Night Kill (19 page)

How could anyone be blind to the glory of having clouded leopards? I contemplated various responses, but they weren’t going to mean a thing to a bird keeper.

He unrolled a scrap of heavy hardware cloth and I tugged on two corners to help straighten it out. “You’d think Wallace would care about the perimeter fence,” I said. “He has to get the Children’s Zoo yard resurfaced because of water damage from the vandals that got through a few weeks ago.”

“He should care, but the truth is, Sam and I walked the fence the next day and couldn’t find where those kids got in. Usually you can always tell. They cut a hole or smash down the bushes. We didn’t find a hole big enough for a person, even a skinny kid.” Calvin flattened the wire carefully and bent the edges back to eliminate sharp points. “I wonder who that was and what they thought they were doing messing around at the kids’ zoo.”

He started fastening the patch over the hole the raccoon presumably used. “A new perimeter fence is next on the schedule after the Asia exhibit is up, but I haven’t heard boo about new bird construction. They better start planning, or I’m going to the city council about it.”

I handed him pliers and baling wire as needed, a familiar role from working with my father on house projects. “Um, while we’re planning better bird exhibits, can we ask for shift cages for the eagle and the other raptors?”

“You bet your Great-Aunt Fanny. I told Wallace to get us a way to manage that eagle properly or ship her to someplace that can.” He spoke with heat and looked up to see how I reacted.

I nodded and had the sense to keep quiet.

Calvin finally straightened up, stretching his back to indicate we were done. “You did a nice job lassoing that thing.”

I almost dropped the pliers.

“I expect you weren’t a bad cat keeper,” he added.

That left me flummoxed. Was he saying I was good with cats, but crappy with birds? I gathered up tools and scraps of wire and followed him back to the Penguinarium.

At lunchtime, I looked around the café. The person I wanted wasn’t there. I walked through the steady rain to Felines. A few seconds standing and listening in the hallway told me that Linda was cleaning the small cats. I said hi to Raj and the leopards and sat down in the kitchen. Linda had made changes. The Gary Larson cartoons were gone. A framed poster hung from a nail, a still life of luscious yellow pears and droopy purple flowers. Two beautiful hand-built cups with an iridescent blue-green glaze sat by the sink.

Linda came in after a few minutes, sturdy and cheerful in her uniform. She’d cropped her chestnut hair even shorter and added a third earring to her right ear. “Hey, good to see you. Where’s your lunch?” She pulled hers out of the fridge, a bowl of cottage cheese covered with chopped fruit. It looked like parrot food.

“I’ll stop by the café later. Part of Rick’s life insurance came. I can’t figure out what to do with it and thought I’d ask you.”

“Put it in the bank. Should I make coffee? Was it a lot of money?”

“Coffee would be good. The glaze on the cups is wonderful.” I pulled out a chair and sat down. “It’s only the first installment, but it’s a lot. For me, anyway. It’s in the credit union.”

“I’m working on bowls to match the cups. Why don’t you buy a house?” She activated the coffeemaker, another new feature—I’d always used a cone. She sat down opposite me.

I fiddled with the cup. “Don’t know if I could afford that in L.A. Houses are for millionaires down there.”

“The L.A. job is for real?”

“Not yet.”

“I can see why you’d want a fresh start, but I would really miss you. You’re the one person who helped me out when I was new. I haven’t forgotten those first months.”

“You don’t need any help. You know what you’re doing.” Still, it was good to hear.

Linda settled in to her lunch. “Wish I could afford a house. With a nice garage or basement for a kiln.”

So much for the amiable windup. Time for the curve ball. “Linda, you worked the night shift the night Rick died, right?” I watched her open face go cautious.

“Yeah. Diego asked for the night off. His daughter starred in a musical at her high school, one of the brides for seven brothers. He wanted to go on opening night. I didn’t mind doing Diego the favor and the money was nice, but night work half kills me. Sorry, bad choice of words.” She eyed me warily. “Everyone knows all this. I told the police and Wallace and…everyone.”

Linda got up and poured the coffee. She pulled crummy low-fat milk out of the fridge.

I added milk and sipped. Not too bad. “I got sent home after my interview and I wasn’t paying much attention. I’m trying to piece it together. So when were you here that night?”

“I punched in at 4:00 PM and out at 12:30. I got back at 7:30 AM for the day shift. I was supposed to work Primates; I walked by the lions. You know the rest.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to know if I saw anything that night. The police asked me, and Wallace asked me, and Mr. Crandall asked me, and Denny asked me, and I told them all no. You asked me twice when you first came back. Remember? I didn’t see a damn thing, not until I saw the body first thing in the morning. I don’t think Rick showed up until after I’d left.”

I nodded. “I wondered how the schedule had worked. Diego said you were on that night, but I saw you in the morning. Pulling your jacket over Rick.” We were both silent for a minute.

Linda’s eyes went unfocused. “The lions were wild for days. They looked at me like they’d finally figured it out and we couldn’t fool them any longer. Creepy.”

I thought about what the lions had figured out and shivered. “You never mentioned that before.”

“I shouldn’t have now. They’ve calmed down. Spice’s training is back on track.”

“Linda, I have to ask you this. Did Rick come to the zoo to meet you that night?”

Linda’s eyebrows went up and she stared straight at me, green eyes wide, a spoonful of chopped banana halfway to her mouth. “Meet me? Oh. As in ‘show up for reasons of sweaty passion?’ Oh, Iris. No, he didn’t do any such thing. If he had, it sure wouldn’t have been with me. You can let that one go.”

“Why not you?” I asked stubbornly. “You liked each other. You’re not in a relationship.”

“Well, I didn’t. He didn’t, at least not with me. It didn’t happen. For one thing, I was too busy and too beat.” She looked at me with pity and dismay.

When I didn’t nod acceptance, she jabbed at her cottage cheese uncomfortably. “Iris, hello? Have you ever known me to have a boyfriend? Look at me.”

“How would I know about your private life? You never talk about it.” She waited. I did look at her. “I never understood why you whacked off that fabulous red hair. Most women would kill for it. Guys love…” I wound down to silence.

I’d known Linda for over two years, trained her on Felines. She was my best zoo buddy, her and Hap. And I hadn’t known…“Okay. You’re telling me you’re gay.”

“Queer as a three dollar bill. Don’t feel too left out—I didn’t figure it out myself until a couple of months ago.” She was still waiting, those green eyes steady on my face.

“What?” Lord, I could be dim. “Hey, I’m not going to demand my socks back and scream if you touch me. Relax.”

She didn’t, not quite. “You don’t have to go announcing anything.”

“Of course not. Look, I’m a little distracted. Not at my best, friend-wise.”

“I’d want to know what happened to Rick if I were in your shoes. I want to know in my shoes. I can’t believe that Rick was up here for romance, or sex, or whatever. He was probably checking out something over at Reptiles. His death was traumatic—anybody would be upset for a long time. He cared a lot for you, that’s why he had all that life insurance.”

“Maybe so. Or maybe it was just a good salesman.”

“You aren’t being fair to Rick. And Iris, like I said before, our health insurance plan probably covers grief counseling. You ought to look into it. It should help you move on and not get stuck in grief.”

“I’ll get unstuck when I know what happened. I can’t live with not knowing.”

Another dead end. I couldn’t let it go. “You were close to him, pulling your jacket over him. Did he smell like whiskey or beer?”

“That’s a very weird question.” Linda pushed the last of her lunch away, looking ill.

“He was drunk and there was a whiskey bottle nearby. It’s puzzled me—he drank beer.”

“He smelled like scotch. Iris, I don’t think…”

I interrupted before she shut this down. “Did you see George that night?”

“Yeah.” This was easier for her. “He puttered over to the Commissary in his cart and wanted to chat for hours instead of keeping an eye on things.”

“No one else? Wallace, Denny, Mr. Crandall?”

“No. I told you that. The place was deserted.”

“So yours was the only car in the parking lot? Yours and George’s? What about Rick’s truck?”

“George takes the bus. Rick’s truck wasn’t there. I’d have noticed.” Something flickered on her face and was gone.

“What?”

She looked hesitant, then trapped. “Nobody ever asked me about the parking lot. I just remembered I saw a motorcycle. It wasn’t there when I came in, but when I left, I looked around for a coyote that Diego said had been hanging around the lot. I saw a motorcycle, over by the shrubbery on the edge.”

“Scaly dragon eye painted on the tank?” I was clutching the cup.

“Well, yeah. Yeah, I did see that.”

“Hap’s, then. Was he around?” I tried for a relaxed voice, less steely.

“I never saw him at the Commissary or anywhere else. I don’t think he was here until maybe just before I left. Or else I didn’t notice it when I came in.” She brightened. “Maybe the bike broke down and he left it there all night. Got someone to take him home.”

“I’ll ask him. What else?”

“Iris, I feel like I’ve been strip-mined. That’s all I know.” She looked tense and unhappy. “It really was an accident. Be careful about accusing people of things.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said and got up to go. “Linda, thanks. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“That’s what friends are for.” She sounded doubtful. “I really will miss you if you go to L.A.” That sounded more sincere.

“I’d miss you, too.” I meant it.

I found Hap still at the café, but so were other staff. Our chat about Rick’s last night would have to wait. But I didn’t plan to wait long.

Calvin and I met in the penguin kitchen at 3:30 to finish the day’s reports. Generally I spent it cleaning and he spent it bent over the daily log with a pencil crushed in his grip, printing meticulous details of who had eaten what and how they had behaved today. Generally he ignored me.

This afternoon, the atmosphere was subtly altered. “Hey,” he greeted me as he came in. After a few minutes writing, he added, “Take a look at the green band male. He look sluggish to you?”

I pulled my head out of the refrigerator I was wiping down and checked the exhibit. Mr. Green was cruising slowly around the doughnut-shaped pool.

“Looks okay to me. Why?”

“Didn’t eat much today. We need to keep an eye on him.”

I wiped counters, pleased that he’d asked my opinion, and gathered my nerve. After he’d finished most of the log but we still had ten minutes before day’s end, I spent some of the credit I’d earned raccoon-wrestling. “You still think that heat lamp was set up by a kid fooling around? I’ve been wondering about it.”

“I have no idea.” He didn’t look tense.

“Suppose it was set deliberately. Who at the zoo would know how to do that?”

“Lots of people, I suppose. Especially Maintenance guys. Why would anybody do such a thing?”

“I’m just asking. Wallace isn’t the only one worrying about accidents—I could have been killed. Or you.”

He put the pencil down and tidied up the papers. Looking at them, not me, he said, “Mishaps—accidents—happen. Tragedies happen. Lots of time you never do find out why. You have to go on.” Another pause while he got up and put the pencil in a drawer and sat back down. “Southern California’s a big change.”

I dumped out and rinsed the strainer from the left sink. “True. Makes me nervous. But Wallace wants to get rid of me. He doesn’t like the accidents.”

“Wallace doesn’t have ordinary sense. Man’s a fool in a lot of ways.”

“Uh, thanks. Do you think he has anything else against me?”

“I have no idea. He used to be a more agreeable person, I’ll tell you that. Now he can barely say a civil word to anyone except the vet and Mr. Crandall, so don’t think you’re getting special treatment.”

He had a point there. “How long have you worked with him?” I sprinkled cleanser in the sink and used a sponge to scrub it.

“I been here over twenty years when Wallace started, same year as Dr. Dawson, about maybe eight years ago. He got the foreman job maybe five, six years ago.”

“What was he like when he started?” This was idle curiosity and a simple desire to keep Calvin’s slow, heavy voice going.

“Wallace? We got a lot of good work done. My wife liked him. He never married, though I thought he would. That might have taught him some loyalty and manners.” Calvin looked at his hands, quiet on the table before him, blunt and battered, with short chipped nails. He gave his square head a small shake. Throwing off old sorrows?

“A guy at the L.A. Zoo said Dr. Dawson was married.” I tackled the second sink, which needed a swipe or two.

“He was.”

“What happened with his wife?” I washed my hands and scrubbed under the nails to get the fish goo out.

“Up and left him. Surprised everyone, especially him.”

I pushed it farther. “I can’t see why anybody’d want to leave him. No bad habits that I can see.”

Calvin studied me for a minute. “He’s a good vet, but nobody’s perfect,” he said in his gravelly voice. “She was a pretty woman.”

I wiped my hands dry on a paper towel and squirted lotion from the bottle on the counter. “Why’d you think she left him?”

Calvin stood, knees cracking, and stretched. He pulled his jacket on. “No idea. About time to head for the barn. I got some pictures from when we first got the penguins. I’ll bring ’em in someday.”

The clock ticked and he opened the door, walking slow and steady to punch out and drive home. I walked with him, but we were done talking. Had I learned anything new? Perhaps only that Calvin was now willing to talk to me. For a little while. On some topics. And that Dr. Dawson had been dumped. Maybe his tense, formal style was a consequence.