The Only Clue

by Pamela Beason

  Forty minutes later she wiped the tears of frustration from her cheeks and went outside, let herself into the barn enclosure, and climbed to the top of the net. Perched beside Neema, she just sat with her gorilla for a while, holding onto her massive ape hand.

  Then she climbed down to drive Pepito to the park. She could do at least this one thing right.

  Chapter 23

  Finn left three messages for Grace before he finally gave up and went home in the afternoon, his head and leg throbbing like the bass track of a hip-hop recording. He was getting close to cracking the case, he could feel it, even if it was going to lead to that gorilla skeleton on eBay. If only he could convince her to collaborate. Her voicemail setup didn’t leave him enough time to explain the connections between Ty Linero and Ro Linero and Heather, and Tony Zyrnek and Kevin North and Leroy Shane and Jarvis Pinder. He washed three aspirin down with a beer and a couple of antibiotic pills and settled into his easy chair. Both cats settled in with him.

  He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes when the doorbell rang. He trudged to the door fuzzy-mouthed, fuzzy-headed, and with the giant dog in tow.

  Tony Zyrnek stood on his doorstep. “What the hell?” Finn growled.

  Cargo wiped a wet nose on his sweat pants as he nudged around him to stick his nose in Zyrnek’s crotch.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the man said, patting the dog’s head and extending a commuter cup in Finn’s direction. “I’ve been thinking about all this, and I just couldn’t wait to talk to you, and they told me you’d already gone home.” He tilted his head in the direction of the cup in Finn’s hand. “I can’t afford Starbucks or those places, but I made that with a good dark roast Colombian and a splash of real half and half. It might be a bit strong, but I figured you for a strong coffee type.”

  Finn took a sip. Might have used a larger splash of half and half, but it was good.

  “How do you know where I live?”

  “County assessor records. I figured you owned a house around here. I made ham and cheese on onion bagels, too.” Zyrnek held up a paper bag.

  The man was smart and resourceful. All con men were; that’s what made them dangerous. Finn stepped aside and gestured Zyrnek in.

  They sat at the dining room table. Cargo laid his head in Zyrnek’s lap, trying to romance a bagel out of him. Zyrnek scratched him behind the ears. Cargo thumped his foot in ecstasy on the floor.

  “Heather called me last night,” Zyrnek said. “I spent the night over there.”

  He must have noticed the expression on Finn’s face, because he held out both hands in a stop motion and said, “It wasn’t like that. She’s a wreck. I just held her and helped with the baby. Her mom’s coming today.”

  “I know you didn’t tell her that the blood in the barn belonged to Ty,” he continued. Again he held up his hands. “Jon told me about that, and there was the newspaper article, too. I can add two and two. So Ty was there when Gumu disappeared?”

  “It looks that way,” Finn agreed. He didn’t think he could prove what had happened in the barn, but when the DNA came back, he’d be able to prove that Tyrone Linero had been there.

  “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about all this, and I know Jarvis is behind it. I know that sounds farfetched to you, but believe me, Jarvis knows how to pull strings even when he is behind bars. And when he called this week, he asked me how you were doing on the case of the missing gorilla. Did you record that?”

  “Maybe.” Finn took a bite of the bagel sandwich. It was good. He made a “continue” motion with his hand.

  “Well, if you did, you know he wouldn’t say much and I didn’t tell him anything. Not that I know anything.” Zyrnek took a bite of his own sandwich. “Not bad, huh?”

  Finn answered by taking another bite. After a swallow of coffee, he said, “So what is Jarvis up to?”

  “Well, you know how when you were over, we were looking at the gorillas’ paintings on the wall.”

  “Yeah.” What was the guy hinting about?

  Zyrnek dipped his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like to say it, but I can see how I’m in this mix, although I didn’t do anything wrong. I hope you can see it that way.”

  “Go on.”

  “We had those paintings in our cell. Jarvis really liked Gumu’s and he said he knew a guy named Elamo who would really like them, too, and pay good money. I didn’t want to sell them, but I told him about how you could buy the paintings online and how that would support Jon’s work with the gorillas. And then a while later, Jarvis said that his friend had bought some paintings and he thought the videos that came with them made them worth a whole lot more. I mean, gorillas that paint are pretty cool, right?”

  “They’re certainly different.”

  Zyrnek leaned forward. “So you said this Leroy has been visiting Jarvis. And you know that he’ll be up to something outside; he owes Jarvis and he’s gotta pay up.”

  “I figured that.”

  “And then all of a sudden the beautiful DeeDee Suarez starts coming, too.”

  “Lucky Jarvis,” Finn commented.

  “Got that right. And then I’m working with this Keno guy. And he’s real interested in the gorillas, so I tell him all about them every chance I get. And then I hear he’s planning to make a lot of money and he got canned because he’s hanging around with some lowlife who sounds a lot like Leroy.”

  Finn had been thinking along the same lines of connections among the parties.

  “And Leroy and Jarvis, they know the Lineros.”

  “So you figure they’re all in this together,” Finn summed up. “But what did they do with Gumu? And how does DeeDee fit into the mix?”

  Zyrnek leaned back in his chair and looked at him. “You’re the detective. But I figure that DeeDee, seeing as how her family’s from South America, is linked up with the drug business and with Elamo.”

  Assuming that Zyrnek wasn’t making this all up, it might be a new thread to follow. Finn walked Tony Zyrnek to the door.

  After arriving at the station, Finn pulled up Jarvis Pinder’s last court transcript on his computer. Pinder had been convicted of selling cocaine and suspected of being part of the infamous A.A. Reyes cartel from Venezuela. There was no mention of anyone named Elamo. Finn googled A.A. Reyes and found numerous articles in Spanish and English. The English versions were all about drug busts. The Spanish ones came with photos and looked more interesting.

  He called Guy Rodrigo, the evidence technician he usually worked with. “Rodrigo? You speak Spanish, don’t you?”

  “Sorta,” Rodrigo said. “I understand it better than I speak it. My dad always spoke it to us, but he’s been gone a while now.”

  “Where are you now? Can I send you something to look at?”

  He was in luck; Rodrigo was just down the hall in the evidence room logging in some new items. He showed up at Finn’s desk within ten minutes.

  “Can you read this?” Finn turned his monitor so Rodrigo could read it.

  Rodrigo squinted at the screen for a minute. “It’s about a major cocaine drug pin in Venezuela. Ariel Asimov Reyes—his mother must have been a very confused woman, to give him a name like that.”

  Grabbing Finn’s mouse, he scrolled down. “It says he lives like a king. He built himself a palace with galleries that rival the Louvre, and he has a private zoo. Even has an elephant.” Rodrigo turned to Finn. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  A zoo? Finn tried not to show his excitement, saying only, “I’m not sure yet. Have you ever heard of a drug boss named Elamo in South America?”

  Rodrigo laughed. “I’d wager every drug boss is called ‘El Amo.’” He pointed to the screen. “I’m sure this guy is usually called El Amo. Two words, not one. It means master or boss man.”

  Finn slapped him on the back and let him go back to work.

  So Jarvis Pinder knew Ariel Asimov Reyes, drug lord from Venezuela. And Reyes had his own private zoo. He’d know
the value of a gorilla. Reyes had to be El Amo, the man who’d bought several of Gumu’s paintings.

  He pulled up Grace’s lists of buyers for the gorillas’ paintings. Why hadn’t he done anything with these before? There it was—Maravilla Enterprises, Caracas, Venezuela. He’d bet a million dollars that Maravilla Enterprises was a front for Ariel Asimov Reyes.

  He had finally found the link. Now all he had to do was find the gorilla.

  * * * * *

  Grace had been in the park for about ten minutes when a black car pulled into the picnic ground. She watched from her position at a picnic table as the tall stranger unfolded a wheelchair from the trunk of the car and helped a girl shift from the passenger seat to the chair. Both of them were dressed in black. These had to be the Constellos. Grace grabbed the cat carrier by her side and went to meet them.

  It was clear that Pepito had missed Maria. As soon as he sighted her, the marmoset began chattering with excitement. When he was let out of the cat carrier, the miniature monkey jumped to the girl’s shoulder and began grooming her, moving his tiny paws through her curly black hair, his eyes bright and his jaws in constant motion as he prattled on, no doubt telling the girl how much he’d missed her. Giggling, Maria reached behind her head and stroked his back, pulling gently on his tail. He grabbed her index finger with both tiny hands and rubbed along it, twisting his head from side to side to slide his face along her skin. If he’d been a cat, Grace was sure the little monkey would be purring.

  Both Constellos thanked her profusely. Steven tried to press money into her hands, but Grace refused. “Seeing all this joy is reward enough.”

  Steven and Maria insisted on hugging her, several times. Which brought tears to her eyes. She walked them back to their car and waited while Steven settled Maria and Pepito into the front passenger seat.

  Steven Constello pulled open the driver’s door, then stopped and took her hand. “Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “I know that you are the lady with the missing gorilla. Do you believe it’s possible that the same man who had Pepito also took your gorilla?”

  “I don’t think so,” Grace told him. “We will investigate, of course,” she said, while thinking that would never happen, “but right now, we still have no clue where Gumu might be.”

  “Then it is still a sad time for you.” He clucked his tongue sympathetically. “Maria and I have been through our own sad time; that’s why finding Pepito is such a blessing.”

  Grace looked pointedly at the man’s black shirt and pants. “I couldn’t help but notice that you are in mourning.”

  “That’s why we didn’t receive your phone messages until yesterday. My wife passed away a week ago, and Maria and I accompanied her back to Peru, according to her wishes.”

  Oh God, the man had lost his wife and the little girl her mother. No wonder they hadn’t answered her messages. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s so painful to lose a loved one, and to ship a”—she thought quickly to come up with a substitute for ‘body’—“...casket...to another country must be a hard thing to do.”

  He dipped his chin. “It was.”

  What a grim business. But likely a profitable one, considering the popularity of international travel these days. Probably involved a lot of paperwork, and possibly inspections, too. She wondered if it was easier to ship human remains than to transport live animals.

  Suddenly she grabbed his arm. “How did you transport the body out of the country?”

  He stared at her hand on his arm. Embarrassed at her rudeness, she let go. “Sorry.”

  He smiled uncertainly. “Fortunately, Miss McKenna, there are companies that specialize in that process.” Steven Constello slid behind the driver’s wheel. “THR Shipping is one. There’s a branch in Moses Lake.”

  Grace waved a hurried goodbye, then picked up her phone to call Finn and tell him that Gumu could have been shipped somewhere hidden in a casket.

  The screen showed a text message from Finn.

  Art buyer Maravilla Ent. kidnapped G? = A.A. Reyes, w private zoo

  She read Matt’s text twice. Was it possible? Maravilla Enterprises, the buyer that had purchased all those paintings by Gumu, had a private zoo? She called THR Shipping in Moses Lake.

  When a female voice answered, she said, “Hi, I’m Delilah Cooper from XTX Corporation. I have a rush package that needs to go to Maravilla Enterprises in Venezuela. Their rep told me that you ship to them? Do you have any flights leaving soon?” She was a little surprised how easily the lies just slipped from her lips. Please God, let this be the key. Don’t let Gumu already be in South America.

  The clerk checked the roster. “You’re in luck. Normally the cargo for Caracas would have gone out a week ago, but we’re backed up because we had to have our jet repaired. You probably heard about that crash.”

  “I hope nobody got hurt.”

  “The pilot was out of the hospital within a few days. The plane took over a week to fix. That’s why we have only one shipment going that way this week. And unfortunately, that load is already pretty heavy because of the backup.”

  “You’re shipping them a casket, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I was told there was a death in the family of an exec at Maravilla, a relative traveling in the U.S. So sad.”

  “There are actually two caskets going out on the flight today, along with a lot of other freight. So we’re bumping up against the weight limit. How much does your package weigh?”

  She thought fast. “It’s less than two pounds. It’s just a bunch of legal contracts that need signatures. All the export papers are already attached.”

  “The cargo jet is scheduled to leave in about an hour and a half—any chance you could make it by then? That’s your only option for four more days. Our office is at the airport. Terminal C.”

  “I’m on my way right now.” She ended the call, started the engine, and backed out of the parking lot, raising a cloud of dust.

  As soon as she was back on the highway, she picked up the phone again and called Matt.

  “Grace! Did you get—”

  “Matt,” she interrupted breathlessly. “THR Shipping is transporting two caskets to Caracas from the Moses Lake airport. The jet is leaving in an hour and a half. I’m on my way there now.”

  * * * * *

  Casket. Caracas. It might be exactly the combination Finn had been searching for. He’d felt stymied for the last week. Now everything was happening too fast.

  “That’s more than an hour from here. I’ll try to have the plane stopped,” he told Grace. “But I don’t know if—”

  “I’m forty-five minutes away right now. Gotta go.” She apparently threw down the phone without ending the call, because the next sounds he heard were what sounded, oddly enough, like cows bawling, quickly drowned by the drawn-out blare of a horn. That was followed by a faint muttered “Same to you, buddy” from Grace, then by “C’mon, come on! Out of the way!”

  He didn’t want to think about how recklessly she might be driving and he knew her old van did not have a Bluetooth connection, so he ended the call himself and called information to find THR Shipping. After entering the number into his phone, he held it to his ear as he jogged from his desk to his car. A young man and woman were lounging on the hood of a silver Jetta across the lot, sipping coffee from paper cups. As he peeled out of his parking space with his flasher attached to his roof, they leapt to their feet, throwing their cups on the ground, then slid into their car and followed.

  The gal who answered at THR quickly transferred him to her manager, who immediately told Finn that no way in hell was he going to stop that jet without a court order. He punched in the number of a magistrate he knew to be friendly—Judge Sobriski, but got a message saying the judge was away from his desk. And no wonder—it was 1:20 according to the clock on the dashboard, and the courthouse closed down from one to two each day for lunch. What crappy luck. He left a voicemail m
essage for Sobriski and then focused on driving. Crappier luck—Moses Lake was a different county and neither he nor the judge had jurisdiction there. But maybe Sobriski could convince a colleague to cough up the appropriate form.

  He checked his rearview mirror from time to time. Sure enough, the Jetta was sticking to him. He was doing eighty-five with his flasher and siren going; he hoped a state trooper would soon pull the reporters off his tail.

  Chapter 24

  Grace hadn’t counted on the Moses Lake airport being so far out of town. It took her seventy minutes to get there, so she didn’t even attempt to find the THR Shipping office. Instead, she screeched her van to a halt in the first space she found, and ran into the terminal building. Sure enough, out on the tarmac, a small jet painted with a THR logo was parked, its cargo doors open. Three uniformed employees were loading boxes up a moveable conveyor belt ramp. Two giant crates—no doubt the caskets—waited beside the conveyor belt.

  It was a small, mostly commercial airport, so she wasn’t surprised that the terminal was practically empty. Only a couple of beleaguered-looking women watched over small children running up and down the carpeted corridor.

  She hailed the first uniform she saw, but he turned out to be a janitor. “Security?” she asked.

  He pointed to the far end of the airport, where an overhead sign read GATES. She glanced out the window. At the bottom of the conveyor belt, a front-loader moved into position, lifted the first casket on its fork, and swiveled into position to load the crate onto the conveyor belt. Another minute and the casket would be on board. Another ten minutes, and both caskets might be on their way to Venezuela. She had no time to run all the way down to security and try to convince them to stop this flight.

  The nearest door had a big NO EXIT sign plastered across the glass. She took a deep breath and then punched the handle. An alarm blared as soon as the door popped open. She raced out onto the tarmac, shouting and waving her arms and hoping she wouldn’t be shot in the back. “Stop! Hold that casket!”