Endangered: A Zoo Mystery Part 11

"You're welcome," Jose called as I left.

I turned and blew him a kiss, then one for Ralph. They hooted.

I'd almost forgotten how to smile.

I called Linda and asked her to eat with me at Felines instead of the bas.e.m.e.nt lunch room. To avoid running into co-workers and sharing my indecision, I bought lunch early. The burrito was cooling when I caught Feline's steel door to keep it from slamming behind me.

The old concrete box was hers now, her posters and cartoons on the wall, her food in the fridge, but it still smelled and sounded the same as when I was the feline keeper-cat smells, cougar chirps, lion grunts. It always felt like a home I'd abandoned. We sat at the metal table in the kitchen. I unwrapped the burrito and popped the lid off the coleslaw container. "I need to hear myself talk."

"I'm told your date with the dog guy was pre-empted by the Tiptons." She'd already pulled cottage cheese and sliced peaches out of the fridge.

"Pete, Cheyenne, or Hap?"

"Pete. It was on the news, too-'broke into a Portland house and fled.' No mention of your name or address."

"Good. Here's the thing. I have to keep Robby far, far away from them. Hap wants me to buy a gun, but that's a non-starter. Pete and Cheyenne are mostly home when we are, but it's not fair to ask them to go up against criminals. I don't know what to do."

"So is your house safe or not? I'm thinking the evidence is pretty clear."

"d.a.m.n it, why should I have to wrench my entire life around and move out because of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds? I would take the risk, if it was just me, but letting Robby stay there is unthinkable."

"h.e.l.lo? You can't afford it either. Who's going to raise him if they shoot you?"

"Where on earth can I take Robby and two dogs? I wouldn't feel any safer in a motel, and it's too expensive. My parents have their own lives, and I can't keep spreading the disruption."

Linda raised an eyebrow. "My keen intuition tells me you have made a decision and are just stalling."

"Pete and Cheyenne should leave, too. It keeps rippling out."

"Call your parents. I'll come with you to pack."

"No!" I sulked for a moment. "All right. Yes. Where can Pete and Cheyenne go?"

Linda thought about it. "Denny's, I suppose. He's got room. All I've got is a sofa."

"They can train that dog of his and clean up the place. Then all this might be worth it."

It was a weak joke, and Linda ignored it.

I finished my food, ranted some more, and departed in search of Pete. Cheyenne would probably refuse to hide out, so best to start with him. He was working Bears since Arnie, the regular bear keeper, was off. I found him on the platform above and behind the black bear exhibit, hosing down. "Pete," I called, "need you for a minute." He shut the water off and climbed down. He agreed that it made sense for all of us to move out for awhile and that Denny's place would be their best bet. I said, "I'm leaving it to you to persuade Cheyenne."

He looked glum.

I called my mother and explained the situation. She's at her best in a crisis and a.s.sured me that I was doing the right thing and that "we'll have a good time." What if Jeff and Tom had been raised by two warm-hearted, capable parents? I wished I could clone mine and a.s.sign all the sad, frightened toddlers in the world to better homes.

Hap waited at the time clock at day's end. He wanted to share that Oregon doesn't allow bail bondsmen or bounty hunters. "That means you can jump bail in Washington and hop over to Oregon, the state where you live, and no one but the police can haul you back to Washington. That means..."

"Yeah, I get it. The Tipton boys might stay in Portland, and they could come back to my place."

"You need protection."

"No, I need to hide out for awhile. I'm going home to pack."

"Where will you go?"

"Somewhere else."

He considered being offended that I wouldn't tell him and decided to pa.s.s on it. Or else he figured out that it had to be my parents'.

He met me at the house after work "just in case." He checked the inside, then hung out in the living room as Linda and I rounded up stuffed animals, clothing, and dog food. Pete and Cheyenne showed up with a load of groceries and put them away in a strained silence. I raised an eyebrow at Pete. He shook his head.

"So," Cheyenne said when she finished tucking away the coconut milk and lemon gra.s.s, "you're bailing?"

"Yeah. Until the Tiptons are back in jail. And you?"

"We'll be fine here."

I considered arguing and gave it up. My own problems were more than enough. "Pete, would you feed the macaws while I'm gone? I'll write out instructions."

"No problem. Show me where the food is."

"We can feed them together now, before I go."

Hap took a break from guard duty and the three of us fed the macaws, with minor disputes about the proportion of fruit to pellets and whether the bas.e.m.e.nt was warm enough at about sixty degrees. Since one of them-I didn't know which was Stanley and which was Stridder-was half naked from feather-plucking, I had set up a heat lamp to radiate on a perch. Pete said he'd keep an eye on the bulb.

"Pete," I said, "if you talk Cheyenne into moving out, just call me. I'll come feed them. I won't be that far away. Don't let her use this as an excuse."

He nodded. "It could happen. Elephants could sing opera."

"Look at those two," Hap said. "Crammed into that cage side by side for years, and now they can't get far enough away from each other."

True. The birds perched at opposite ends of the remodeled cage. "Too bad. They'd be happier paired up," I said. Happier flying free in a tropical jungle, but that was really beyond my powers. And only a fantasy since they couldn't have a clue how to survive in the wild.

Hap said, "I'll send you an email with links to local sanctuaries. If you can get them in. They get lots of big parrots that people can't keep or don't want. I don't breed mine anymore, not since I tracked down what became of half a dozen birds I bred and sold. Too many of them resold and vanished or given away or stuck in a bas.e.m.e.nt."

I said, "This bas.e.m.e.nt was so not my idea."

"I know that."

Pete went upstairs to start dinner and fight with Cheyenne, Hap to see if by any chance our fridge held a beer. I stayed a moment, watching the birds pick through our offerings.

Jerome Tipton had been outraged that we were hauling them off to the zoo. When he hollered to "get my birds," I was sure he meant Stridder and Stanley and not the Amazon parrots. He and his sons were facing trial, his wife was in the hospital, his "daughter" was missing-a.s.suming he didn't know she was dead-and his property was invaded. Yet he was desperate to get his birds back. His last words were about them.

The unplucked macaw put his face to the mesh, and I scratched his forehead. "What are you not telling me?"

Chapter Fifteen.

My mother had put basil in something and dinner smelled like summer, a promise that winter would end someday. I scooted Robby up to the table on the booster seat. The parents had already eaten, so my mother hovered, offering me hot tea, lemon slices for the fish, rice vinegar for the beets, a salad dressing. My father sat with his wrists on the table. They both looked tired, probably from tearing around setting the house up for me, my son, and two dogs. Winnie and Range sprawled where people would be mostly likely to trip over them.

"You are the best ever," I said to both. "I could not make it without you, and I'm sorry for everything I ever did that worried you, and for being an awful teenager, and not turning the compost last fall like I promised, and for not growing up to be a teacher or a sign painter. I will make this invasion as short as I can, I promise."

They gave each other a look, and my mother said, "Relax. You're doing the smart thing."

I thought she might add, "For once," but she didn't.

My father said, "We'll sleep better with you here and safe."

That night I lay again in my adolescent bed with Robby curled up asleep-at last-on a crib mattress on the floor nearby. The dogs snuffled unhappily in the hallway outside the door when they weren't barking at unfamiliar noises. The bedroom was chaotic, suitcases and tote bags everywhere. I was evicted, stressed out, and desperate.

In the morning, I pulled on a clean uniform without disturbing Robby. Today he would stay with his grandparents, so I could let him sleep.

I walked into the empty living room carrying my rubber boots and dialed Officer Gil Gettler. Whether he had an early shift or a late one, I couldn't say, but he did pick up and I suppose he was sorry to find me at the other end. No, the Tiptons weren't in custody. No, he couldn't say when they would be. Yes, he would let me know as soon as it happened.

"They were driving around in their own van," I said. "How does that happen? They show up at the farm and just drive it away and n.o.body notices?"

"We're stretched thin and their place is out on the edge. We've got a murder/suicide and a bank robbery in the last couple of days."

"So they get to wander around until somebody trips over them? Look, are you sure they aren't sleeping in one of those barns? Or at Pluvia's, that neighbor woman?"

"They haven't been in either of the barns or the house, and we know there's been no vehicular traffic in that neighbor's driveway."

"And how do you know all that when no one spotted them driving away?"

"Trust me, we know. It's just a matter of time until we find them."

Trust me. I hung up in an angry panic.

I found my mother, wearing the green velvet robe I'd given her for Christmas, in the kitchen making coffee.

"Mom, go back to bed. It's Sunday. I can feed myself. Robby's still asleep."

"No, it's fine. Here." She handed me a mug.

I sagged at the kitchen table, trying to let go of the frustration and fear. "I'm really sorry to crash on you like this. I have no idea when I can go home."

"It's not so terrible to have you back. You used to live here, if you recall."

"Not with two dogs and a little kid." Was I bringing my troubles to them? If the Tiptons wanted to find me, maybe they could track me here. The thought made my head hurt.

My mother puttered around while I ate. I expected advice or warnings or pleas, but she just puttered while I ate my cereal. She pulled up a chair next to me. "Tell me about that girl you found."

I told her about following the dog to Liana's body. "I don't know why, exactly, but I feel really bad for her. I have this notion that she escaped from something awful, like a vicious pimp. Maybe the Tipton farm was a place to hide, although it was pretty awful, too. I keep seeing her walking through the woods to visit her friend. Trying to make a home out of that s.k.a.n.ky house. Playing with the Doberman puppy. And then someone shot her before she had a chance at a better life."

"Do you think her pimp found her and killed her?"

"At the same time as the drug bust? That seems too coincidental. I have no idea. But I keep thinking about her."

"I wondered how you'd handle motherhood." She patted my hand.

I wasn't at all sure what that meant, but it seemed to be a compliment. "I don't think I'm ready to feel motherly toward a teenager, not yet. Let me get through toilet training first. Or maybe you're right."

A quiet conversation between equals. How odd.

I had my hand on the front door k.n.o.b, ready to leave, when I remembered. "Mom, I know this isn't the best timing, but I have a date for tonight. I already canceled on him once. I can see if Amanda's daughter will watch Robby. Courtney's good with him."

"You have a date? Is his head shaved? Is he tattooed?"

It was almost a relief to have my real mother back. "Mom..."

"I'm only asking."

A few dubious choices in high school stick like gum to my shoe. "He's got hair and a job. I'll let you know about the tattoos if it goes well."

She blushed. "Robby will be fine with us. Have fun."

"I'll be home to change before I go out." I'm not a big hugger, but grat.i.tude and affection got the best of me.

Sky was really, really p.i.s.sed off. We keepers had conspired to play a cruel trick on him, humiliated him in front of his wives, and, far worse, deprived him of his rightful food. The big monkey stared a mean stare toward where I observed from the visitor viewpoint. He followed up with a head bob and slapped the ground with a palm to show he meant it.

How did he know this was my fault?

The mandrill stormed back and forth at the keeper door to his exhibit, which had grown a contraption overnight. A box made of close-s.p.a.ced metal bars, about a foot square and two inches deep, was welded flat to the metal door. It was full of monkey chow, and he couldn't get at it. He stopped now and then to poke his fingers into the box. He could touch the hard little biscuits as well as see and smell them, but he couldn't get them out. This was his monkey chow, in the wrong place. Violet and Carmine wouldn't dream of claiming it. They stayed as far away as they could get.

It had taken all my will power to wait until break to leave Birds and check out the mandrills. This wasn't what I'd hoped for.

Sky emitted frustration like a fumarole. He applied his teeth to the steel bars and got one of the uppers stuck, his head at a weird angle. My heart stopped. If he broke a canine...or his neck...He yanked it out intact and went back to pacing.

"Figure it out, dummy," I muttered. "Calm down and think."

"He's really got his macho on."

Craig again. He raised a hand. "Neal says it's okay for you to talk to me. True story."

He looked good in that black jacket. Pale brown dress shirt, dark pants. "Sorry, but I have to confirm that." Why was I apologizing?

"Of course. Tell me what's going on here."

I explained we were trying to keep Sky busy so that Violet could relax and focus on her new baby. He stood beside me, a little closer than strangers stand. I was a little more aware of him than I should have been. But then Sky vented his feelings by charging Carmine, who fled shrieking. Violet screamed also and the three of them, four counting the baby clinging for his life, tore around for what seemed like a very long time, but was probably only seconds. Sky broke off and went back to cursing at the puzzle feeder.