“They’re completely harmless,” Brinkman said.
“Not necessarily. These days it wouldn’t take much to stir up another snail-darter scenario. I mean, if some tree-hugger type really wanted to throw a wrench in this project.”
Brinkman said, “I told you, they’re not endangered. They don’t even take a cute picture.”
Krimmler shrugged. “Still and all, we can’t be too careful. Where exactly did you find these toads. Dr. Brinkman?”
“All over the island, like I said.”
“Uplands or wetlands?”
“Uplands, mostly,” said Brinkman.
“Excellent.”
“In the flatwood and shrub. There’s so many, you’ll never catch them all.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Krimmler said. “That’s why we’re going to bury ’em instead.”
4
On the drive to the airport, the man tossed from the Range Rover a styrofoam coffee cup and the cellophane wrapper from a Little Debbie’s cinnamon-raisin roll. This happened at eighty miles an hour in breakneck traffic on the interstate, so Twilly was unable to pull over and retrieve the trash. By now he had ditched his dirty black pickup and rented a generic maroon Chevrolet Corsica, of which there were no fewer than half a million on the highways of South Florida during tourist season. Twilly enjoyed feeling inconspicuous behind the wheel; for the sake of appearances, he even spread a road map upside down across his lap. He followed the litterbug all the way to the airport parking garage and, by foot, into the terminal. Twilly shouldn’t have been surprised to see the man greeted affectionately at the Delta gate by a top-heavy blond woman with a Gucci overnighter, but Twilly was surprised, and a bit pissed off. Why, he didn’t know. He drove back to the litterbug’s house and waited for the wife/girlfriend to make a move. She came out wearing a short tennis ensemble and carrying not one but three oversized rackets. Twilly watched her slide into a black BMW that her husband/boyfriend must have leased to replace—temporarily, Twilly felt certain—the ruined red one.
After she was gone, Twilly slipped through the hedgerow into the backyard and scoped out the window jambs, which were wired for an alarm. He wasn’t concerned. Based on his observations of Litterbug and wife/girlfriend, Twilly had a hunch the alarm wasn’t set. And, sure enough, neither of them had remembered to lock the laundry room door, which Twilly nudged open. No sirens, beeps or whistles went off. Twilly stepped inside and listened for a maid or a cook or a nanny. Through a doorway he could see into the kitchen. While there was no sign of movement, Twilly thought he heard breathing.
“Hello?” he called. He had a story ready—county code inspector, checking for hurricane shutters. Saw the door ajar, got worried, et cetera. For the occasion Twilly had worn a thin plain necktie and a white short-sleeved shirt.
“Hello!” he said again, louder.
An enormous jet-black dog trotted around the corner and clamped onto his right calf. It was a Labrador retriever, the largest Twilly had ever seen, with a face as broad as a bear’s. Twilly was annoyed with himself for failing to anticipate an oversized house pet, because it fit Litterbug’s profile.
He remained motionless and unflinching in the dog’s grip. “Bad dog,” he said, vainly hoping the animal would be intimidated by his composure. “No!” was Twilly’s next try. “Bad boy! Bad boy!” Never before had he been attacked by a dog that didn’t growl or even snarl. He took the Labrador by its silky ears. “You made your point. Now let go!”
The dog glanced up with no discernible hostility. Twilly expected to feel more pain, but the Lab actually wasn’t biting down very hard; instead it held on with an impassive stubbornness, as if Twilly’s hide were a favored old sock.
I haven’t got time for games, Twilly thought. Bending over the dog, he locked both arms around its barrel-sized midsection and hoisted it clear off the tile. He suspended the dog in an upside-down hug—its ears slack, hind legs straight in the air—until it let go. When he put the dog down, it seemed more dizzy than enraged. Twilly stroked the crown of its head. Immediately the Lab thumped its tail and rolled over. In the refrigerator Twilly found some cold cuts, which he placed on a platter on the kitchen floor.