Chameleons and a Corpse

by Ruby Loren

  “Maybe you can ask her why the dog lead given to her husband was on Timmy Marsden’s drive on the day of his death.”

  “Maybe I can, although, you’re not seriously thinking he did it, are you? A crime historian would surely know better than to leave a glaring clue revealing his own identity at the scene of the murder. Especially given his speciality…”

  I shook my head when he tilted his head at me. I’d seen the lead get passed over with great aplomb at the barbecue, but I hadn’t actually spoken to the mousey man who’d received it. I thought it was high time I made my own judgement on whether or not Andy Wright was capable of murder.

  My pep talk went much better than I’d predicted. The outside area behind the barn, which wasn’t open to the public, had definitely felt like an uplifting place to be once I’d finished. I’d still been congratulating myself when Pierce had tapped me on the shoulder.

  “How has progress been?” I asked with a smile. I’d managed to pin Pierce down over email as to a few of his concrete plans for the zoo beyond ‘wait and see what I can do’. They’d seemed solid and legal. If they worked, then that would be exactly the result I was hoping for.

  “Everything’s going to plan,” he said, somehow managing to make it sound like we were planning a presidential assassination. I hoped Donald Trunk’s large ears weren’t flapping.

  Pierce shifted from foot to foot and looked nervous for the first time since we’d met. “Has, uh, your friend mentioned me at all?”

  “She told me you went out on a date the same day you met,” I said, neutrally.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I thought it went well. I was going to follow up today.” Something about the way he said ‘follow up’ made me hesitate.

  “Are you going to ask her out again?”

  “I’ll text her and see how she is,” he said, in a vague way that made me wonder even further. Was he a part of the ‘treat them mean to keep them keen’ brigade? If he was, then I would be telling Tiff to ditch him in a heartbeat. However, I was willing to cut him some slack if it turned out that for all his charm and shine, Tiff had made him go to pieces. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had that effect on a man. Or the last, my brain added.

  I decided to visit the creepy crawly house after I’d finished with Pierce. Gabby was nowhere to be seen, but I’d wanted some time to check out what she’d been up to while she was away working on something else - especially after the bumpy start we’d had.

  I peered into the enclosures I’d overseen when the zoo had first been set up and was pleased to see that changes had already been made. I’d always known that reptiles and amphibians weren’t my speciality, so everything I knew was secondhand information. So far, the things that Gabby had added and taken away from the vivariums and enclosures looked to be improvements - although I was sure time and the results in the health of the animals would tell for sure. Even so, I was pleased. I’d wanted someone who would be able to put their own stamp on the creepy crawly residents at The Lucky Zoo, and so far, I was pleased.

  I halted next to a tank that was fairly teeming with tiny chameleons. Gabby had explained they were veiled chameleons and were only a week old. To my eyes, there looked to be as many as a hundred in the vivarium. She’d explained that in a day or two, they’d need to be sorted according to size. The smaller chameleons would be around 1.2 grams in weight, whilst the larger hatchlings could be 1.5 grams or more. Separating them ensured the health of all the chameleons, as the slower developers wouldn’t lose out to their larger peers.

  I spared a thought as I watched a tiny chameleon tangle with another equally tiny chameleon to wonder about the way we subverted the laws of nature for our own ends. I shook my head. You always had to keep conservation in mind. We were always working to promote conservation both through breeding and through making animals visible and accessible to visitors, in order to help their wild cousins survive. However, I knew the distinction between natural selection and helping animals in need got a lot more complicated when you were working with actual wildlife. I was glad that I never had to make those kinds of decisions in my line of work. Anyway, Lucky makes most of those choices for you, I thought, darkly.

  Speaking of dark thoughts, I had something else scheduled in for the rest of the morning…

  It hadn’t been all that hard to think of an excuse for meeting Andy Wright and get him to agree to it. I’d arranged the meeting under the guise of putting together an event for local writers to engage with local readers. I’d actually been pretty pleased with the idea and would have genuinely considered it, had I not possessed the strong suspicion that Andy Wright was unlikely to want to see me again after we’d had our meeting.

  The man who answered the door was in his late thirties. He had pleasant mouse-brown hair and a face that was friendly, but forgettable. If someone had asked me to describe him to a police sketch artist, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to. The dark brown and white flecked dog by his side, who looked up with soulful hazel eyes, was far more memorable.

  “Madigan Amos! I’ve been trying for years to do what you seem to have accomplished in five minutes,” Andy Wright said, thrusting out a hand and shaking mine in a rather limp manner.

  “Well, I have been working at it for rather longer than that. You know what they say about being an overnight success… that it can take a lifetime of work to achieve,” I said good-naturedly. All the same, I couldn’t help being a little put-out. I was well aware that the success I’d gained, seemingly in a short amount of time, was more than many writers ever dreamt of achieving in their whole career, but I’d hoped that another author would sympathise, not share the view of the masses.

  “I think we nearly met a couple of weeks ago at a barbecue?” I said when Andy had invited me inside the house.

  “Oh yes?” he asked, gesturing that I could pick a chair.

  “The one at the Marsdens’ house.” I kept my voice neutral. Andy had his back turned to me, but I noticed it stiffened when I mentioned the Marsden place.

  “I don’t know how I missed getting an introduction. I suppose Annabelle and I did make it a flying visit. I'm sure you were all anyone was talking about,” he said, turning and giving me a polite smile.

  “I very much doubt that,” I told him, thinking of the huddles and whispering that had gone on - the same as I’d witnessed at the club. The members of The Lords of the Downs had been far more wrapped up in themselves than the little old comic book writer in their midst. “Was there any reason why you and Annabelle didn't stay? It was such a lovely day.” Perhaps I was laying it on a bit thick, but I wanted Andy to come clean of his own accord.

  “Oh, you know… we’re both busy people.”

  I gave up and pulled out the hand-tooled leather lead I’d popped into my handbag on the day of the murder. Andy Wright looked at it warily, as if it were a particularly dangerous snake that might spring to life and bite him at any time. “I was wondering when that might turn up,” was all he said.

  “I found it before I found Timmy. I picked it up before I knew what had happened to him. Then, Jon, Auryn, and I thought we’d ask you about it before sharing something like that with the police. We saw no reason to drag an honest man’s name through the mud,” I said, hoping I looked suitably apologetic.

  The writer kept his eyes on the dog lead. “You should have given it to the police.”

  I waited.

  “I didn’t kill him,” he finally said after a long pause. He sighed and sat back, spreading his hands wide on the arms of the chair. “I love my wife. I really do. I thought Timmy was a good friend, and I am sorry he’s dead. I found out that my wife was having an affair with him on what turned out to be the day he died. I went over there that morning to have it out with him and tell him to keep his hands off! But when I arrived, I bottled it.” He looked down at the ground. “I could hear his dog barking at something and someone was playing a radio really loudly out the back. I thought there was some shouting over it, too, but it could have j
ust been the music.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Looking back, knowing what I know now, maybe I heard the killer. I threw the lead down and left, telling myself it would send as good a message as any.” He sighed. “I just can’t get it out of my head. I let myself be put off by classic rock and a dog. It probably would have taken less. I just don’t have the backbone needed. That’s probably why she went off in the first place…”

  “Nonsense!” I said, stepping in. “False bravado definitely doesn’t make the man. If Annabelle has decided to go off with someone else, it’s her choice to do wrong by you. If she’s not happy about something in your marriage, she should have talked to you, not shacked up with your friend.” I bit my lip and then decided to ask. “Why was it that Timmy was giving you the lead as a present?” I thought I knew the reason, but I couldn’t quite remember…

  “Oh, that's simple. Annabelle and I looked after Rameses when Timmy was off in Nepal. Apparently Scarlett was too busy to be tied down with caring for him. It’s usually the same with our German Shorthaired Pointer, Napoleon - I’m in charge of keeping him whilst Annabelle funds our lifestyle. It’s something I’ve been reminded of a lot lately.”

  “That sounds like something you need to talk to her about.” I was starting to feel a lot like a marriage counsellor.

  He nodded. “Probably. Writing doesn’t pay as well as it used to, you know…” he said, and then looked pained when he remembered who he was talking to.

  “I should go to the police about what I heard. The killer hasn't been found have they?” He looked hopeful.

  “Not yet. I suppose we’ve both done wrong, covering up what we knew. How about we both come clean together?” The crime historian nodded.

  We made the call to the police station, confessing to our joint avoidance of civil duty. It wasn't long before the phone was handed over to Detective Gregory, but while he was none too pleased, and demanded to see the dog lead in question and Andy Wright, he was a lot less explosive than I’d feared. I strongly suspected that I had Tiff’s influence to thank for that. In turn, I silently made note to tell my friend of the detective’s good deed.

  At the end of the conversation, the detective asked to speak to me again. Andy handed over the phone with a solemn look that I did my best to echo.

  “I hope you know I am doing you a favour. What you’ve done is extremely irresponsible, not to mention stupid.” The hushed tones he spoke in let me know he was doing his best on his side to not let the conversation be overheard. “You’re the name on everyone’s lips at the moment. It would be well within my power to bring you in for obstruction of justice, and what would that do for your reputation?” Probably wonders, I privately thought, remembering the antics of my short-lived stint with a publicist. He’d have probably actively encouraged perverting the course of justice in order to get a great headline and a photo op.

  “Thank you. I do know you’re doing me a favour and I appreciate it. I’m sorry,” I added, hoping I was conveying that I really did regret how this had turned out. I’d realised since confronting Andy that I’d hoped there was some other explanation as to how the lead had ended up on the drive. In fact, I’d actually hoped that it had been a second similar lead, perhaps brought back from Nepal for Rameses. Beyond that, I’d just wanted to give Andy Wright the chance I’d never been given to have a say before being dragged in for questioning.

  “Thank you for introducing me to your friend,” Detective Gregory added in an even quieter voice.

  “Not a problem.” Now it was my turn to lower my voice and move away from listening ears. “I know she had a nice time,” I told him, throwing him a bone before saying goodbye.

  I handed over the lead to Andy Wright. Then I left him at the mercy of the Gigglesfield police force.

  I’d planned to devote the next day to working on my comic. The main reason for that was that my publishers were due to come down on Saturday. They were coming to visit the arts and crafts day as special guests and to review the progress I’d made.

  I was determined that there would actually be some progress for them to review.

  Will and Lizzie Marsden breezed in and then out that morning with barely a hello. I understood that they were distraught by the loss of a close family member, and were also tasked with organising a funeral, but I had expected a little more from Auryn and my guests. Even their Weimaraner had been snooty ever since having his run in with Lucky.

  I turned to the cat himself and shrugged, before finishing my orange juice. There was a long day of drawing ahead of me. I was glad when he followed me upstairs and then settled down on the sofa on the other side of the office. I liked to warm up before sketching and Lucky always made a great life model. A rather sedentary one when he was curled up, but I always liked to draw him even if it was just to marvel again at how much he'd changed since I'd rescued him from abandonment by his mother.

  “Your siblings are doing well, although, I think you outsize them all these days,” I told the already snoring cat. “You were just a late starter.”

  I picked my mechanical pencil up along with my practice sketchbook and then it was down to work.

  A few hours later, my focus was broken by the house phone ringing. I didn’t usually answer it, as it either wasn’t for me, or was a junk call, but too much time spent glued to a piece of paper meant I was desperate for a break.

  “Hello?” I answered the phone.

  “Madi, is that you? It’s Georgina Farley. I don’t have a number for you, I’m afraid. We really should have swapped the last time we were together. Anyway, listen…” she said, getting to the meat of why she’d called. “…I was wondering if you might be willing to go over a few more things. Scarlett really is worried about how no one seems to be doing anything to solve this awful murder. I know there’s probably nothing more you can tell me, but it will make her happy. I thought we might check out Oliver’s Cafe.”

  “Okay, I could be there in fifteen minutes, if you’re nearby?” I said and we agreed on the time.

  When I hung up I raised my eyebrows. Either Georgina was using the cafe as a dangled carrot to pique my curiosity, or she believed there might be something more to that abandoned receipt I’d found on the floor of the hallway.

  Whatever her reason was, I was both intrigued enough and stiff enough from too much time spent hunched over my desk, to go to the cafe.

  Who knew? It could be a lead in the case. And if there was anything at all criminal, I would tell the police sooner rather than later, because I had definitely learnt my lesson.

  Probably definitely.

  Oliver’s Cafe was one of those nice homespun cafes. There weren’t the rugged brick walls or slick canvases showing coffee growers in South America that the large faceless chains always seemed to possess. Instead, there was pinstripe wallpaper and an eclectic mishmash of furniture that reminded me of a particularly cosy jumble sale.

  Georgina waved me over and we approached the counter together.

  “I wonder if you can help us?” Georgina said, pulling out the rather battered looking receipt. “Were you working here at the time and date shown? We just want to find out if you remember anything.” Her smile was charming and disarming, but it was also totally ignored. That was because the young man behind the counter was staring at me.

  “You’re famous! I can’t believe you’re in here. Someone said you were a local and ran a zoo, but I thought they were joking. Can I have your autograph?”

  I didn’t have to look for a reflective surface to know that I was blushing. It always happened when I got caught by surprise. “Of course! I’ll be happy to. While I sign something, would you mind having a look at the receipt?”

  “Sure!” the young man said, seizing it from Georgina’s hand and making a good show of scrutinising it. I found a clean paper napkin and borrowed a pen from behind the counter.

  “Oh yeah, I was working at that time. It’s busy then. Do you know who it might have been?” He looked over my shoulder at the t
iny drawing of Lucky I was doing on the napkin. “Awesome,” he breathed. I spared a hope that this wouldn’t end up on eBay as soon as the server’s shift ended.

  “It might have been a man with thinning brown hair and pale skin, who was dressed in a suit. He has a mole on his cheek,” I said, describing Jon.”

  “Or maybe a smartly dressed woman with auburn hair that was probably pulled back into a bun,” Georgina piped up.

  The server frowned with concentration. I decided to have a final, unlikely punt.

  “It could have been a couple. A man with dark hair and a beard. Medium build, but a little on the pudgy side. He would have been with a woman who had dark hair that’s got ringlets to here,” I moved a hand near my shoulder. “She’s slim and…” I searched for something more specific and then remembered the couples strange preference for professional outdoor gear. “They both might have been wearing outdoorsy stuff, only they don’t look very outdoorsy.”

  To my intense surprise, the man’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah! I saw the woman in here, just like you described. That’s so weird, I remember thinking ‘there’s no way you’ve ever climbed Everest,” he told us with a grin.

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah, totally. Oh, I think the first guy you described is a regular here.” He frowned. “Jon, I think his name is? He’s a nice guy. He didn’t come in on that morning though.”

  “Thanks for your time,” Georgina said, taking the receipt back and smiling thinly at him.

  The server didn’t even notice the shade she threw at him. He was too busy admiring the scribbled-on napkin. “Thanks a mill!” he said before running over to another server to show them my less than perfect handiwork.

  “That’ll be on eBay before the hour’s up,” my companion grumbled uncharitably. Sure - I’d been thinking the same thing, but I hadn’t actually said it.

  “What on earth was Lizzie Marsden doing in a cafe so close to Timmy’s house on the day that he was killed?” Georgina mused the second we were outside the door.