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Authors: Betty Webb

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BOOK: The Anteater of Death
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“He recognized you?”

She shook her head. “Not me. Roarke. He’d been to some social function up there that Roarke and Frieda both attended.”

“How did you find out he’d seen you two together?”

“One afternoon he cornered me in the Animal Care Center and told me that he wanted to, let’s see, how did he so delicately put it? Ah, yes. That he’d seen me with Roarke, and that he ‘wanted to sample my considerable charms, too.’ If I didn’t oblige, he said, he’d tell my husband everything. I told him where he could go.”

My mouth dropped. “That’s blackmail!”

She gave me a twisted smile. “Sexual harassment, too. Once he pulled that stunt with me, I started watching his behavior with the rest of the zoo’s female staff.”

“Which is why you were so quick to ask me…”

“If you were having trouble with him. Silly you, for not admitting it. I would have helped.”

Adding that remark to my ever-growing list of regrets, I took my leave.

***

I needed to make one more stop, but since it was on the way back to the
Merilee
, it wouldn’t take long.

In the night sky, the castle looked especially forbidding, but I didn’t let it bother me. With Aster Edwina ninety miles north in San Francisco, I felt confident I’d get the answer I needed. As it turned out, I was right. In the three weeks since Grayson’s murder, Jeanette had calmed down enough so that she didn’t sob at the mere mention of her dead husband’s name, and she no longer referred to him in the present tense. But his suit still lay on the bed and its condition didn’t bode well for her mental health. She looked every bit as ragged as the suit. Her former robust build had shrunken in on itself, her eyes were dull, and her blond hair had lost all its luster. I hoped Aster Edwina would follow through on her plans to take her to a therapist.

Since she refused to move away from Grayson’s suit, I sat next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I had another migraine this morning, but it’s gone now.” Her voice was devoid of all affect, and she wouldn’t let go of the suit’s sleeve, holding it as if Grayson was still inside. The female anglerfish, mourning her vanished mate.

I tried to erase the image from my mind. “Aster Edwina says you’ll see a doctor soon, someone who’ll help you get…” I’d started to say “get over this,” but rephrased it to “…who’ll help you feel better.”

She gave me a look that bordered on hostility. “I’ll never feel better.”

Unless she entered therapy, she might be correct. Now I had to make a decision. Comfort her or get what I’d come for. I made the cold-hearted choice but segued into it slowly by spending a few minutes chatting about the zoo and the giraffe’s new calf. “It has eyelashes to die for!” Before I could catch myself, I began blabbing about the impending birth of Lucy’s baby, that it could happen any day and that the vet had promised to call me the minute the anteater went into labor. Then the picture of what Lucy had done to her husband’s body flashed across my mind.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to talk about Lucy!”

Her answer reminded me of her commitment to the zoo and its animals. “I’ve never blamed the anteater, Teddy. She was only following her instincts. Besides, the medical examiner said Grayson couldn’t feel anything by then, that he was already…” A tear leaked out of one red eye. “…gone. You’ve never really loved a man, have you?”

Her question took my breath away. “How can you say that? I loved Michael!”

Yes, that
was
hostility in her eyes. Remembering her temper from our old Monopoly days, I moved out of slapping range.

“You sure got over him fast enough,” she said. “It’s only been a year and you’re already dating the sheriff.”

Sometimes I hate small towns. “I haven’t been ‘dating’ the sheriff. He’s an old friend, that’s all.” I tried to get her back on the subject. “I want you to do something that might help with the mur…with the investigation.”

No answer, just another glare.

I kept talking. “The last time I was here, you told me that Grayson was very meticulous about his zoo work, that he made copies of everything.”

She began to finger the suit again, and when looked up, her hostility had faded. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of files he kept at the zoo. I was always nagging…” Another tear leaked out. “If you’re asking me to go over there and poke around, I just can’t.”

“But he kept an office here at the castle, too, you’ve said. Maybe he copied the vet report. You know, after that other zoo had its problems…”

“The one where the elephants and red pandas died. Terrible.”

“Yes, terrible.” Now that I had her attention, I started my explanation again. “Then you’ll remember that the National Academy of Sciences sent out a team of vets to zoos all over the coun…”

Her eyes began to drift. “I want to go back to sleep.” She lifted the suit sleeve and kissed it.

“But this is important. For Grayson’s memory.”

Her eyes found mine again. “His memory?”

“Don’t you want people to remember him as a man who took his duties seriously?”

She kissed the sleeve again. “Naturally I do. What do you want, then? A copy of that stupid report?”

“If he made one.”

The hostility returned. “I
told
you he copied everything. Do you want to see it or not?”

“Yes, I do.”

She stood up, albeit wobbly. “Wait here and I’ll fetch it from his office across the hall.” When she left the room, her face was unutterably sad.

She was gone longer than I’d expected, but upon returning, held a legal-sized file folder in one hand, a sheaf of papers in the other. The papers she gave me were warm. “I copied the report because I’m not letting you take the original away. It’s the last thing I have that he worked on.”

Worried about her ability to operate a copier in her condition, I asked if I could take a few minutes to compare the copy to the original.

The dullness came back to her voice. “Do what you want.” She handed it over.

When I flipped through the two sets, I discovered them to be identical, so I handed the original back.

“Would you mind if I take the copy with me to the
Merilee
? I want to read it more carefully.” Either what I was looking for wasn’t there, or in my haste, I’d missed it.

She sank back on the bed, wrapping herself in the suit’s sleeves; it looked like Grayson’s desiccated corpse was hugging her. “I don’t care what you do. My husband is gone, and nothing will ever matter to me again.”

I left her there and walked down the stairs, expecting the housekeeper or at least one of the maids, to let me out. But the hall was deserted. I guessed since letting me in, the housekeeper had disappeared into her own room to do whatever housekeepers do when their employers aren’t watching.

While I’d been inside the castle, the wind had shifted and instead of smelling the Pacific, I smelled the gamy scent of animal. With the zoo now closed for the evening, there were no human sounds on the evening breeze—just a symphony of roars, night bird shrieks, and the trumpeting of elephants. For a while I stood there in the shadows of the castle listening to the music of the zoo, wishing I was there, not here in this dark, isolated place.

Then I climbed back into my truck, turned my headlights on bright, and started the five-mile drive to Gunn Landing. I must have talked to Jeanette longer than I realized, because the winding road was deserted. Even the stream of zookeepers headed back toward San Sebastian and Castroville had dwindled to nothing. I made good time until—with a half mile to go before I reached the main road to the harbor—flashing blue lights loomed in my rear view mirror.

I continued along the narrow road until it widened to accommodate a stand of scrub and live oak, then pulled over. A squad car with SAN SEBASTIAN COUNTY SHERIFF emblazoned along the side drove up and Joe climbed out. He cut his lights and approached my driver’s side window.

His stern voice didn’t match his grin. “Turn off your headlights and get out of the truck, ma’am.”

When I cut the lights, blue flashes from the squad car lent the live oaks an eerie glow. Some other time it might have been frightening, but now it seemed downright erotic. I lowered my voice and tried my best to sound sexy. “Surely I wasn’t speeding, Sheriff.”

A muffled laugh. “No, Teddy, you’ve always driven like a little old lady because you’re afraid you might hit some jaywalking chipmunk.”

“Guilty as charged, Officer. May I ask the reason for this rather ridiculous traffic stop?”

He waggled a finger. “Never sass a police officer or you’ll wind up in handcuffs.”

A thrilling thought. “And then what?”

“Get out of the truck, Ma’am.”

I exited the truck so fast I almost fell flat on my face. Handcuffs!

“That’s better, ma’am. Now step toward the police officer.”

I stepped toward the officer and felt arms slip around me, soft lips press against mine.

“Oh, Officer, what a big gun you have!”

The officer pulled me tighter.

When we came up for air, he asked, “Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Before I could answer, he kissed me again. Then he proceeded to thoroughly search me.

A few minutes later, when we’d both caught our breath, he asked again why I hadn’t returned his calls.

“I’ve been busy. And upset.”

“You think
you
were upset.” As night birds called around us, he searched me again.

I searched back.

Eventually, he said, “What else could I do but pretend ignorance? Your father didn’t exactly parade up and down the street, but one time I saw him buying spices at a bodega over in Castroville. And you know how much he looks like you, even with that cheap dye job. I didn’t want to arrest him, but at the same time, I could hardly…”

I put my hand across his mouth. “Do you have to talk so much? Now, about those handcuffs, Officer…”

After leaning into the squad car and cutting the lights, he pulled me into the bushes.

***

An hour later, our clothes unbuttoned and unzipped but still more or less on in case his squad car squawked out an emergency, we lay looking up at the stars.

“It’s been too long,” he said.

“Only about a week.”

A chuckle. “I meant since we’ve really been together. As a couple. Life is just so damn complicated.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing myself. Let me tell you again how much I love…”

His next words stopped me. “I talked to your mother today.”

“You did
what?
” Talk about your cold shower.

“We agreed to bury the hatchet because we’re both worried about you. She says you’re back on the
Merilee
. She begged me to track you down and make you listen to reason. Ergo, the traffic stop. Which so quickly got out of hand, you criminal, you.”

Joe and Caro. Conversing. That those two old enemies were temporarily working together on the same project—controlling me—didn’t matter. The important thing was that the two most important people in my life had declared a truce.

As I was still trying to find the proper words to express my combination of delight and disgust, he continued, “Honey, it’s not safe for you on that boat, not until whoever’s after you has been arrested. Move home. Stop nosing around.”

“But home
is
the
Merilee
.”

“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

After thinking about that for a second, I said, “All right.”

I could read the independent vet report just as easily at my mother’s as on the
Merilee
.

***

Caro, elegant in azure silk, appeared overjoyed to see me even though I carried Miss Priss in my arms and DJ Bonz slobbered at my heels.

“I see the Rejas boy found you,” she said, satisfaction in her voice.

“Yep. Rounded me up like a cattle rustler on a busy day. I must say, this is a new direction for you, actually treating him like a human being.”

She ignored the dig. “Since he’s talked you into abandoning that old boat, I can hardly care what his grandfather did for a living. By the way, I drove over to the harbor earlier but you weren’t anywhere around. You saw my note, didn’t you?”

“Who could miss it?” Hand-printed on her own embossed stationery, the note had been taped to the
Merilee
’s locked salon door. COME HOME BEFORE YOU GET KILLED. Caro had never been subtle.

I set Priss down on the tiled entryway. She sneezed, shook loose a few hairs, then shot up the stairs to my room. Bonz remained at my feet, but he looked longingly toward the den. “Is Dad here?”

She shook her head. “He’s at Al’s. He said he might stop in tonight.”

He’d made no firm plans then, which meant that she hadn’t yet found a private jet or a pilot who wasn’t fussy about flight plans. “I brought several days’ change of clothes, too.”

She treated me to a pageant-winning smile. “Wonderful. Put them in your room, then come down for dinner. I’ll fix you a burger. Unless you want some strawberries and carrots.”

“New maid still ‘resting’?”

The smile died. “You know perfectly well that I can’t bring her back until we get your father out of the country. Until then, I’m doing the best I can, but with eighteen rooms…” She made a helpless gesture. While her own appearance was flawless, the house was a mess. In the three weeks since my father had been back in town, the tiled entryway hadn’t been polished, a buildup of dirt grayed the corners of the drawing room, and a hutch of dust bunnies had taken up residence under a Regency satinwood window seat. Animal life had moved in, too. A spider, probably
Achaearanea tepidariorum,
declared his presence by stringing a web from a tall torchiere all the way up to the chandelier. If the maid didn’t return soon, Caro would be buried under a mountain of crud.

After eating a burned burger served on a stale white-bread roll, I helped with the dishes, swabbed a few floors, vanquished the dust bunnies and spider webs, and turned the spider loose in the back yard. Feeling like an overworked maid myself, I retired to my room for a more careful read of the independent vet study.

BOOK: The Anteater of Death
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