Endangered: A Zoo Mystery Part 10

Tom shifted in his chair. "And we wanted to ask if maybe he said anything, there at the end. Last words, I mean."

Ah. That was it. I thought back. Mostly I remembered the feel of the thick body under my palms, Denny stepping up to the mouth breathing, all in slanting, unreliable illumination from the headlights.

Tipton had said something. "I think he said, 'Look after slither,' something like that. It didn't make any sense to me."

Tom and Jeff looked at each other. Tom was apparently the designated spokesman. "Look after Stridder?"

"Yeah. That sounds right."

"Like I keep telling you," Tom said to his brother with sudden venom, "all he cared about was those birds. He didn't give a wad of spit about his family."

Jeff shook his head. "He was dyin'. You can't blame him."

"It's always been that way. You know it and I know it. He treated us worse than dogs and treated himself just fine."

Jeff flushed and started to rise.

The kettle whistled and I got up. Jeff settled back. I set up the French press under watchful eyes. "Who's Stridder?" I leaned against the counter while the coffee steeped.

Tom looked surprised. "The parrot. The other one's Stanley."

The macaws, then. Old Man Tipton's last words were to take care of his pets. I'd be p.i.s.sed, too.

I pulled half-and-half out of the fridge and set it on the table. "So what's the story with the parrots in the barn? And the tortoises?"

Jeff frowned a warning at Tom. Tom said, "What about them? Lots of people have birds and turtles."

I gave him a look. "I work in a zoo. I know about this stuff. They were illegal. You were going to sell them. And they were suffering and dying because you weren't taking good care of them."

Tom shrugged. "They're birds and turtles. It's not like dogs. They don't feel things. People have dominance over them anyway, it's in the Bible."

Jeff cut off this line of bulls.h.i.t with one of his own. "We came here to see that his birds was taken care of properly. Stridder and Stanley."

I couldn't hide how lame this sounded. Tom looked embarra.s.sed.

"They're in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Go take a look if you like."

Neither budged.

Jeff said, apparently to mollify me, "The big birds, they were different. He could do anything with them. He'd pet 'em and hold them on his lap. They like peanuts. Popcorn, too. He had a lot of fun with them."

"Do they talk?" I wasn't sure where this was going, but conversation was better than any action they might have in mind. The dogs were lying down, panting from worry.

"Nah. He tried to teach them, but they never talked back."

"He thought we had them in the van," I said.

They looked at their coffee cups. Tom said, "He liked those turtles, too. Liked them a lot. Are they here?"

"Nope. They're at the zoo."

Tom wrinkled his brow at me, an attempt at sincerity? "We'd like to go see them, see that they're all right. If you could tell us where they are."

"Locked up somewhere in a back room. I don't really know. I'm a bird keeper."

They looked at each other, defeated. Good grief, they really were smart as hemlock stumps. On the other hand, they had eluded the police for a week and had tracked me down. How? My name hadn't been in the news as far as I knew. I poured out the coffee and set down the sugar bowl. They used lots of sugar and cream.

Tom was a lousy liar, but he had persistence going for him. "Do you know how we could talk to the people in the ambulance? He might of said something to them."

I thought about it. "I can't remember which ambulance company it was. You could make some calls and find out."

I might as well suggest they don magic helmets and use telepathy.

Tom reached out toward Winnie, who slid back away from his hand. "Would that guy who was helping you, would he of heard any last words maybe?"

"Nothing I didn't hear. I'm sorry, but that's all there was. Your dad was in bad shape." What were they hoping for? Proof that their father loved them? Instructions for surviving without him? The pa.s.sword to his brokerage account?

Jeff spoke to himself as much as to Tom or me. "He's dead, and Liana's dead. He said that's what the government would do if they came. They shot her and got him so stirred up that his heart quit." His eyelid spasmed.

Liana hadn't been shot during the bust. I considered pointing this out, but they were the top candidates for her killer. Instead, I said, "Sorry for your loss."

The men acknowledged my cliche with subdued nods. Tom cradled his coffee cup in both hands. "He never knew. He thought she got away."

My head felt full of helium, floating into some universe where this was a normal conversation.

Jeff said, "He found her at a highway rest area. He felt sorry for her and brought her home. He saved her from a life of disrespect and danger. She was going to be my wife when she turned eighteen." He seemed to be defending his father's memory. "The birds liked her, too. They bit at me and Tom, but they liked her."

Tom's mouth twisted. "You couldn't even buy her a ring."

Jeff sat back in his chair, his cheekbones turning an angry red.

I tried to shift the topic before this escalated. "So how did you make bail?"

Jeff shot Tom a clear "shut up" look.

Tom ignored it. "He had money. He just liked to keep us poor. He was giving it away to certain people and...Well, he had some set aside."

Jeff's mouth was set in a grim line. "That's enough out of you. I mean it."

"What's the big secret?" Tom said. "Everyone knows what he-"

The phone in my pocket rang. I reached for it and Jeff half-stood, his face determined. I put my hand back on the table. I watched my fingers quiver and let it ring. When it stopped, I sought to regain some leverage. "How's your mother?" Surely that would nudge them away from violence.

They both stiffened. "We got no way to know. Government's got her locked up," Tom said.

I spoke carefully. "I heard she's in a hospital, not in jail. Once you turn yourselves in, you can probably talk to her on the phone or get a doctor's report."

Jeff snorted. "Hospital? That's just another word for prison. She's locked up tight. And we aren't never going to turn ourselves in because we'd be dead. The government men shot Liana, and they'll kill us just as quick."

I looked for the eye twitch, but it didn't happen.

"Besides, they brainwash people in the hospital," Tom explained. "Modern medicine poisons people so they don't ever revolt. They stay tame and quiet because of the drugs. That's what they're doing with our mom, and we can't do nothing about it. We don't even know where she's at."

And just as well, I thought. They were both getting worked up. I was familiar with this type of logic from working with Denny, but Denny never seemed to take his theories all that seriously. These guys believed.

The phone blared in my pocket and was silent, announcing a voice message. We all jumped.

"More coffee?" I asked, and they split the last of it. Getting them wired was not my first choice, but I didn't have a lot of options. I took a breath and pushed my luck. "I can make you some sandwiches, but then you'll need to leave. Friends of mine will be showing up soon, and things could get complicated."

That got nods, so I threw together two peanut b.u.t.ter and jam sandwiches at lightning speed and shoved them into a paper bag. Tom stood up and took the bag. "Thank you, ma'am, for the coffee and food. Sorry to be beggars, but we got nothing." He looked embarra.s.sed, and I took advantage of it.

"You guys leave now and stay away. You pushed me in the mud before and tonight you scared me again. You broke my door. Don't ever come here again." My voice barely trembled.

"We'd better get back before we catch h.e.l.l," Jeff said. His eye twitched.

Tom nodded, shame-faced. "Yes, ma'am. We won't bother you again." He picked up the pry bar off the kitchen table and stuck it in his rear pocket.

Jeff examined the door latch on his way out. "It's not so bad. A little glue and it'll be fine."

Pete and Cheyenne walked in an hour later and found a Portland Police officer finishing up his questions. His partner returned from a stroll around the neighborhood and reported that a neighbor had seen a green VW van driving away. I remembered to tell them about the dogs barking in the back yard a night or two ago. I was still shaking. What if Robby had been home? It was pure luck he wasn't. What if Cheyenne and Pete had showed up before they left? The brothers might have panicked or gotten aggressive, who knew?

One of the officers said, "We'll have a patrol car check the house every hour or so. Call 911 if anything happens."

I reminded them to coordinate with Gil Gettler.

Robby and I spent the night at my parents' house, and I didn't remember my date with Ken until I pulled my earrings off to go to bed, too late to call back.

Chapter Fourteen.

I sat in my car in the employee parking lot as the sun considered whether it was worth the effort to rise and listened to Ken's calm, puzzled voice message on my cell phone. I figured he'd be up by seven thirty so I pushed Send to call him back. I got his voice mail. "It's Iris. I was on my way out the door last night to meet you when the Tiptons broke in." That should short-circuit any hard feelings. "I had to deal with them and then the police. I'm really sorry. Call me, would you?"

The call and sleep-deprived sluggishness had made me late. Hap hovered at the time clock like a thundercloud. "Listen, you. We're buying you a hand gun after work today."

The onslaught wasn't a real attack, and I tried not to slip into defensive mode. "Pete and Cheyenne told you about my visitors."

"Yup. Let's do this. I'll meet you here after work, and we'll go shopping."

"I've never even fired a gun." I swiped my badge at the timeclock.

"About time then. We'll go to a range and I'll show you."

Hap knew things I never would, from the years that left him scarred and an expert on motorcycles and bar fights. I knew different realities, different disasters. "Hap, I have a kid. No way can I have a gun in the house."

"You can lock it up."

"If I do that, it's useless if someone breaks in."

"No, you get a fingerprint safe. Sits on your nightstand and opens fast. Reads your fingertips. That's what people use if they have kids."

"No way. I could shoot the wrong person or somebody could yank it away from me."

"So you'll just sit here and wait to see what happens?" Frustration warped his face into a vicious scowl. The snake tattoo climbing his arm swelled. "Look, there's sheep and there's wolves. The guard dogs aren't keeping the wolves away, so you need to do better than sit around and grow wool."

I took a breath and a step away. "Robby's safe for now. I'm figuring out what to do. I'll put a piece of iron pipe by my pillow."

Hap's head waggle said this was totally unsatisfactory. "You've got suspected killers breaking into your house. You've got a kid to protect."

"Hap, I know that. Give me some s.p.a.ce. I'm figuring this out."

Options and obstacles preoccupied me as I worked birds, the routine absorbed into muscle memory. I could feed and evaluate the penguin colony, which had returned to normal after the previous day's medical ordeal, and also ponder a heavy, dark gun in my hand. Would I shoot someone to protect myself, to save Robby? I didn't know, and it didn't matter. I couldn't have it around for my child to find and investigate.

Did Jeff and Tom have reason to return? Had I convinced them I didn't know anything useful? No way to tell. Old Man Tipton had not raised them to be competent and confident. He'd raised them to obey orders. I'd feared them as dangerous adults, but they were also nervous and uncertain. Country boys in the big city, out of their comfort zone. Unpredictable.

They had enough initiative to follow the zoo van and take that accursed plastic bag. I wished I'd challenged them about the bag. No, that would have been too confrontational.

I wished I could talk to Marcie about what I should do. Maybe call my mother instead? But I already knew what she'd say-"You and Robby are staying here until those men are in prison."

One of the Bali mynahs was fluffed up and sluggish. I spared a little brainpower for my job and put in a call to Dr. Reynolds with the radio at my hip. My cell phone rang while I was talking with her about the mynah. I wrapped it up abruptly and barely caught the call.

Ken didn't sound angry or shocked. "I guess I can't compete with drug dealers. Did they really break into your house?"

"Yup. Can we reschedule? I'll tell you all about it."

We set up dinner for the next evening and I hung up. It was more than a date now. He had spent time at the Tipton farm. Maybe he could help me figure out how to get them apprehended. That would be a first step in justice for Liana and the smuggled animals, not to mention the possibility of getting my life back. Ken and I had plenty to talk about.

On the way to lunch, I swung out of my way to the maintenance barn to have a chat with Ralph and Jose, who were deep into the guts of a giant riding lawnmower. "You guys get a work order for a mandrill feeder?"

Ralph, who looked about sixteen but had been at the zoo longer than I had, pulled his head out of the cab. "Kip came by with a design. We're on it."

"How long?"

Jose said, "Oh, probably three-four weeks. We're pretty busy."

An instant before I lost it, I caught the way he was watching me out of the corner of his eye. "Don't toy with me, you heartless gear heads. That baby's life is at stake."

Jose grinned. "I think we put it up tomorrow morning."

"That's better."

Ralph was smiling, too. I was an easy mark on a boring morning.