beak of a nose. And the whole picture was capped by what had to be one of the thickest and curliest heads of hair Ron had ever seen. Three pens of various types jutted out of that hair like a tribal decoration on some ancient Neanderthal. Once again Ron wanted to chuckle, but quickly noted that all vestige of Tatum’s friendly demeanor had vanished as the goofball came their way.
Tatum spoke first. “Mr. Dodd. We keep telling you there’s no story here. And we can do without your kind of publicity.”
The Dodd fellow came up the steps, and Ron had in mind that the three of them looked to be a mismatched set of progressively smaller figures. “Hello,” he said, and extended his hand to Ron. Ron took it. “I’m Tim Dodd, with the National Inquirer. Down here to get the story on what’s going on in paradise.” He smiled a lopsided grin.
“Ron Riggs,” Ron told him. “U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.”
Tatum cleared his throat and seemed to glare a message at Ron. Ron got the message, but lying to the press wasn’t part of his job. At least not this one.
“Yes. I saw your truck,” the reporter said. “What exactly is the problem around here, Mr. Riggs?”
“There isn’t a problem,” Tatum said. “Due to the outstanding status of most of the property surrounding Salutations USA, we are obliged by law to confer with various governmental and environmental agencies whenever the company wishes to make any kind of decision involving construction or modifications of almost any type.”
“Modifications, eh? Is that what you call a hunting party to exterminate the local wildlife?”
Whatever of friendliness remained in Tatum’s face vanished and was instantly replaced with something quite darker. “Mr. Dodd. I’ve warned you once. You can’t find a story here, so you’re just trying to create one.”
“What story?” Ron asked.
“Don’t you read the Inquirer? My column, ‘In Dodd We Trust’?” Dodd looked indignant.
“Afraid not,” Riggs told him, a grin cracking his face.
Dodd raised his thin arms in the air, as if asking the gods for a reason. “You’re a deprived individual, Mr. Riggs. Which is better than being depraved, eh Tatum?”
“This is private property, Dodd.” Tatum ground out the words.
“Yes, it is, Mr. Tatum. But you don’t really need or want the negative publicity of having me tossed out of here, do you? I know you’ve already discussed it in your various board meetings. So I’m just going to hang out until I dig up the truth. What do you say, Riggs? Want to cough it all up for me?”
Ron finally smiled at the little man. “I’m just here on minor business, actually. I’m going to scout the area here and see what kinds of populations the local forest currently serves as home. Nothing sinister or dramatic, I promise.”
“What kinds of creatures, Mr. Riggs? Giant snakes, maybe?” Dodd stepped back and lifted the camera to his face. Before either of the other men could complain, he had at least two shots of them there in front of the security building.
“Stop that, Dodd. I mean it.” Tatum was pointing at the reporter and was rewarded with having a shot taken of his menacing posture.
“You can’t stop the Press, Tatum. You know that.”
Tatum was at the end of his patience. He put his hand on Ron’s shoulder and nudged him toward the door. “Let’s go inside, shall we? Where we’ll have some privacy.”
Dodd called out to them as they went in. “Riggs. I’m at the Executive, down the street. Give me a ring or leave a message with the front desk. I’d like to talk to you.”
And then Riggs and Tatum were inside, walking down a neat, pale yellow corridor with doors on each side leading into offices from which young secretaries and junior clerks emerged and vanished as the two men went toward an elevator at the end of the hall. Once in the elevator, Tatum breathed in, held it, then released, calming himself.
“Do you know what they’ve been calling Salutations in that rag he writes for?”
“Um. No. I have to say I don’t read that paper.”
“Jurassic Park. They’re calling us Jurassic Park.”
Ron, in spite of himself, laughed. He looked guiltily up at Tatum. “I’m sorry. But you have to admit that it’s funny.”
“We have some trouble with alligators, a couple of people are snakebit. Next thing we see, the National Inquirer is calling us Jurassic-freaking-Park and claiming we’ve got a monster living in the forest around the town.” Tatum squinted his eyes,