushed my hand into the sleeve and stuck a finger through one of the rents in the quarter-inch rubber fabric. The cuts were around two inches long, separated by about an inch of space.
“These holes look as if they were made by a pair of shears,” I said.
“That clean slash is characteristic of a killer-whale bite,” Austin said. “A shark bites into its victim and jerks its body back and forth. The sharp edge of its teeth rips out a piece of flesh and leaves a ragged hole. The whale’s teeth point backward and inward. They close in an interlocking grip that would leave gashes like an ax.”
“You told me before that Eddy had no wounds on his arm.”
“Right. He did have some scratches and welts whose location corresponded to these holes, but the skin wasn’t broken.”
I pulled my hand out of the sleeve. “Something isn’t right. Rocky could have ripped Eddy’s arm off in a second, yet he didn’t.” I opened my mouth and tapped my front teeth together, top and bottom, then bit the loose skin on the back of my hand hard enough to leave tooth marks. “He grabbed Eddy like this, very deliberately, like a puppy holding on to your pants cuff. His teeth went through the rubber, but Rocky was careful not to chomp down on Eddy’s arm, although he couldn’t help leaving a few scratches on the skin.”
“Maybe he just missed.”
“I can’t buy that. You said it yourself. Orcas can jump out of the water and take a fish from a kid’s hand without even grazing the fingertips.”
“What you’re saying is perfectly true. But Rocky could have become angry, grabbed Eddy, and pinned him to the bottom of the tank. That occurred before with Eddy. This time he wasn’t as lucky.”
“It doesn’t sound like luck. Rocky gets mad and reacts; any wild animal would do that. But between the top and the bottom of the tank, the whale made a conscious decision not to rip Eddy apart. He thought about what he was doing. And cared about it, too.”
“You’re forgetting time has no meaning to an animal. Rocky couldn’t have known Eddy was drowning. Animals don’t know their own power.”
“You’ve been in this business longer than I have, Mr. Austin, but I respectfully disagree. I think these animals do know their own power or Eddy’s death wouldn’t be such a big deal.”
Austin stared out the window. “You may be right. I wish I knew.” He glanced at his watch. “Unlike killer whales, though, humans do have a sense of time. I’ll be late for an appointment if I don’t get moving. Tell me, what are your plans?”
“I’d better get back to work so my fellow staffers won’t think I’ve got an in with the boss.”
“Sally is out by the dolphin pool. Why don’t you give her a hand? If Mike Arnold asks, say I thought you needed a break from diving after your close call in the shark tank.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, getting up. “By the way, Mike sent me down in the tank in anticipation of the park reopening soon. Is that a possibility?”
“Yes, it is. I’d like to start getting the park ready next week and to actually reopen by August.”
“What about the possibility that the park may have new Japanese owners? They might have something to say about the opening.”
“Personally, I think the Japanese will pull out of the deal. They won’t buy Oceanus as long as there is controversy, and I don’t see that ending. The smart thing would be to use that controversy to make a few dollars. I don’t know for sure if Rocky killed Eddy Byron, but I do know he’s made headlines around the world. That translates into big box-office receipts. And every time one of our friends in SOS screams about this place being a whale jail, it will give Oceanus even more publicity. I think I can persuade Bay State to see my point. They are, after all, interested in the bottom line.”
“What about the bomb threat?”
He frowned, probably remembering the phony bomb somebody laid at his office door. “I could do without those. But if Oceanus doesn’t open, it will go under financially. I think I’ll take the bombs over the banks. Besides,” he added with a skeptical grin, “you will have wrapped up your investigation by then and the whole mess will be settled.”
“In that case we’ll both need some luck.”
Sally Carlin stood by the dolphin pool watching Huff and Puff, who were taking turns jumping out of the water to touch their noses to a black-and-white rubber ball suspended about ten feet above them. After each contact, the dolphins swam to Sally, who rewarded them with a piece of fish. Sally saw me and blew a short blast on her whistle. It must have been a signal to take five because the dolphins stopped leaping and circled the pool, noisily blowing steamy exhalations from their blowholes.
Sally came over, threw her arms around my shoulders, and gave me a friendly squeeze. Her hands smelled from handling fish, but I don’t think I would have minded if she used codfish oil for cologne.
She let go after a second, but clasped my hand in hers and held it tightly. There was an expression of concern in her eyes. “I was afraid you had quit. It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt in the shark tank.”
“I’d swim with Whitey any day if I were sure I’d be greeted like this.”
Sally squeezed my hand self-consciously and let go.
“I get carried away at times. Blame it on my mother. She’s Italian. I got the color of my eyes and my emotional temperament from her. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m still trying to figure out what happened.”
“I just don’t understand,” she said, cocking her head. “I’ve seen Mike dive in the shark tank dozens of times without a problem.”
“I’ve heard sharks can sense when a person is nervous and will attack.”
“Do you really believe that’s what happened?”
A picture flashed through my mind. Long gray bodies streaking through the water. “No,” I said. “I wasn’t in the tank long enough for the sharks to get a fix on my frame of mind.”
“Even so, Mike shouldn’t have sent you down on your second day.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “He’s been an absolute jerk about you. I told him to grow up.”
“I’m not sure if I want him any bigger. He may have done me a favor, though. Dan Austin felt sorry for me and suggested I work with you. So I’m at your service.”
“I’m delighted! I’ve just been doing routine tricks with the girls. They get bored if they’re not challenged.”
She knelt and slapped the water. At the s
ignal, the dolphins swam over and stuck their heads out. Sally stood and swung her arm like a pitcher winding up on the mound at Fenway Park. The dolphins came all the way out of the water, beating their tails furiously. Defying gravity, they waked backward side by side across the surface. Reaching the far side of the pool, they dove under and darted toward us, two rippling shadows. Sally was ready when they popped up at her feet. She reached into her bucket and tossed a chunk of fish into each open mouth. Huff and Puff chattered their appreciation.
Sally pointed and made a wide circular motion with her arm. The dolphins dove and came up in the middle of the pool in a graceful rainbow leap. Seconds later, they were back for more fish.
“I get it,” I said. “They do the trick and you reward them. It’s something like training a dog.”
“A dolphin is a lot more intelligent than a dog, but you are right, the basic principle is the same. A hungry dolphin is trainable; a full dolphin isn’t. You have to keep them hungry when you work with them.”
“Isn’t that a little rough on the dolphins?”
“We keep them hungry, not famished. But it goes beyond trick equals reward.” She bent over and rubbed the dolphins’ heads. “They are very tactile creatures and like to be stroked, so it’s important to praise them when they perform. A dolphin may do a trick just for a pat on the head, but you can’t depend on it and the customers who normally fill these seats pay to see a show.”
“Are you the only one they’ll work with?”
She shook her head. “Normally, we’d have assistant trainers running the performances. Most of them are young people who look good in a wet suit. So while it is important to build up a good relationship with the animal, we don’t want them to work for just one trainer. Let me show you.”
Sally repeated the jump command. The dolphins leaped out of the water again and came back like a couple of kids trick-or-treating on Halloween. She handed the bucket to me. “Here, you feed them this time.”
I popped a piece of fish into their mouths and they chattered their thank-yous. Sally picked up two soccer-size rubber balls and told me to throw them into the center of the pool.
“Now, stick your arm out straight as if you were telling somebody to go thataway.”
I did as I was told. Huff and Puff dashed toward the balls. After a second of confusion, while they figured out who was going to grab what, each grasped a ball in his flipper, zoomed back, and jumped from the water in front of us. Sally reached out to take one ball and I got the other. I handed out chunks of fish again.
Sally bent over and rubbed the dolphins’ heads.
“They’re a lot like a child in some ways,” she said. “They like to play. They love treats. Most of the time they’re happy, but occasionally they’re cranky. And sometimes they get into mischief.”
“You mentioned reward. What about punishment?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You talked about rewarding good behavior. Do you ever punish them for bad behavior? Like a child?”
“Oh, I see. Oh no, if the animal doesn’t want to work, we don’t push it.”
“Does he still get fed?”
“Maybe not right away. But if you want to train a dolphin, hunger is the only pressure that works. There’s another way I can get a message across. If I want to let them know I’m not pleased with their behavior, I just leave the side of the pool. Dolphins are social animals. In the wild, they would be swimming with their pod. They crave companionship and touch and don’t like to be left alone.”
“Some people might say keeping a dolphin hungry or in solitary confinement are forms of punishment.”
“Some people do. I agree there’s a thin line, but no park would allow a trainer to harm a dolphin. Not because of any moral reasons, I’m sorry to say, but because marine mammals are just too expensive and difficult to acquire under the current laws. A good trainer senses the animal’s mood. You’ve got to get inside the animal’s skin. If it’s having a off day, there’s not much you can do about it.”
“Those are the good trainers. What do the bad ones do?”
“The majority of trainers I’ve known love the animals they work with. Perhaps too much, because it’s easy to get attached to them.”
“What about the minority of trainers?”
“I don’t even like to think about that. I’ve heard of cases where trainers have beaten the animal or even worse. That sort of cruelty sickens me.”
“What sort of trainer was Eddy Byron?”
She hesitated. Not a long pause, but long enough to tell me she was thinking about my question. I’d stopped playing Mickey the Dunce and she sensed the change.
“I think he knew what he was doing. You know something, you ask an awful lot of questions.”
I’d been moving too fast. Irritation showed in her eyes. I did some backpedaling.
“I’m sorry. It’s self-interest. Some of the critters around here bite.”
She relaxed. “I don’t bite.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Sally. This may sound stupid, but I was wondering. Does a dolphin ever get angry the way a person gets mad?”
“Normally, they aren’t aggressive, but they can show fits of temper. Say another dolphin tries to take its food. Or a dominant male might nip or whack a young male who tries to mate with a female in the pod.”
“No, I mean, do they ever get angry with divers? Self-interest again.”
“Oh sure. People have this vision of dolphins always being happy. It’s their smile, I guess. But they have moods just like people do. If you were in the water and didn’t feed them after they did a trick, they might swat you with their tail. Dolphins have snapped at trainers to show their displeasure. They’ll push you around. Or an animal will simply get burned out. Too much pressure on it to do tricks that don’t come naturally. Even a dolphin can become dangerous to work with. They could knock you unconscious with their tail if they wanted to.”
There is was again. If they wanted to. Dolphins were animals who could make a choice. They weren’t just all nerve endings, teeth, and bottomless appetites like sharks. And Rocky was the biggest member of the dolphin family. Rocky could tell you he was annoyed by pushing you around. If he wanted to. Or he could just as easily kill you. Again, if he wanted to.
I wanted to ask Sally more questions, but decided to postpone it. Mike Arnold was striding toward us.
He came over and stuck his face in mine. “Are you through here?” he said. I guess he wasn’t feeling sorry about the shark tank anymore.
“Dan Austin told me to give Sally a hand.”
“I know that. I’ve talked to him. I just want to know if you’re through.”
Arnold had toned down his Simon Legree act, but he still managed to look as if he wanted to horsewhip somebody. Sally caught the hostile vibrations. “Thanks for your help, Soc. I’m about done.”
“Good,” Arnold said to me. “Jill needs a hand in the fish house.”
He spun on his heels and marched off toward the administration building. The tension evaporated. Sally and I looked at each other. We both shrugged at the same time and laughed.
I made believe I was wiping sweat off my forehead. “Mike seems more angry at me than he should be. Is there something here that I’m missing?”
Sally frowned. “Mike doesn’t like to see me talking to any male under the age of a hundred. He thinks that because we dated and because he hired me that he has a proprietary interest in me.”
“Is he wrong?”
She leveled her eyes at me so there would be no mistake. “Yes. He is. Very much so.”
It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but I’ve never been subtle. “In that case, would you like to get together some night for food and fascinating conversation?”
“You may be sorry. I inherited my appetite from my mother.”
“Your eyes, your temperament, and your appetite. That’s three reasons I have for liking your mother. How about tonight?”
“Fine with me. Seven okay?”
“It’s a date.”
The fish house was behind the dolphin theater. I opened the door and stepped into a ten-by-ten room with Formica counters, a large cutting board, and a couple of sinks. Jill was coming out of a walk-in freezer. She gave me her Miss Sunbeam smile.
“Hi! You arrived just in time. I need a strong back.”
She held the steel door open and I went from summer to dead of winter. The freezer was lined with metal shelves stocked with cardboard boxes, most marked either “herring” or “mackerel.” Jill put her hand on one box and slid it off the shelf a few inches. I got on the opposite side and together we carried the box out to the other room and set it on a counter. Jill pulled a dozen frozen fish from the carton, grabbed a cleaver from a wall rack, lopped the tails and heads off, and started to chop the fish into bite-size pieces.
“Thanks for the hand,” she said. “There’s a dolly in there, but I always have a hard time getting the box off the shelf. There’s an extra cleaver if you want to help. Watch out for your fingers.”
I grabbed a fish and started chopping. The cleavers made a chuck-chuck sound as we worked. The mountain of chopped fish grew higher. Jill pulled more herring out of the box and divvied them up.
I said, “Is this for the dolphins?”
Chuck-chuck.
“Yep. For the beluga, too. Isn’t Froggy something?”
“Yeah. Friendly guy.”
“He’s a she. Like the dolphins.”
“Is Rocky a she, too?”
“Nope. He’s a he.”
Chuck-chuck.
The pile was getting bigger. Eyeing it, I said, “How much do those guys eat?”
“Huff and Puff eat about fifteen pounds of fish each a day. The beluga eats the same. We’ll chop up a few more, then we can set some whole fish aside for Rocky. We won’t have to worry about the shark tank. They’ve already been fed,” she said with a sidelong glance. “Mike Arnold wasn’t too happy about cleaning up the mess.”
Death in Deep Water Page 14