The Only Clue

by Pamela Beason

  Finn logged in to the department’s databases, relieved to find his login code still worked. The bosses might be considering giving him a reprimand, but at least they hadn’t locked him out. He brought up the most recent court transcript for Jarvis Pinder and scanned through the pages of trial information and testimony. The prosecution accused Pinder of being a conduit for a well-known cocaine cartel centered in Venezuela. And just as Heather Clayton and Jarvis himself had intimated, Leroy Shane had been another major drug dealer who’d somehow managed a sweet plea deal by testifying against Pinder. It seemed odd that any member of the Shane family would still contact Pinder after that.

  Finn discovered that Leon Shane owned an oil lube franchise in Spokane, which made his visits even more curious—it was one hell of a long drive from Spokane to Monroe. Finn called the business number and asked to speak to the owner. As he waited, he filled a glass with water from the kitchen and listened to the zrrrip zrrrip of a pneumatic wrench punctuating the background static on the phone line.

  “Shane.”

  Finn identified himself. “I need to ask about your recent conversations with Jarvis Pinder.”

  “Who?”

  “Jarvis Pinder. You visited him in Monroe twice in the last month.”

  “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “Don’t waste my time playing dumb, Mr. Shane. You’re on the visitors record there.”

  “What? I never heard of the guy.” There was a hiccup of hesitation, and then Shane growled, “Shit. This is Leroy’s crap again; I know it.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Look, I’ve never been to Monroe prison, and I don’t know any Marvin Pinder. But I’m betting Leroy does. My name is Leon Michael Shane. My worthless brother is Leroy Daniel Shane. Damn it, I’m going to kill Leroy! I haven’t seen the idiot for years, but if he’s using my ID again—”

  “Do you look a lot like your brother?”

  “It’s the curse of my life.” Shane groaned. “We’re identical twins.”

  Finn gave Leon the prison superintendent’s number so he could straighten out the visitor situation.

  Although it needed further investigation, Leon’s story sounded plausible. As a felon, Leroy Shane couldn’t visit a prisoner, but posing as his brother Leon, he could. Now it seemed even more likely that Jarvis and Leroy were up to something. Could they be in cahoots with Tony Zyrnek and Heather Clayton? Heather could be playing the sad role of the woman left behind, stalling for time to make sure her boyfriend, Ty Linero, could finalize the sale of Gumu.

  Next, Finn researched the other mysterious woman: DeeDee Suarez, the unknown name on Jarvis Pinder’s visitor list. He found a Washington State driver’s license, with a full name of Delfina Delicia Suarez. The birth date indicating she was 33 years old, only five feet one inch tall, and weighed all of 105 pounds. She had no record beyond a few parking tickets and one traffic infraction. DeeDee’s birthplace was listed as Seattle, so she was a U.S. citizen. Her mother’s address was listed in Seattle, but beside the listing for her father, Roberto Suarez, was a note: Colombian national, deported 1997. Interesting, but not an uncommon history for many young Hispanic Americans.

  DeeDee wasn’t listed in any phone directory he could find. The number the prison had for her was no longer in service. Was that was significant in some way, or merely an oversight in recordkeeping?

  Finn saw no obvious role for DeeDee other than the “damn fine looking woman and sweet friend” described by Jarvis Pinder. He pulled his half-finished painting close, mixed paints with water on his palette, and began to stroke dark shadows into the centers of the poppies and the creases of the leaves. Somehow mixing paints and moving the brush across the paper gave his mind time to make the connections, fill in the details to see the big picture.

  Someone had broken into Grace’s barn and been injured or killed. A gorilla was missing. Those were the basic facts. Now for the coincidences. This event had happened since Tony Zyrnek had been released from prison to live with his son, who worked with that gorilla. Tony’s cellmate, Jarvis Pinder, called while Finn was present, and Tony had covered it up. He hadn’t mentioned that Heather Clayton was his old cellmate’s sister, and he hadn’t said anything about driving his pickup from the barn down Grace’s back driveway. Zyrnek had access to tools that would allow him to easily break a lock, he had a nasty wound on his hand that could have come from a fight with a gorilla, and nobody could verify where he was at the time of the incident. That was a lot of evidence in Tony’s Probably Guilty column.

  Jarvis Pinder and Leroy Shane had to be planning something with those fake ID visits.

  Finn washed out his brush in the water, mixed yellow and raw umber, and began to paint highlights.

  The gorgeous Heather Clayton was Pinder’s sister and lived in the county where the crime had taken place. She had a baby by Ty Linero, who left the area at approximately the same time the gorillas had disappeared. Heather immediately took up with Tony Zyrnek, who had motive—he knew all about the gorillas and how much they were worth; means—he had a truck and easy access to bolt cutting tools; and opportunity—he knew the schedule of the open house, had access to the back of the barn, and most likely knew Pinder’s other scumbag friends, no matter what he said.

  Tony Zyrnek. No matter where Finn started, all connections led back to Tony.

  He dipped the tip of his brush in paint and added a few streaks of pure bright yellow here and there, then stood up to get perspective on the painting. The sky was a wash of cerulean, with pale yellow and pink undertones to the clouds. The field of orange-red poppies was nearly finished. The blossoms had depth and detail now.

  The woman wandering through the flowers remained a phantom figure. He still hadn’t decided whether she should be moving away from or toward the viewer. A few quick strokes could make the decision. He wished Grace were here to give him her opinion. He called to tell her that.

  “I can’t talk now,” she told him in a breathless voice. “I’m rushing out the door to do an interview at the TV station.”

  The recording of Grace saying “Gumu could kill you” leapt into his imagination. “You really want to do that? It could go badly.”

  “I have to, Matt. People have to know the truth. And whether he’s alive or dead, we’ve got to find out what happened to Gumu.” She ended the call.

  Finn decided to pay his most likely suspect a surprise visit.

  * * * * *

  Tony Zyrnek didn’t seem surprised to see him pull up in front of the double-wide. He pulled the door open as Finn was on the first step. He held a cleaning rag in his unbandaged hand. “C’mon in, Detective. Is it true? Did Gumu attack someone? Is the big guy really missing?”

  “Don’t you already know the answer to that?” Finn stepped in. The place smelled like lemon furniture polish.

  Zyrnek’s brow wrinkled. “Jon didn’t...” His quizzical look changed to a frown. “Oh Christ, that’s what you were really looking for, wasn’t it? You thought I was in on it.”

  Zyrnek tossed the rag onto the table beside the door alongside a bottle of lemon oil. “I guess I can see why you might think that. But I’d never do anything to hurt Grace or the gorillas, because that would hurt my kid, too. Can’t you see that?”

  “You hurt your kid before to get money.”

  “That was a long time ago, back when I had spaghetti for brains.” He gestured with his chin toward the couch. “I have a steady job now. I’m done with all that.”

  Finn walked into the living area. “Jon has stolen animals before. Maybe he had a little help this time?”

  The other man shook his head. “Look, I know that the Animal Rights Union is probably classified as an eco-terrorist group, or whatever you cops call it these days. But none of those ARU kids are terrorists. They’re just animal lovers. They wouldn’t steal a gorilla unless they thought it was being abused. Jon’s not part of this. I’m not either.” He fixed his gaze on Finn. “Not him. Not me. Really.”


  They both sat down simultaneously, Finn in the chair and Zyrnek on the couch. The place looked different somehow, but maybe that was only because the TV was off and the cowboy boots were on Tony Zyrnek’s feet instead of under the coffee table.

  “Does Jon believe I’m in this?” Zyrnek rubbed his moustache, thinking. “That could explain a lot of what’s been going on with him.”

  Finn zeroed in on the differences in the house. A bowl of fruit was prominently centered on the counter dividing off the kitchen, and an array of artwork adorned the wall next to the entry door. Those hadn’t been there before.

  Zyrnek noticed him studying the framed pictures. “I hear you like to paint. I’m an artist, too.” He stood up, walked to the wall, and took down a small framed drawing at the right edge of the collection. He walked back and handed it to Finn. “I finished this one yesterday.”

  The frame was plain fir with staples in the corners, probably from Goodwill. The scene inside portrayed the sun glowing through a maze of red maple leaves. The perspective, looking up through the tree branches toward the sky, was interesting.

  “What do you think?” Zyrnek asked. “The shadows and shapes were hard to get right. Heather said she likes it. Ever worked in pastels?”

  “Never tried them,” Finn grunted. “Nice job. Great contrast.”

  “Thanks.” Zyrnek returned the painting to its place on the wall. Zyrnek pointed to two small paintings that flanked it. They were of a totally different impressionist style. “I’m sure you recognize these.”

  Bold and messy splashes of color. “Gorillas?” he guessed.

  “Neema.” Zyrnek indicated a framed whirl of lilac and yellow splashes on top. “Gumu.” He moved his finger to the bolder red and blue painting near the bottom of the array. He studied them for a long minute before turning back to Finn. “Amazing, aren’t they?”

  “Good use of color,” Finn agreed. “But no depth perception.”

  Zyrnek laughed and slapped his leg. “You’re right!” He slid into his seat on the couch. “We got a lot in common, you and me.”

  “I doubt that.” Finn sat back in his chair. “Did Jon give you those paintings?”

  “Yep. Having ‘em on the cell wall reminded me that there was another world outside, one filled with interesting things like painting gorillas and my son who worked with them.”

  “You had them on your wall in prison?”

  “Yeah.” Zyrnek cast a glance back to the paintings. “They weren’t framed then, of course, just taped to the wall, but they were nice to look at every day.”

  So Jarvis Pinder knew about painting gorillas long before Gumu disappeared. “Tell me about Jarvis Pinder,” Finn said.

  “Ah, Jarvis.” The other man rubbed his palms over his blue-jeaned thighs. “Most everyone goes to prison for stupid decisions. Some of us learn our lessons, but others—like Jarvis—have never made a good decision in their whole wasted lives. He’s a professional criminal.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “’Cause even though he’s inside, Jarvis is always trying to start something up on the outside.”

  “What would be in it for him right now?”

  “Jarvis likes to win.” Zyrnek made a wry face. “And money, of course. He’s up for parole in a few years. He’ll get it; he hasn’t been convicted of killing anyone.”

  Finn looked at him. “Why would anyone on the outside listen to him or share profits with him?”

  “Because he’d find a way to get revenge if they didn’t. Rumor is, he’s had a few guys killed.”

  Finn scrutinized Zyrnek’s face. Was the guy trying to tell him he’d been pressured into committing a crime? Was he trying to prove how smart he was by pretending to be an advisor?

  Finn decided to play along. “Interesting. How would you advise us to find out what Pinder is up to?”

  “Find out who he’s talking to, besides me. Who visits him.”

  “I know who visits him. Leroy Shane. DeeDee Suarez. Those names mean anything to you?”

  “I don’t know him, but I’ve heard Jarvis talk about how much he hates Leroy. DeeDee, I’ve seen on visiting days. She’s kinda hard for a man to forget.” He smoothed down his moustache with his index finger.

  “How so?”

  Zyrnek smiled. “She’s a really hot little Latina. We all wondered why she was wasting her time with Jarvis. He already had Heather; that’s understandable, her being his sister. But DeeDee? Me, I was lucky if the chaplain stopped by.” He nodded again. “I’ll ask Jarvis about DeeDee when he calls.”

  “How would Heather fit into Pinder’s schemes?” Finn asked.

  “Heather?” Zyrnek’s brow folded into a frown. “She’d never have anything to do with any crime. She knows how that ends up.”

  But as a kid growing up in a family of criminals, Heather would have occasion to know when crime paid as well as when it didn’t. Maybe the fiancé was the good guy; maybe Ty Linero ditched her after he discovered Heather was involved in a criminal enterprise with Zyrnek and her brother. “Do you know why Linero left her?”

  “She showed you the note, right?” Tony Zyrnek grimaced. “I know they had money problems and things might be tight in the future, but Jenny’s such a sweet little thing. You can’t just toss a kid into the trash.” He dug his fingers into his legs. “When I think about what Jon went through growing up...”

  His voice trailed off and he stared at the far wall. Then Zyrnek shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “Like I said, I learned my lesson. And Heather’s a prize; she’d never be involved in anything like that. No, trust me, Linero’s the loser in that relationship, not Heather.”

  “Trust you?”

  Zyrnek held up both hands. “Well, okay, I know you don’t really have any reason to trust me, but you can. I’m gonna think hard about all this. I’ll let you know if I come up with any ideas.”

  “Thank you so much.” Finn could hear his own sarcasm practically dripping onto the floor.

  Frustration stiffened Tony Zyrnek’s face. “I really want to help find Gumu. I’m one hundred percent on your side.”

  Finn stood up from the couch. “I’m not your buddy, Zyrnek.”

  Zyrnek’s gaze met his. “I get that. But you could be.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Finn told him.

  “Good, I’ll look forward to it.” Zyrnek pulled the door open for him. “Stop by anytime.”

  “Thanks.” He hadn’t meant to say that. It was just automatic. He thumped down the steps.

  “Maybe next weekend, if this is all settled, you and Grace could come over? I’d invite Heather; I could barbeque. I’m working on a killer hot sauce.”

  Finn didn’t respond, although his mouth and stomach immediately warmed to the idea of barbeque. Zyrnek was a typical con man who couldn’t stop rolling out the charm. Finn slid into his car. Pulling out his phone, he called Grace’s landline. The call went immediately to voicemail, and there he got a terse machine-voice message telling him that the voice mailbox was full and to try again later. The call disconnected. He got through on her cell phone, but only to another voicemail message.

  “Just wanted to see how your interview went,” he said to the phone. “I’m working on a list of characters that might have taken Gumu. Call me when you get the chance.”

  He went home to his cats and dog and a message on his home phone from the McKennas informing him that they were taking the Mankins out to dinner and not to wait up. He went for a quick jog around the roads of his rural neighborhood. His heavy breathing and aching feet reminded him that he was getting out of shape. After a shower, he fixed himself an omelet for dinner and threw a ball for Cargo out in the yard until it was too dark to keep track of the black mutt.

  Grace didn’t call or text him, but she had two traumatized apes to care for again, plus an army of wannabe reporters to fend off. He called Jon Zyrnek’s cell phone. Voicemail again. He left a message asking about the si
tuation at Grace’s compound. A minute after he hung up, a text message from the kid appeared on his phone: UNDER CONTROL.

  It felt like there was an untyped GET LOST or FU after those two words. He replied TAKE CARE OF HER and then signed off.

  He logged into the department’s system once more and checked DMV for registrations under the names of Ty Linero and Leroy Shane. He needed to talk to both those men. Leroy Shane had gone to some trouble to impersonate his brother to visit the prison, there had to be a good reason for that. Ty Linero was either involved or at least might know what Zyrnek and Heather had planned.

  He found the old Corolla license and VIN for Ty Linero. Every record listed for Leroy had expired long ago. He entered Ty’s car data in the watch list that went out to all law enforcement agencies, stating that Linero was wanted for questioning in a theft case.

  There were hundreds of cars on that list. Which meant that unless the car was cited for a ticket or involved in an accident, odds were pretty slim that anyone would notice it. Still, it was better than doing nothing.

  He brushed his teeth and went to bed early, wondering if Grace was sleeping in her own bed or spending another night in the barn with Neema.

  Chapter 17

  Finn was awakened the next morning by persistent buzzing. Shoving a cat out of the way, he grabbed his cell phone from its charger on the nightstand. Cell phone, VA. Didn’t they know it was only six a.m. on the west coast? He yawned.

  Cargo sat up eagerly, plopping his front feet onto the bed. One sharp-nailed paw landed on Finn’s balls, and he only half-stifled a yelp as he answered. “Finn.”

  “Detective Finn?”

  “Yeah?” He glared at the dog and rubbed his genitals through the sheets.

  “You left a message asking about Allen Whitehead?”

  It took him a second to orient himself. Whitehead. The owner of the crashed car in the woods. Deceased, but not the corpse in the car. “Yes?”

  “Allen was my brother. We haven’t been close for a long time. I haven’t—hadn’t—even seen him for almost five years.”