Endangered: A Zoo Mystery Part 9

The jacket was unb.u.t.toned, showing a dark tee shirt and an indifference to cold. The knit cap was gone. Brown hair with a clean shine. Jeans and black sport shoes. Those hazel eyes. "Can you talk for a minute?"

I shook my head with regret. "If my boss had okayed an interview, he would have told me. So, no. Sorry."

He looked away and back. "How about this? I'd like to ask you to lunch. Rosemary Cafe, on me." His smile implied a joint conspiracy, a good time, a world of possibilities. "I promise not to talk about the Tiptons."

"Why would you do that?" I knew the cafe in downtown Vancouver and liked it. I liked the smile, too, but that was irrelevant. I wasn't that easy.

"Why wouldn't a guy ask you to lunch?" A frown. "You are single, right?"

The volunteers weren't hiding their fascination.

He folded his arms across his chest. "All I'm asking for is expertise on the zoo part, background only. We can keep it off-record. I don't want to get the animal parts wrong."

"Talk to Neal Humboldt. His office is in the Administration building. He'll want to see your credentials."

"You are one tough lady to get to know. Here's my card. It's good for a free lunch any day." He gave a finger wave to the volunteers and moved off toward the zoo's entrance.

One of the older ladies said, "If I were you, I'd just say yes."

"Yum," said the young one. "Give him my phone number if you aren't interested."

Whoa. I'd almost forgotten I had a real date that night, dinner with Ken. Liana turning into Shelby had jolted it out of my brain.

A date. Uh-oh, no child care. My top priority after lunch.

In our claustrophobic little break room, Denny out-did the broadcasters with speculation about Liana/Shelby and the Tiptons. Linda, Cheyenne, and Marion chewed their lunch and watched him roll. I didn't pay much attention until he started in again about human trafficking.

"Denny! Stop it. Liana walked over to visit Pluvia with Wanda. She wasn't a prisoner."

"Could have been emotionally subjugated."

"Yeah. But she was warmly dressed and didn't look starved, and the mother was really concerned about her. Liana could have walked to the road and thumbed a ride if she wanted out."

Denny actually stopped to think. I steered him toward something that bothered me. "The Tiptons grew weed for years and stayed under the radar. Then a few months ago, they set up the second barn and started cooking meth. The animal enclosures we saw looked new, so the wildlife trafficking was recent, too. What set them off? Why change a system that was working fine?"

Cheyenne said, "Maybe it was Liana. Maybe she had bigger ideas for bigger bucks."

Denny said, "That neighbor, Pluvia. She and Liana and Wanda, the mother, could have come up with a plan to overthrow Boss Tipton."

I waited to see how he could possibly create a coherent explanation out of this.

He didn't even try. "Or it's the younger son-Tom? He wants to establish himself in the hierarchy, not be bottom tier any more. So he came up with all the changes. But Liana didn't like it and ...Probably Tom and the other one, Jeff, both wanted her and she played them off against each other and it went bad."

He had soared well beyond the few facts we had. I gave up, finished my lunch, and checked in with Neal. I told him Craig wanted to interview me and asked if that was okay. He said he'd prefer I didn't. That was as expected, but disappointing. I wouldn't have minded a little one-on-one with Craig. I refrained from asking about re-homing the macaws, but only because he took a phone call.

I called my father at his shop and asked if he and my mother could keep Robby for dinner and an hour or so after.

"Don't see why not," he said. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll pick him up on my way home."

I was reasonably certain that he understood I'd called him instead of my mother because I didn't want to answer questions about my plans. Bless him, he didn't ask any. I'd tell them about Ken when I picked Robby up afterward.

I went back to work, finished up with Birds, and stopped by Primates to de-brief the last of the mandrill volunteers. The three of them had diligently checked the checklist and noted the notes, but they'd also put their heads together at some point during the day and come up with a theory. The silver-haired woman on the last shift said, "She's scared of him, but he wants to see the baby. He comes to take a look, so she runs away and that makes the baby cry and then he gets grouchy so she runs away some more. She's frazzled and so is the baby. The other female just sits there and ignores the whole thing."

I couldn't fault their a.n.a.lysis, since it supported my own. The question was, what could we do to de-stress the mandrill family? I had an idea, but blurting out ideas sometimes worked and sometimes didn't. Dr. Reynolds' approval was necessary and she would likely say yes, but it was Kip's area. If I went to Dr. Reynolds first, Kip would consider that sneaking around her back. But Kip wasn't convinced we had a problem and would likely say no. Worse, Kip was already annoyed with Dr. Reynolds for reducing the fruit in most of the primates' diets and subst.i.tuting more leafy greens- better for their teeth, digestion, and weight control. Monkeys love fruit, and Kip loved giving them treats.

Persuasion and politics: not my strengths.

I gave it my best shot. Kip was wrapping up her reports when I dropped the data sheets on her desk. She glanced at them while I summarized the observations. "I've got an idea that might help," I said. "If you like it."

Her attention stayed on the reports. "We're not pulling Violet out of the group. It could turn into a nightmare reintroducing her. Sky might think he has to beat her up to remind her who's boss. And Carmine was awful to her when they were first together. So forget that."

"Not what I was going to suggest."

"We aren't pulling Sky out for the same reasons."

"I get that."

She looked up. "And I'm not sure we have a problem. It's a little hectic in there, but not all that bad. They could use more exercise."

"Can I say what I had in mind?" I tried to keep the annoyance down.

"Sure." She sat back and crossed her arms, her mouth a thin, straight line. "Let's hear it."

I hate doomed endeavors when the only possible reward is to say, "I told you so. I tried to get you to do something." I reached deep for positive energy. "Let's give Sky something to do so that he's occupied for a couple hours a day. A puzzle feeder. If it works out, he'll sit in one place giving the feeder all his attention and Violet can relax."

"He'll get fat."

"His daily ration, not extra."

"By the time Maintenance gets the thing built, the baby will be breeding age."

"Not if we get Neal behind it. And Dr. Reynolds. If you tell them it's crucial to keeping the baby alive, they'll make it a priority." The emphasis on "you" was inspired, my subconscious coming through in a pinch. Was it enough? "Mr. Crandall must be putting out a press release about the birth. He won't want to announce it died."

Kip's mouth twisted. "It's not going to die. Don't be dramatic."

But she didn't dismiss the concept. She pushed out her lips a little and thought. "Like I got nothing else to do. But I'll talk to Dr. Reynolds tomorrow and see what she says."

I did not pump the air with my fist. I said, "Sounds good."

Kip added, "We've done that kind of thing before, you know. I'm not convinced it's really necessary in this case."

Whatever.

Warmed by the tingle of triumph, I headed off to clock out and prepare for my first date since I'd married Rick.

Chapter Thirteen.

Linda was describing a promising hint of flirtation between the clouded leopards when Cheyenne joined us at the time clock and interrupted. "Pete and I are going out tonight. You're on your own for dinner. We've got some shopping to do, then a friend's in a gamelon performance."

"Gamelon?"

"Indonesian. Bunch of people whacking on weird musical instruments. Strange and cool."

"Have fun." No need to mention that I wouldn't be dining at home either, so I didn't have to explain. I was on a roll. When Cheyenne was gone, I said, "They've been out almost every night for weeks. Expensive way to get private time together."

Linda said, "You remember how to manage without them, right?"

"No problem. In fact, I'm going out tonight myself."

"That sounds like a date. Unless it's a lecture on potty training."

I looked around. No one else was within earshot. "Dinner with an Animal Control guy. I met him at the Tipton place. Don't tell anyone."

She did a little jig in place. "Hot d.a.m.n! The price of my silence is full disclosure. Tomorrow without fail."

"No way. You never tell me about your dates."

She blushed. "That's different."

The blush was too intense. My eyes narrowed. "Who is she?"

"I'll tell you later, if it keeps working."

"Tell her that if she trifles with your affections, I'll come hurt her."

"Tell your dog catcher the same."

And I had to be satisfied with that. I crossed my fingers for luck, hoping for a happy ending to Linda's long, hesitant search for a partner. And crossed them again for myself.

In the parking lot, I sat in my car and called Marcie, hoping to catch her before she left work. This was a desperation move since calling her house wasn't working. She picked up, said she was fine, much better, thank you, and it wasn't a good time to talk. "Let's get together soon," I said, and we hung up.

I'd planned to coax her toward our normal relationship by talking about my date with Ken, but, on second thought, hearing about my romantic ventures was not what she needed.

She'd said it wasn't a good time to talk. She hadn't suggested a better time. I started the car feeling as uneasy about her as before.

After taking the dogs on a short walk, I put out the kibble, fed the macaws, and took a shower. I let go of Marcie and focused on courtship. A first date. How about that. If I owned any perfume, I might have put some on. "Mountain Meadow" scented deodorant would have to do. What to wear? Jeans and a sweater were the obvious choices, given the weather and venue. My old black dress boots, still decent. Gold hoop earrings with a sparkly bead sliding on each. Lipstick.

What else? I glanced around the house, which was reasonably tidy. I wouldn't be bringing him home, so that didn't matter. I wasn't going to his place either. This was a long shot, an opportunity at friendship. Or a small disaster if one of us was enthusiastic and the other wasn't.

I'd pay for my dinner to avoid any sense of obligation. One gla.s.s of wine only.

What could we talk about besides dogs? Ah-Liana. Maybe he would have an insight that had escaped me.

Why was I wishing he were Craig?

My fussing was cut off by the doorbell. My neighborhood is popular with door-to-door solicitors for political candidates and environmental causes. It wasn't election season, so probably a college student collecting for some outfit that saves endangered species or scrutinizes logging. Thanks to Pete and Cheyenne's rent, I could make a contribution now and then. But not tonight. I hadn't time or patience to listen to a pitch.

It wasn't a canva.s.ser.

It was Thomas Jefferson Tipton.

Astonishment hadn't time to turn to fear and action before he nudged his way in and shut the door behind him. The dogs ran up to us and barked, but when a wrenching crunch came from the kitchen, they bounded that direction hollering their lungs out.

Jefferson Davis Tipton stood in my kitchen, a pry bar in his hand.

I froze, feeling blood drain from my head, trapped between them.

The dogs kept barking. I wasn't welcoming these strangers, and they didn't know what to do. Neither did I. They subsided into uneasy bursts.

"Ma'am. We just wanted to talk to you for a minute." The younger one, Tom.

Jeff waved the pry bar at the dogs, a mild warning. The dogs didn't scare them-they were used to big dogs that barked. Denim jackets, heavy cotton shirts, dirty jeans, muddy leather work boots, no hats. The macaws screeched in the bas.e.m.e.nt. The brothers glanced at each other.

I took a ragged breath. "Sure. Have a seat." I walked to the kitchen table and stood on rubbery legs by a chair.

I could look for a chance to pull out my cell phone, dial 911, and leave it open and hidden in hopes that the emergency operator would send someone by to check on us. They could track a cell phone. Or was that just on TV?

They were watching me. Tom said, "You remember who we are? We don't mean no harm. Any harm."

I nodded.

Cheyenne and Pete wouldn't be back for several hours. No one was likely to drop by. What the h.e.l.l did these guys want? I waved them to chairs. Tom sat. Jeff stood. My empty brain channeled my mother's reflexes. "Would you like coffee?"

"Coffee would be real nice, ma'am." From Tom.

I filled the kettle at the sink and put it on.

I could smell them-stale sweat, wood smoke. Jeff's beard was ratty, Tom hadn't shaved for a couple of days. Neither took his eyes off me. Wide-s.p.a.ced blue eyes in broad foreheads. Pale skin. Broad shoulders and big hands, although Jeff was taller and heavier. Jeff had yanked me out of the van and pushed me into the mud.

Tom said, "Sorry to bust in on you like this, but we're sort of on the run. We just want to talk to you."

I could throw boiling water on them. That might buy me enough time to get out of the house. No, it wouldn't.

At least Robby was safe with my parents. I had only me to save. I sat down at the table. "So talk."

Jeff finally sat down. His left eye twitched.

Tom said, "We wanted to thank you for trying to save our father. We didn't know what to do and you and that other guy tried hard. We appreciate it."

Right. They broke into my house to thank me. I waited.