Read The Money Bird (An Animals in Focus Mystery) Online
Authors: Sheila Webster Boneham
Tags: #Fiction, #mystery, #cozy, #mystery novel, #mystery fiction, #novel, #animals, #soft-boiled, #dog show, #dogs
The Money Bird (An Animals in Focus Mystery) (5 page)
“You have the picture?” asked George.
“What picture?”
“The guy. You said you took a photo of him?”
“I do,” I said, and went into the house for Tom’s laptop. I’d sent all my photos related to the strange goings-on to Tom, partly so he would have them and partly for backup. I’m sloppy about my house and my hair and makeup, but fanatical about backing up my work. It’s all backed up automatically every evening to on-line storage, but I had decided on an extra measure of safety in this case. I set the computer on the patio table and pulled up my photos of Mr. Creepy, then turned the screen toward George.
“Zoom in on him,” he said, and I filled the screen with the man’s face.
“Cold-looking bird,” said Tom.
George turned away from the screen and looked first at Tom, then at me, and said, “I know him.”
thirty-eight
“You know him?” I
thought I must have heard wrong. How could George, an ornithologist from Florida, know the weirdo who had been skulking around Twisted Lake and dumping dead birds out there?
George continued to stare at the screen. “I do. Or did. Name’s Rich Campbell.”
“Is he a bird guy?” asked Tom, apparently assembling the pieces more quickly than I was.
“Yep, he is. Raptors. At least when I knew him.”
“So what’s he doing with dead endangered parrots?” None of this made a featherweight of sense.
George seemed to be weighing his words.
“How do you know him?” asked Tom.
“Grad school.” George finally turned away from the face on the screen and looked at Tom, then at me. “Haven’t seen him in twelve years. Not too pleased to see him now.”
My stupid phone rang. “Hold that thought, would you? I want to hear this, but I need to take this call.” To Tom I said, “Jo Stevens.”
I walked into the living room to take the call and told Jo that the ornithologist had arrived and identified the birds and the creep at Twisted Lake. “Where you been, anyway? I thought you’d call back hours ago.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Actually, I thought you were going to drop by Dog Dayz.”
“I had to go to Evansville.”
Jo had family there. “Everything okay?”
“Yep! Everything’s fine.” She sounded fine. She sounded buoyant, in fact.
“Jo?”
“Long story. I want to tell you in person. How about I drop by late morning?”
“Okay. Oh, wait.” Peg and I were planning to go to Treasures on Earth mid-morning, but I couldn’t be sure how long we’d be there. “I can’t. Later?”
We made plans to touch base early afternoon and I went back to the kitchen to hear what George had to say.
“Sorry. Go ahead.” I sat down at the table.
“So, he was a year ahead of me. Had a couple of classes with him my first year, then didn’t see much of him for a couple of years. He did his fieldwork in New Guinea, or that’s what he said, while I was finishing course work and taking exams, and when he came back, I left for the field.”
Or that’s what he said
sort of rattled around my brain, but instead of pursuing that odd comment, I asked,“Where was that?” It wasn’t particularly relevant, but I’m always fascinated by where academics of various stripes choose to do their research. I would love to travel. On the other hand, I won’t leave Jay and Leo for longer than a week, so I won’t be going anywhere exotic any time soon. There’s nothing to stop me having some vicarious adventure, though.
“Southern California and the Baja.”
Tom and George had a brief academic bonding moment when they found that their research stomping grounds overlapped. The objects of their interest may have as well. Birds and plants. Then I butted in again to ask, “What kind of birds were you studying?”
George looked surprised. “Parrots, of course. Mexican red-heads to be exact.
Amazona viridigenalis.”
“Red-head?” asked Tom. “
Viridi
?”
“Right,” said George. “Also known as the green-cheeked or red-crowned Amazon. We online?” he asked, gesturing toward the computer.
Tom signed into the Internet, and George pulled up the California Parrot Project and showed us a photo of his bird, at least for his doctoral research.
Thank goodness for the scientific names
, I thought. How else would anyone be sure they were talking about the same species?
“So they’re in California?” I asked.
“Not native. Introduced there. They’re established around L.A. and farther south. Other places, too. Hawaii. I’ve seen them in Florida. Texas.”
“But they’re native to South America?” asked Tom.
“Mexico. They’re native to the northeast coast, but are considered extinct in most of their native range. Like a lot of parrots. Loss of habitat is responsible for a lot. And the pet trade is a huge problem. They’re endangered, and their numbers are falling.”
That numbing sense of loss was filling me up again, and I said, “That must be hard. Studying something that’s disappearing.”
George looked at me, then down at his hands. He said, “There are times when I think about doing something else. But,” he looked at me, then at Tom, “maybe we can learn enough to save them, or maybe what we learn with one species will save another. I have to hold that hope, you know, or what’s the point?”
Tom steered us back from the brink, back to the problem at hand. “So, George, I don’t think you finished the Rich Campbell story.”
George cleared his throat. “Right. So Rich was there in Storrs when I got back from California.”
“Storrs?” I asked.
Both men answered, “University of Connecticut.”
“So Rich was there, on the list to graduate, dissertation defense scheduled, even had a couple of job offers, as I recall. All sorts of buzz about his work. Groundbreaking field data on the New Britain Gray-headed Goshawk. First-ever field study of them.”
Tom said, “New Britain. They found a new species of orchid there in 2011. Blooms for one night. First night-blooming orchid we know of.”
“Yeah?” said George. “So, see, it can happen. New species, new sub-species.”
“So I’m guessing that in Mr. Campbells’ case, something was amiss?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah,” said George, drawing out his words. “He hadn’t been there.”
Tom and I blurted at the same instant, “What?” in my case and “Oh, man” in Tom’s, followed by, “How did it come out?”
George chuckled. “Rich had a girlfriend. They lived together, had for a year before he left, and another year when he got back. M.A. student in linguistics. She was planning to surprise him with a trip to the Greek islands to celebrate his doctorate and his job offers. She needed his passport number to buy the tickets. I saw her a couple of days later, and she said she couldn’t find it at first. You know, she thought it would be in his desk or filing cabinet but she didn’t see it. She was getting desperate because she wanted the tickets to be a surprise, to give them to him at his defense party.”
Suddenly I was flashing on my jerk of an ex-husband, and I could almost see what was coming. “He was playing around on her, wasn’t he?”
George nodded. “He carried a sort of messenger bag around, you know, to the library, whatever. So she thought maybe it was in his bag, although carrying his passport around all the time didn’t make much sense.”
Tom must have picked up on where my thoughts were going. He touched my arm and winked at me. Such a small gesture, such a humongous whoosh of good feelings.
“So Liesl, his girlfriend, looked in the bag.” He looked thoughtful. “Liesl … Can’t remember her last name. Anyway, she didn’t find the passport, not then, but she found a photo.”
“The other woman.” I said.
“The other family,” said George. “Woman, two little boys. And Rich.”
I gasped, and Tom said, “He was married?”
“He was.”
“I knew he was a creep.” That may have come out as a growl, because Jay and Drake both raised their heads to look at me.
“What happened?” asked Tom.
“Liesl was livid. But also very controlled. Smart, really. They had a joint bank account, for one thing, her only account. So she didn’t confront him right away.”
“Wow,” I said. “I threw his stuff out on the lawn and changed the locks.” I realized as soon as the words were out that I was merging Campbell’s story with my memories of Chet.
George turned a confused expression my way but Tom came to my rescue, saying “You probably would have.” He took my hand, laughed, and looked at George. “Janet is nothing if not direct.”
George went back to his story. “She moved her money to a new account, and kept looking for his passport and ticket receipts. She never said so, but I think by then she was out for revenge.”
“Did she get it?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. She finally found his passport, along with the ticket stubs from his flights. You know, back in the days of actual tickets. He’d never been to New Guinea.”
Now Tom sounded angry. “So he fabricated his field data.”
“He did.”
“So what happened?”
“The ticket stubs showed a round trip to Lincoln, Nebraska. And I guess there was a note on the back of the photo. Something like, ‘The boys wanted you to have this, love’ whatever her name was.”
“How did Liesl know it was current?” asked Tom.
“Good question. I wondered that, too,” said George. “Liesl said he was wearing a shirt that she gave him for his birthday a couple weeks before he left.”
“Nice.” Tom doesn’t often sound sarcastic, but he made up for a long dry spell in his delivery of that one word.
“So Liesl had a place and a name.” I laughed out loud at that, although not without a pang for Rich Campbell’s wife.
“She did. She actually found her, then decided it wasn’t up to her to shatter the woman’s life. She thought Rich should have to do that himself.”
“And she told the university?” asked Tom.
“Oh yeah. She waited until the day of his defense. Friend of mine was there in the department when it happened. He said Liesl showed up just as Rich and his committee members were getting ready to go in for the defense. She smiled at Rich and asked Alan Milcourt, the committee chair, for a word.” George sort of snorted and smiled. “I guess she finagled Milcourt to a spot where Rich could see them. Then she handed Rich’s passport to Milcourt, along with a copy of the photo, and copies of the ticket stubs.”
I burst out laughing, then had a frightening thought. “Rich is a scary guy. At least he is now. Wasn’t she afraid he’d come after her? I mean, she just blew up his life.”
“She left. She had already taken her share of the bank account, and I guess she went straight from the department to the airport. I actually ran into her a couple years later in New York. In transit at JFK, actually. She was teaching English in Kuwait, home for a couple of weeks.”
“Did she tell his wife?” I asked.
“Didn’t have to. His wife showed up unexpectedly the same day. To surprise him and celebrate his doctorate.”
“Oh my,” I said. “Poor woman. I hope the little boys didn’t have to see whatever came next.”
“Yeah, I guess the wife got to his place, you know, his and Liesl’s, shortly after Rich got there. My friend, the one who was in the department when Liesl showed up, followed Rich home. He didn’t know Liesl had left, and he was afraid for her.”
“I would think so,” said Tom.
“Burkhardt. That was it. Liesl Burkhardt. Anyway, it took Rich’s wife about half a second to realize that he had been living there with a woman. And of course Rich was in quite a state already. Milcourt and the committee were not gentle. The way I heard it, when his wife showed up at the apartment, Rich was ranting one minute and crying his eyes out the next, asking her to forgive him. My friend, Joe Doyle, said that Rich’s wife didn’t seem surprised. Said she calmly took off her wedding ring and walked into the bathroom, and then they heard the toilet flush. When she came back, Joe said she looked at Rich and said, ‘You think your life just went down the crapper? Just wait,’ and then she walked out.”
thirty-nine
Tom wanted me to
stay the night. “I’m worried about you being home alone, especially now,” he had said. “You can take off early in the morning. We’ll be up anyway. But that guy, that Rich Campbell, I don’t like it, Janet.”
But I wanted to go home. I needed to run a load of laundry, which
I hadn’t done in too long, and I didn’t want to have to rush home in the morning to get ready to meet Peg. Or, more to the point,
to go to Treasures on Earth. I wanted to look reasonably put together for that. In a place full of coiffed and polished people, I knew I’d learn more if I seemed to fit in, or nearly so.
“I won’t be alone,” I had told Tom. “I’ll have my bodyguards.” Meaning, of course, Jay and Leo. And then Jay and I went home. Leo met us
at the door, twined around my legs and then Jay’s, and then curled up on the recliner in the living room, which is probably where he was when we arrived. I emptied my pockets, pulled off my jeans, tossed them into the hamper, and carried it to the laundry room. I started to turn the light on to walk through the kitchen but decided I should pull the blind down over the window on the back door first. I set the hamper inside the laundry room and looked out the window, my hand on the cord to drop the shade. My backyard was dark, but Goldie’s deck light was on, and the white and pale pink flowers she had planted around its edge seemed to emit a light of their own. They made me smile.
I closed the shade and flipped the light on and was stuffing the last of the laundry into the washer when my phone rang. I nearly tripped over Jay when I turned to go to the kitchen. “Do you have to follow me everywhere, Bubby?” I asked him. He wagged his butt at me as I reached for the receiver. “Of course you do,” I said, stroking his cheek with my other hand. “You’re an Aussie.”
Goldie had seen my light come on and wanted to know what was happening. I filled her in on the basics and declined an invitation for hot milk and spicy Mexican chocolate-and-cayenne cookies. “By the way, someone was there earlier this evening. He looked familiar but I can’t think where I’ve seen him. Maybe on TV. I think he might have been there at the lake with Tom.”
My stomach nearly dropped on the floor.
Rich Campbell?
I couldn’t
imagine who else “maybe from TV” might be looking for me, and the thought that he really might know where I lived propelled me across the room to check that the deadbolt was fastened. The phone cord stopped me halfway there. “Goldie, hang on,” I said, and set the receiver on the counter with a thunk. All the doors were locked. I would have armed the alarm that Tom thought I should have installed, if I had actually had it installed. For the first time, I wished I had done so. I closed the rest of my blinds and curtains, then picked up the phone again. “Okay.”
“Something wrong?” Goldie asked.
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“No, nothing.”
“You shut your curtains. You checked your locks, didn’t you? Who was that man?”
“What, I can’t shut my curtains?”
“Janet, you never shut the curtains in your office. You’re afraid someone may look in. What’s going on?”
I told her about creepy Rich Campbell. Not the whole story, just the part on the island. And I didn’t tell her he pretended to shoot me, just said he made a gesture.
“He gave you the finger for being on the island? Your friend’s private island?”
I left it at that. She wanted to know if there was any news about how Anderson Billings had died, and she wondered what was taking so long. “It’s not like they can just fart around forever to do the autopsy.”
“Autopsy is done. But the lab results won’t be back for a while.” Which reminded me that I hadn’t heard anything about the funeral. “Goldie, do you have today’s paper?”
“Right here.”
I had her check the funeral notices, but there was no mention of Anderson. I’d have to remember to find out in the morning. I wasn’t keen on funerals, but felt I should be at that one.
Just as we were wrapping up the conversation, Goldie said, “Come sleep over here, Janet. The boys can come with you.”
“I’m fine here. Got all kinds of security, and I have the best watch cat in town.” I wasn’t kidding, either. Leo had shown his mettle when it mattered. “And you know Jay isn’t about to let anyone hurt me.”
She wasn’t happy, but she let it go.
She can’t exactly scold
me
for being stubborn
, I thought, and smiled. It was getting late, but I couldn’t get Rich Campbell’s girlfriend Liesl out of my mind. What was her last name? Baker? Brubaker? I sat down at my computer, woke it up, and typed “Liesl” into the search engine, then stared at the screen.
Burkhardt,
that was it. You wouldn’t believe how many Liesl Burkhardts came up in my initial search. I added “Kuwait” to the terms, doubting that she would still be there but hoping that might narrow the field to a Liesl Burkhardt who had at one time taught English in Kuwait. Nothing. So I deleted “Kuwait” and typed in “University of Connecticut.” Bingo. I read the article, dated 1995, twice through.
“We’re coming to visit,” I said when Goldie answered. I pulled a pair of shorts on, fastened Jay’s leash to his collar, shoved my keys and my cell phone into my pocket, lifted Leo out of the recliner, and moved the whole kit and caboodle to Goldie’s place, where I told her about the article I had just read.
“She drowned. Goldie, she drowned in a lake in November.”
“What a shame,” said Goldie.
“Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
Goldie shrugged, but her voice said she wasn’t so unfeeling. “People drown.”
“How many people have you known who drowned, Goldie? And two people connected to this guy drown?” My pitch was rising so I reeled myself in a turn. “In strange circumstances, too.”
Goldie nibbled a cookie and asked, “Where was this again? The girl, Lisa. And when?”
“Liesl. Massachusetts. A pond on Cape Cod. In November.” Goldie’s
cuckoo clock chirped midnight. I considered calling Tom despite the hour, but I knew he and George planned to get up at o-dark-thirty in hopes of seeing the parrot. George thought their chances were better if they were there shortly after sunrise, which was around six forty-five these days. Besides, how would it help for them to know about Liesl tonight?
“You’re right. Makes no sense, unless she was suicidal. I mean, we don’t know much about her. That’s possible.”
“But I knew Anderson, and he wasn’t suicidal,” I said.
“So what do we do now?”
“Sleep, I think. I have to be up early.” I told her what Peg and I were planning.
“I’ll go with you. Been wanting to see what’s going on in there
anyway.” For the first time in I couldn’t remember how long there was
a fire in Goldie’s eye.
“I only have two tickets to the exhibit,” I said.
Goldie would not be deterred. “I’ll buy one at the door.”
“Not sure you can do that.”
“I’ll ask. Besides, they’re not going to turn away an old lady whose two friends have passes.” She laughed and said, “Don’t worry,
I won’t wear my Land Trust T-shirt.” Leo waltzed back into the kitchen,
apparently having completed his investigation of Goldie’s house. She picked him up and snuggled her face into his neck. “You going to sleep with me tonight, Mr. Leo?”
“He doesn’t like to sleep in the bed.” I should know, I’ve been trying to get him to sleep in mine for the past two years. There’s nothing so soothing as a cat. Except a dog. Or one of each. Which reminded me—time to hit the sack.
“Ha! Show’s how much you know!” said Goldie. “He always sleeps with me when he comes for a visit.” Which he had done a couple of times when I had to be out of town for a few days. I don’t like to leave him alone, even with food and extra litter boxes, so he goes to “Aunt Goldie’s” or, the last time, to Tom’s place.
“Fickle pickle,” I said, standing and running the backs of my fingers down Leo’s cheek and neck. “Okay, see you in the morning.” Jay was on his feet, sleepy looking but ready to follow wherever I led. I leaned down and hugged him. “At least one of you is loyal!”
As I walked away I heard a thump behind me and Goldie said, “Janet.”
I turned. Leo was following me and Jay, his eyes wide and very focused on me. “Aww, Leo
mio
.” Whether he understood my words, who knows? But I couldn’t help thinking he knew what they meant, and I felt a stab of remorse. The last thing I would ever do is saddle my animals with guilt. I scooped him up and he shoved his head into my
chin. Ten minutes later I fell asleep in Goldie’s guest room with my dog
pressed against my legs and my cat purring on the other pillow. Safe.
forty
I jolted wide awake
in the morning, figuring I had overslept and cursing myself for setting my cell phone alarm incorrectly. Again. I
always seem to miss some little detail and end up with p.m. where
I want a.m. or Off where I want On. But when I flicked my phone on I saw that it wasn’t quite six a.m. I hadn’t planned to get up for another hour and even that wouldn’t give me my usual sleepy-bye quota, but after five minutes of trying to grab another hour, I got up. Leo was gone. I figured he had gone off to Goldie’s room. Jay stood on the bed, grinning and wriggling his fanny at me.
“Okay, hang on, Bubby,” I said. When we emerged from our room
a few minutes later, all was quiet, but Goldie’s bedroom door was open
and her bed was made. I called, “Goldie?”
No answer. I grabbed Jay’s leash from the kitchen table and opened the back door. Goldie was deadheading flowers by the light of a headlamp, dropping the cuttings into a little basket that I knew she would empty into her compost pile at the back of the yard. She looked up and smiled. “Morning, sleepy head.”
“It’s barely six, Goldie. It’s not even light yet.”
Jay ran to Goldie for a quick good-morning kiss, then went off to do what he needed to do. I kept an eye on him but didn’t need the baggy in my pocket yet.
“I’m going to go feed him,” I said. “Okay if the boys stay at your place, though, when we go out? I hate to admit it, but I’m just the tiniest bit nervous about leaving them home alone.”
“I was going to suggest it. I already put some food on the washer for Leo.” Goldie kept a litterbox at the ready, as well as a supply of cat food, the kind I bought, and dog treats.
Once we were cleaned up and dressed we still had plenty of time, so I offered to treat Goldie to breakfast at Panera Bread, using its proximity to Coldwater Road as an excuse. “You get that bear claw because it’s close to Coldwater Road, too?” asked Goldie, who had limited her carbosplurge to a chocolate chip bagel with one pat of butter.
“Yes.”
“Say, isn’t that your doctor friend?” Goldie was looking past me toward the cash register.
Without turning around I said, “Oh, crap, really?” She nodded at me and I said, “Maybe if I don’t turn around …”
“Maybe, but he’s coming this … no, false alarm. He left.”
I leaned forward from my little corner and looked out the window. It was indeed “my doctor friend,” Neil Young. He had a Panera Bread shopping bag that, judging by the way it moved, seemed to be loaded. “Goodies for the staff lounge, I guess,” I said. He folded his long legs into a little red sports car and pulled out onto Coliseum. “Jeez, one big-ticket car isn’t enough for him?” I muttered, and told Goldie about the black sedan he had been driving the last time I saw him. I watched the car, vaguely interested and expecting him to turn right onto Parnell to drive to the hospital, but he moved into the left lane and made a U-turn instead. “That’s weird. He’s not headed for Parkview.”
We both watched the car go by in the far lane and turn north on Coldwater. Then Goldie looked at me. “Maybe he’s going where we’re going.”
“Great.” Just what I needed, two weird guys around.
When we had finished our breakfast goodies, I snapped the lid onto my coffee and said, “Let’s go. I’d just as soon sit around in the Kroger parking lot as here, and if Peg is early we can swing by Heron Acres and see Tom and George. They might be on the island, but …”
Peg was already there, reading something on her e-reader. We
climbed into her car and I introduced Goldie. “Oh, you’re the one who
drove Janet to the emergency room after she was mauled at the clinic,”
said Goldie.
“Oh, great, here we go,” I said. “Must I remind you that we wouldn’t have these tickets if not for my misfortune?”
“Did you bring your Tiffany deflector in case the little darling is there?” asked Peg.
“Why would
she
be there?” Goldie asked.
“She won’t be.” Why
would
she be? “Her family is involved with Treasures on Earth. Her mom wears a pendant with their symbol, you know, the cross with the two heart thingies? And Neil knows them. But there’s no reason for them to be there on a weekday morning.” I hoped not anyway. I’d forgotten my chain-mail undies.
Goldie and Peg chattered away for a bit, discovering that they had several friends in common, which is not unusual in Fort Wayne. I let my thoughts go where they would. I didn’t really want to think about death and loss, but every time I tried to steer my mind toward something happier, it fought me and won.
It was obvious that something very shady was going on at Treasures on Earth. Was that Moneypenny’s game? Smuggling rare tropical birds and selling them for big bucks? Between what I had read and what George had to say, I knew there were profits to be made. Big profits in some cases, assuming the birds survived long enough to make it to a buyer. But how cynical would someone have to be to run a group that claimed to be dedicated to spiritual renewal while exploiting endangered species behind the scenes? And what was a “spiritual leader” doing hooked up with someone like Rich Campbell? Campbell had proven himself a liar and cheat long ago, and he might even be a killer. Then again, Moneypenny might not know that.
Peg turned onto Cedar Canyons and pulled me out of my speculations. “Janet, where’s the lake?”
“Tappen Road. A bit farther, on your left. The turn is hard to see, the sign nearly impossible. Slow down a little.”
We turned onto the gravel road. Tom’s van was parked just inside the property, on the driveway into Heron Acres, so I had Peg pull onto the berm and said, “Goldie, careful getting out. Hard to see the edge of the ditch for the weeds.”
“Hey, how far are we going?” asked Peg. “These shoes aren’t made
for this. I dressed for an art show.”
“Not far.” I glanced at my own footwear and thought better of taking my only pair of decent pumps onto the beach. “Just let me see if I can spot them. They may be out on the island anyway.”
There was no sign of George or Tom other than Tom’s vehicle.
I knew they’d be using Collin’s bass boat, and it was nowhere to be seen either. They must have beached it on the other side of the island. I was more disappointed than I thought I’d be, although I realized that I had no idea what I would tell Tom if I did see him.
You’re slipping, MacPhail
, I thought. I don’t actually lie to Tom, at least not about anything important, but I didn’t see any reason to let him in on every little thing, especially if doing so was likely to start a row, which any plan that took me near Rich Campbell was sure to do. And he’d likely have George Crane’s support in this one.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, turning back toward the car.
“Hey, look!” said Peg. “Someone’s waving.”
I looked across the water to the island. Sure enough, two men, one of them waving his arms like a windmill. I waved back, and suddenly wanted to get out of there quickly so I wouldn’t have to dodge any questions. “Okay, ladies, let’s go.”
“Don’t you want to say hi?” asked Peg. “I mean, isn’t that why we came?” She was still waving at Tom. “We have plenty of time.”
“I wasn’t thinking,” I said.
Goldie got it. “Right, let’s go. We don’t have a good cover story.”
“Oh, gotcha.” Peg looked toward the island. “He’s yelling something.”
“Can’t hear him,” I said, trying to get them moving.
“Wait,” Peg said. “He’s yelling ‘wait’.”
“Can’t hear him, Peg. Let’s go.”
forty-one
We hightailed it back
to the car and drove to the Treasures on Earth entrance on Cedar Canyons. Two pillars built of rough-cut limestone stood like Colossi on either side of the driveway. They each supported an enormous wrought-iron gate, now swung open, away from the road. A sign just inside the entrance invited us to find our treasures here on Earth.
“Moneypenny seems to be the one finding the treasures. What do people have to pay to be in his crowd, anyway?”
“No idea how this works,” I said. I thought of Giselle, and realized that I still hadn’t called to apologize for breaking our coffee date on Sunday. “Rats.”
“What?” asked Peg.
“Nothing. Never mind. I forgot to do something. Come to think of it, I doubt if they charge much to be part of this.” Giselle wasn’t rich. “Maybe they have membership levels or something.”
“I could ask about joining,” offered Goldie.
“They’ll never buy that,” I said, and they agreed.
We parked in the same lot that held the Beemers and Jaguars and Lincolns when they had things going on out here. Now there were only a couple of cars besides ours, both big and shiny new.
Goldie tapped my arm and said, “Isn’t that your friend’s car?”
“Could be.” It was definitely the car Neil had been driving at Panera Bread, but part of me still hoped he wasn’t involved in whatever was going on out there. “And stop calling him my friend.”
We walked up a series of shallow steps to a massive double door. The wood had a warm golden glow, and the main panels were intricately carved with birds of all sorts.
“Wow.” I’m not sure which of us said it. Goldie ran her fingertips up the long tail feathers of a peacock, and then stroked a cockatoo’s crest. “Amazing. This is hand carved.”
“Gorgeous,” said Peg.
It was. If I had to guess, I’d say there were some thirty birds carved into the panels of each door, and I don’t think any were repeated.
“So, then, birds are a theme?” asked Goldie. “I have to say, I can think of worse things to worship.”
“Oh, we don’t worship birds,” said a deep voice behind us. We all jumped and turned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you lovely ladies.”
Peg pressed her hand to her chest. “Didn’t hear you coming, is all.”
“Yes, so sorry. These new shoes of mine,” he looked at his feet, which sported clunky looking black slip-on shoes with thick soles. Definitely not a fashion statement despite his pricey looking suit. “Very ugly, very comfy, and very quiet.” He chuckled, then asked, “Going in?” and, stepping past us, held the door open.
At least the gatekeeper doesn’t
look
like an ogre,
I thought.
The entrance hall was long and wide and well-lighted. The walls were covered with a lush jungle-leaf paper, and the gray marble floor gleamed. It also rang like a stone bell with every strike of our semi-dressy shoes. No wonder Mystery Man wore those silent soles.
When we were all in, our escort turned around and smiled at us. He took his time, making eye contact with each of us in turn and holding it briefly before moving on. Then he said, “Welcome, welcome.” He bowed slightly, and said, “I’m Regis Moneypenny. How can I be of service?”
The man himself
, I thought, and caught a look from Goldie. Moneypenny’s tone was warm, but something about it made me want to back away from him. I forced myself to stay put, though, and held out my hand. “Janet MacPhail. Mrs. Willard invited me, well, us, my friends and I, to see the art exhibit.” He was still holding onto my hand, and his smile didn’t seem quite right. I pulled my hand from his grip and asked, “Is it open today?”
“Ah, Mrs. Willard.” He nodded, and something soft passed through his eyes. “Indeed, it is open. Let me take you there.”
As he turned away from us, I looked down the hall. Every fifteen feet or so there was a big pot, each one different, with an equally huge plant. Between each pair of palms and elephant ears and things I couldn’t name stood a flight cage, maybe eight feet long and three deep, and from each cage I caught flashes of movement and color.
I stopped at the first cage. I don’t know much about birds, but
these I knew because I had photographed some at a bird show
once and had fallen in love with their stunning plumage. Rainbow lorikeets. Blue and red and yellow and green and orange, all in one little bird. I had briefly entertained a fantasy of getting one, but when I read how messy the clean up is because of their fruit diet, I changed my mind.
“Shall we?” Moneypenny seemed determined to keep us moving, so I tore myself away, although part of me wanted to ask who appointed him to be our guide, head honcho or not. I kept loose track of which birds I recognized as we passed the cages. Cockatoo. A blue parrot of some sort. Several parakeets, or were they budgies?
What’s the difference?
I made a mental note to find out. Next was a gray parrot of some sort. A flock of gorgeous little finches. Cockatiels.
“This is quite an assortment of birds,” I said. “Why so many?” Our host had stopped at an open doorway and turned toward me.
“I have always loved birds.”
Not exactly what I asked, but it was a start.
“But to answer your question, the birds are here for several reasons. They represent hope and freedom, and that’s what we strive for here at Treasures on Earth. They are inherently beautiful, and as such eloquent reminders of the Creator who made us to appreciate the many treasures on Earth. And they are looking for homes.”
“Freedom?” asked Goldie? “They’re in cages!”
Moneypenny ignored her and continued walking.
“So you run a rescue program?”
“Of sorts, Miss MacPhail, of sorts.” He stopped and turned toward me. He was smiling, but he stepped into my comfort zone and stood there, looking at my face. I gritted my teeth, determined not to back away. From the corner of my right eye I could see Peg raise her hand to her mouth, and it seemed as if Moneypenny were the only one still breathing. Then he broke the impasse by saying, “And now, I believe you ladies are here to see the art exhibit?” There was an edge to his voice and my muscles, already tensed, tightened even more, rather as they do when I hear a low warning growl from a dog I’m photographing.
We stepped through the door and into an enormous art exhibit. Paintings and sculptures and textiles, all depicting birds, were displayed around the perimeter, which I estimated to be about the size of two obedience rings, say forty by eighty feet. A series of freestanding display units, like cubicles without the desks, ran down the center of the room. They held more paintings.
“Holy crow,” said Goldie.
Peg let out a low whistle.
Moneypenny swept his arm toward the display and said, “Enjoy.” He bowed slightly and made for the far end of the room, where two women emerged from behind one of the freestanding displays.
“Ohmydog,” I said.
“What?” Peg was right beside me. She looked toward the women and said, “Oh my … What are the odds?”
“Hundred percent in favor, I’d say.” I turned toward the paintings we were supposedly there to see and whispered, “Come on.”
Our erstwhile guide had reached the women and all three turned to look at us as he spoke to them. Mrs. Willard and Persephone Swann appeared to listen, then all three disappeared behind a display. We heard what seemed to be the click of a door closing, and we were alone.
Without taking her eyes off the painting in front of us, Peg said, “We knew they were both involved with Treasures on Earth, right? So it makes sense that they know each other.”
Goldie had stepped up on my other side. “So that’s Regal Moneypincher. He can’t decide whether to be charming or weird, can he?”
I grinned and said, “Regis Mo …”
“Janet!” Goldie elbowed me and Peg snickered. “I know that!”
“So I wasn’t the only one he made nervous?” I asked.
They both agreed that there was something unsettling about being in his presence. “And why did he try to stare you down like that?” asked Peg. “Still, I can see where he might be seen as, I don’t know, not attractive, but …” She seemed to be searching for the right word.
“Fascinating?” I asked.
Peg nodded, and Goldie said, “Like a cobra.”
The three of us moseyed along the walls as we spoke, taking in the artwork, which was consistently outstanding. I recognized only two or three names, but then I know only a handful of artists other than photographers. Unlike many exhibits, this one had not a single piece that made me wonder what it was doing there, and the pieces, as a whole and as individuals, were displayed with care. And every one of them depicted one or more birds.
We spent a good forty minutes admiring the artwork. I enjoyed that, but was disappointed that there was precious little chance to snoop around. The gallery had two main doors, the one we came in and another double door that led outdoors, but when Peg tried it, it was locked. A small alcove near the end of one long wall had a door as well, the one our host and the two women had used, but it, too, was locked tight.
We were almost back to the door we came in when Peg stepped close to me and said, “I think we’re being watched.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn around suddenly or anything, but maybe in a minute you can walk back to the center display and sort of look around. Over each of the end doors and halfway down each side.” She pointed and gestured in the general direction of the painting in front of us, as if commenting on the sweep of the white peacock’s tail. “Pretty sure they’re cameras, and that they move to follow us.”
I played along with the charade, rubbing my chin and cocking my head as if studying the painting, and said, “Okay, I will do that.” I stepped forward and leaned in, as if examining brush strokes, which actually
were
fascinating up close. “Amazing how many colors go into painting a white subject,” I said. Then I looked around and made for one of the freestanding displays. Peg was right, there was something mounted high on the wall and it looked like a camera, albeit a teensy one. I memorized its orientation, then checked it again after I had moved to another display unit. The camera had moved, I was sure of it.
It made sense to have cameras in a gallery displaying expensive artwork, but motion sensors? To track visitors? Or were they managed manually? If they were, that meant they didn’t just keep a re
cord they could review. It meant that someone was watching us right
now. And that was creepy. It took all my self-control not to walk over
to the camera and swing my purse at it, but I managed to pretend I hadn’t noticed it.
Goldie joined me in front of a bronze of six California quail taking flight. It was a lovely piece, three feet or so in circumference, with the birds held, each at a different height, on supports made to look like tall blades of grass. Each quail seemed to launch itself on a slightly different trajectory, as if they were scattering to confuse
a predator. Not a bad tactic, I thought.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it? I think this is my favorite piece,” said Goldie.
“It is. Look at the feathers on the birds.”
She startled me by draping an arm over my shoulder and bending the two of us toward the sculpture. She whispered, “Don’t react, but we’re being filmed.”
“I know. I saw them,” I said. “They may be live feed.”
We stood back up, and I said in a normal voice, “Well, ladies, I think we’ve seen everything. Shall we?”
The long hallway was empty of people and, other than a few squawks and whistles from the cages that lined it and the clack-clack-clack of our shoes on the marble, it was deathly still. I stopped in front of a cage that held a small green and blue parrot. At least I assumed it was a parrot. I don’t really know what distinguishes a parrot from a lorikeet from a budgie. Whatever it was, the bird sidled to the edge of the cage and tilted his head to get a better look at us.
“Peg, give me your camera.”
She reached into her pocket and slipped the camera to me. I flicked it on and held it against my body, hoping my aim was decent, and clicked off a few shots. On the last one, the flash went off and two seconds later a door opened down the hall. I lowered my hand and, as I turned toward the sound, I held the camera behind me where Peg could get it.
The man bearing down on us was backlit, so it was impossible to see his face, but I have a memory for movement. Dog, horse, human, I’m quick to notice carriage and style of motion, and I recognize the set of this man’s shoulders and the way his arms hung.
“Aw, shit,” I murmured.
“What’s wrong?” asked Peg.
“It’s just a photo. Big deal,” said Goldie.
But the epithet rattled and echoed around my brain, and it took everything I had not to turn and run as fast as I could for the exit door. The man’s face was clearly visible now, and the look on it was not friendly. It was too late to run to safety, so I followed the rules. When faced with a threatening animal,
do not run. Stand your ground. Make yourself as big as possible. Don’t stare into his eyes, he’ll take that as a challenge.
I made my spine as straight as possible. Maybe they felt my energy. Okay, my fear. Whatever it was, I felt Goldie stand a little taller on my right. Peg did the same on my left. My elbows touched theirs. We were one unit, and I felt empowered by the time the man reached us and I found myself standing eighteen inches from the glowering mug of bird guy and possible killer Rich Campbell.
forty-two
“What an unpleasant man!”
said Goldie once we were in the car and out the gates of Treasures on Earth.
“That’s an understatement,” I said, but I didn’t share my suspicions about just how unpleasant Rich Campbell may have been to his former girlfriend, Liesl Burkhardt, and to my friend and student Anderson Billings. I focused instead on the failures of our mission. “We didn’t accomplish much with that little adventure,” I said. “Plus, Peg, I owe you a camera. But rats, I was hoping to take some photos of those birds back for George to identify.”
Peg started to laugh. “You still can, my dear.”
“What?”
She started rummaging around in her voluminous skirt and brought her hand out of the fabric with the camera in her grip. “Here you go.”
Goldie let out a hoot in the backseat and tapped Peg on the shoulder. “Brilliant! Janet, you have brilliant friends!”
I flicked the camera on and brought up the most recent photos. When the little green and blue parrot popped onto the screen, I joined the laugh party. “So what was that you gave him?” Campbell had demanded the camera, growling that there was a sign outside the gallery that clearly stated the confiscation policy and no photos rule. “You can pick it up after we have a chance to remove all photos taken on Treasures property,” he had said.
“That was my son’s old camera. The one he dropped in the pool at the Y.” The grin on Peg’s face rivaled the one she wore when she drove me to the emergency room after Tiffany dear bit my behind. “Cheap little thing, wasn’t worth trying to fix after its full immersion. Dead as a doorknob.”
“You rock, girlfriend,” I said, and thought
how appropriate, leaving
Rich Campbell with a drowned camera.
When the initial pleasure cooled a bit, Goldie said, “Janet, you’d better stay with Tom or me until this is all settled. That guy, what’s his name again?”
“Rich Campbell.”
“Right. He doesn’t know us, but he knows who you are. And he’s not a nice man.”
“Ah, the mistress of understatement,” I said.
“What?”
“Never mind.” She was right, I thought. He knew who I was and probably more than that. I wondered whether Goldie and Tom, and even Peg, might be in any danger. If Campbell had been to my house, he could easily have seen Goldie in her yard. She was out in the garden all the time.
“So?”
“She’s right, you know,” said Peg, sobering up. “He’s not going to be happy when he finds out about the camera. He doesn’t know me from boo, but …”
“But the women do,” I said, “Mrs. Willard and Persephone Swann.”
Peg gasped, but recovered and said, “All they know is that I work at the clinic. I mean, they don’t know where I live or anything. I mean, why would they care?”
“They might care now, so just be careful.” I added that Goldie could be in danger, too, but she waved me off so I dropped the direct approach and said, “Maybe I should stay at your house, Goldie, until this blows over. I’d feel safer.”
And I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone over there,
I thought.
Peg slowed the car so we could see down Tappen Road, but Tom’s
car was gone. We drove back to the Kroger lot.
“Email me those photos as soon as you can, okay, Peg?” I asked.
“Here, just take it.” She handed me the camera and a little black bag that she had tucked under the seat. “I think the download thingy is in there.”
I chuckled. “I’ll bring it back to the clinic tomorrow.”
“No rush,” Peg said. “I don’t have any more top secret assignments scheduled for a few days.”
Goldie and I got into my van and I sat with the door open to change my shoes. No sense scuffing the back of my one nice pair of shoes by driving in them.
“There’s something under the wiper,” said Goldie, pointing to the windshield in front of me.
I reached out and grabbed it, knowing what it was before I opened it. “Note from Tom.”
“Uh oh. Busted!”
I read it and told her what it said, mostly. “They stopped here on their way back to Tom’s office, saw the van when they came out of the grocery store. He went back into the store to find me and see if I wanted to join them there.” I looked at Goldie. “I feel like I cheated on him or something.”
“That’s what happens when we sneak around and lie. But it had to be done.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Just sayin’,” she said. “So call him. Go find out what they found out. You’ll find a way to get found out, and everything will be fine.”
“What did you say?”
“You’ll find a way to get caught,” Goldie said.
I started to argue but stopped myself. She was, as she often is,
right. “It’s not as if I wasn’t going to tell him eventually. Today, even.”
“So, Janet, you know something about that nasty man, that Rich Campbell, don’t you?” I glanced sideways and saw that Goldie was peering over the top of her glasses at me, which she only does when she knows I’m holding out. So I told her, then swore her to secrecy.
I parked in my own driveway but went straight to Goldie’s to see to my boys. Jay bounced and wriggled as if we’d been gone for a month. Leo hopped onto the back of Goldie’s big overstuffed reading chair and I bonked noses with him to say hello. We all went out to the backyard for a little R and R, and I called Tom. They were just leaving his office to go home and shower, so I said I’d meet them there. But I had to ask what they had found.
“We saw the bird. George is pretty blown away. Going to try to catch him. Or her. That’s still in question.”
I couldn’t imagine how he’d catch a loose parrot, especially if it was wild-caught and not used to or fond of captivity.
“We’ll only be home long enough to clean up and grab a bite to eat,” Tom said. “We’re going to the morgue for a look at the other bird.”
“The morgue?”
“Yeah. If I can reach Jo for permission. That’s where the bird is.” They couldn’t exactly stick it in the department fridge,” Tom said. “If the cops are anything like people around here,” meaning the university, “someone would eat it.” Tom had installed a small refrigerator in his office because, he had told me, someone kept taking his lunches from the faculty lounge and he could never prove who it was, although he suspected one of the accounting profs.
I loaded Jay into the van, but Goldie wanted Leo to stay and keep her company, and since he was curled up on her reading chair I had to assume he agreed. She said she would take him home later. I was almost to the corner when I realized that I was still more “dressed” than was quite normal for me, so I backtracked, changed into jeans and a henley, and then hit the road. My thoughts ran around like a pack of terriers in a field of mice. I needed to go see Mom soon. I hadn’t been there since … when? I couldn’t remember, which meant either that it had been too long or that I was losing my mind. I needed to followup on some requests for portraits, too.
What I really wanted to do was find a way to get back into Treasures on Earth without raising suspicion. Or getting caught by Rich Campbell. I had no desire to sleep with the fishes, and having encountered the man up close, I was even more convinced that he was dangerous.
And I needed to know more about Regis Moneypenny. There must be information about the man somewhere. He had become a significant figure in Allen County, and I couldn’t imagine how he would do so without someone knowing something about him. I made a mental note to call Giselle Swann after I saw Tom and George. If she was attending services, or meetings, or whatever they called them, at Treasures, she must have some information about the man and the group. Knowing Giselle, she’d be testy for a bit since I had forgotten our plans to meet on Sunday, but if I groveled enough I knew she’d come around. I also knew that if she thought for a moment that the people around her were abusing or exploiting animals, she’d be the loudest canary they ever heard.
forty-three
Tom and George were
showered and changed when I got there. Jay was delighted to see his buddy Drake, and even more delighted to see his new buddy George, who for his part got down on the floor to give my dog a belly rub.
“Man after your own heart, eh, my dear?” asked Tom, right before he planted a big kiss on my lips.
“He won’t find it,” I said.
“Already taken?”