“The big guy doesn’t appear to be moving, so I think we’re okay,” Wade replied, peering out the car window. “It’s only when one of them is chasing you that you have to worry.”
After getting off the interstate, they drove along a quiet country lane. The route took them past a serene lake, a field in which cows peacefully grazed, and a row of trees gracefully draped with Spanish moss. Not only were they traveling to a more peaceful spot, they also seemed to be going back in time.
“This is definitely old Florida,” Mallory commented. “Anytime I start feeling like I’m seven years old again, I know I’ve stumbled across something that’s stored in my brain from my childhood trips.”
“And this place definitely falls into the kitsch category,” Wade added as they drove into the parking lot. “Big-time. It’s perfect for your article.”
She immediately understood what he was referring to. As they strolled toward the entrance to Dinosaur World, she snapped a few photos of the large archway made of fake gray stone, presumably to give it a prehistoric look. Three life-size dinosaurs were perched along the top and a long-necked dino wearing an unusually friendly expression stood in front. Edging the walkway were two bright red hatchlings peeking out of gigantic yellow eggs. As she drew closer, Mallory realized that the cute baby dinos were actually trash cans. Each one had a circle cut out of its chest for depositing garbage.
“Definitely kitsch,” Mallory agreed as they passed through the archway and onto a wooden bridge that crossed over a meandering stream. “Although I guess anything involving dinosaurs is pretty much guaranteed to be kitsch, isn’t it?”
Despite her cynicism, she had to admit that her surroundings couldn’t have been more peaceful. The stream was set amidst what could only be described as lush foliage—although she realized that if she was ever going to make it as a travel writer, she was going to have to come up with some other phrase. The warm air was heavy with humidity, which added to the feeling that she was embarking upon an exotic adventure.
“Okay, now we’re really in kitsch territory,” Wade said as they approached the first building.
While the large yellow letters above the door spelled out the word Welcome, it was hard to feel welcome when the head of a huge gray dinosaur baring an inordinate number of pointed white teeth protruded out of the roof like a chimney. Two of his tremendous gnarled gray legs served as columns, although they appeared to have been dislodged from the rest of his body and strategically placed to provide maximum support for the roof. Whether the fluorescent lights stuck in the ceiling between them were meant to designate some other part of his anatomy wasn’t clear.
Inside the building was a gift shop. Just as the store at Gatorland had sold alligators in every possible size, shape, form, and material, this one specialized in dino merchandise. There were plastic dinosaurs, cuddly stuffed dinosaurs, and dinosaurs that looked peeved over being trapped inside snow globes. But this shop’s inventory also included other items that pertained to the planet back in the day, including gemstones, fossils, and jewelry made from some of the pretty rocks that had once been part of the earth’s crust.
Inside the park, a concrete walkway wound through all the greenery. Every few feet, another dinosaur glowered at them from inside the woods. Fortunately, each terrifying animal was separated from the modern-day visitors by an informative plaque.
Mallory dutifully copied down the names of each one, meanwhile snapping pictures to help keep them all straight.
“Plant-eating Lystrosaurus,” she wrote in her notebook, noticing how good she was getting at walking and writing at the same time. “Massopondylus. Liliensternus. Ceratosaurus. You know, I don’t remember learning about any of these in school.”
“Me, either,” Wade said. “Of course, when I was a kid, these guys were still wandering the earth. Hey, here’s a stegosaurus. That’s one I remember hearing about.”
Mallory noticed that of all the visitors, the ones who appeared to be having the most fun were those in the two-to three-year-old category. Still, she had to admit that strolling through the scenic park, with its hot steamy air and—well, the lush foliage—was extremely pleasant. The only sound was the chirping of birds and the din of the traffic on I-4. Maybe the experience wasn’t exactly accurate, given the constant reminder that this was actually the twenty-first century, but it was still relaxing.
When Mallory and Wade happened upon a Coke machine, he said seriously, “Now, this has to be one of the originals. See the way it’s housed in its own wooden hut?”
“Definitely authentic,” Mallory agreed with mock seriousness, “although I can’t help wondering how the dinosaurs managed to push the Diet Coke button, given how big their claws are.”
“Hey, check out this turquoise guy.” Wade stopped to admire a protoceratops that looked like an animal that would have hung out with the Smurfs. “He’d make a nice house pet. Undoubtedly add a bit of color to the place, too.”
In a burst of creativity, Mallory scribbled a few lines that she hoped she’d actually be able to use in her article.
“The creatures that inhabit Dinosaur World don’t move,” she wrote. “They don’t make unearthly sounds. They don’t even have a particularly menacing look in their eyes.
“Yet even though the park doesn’t provide an over-the-top Jurassic Park–style experience, visitors who make the one-hour drive from Orlando to Plant City can nevertheless have a pleasant outing. There’s plenty to enjoy here—particularly for those who are looking for the old Florida. First, the grounds are spectacular. Second, while these dinos may not make the ground tremble, they are all spectacularly detailed models of some of the most fascinating animals that ever stomped across the planet….”
“Let’s see what this is,” Mallory suggested when they wandered past another building. It was made of fake stone, making it look as if it had been designed by The Flintstones’s cartoonist. Above the doorway was THE BONEYARD. Not surprisingly, the letters were made out of bones.
Ducking inside, she and Wade discovered an exhibit that allowed children to get an idea of what it would be like to dig for fossils. The interior was nothing more than a very large sandbox. However, brushing away the sand revealed what looked like dinosaur bones.
“Check out these rules,” Wade said, reading a sign that was stuck in the sand. “‘Dig carefully. Don’t throw sand on tools. Take turns.’ Do you suppose professional paleontologists also have to be reminded how to behave on a dig?”
“I don’t see any rules about stealing other people’s discoveries and claiming they’re yours,” she countered.
Across from the Boneyard was a second sprawling building. This one also had the look that modern-day folk tended to associate with prehistoric times, even though real dinosaurs hadn’t been big on architecture.
“What’s in here?” Wade asked, poking his head through the doorway. “Hey, a movie. Let’s watch.”
They sat on a bench made of synthetic rock for fifteen minutes, enthralled by a video that contained interviews with paleontologists and footage of them working on-site.
“You’ve got to admit, dinosaurs really are fascinating,” Mallory commented as they wandered out of the dark building and back into the bright light of midday. “And the kitsch aspect aside, this is a great way to learn about them.”
“True, but time travel makes me hungry,” Wade said. “Where do they sell the brontosaurus burgers?”
“There’s no food for sale here.” Mallory held up the tote bag she’d been carrying. “I read about that in one of my guidebooks, so I brought us a picnic lunch.”
“Aha. So you’re one of those people who’s actually organized enough to read up on the places you’re going to visit.”
“This is all so new to me,” she admitted. “The idea of traveling to a new place to write about it instead of just enjoying it, I mean. I’m trying really hard to get it right.”
She was silent for a long time, thinking about how something as simple as getting into an argum
ent with some fool on an airplane could create problems that no one could ever anticipate.
Dinosaur World’s picnic area consisted of a large group of tables lined up like desks in a classroom. That was probably because so many of them were occupied by schoolchildren, and the folks who ran the park no doubt wanted them to feel at home. In fact, Mallory estimated that even taking the few teachers into account, the average age of the park’s attendees that day was about eight.
“Putting together a picnic lunch was actually kind of fun,” Mallory said as she and Wade sat down at a corner table that was as far from any impending food fights as they could get. “I had a long consultation with the waitress at the Tiki Tiki Teahouse this morning. We planned out the whole menu, and then she packed it.” She sighed. “I must say, I feel as if I’ve done more planning in the past week than I have in months.”
“I hardly planned for this trip at all,” Wade commented. “Coming to Florida was actually a last-minute decision.”
The sudden change in his tone of voice prompted Mallory to glance up. She noticed he was avoiding making eye contact, so she bent her head over her tote bag and began unpacking the food.
“A little over a week ago,” he continued in the same strained voice, “my ex called me up and dropped a bomb. She told me she was getting married again.”
“That was fast.” The comment slipped out before Mallory could stop herself.
“My sentiments exactly.” Wade was silent as he watched her unwrap sandwiches and pop open cans of soda. “But then the other shoe dropped. She told me who she was marrying.”
She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“Turns out her fiancé is one of my closest friends. Was one of my closest friends. In fact, the four of us—Laura and I, Jeff and Sarah—used to get together as couples all the time. We’d take turns making dinner, get theater tickets, go to concerts, that kind of thing.
“I was surprised when Jeff and Sarah separated around the same time Laura and I did. But I didn’t have a chance to give it very much thought. I was too busy dealing with my own emotional roller coaster. All along, I just assumed it was a coincidence that both couples were splitting up so close together.” His voice grew even thicker. “But last Monday, I suddenly put two and two together. I realized that Laura had been having an affair with Jeff while we were still married. That in the end, it was the real reason our marriage ended.”
“But you don’t know that for sure,” Mallory observed quietly.
“I didn’t until I came right out and asked her,” Wade said warily. “The silence at the other end of the phone told me everything I needed to know.”
“Oh, Wade,” she said in a somber tone. “That’s horrible.”
She could imagine how hurt she would have been if she’d ever found out that David had been unfaithful. In fact, the very idea made her stomach tighten.
“And here I’d thought getting divorced was bad,” he said with a sardonic smile. “Turns out it was nothing compared to finding out what an idiot I’d been.”
For a long time, Wade just stared at his sandwich. The chirping of birds and the rumbling of truck engines suddenly seemed very loud.
Instinctively Mallory reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Look, the reason you came down here was to get away. So let’s forget all about what we left behind and try to have as good a time as we can.”
She tried not to think about the fact that she was hardly one to talk, as she was a long way from accomplishing that goal herself. In fact, she’d encountered even more problems in Florida than she ever had at home.
“That was fun,” Wade said as they strolled out of the park later that afternoon. “Thanks for letting me tag along. And thanks for listening to me whine about my personal life.”
“I didn’t mind a bit. And I had fun, too.” Mallory was glad they were walking side by side along the wooden bridge that led back to the parking lot. She could feel her cheeks burning, and she was hoping he wouldn’t notice.
She stiffened when he suddenly stopped, placed his hand on her shoulder, and gently turned her so she was facing him.
“You know, Mallory, after all that’s happened to me, I wouldn’t think it would be possible for me to trust anyone ever again,” he said earnestly. “But I trust you. And I trust what I think you and I could become, if we gave it a chance.”
He leaned forward as if he was going to kiss her. Mallory was so caught up in the moment that she almost leaned forward, as well.
But something stopped her.
Instinctively she took a step away. I don’t really know this man, she thought amidst the alarms going off in her head. And it has nothing to do with David or the grieving process or the newness of being back in the world again.
This man could have killed Phil.
“I’m sorry, Wade,” she said, staring at his shoulder to avoid looking into his eyes. “I can’t. I thought I was ready, but I’m not.”
“Of course,” he said earnestly, taking a step away himself. “I understand.”
But you don’t understand! a voice inside her head cried. I thought you might be someone I could care about, too. At least I did at first. But now I don’t know what to believe.
Mallory felt overwhelmed by the fact that she didn’t know what to believe about anyone. All her perceptions seemed to have been wrong. She’d thought Annabelle was a social zero, yet it turned out she’d been carrying on a secret love affair with Phil for years. Frieda had struck her as the quintessential sweet little old lady. But her age didn’t keep her from taking the occasional stroll on the wild side.
Then there was Courtney. She had acted as if Desmond was a near-stranger, yet the two of them actually knew each other quite well. As for Desmond, it turned out his past life had been closely tied to Phil’s, making her wonder if his current life might have been, too.
As for Wade, she didn’t know what to think. She wasn’t sure what she felt, either—except that she was wrong to have even entertained the idea that she might be ready to connect with a new man.
And that uncertainty paled beside her concerns about the role Wade might have played in Phil’s murder.
Wade had just told her that coming to Orlando was a last-minute decision. But even that didn’t lessen her suspicion. It would have been too easy for him to lie. Going on a trip with Phil Diamond, a man he’d harbored bad feelings against for years, could have been something he’d been plotting for a long time.
Or maybe it had been something he’d chosen to do impulsively. Perhaps seeing Phil’s name on the list had made him decide to sign on for this press trip. Perhaps he’d even taken the assignment away from one of the writers on his staff, who’d already been packing his sunblock and his flip-flops.
People don’t kill over a missed deadline, she told herself.
But maybe there was more to their history, something Wade hadn’t told her.
She hated being this mistrustful. Yet she had to consider every possibility if she was going to find out who had really killed Phil Diamond.
Why did I ever think I was ready to take on a challenge as monumental as becoming a travel writer? she wondered, her head spinning as she and Wade walked back to the car in silence.
Amanda was right. For the past six months, she had barely left Rivington. Even taking the train into the city for her job interview had been a big deal.
Too much, too soon, she thought. Maybe it was a cliché, but it suddenly seemed to define every single aspect of her life.
17
“One’s destination is never a place but a new way of looking at things.”
—Henry Miller
As soon as she let herself into her hotel room, Mallory made a beeline for the round table in the corner, her cell phone in her hand. The last thing she wanted was to believe that Wade had killed Phil Diamond, which made her more determined than ever to find out who had.
She rifled through her purse until she found the name and phone number of Frieda Stein’s edit
or at Go Seniors! magazine. Then she steadied her hand long enough to punch in the number.
“John Crane,” a deep voice answered.
She took a deep breath before jumping in. “Mr. Crane, my name is Mallory Marlowe. I’m considering hiring Frieda Stein for a freelance project, and she gave me your name as a reference.”
“Really?” John Crane sounded doubtful. “I don’t recall Frieda saying anything to me about that.”
Mallory was about to suggest a possible explanation for her forgetfulness when he added, “But that’s Frieda for you. The woman’s a terrific writer and she has a real sense of fun. Frankly, that’s a winning combination you don’t come across every day. But occasionally she skips over some of the details.” Chuckling, he added, “The workings of a creative mind, I suppose.”
“It sounds as if you’ve been pleased with her work,” Mallory observed.
“Very pleased,” he replied. “In fact, I can’t say enough about her. Have you seen her piece on skinny-dipping at Epcot?”
“Not yet. But I’m looking forward to—”
“Of course, her article created a bit of a problem for the Disney people.” John paused. “It seems that quite a few of her readers decided they wanted to try a little skinny-dipping of their own. There’s this one photograph that ran in one of the newspapers that shows…well, I won’t go into that.”
Please don’t, Mallory thought.
“Anyway, Frieda has a long, successful writing career behind her,” John continued. “She started out at a weekly in Brooklyn, then moved up the ladder, writing for bigger and better magazines and newspapers. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to think of a publication she hasn’t written for.”
“I suppose writing for Go, Seniors! is something that’s more suitable to her lifestyle at this point,” Mallory commented, carefully measuring her words.
“If you’re politely trying to say that Go, Seniors! isn’t exactly Condé Nast Traveler, you’re absolutely right. It’s definitely a comedown. But Frieda is at a different stage of her life right now. I don’t think she’s as anxious to go running all over the world, staying at seven different hotels in a single week and getting facials at as many different spas.”
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