The four of them, sated, plus a bottle of wine and an eight-pack of Guinness lounged on the apartment deck. The chicken was history, the bottle of wine was nearly gone, and the Guinness was fast disappearing. Joe was getting drowsy. That trip to the Canyon had pretty much alleviated his jet lag, but it had worn him out.
Bridgid sat up straight, starting to stack the dirty dishes. Tommy raised his hand. “Relax. We shall all tackle the supper dishes later and twill be done in a flash. Have another Guinness.”
Joe uncapped a Guinness for her and passed it across.
“Ta.”
The caseload just gets heavier and heavier.” Gretchen waved a hand toward Tommy. “Of course except for a precious few of us who can close out a case in four hours or so.” She turned to Joe. “You two got any plans?”
Joe shrugged. “We’ll go over to Tempe tonight, church in the morning, and take the kids somewhere in the afternoon. Probably the zoo. They have the baby orangutan on display now.”
“And what a cutie!” Bridgid grinned. “It’s so ugly it’s beautiful.”
Gretchen smiled and nodded. “Bridge, I think you really like the zoo.”
“Indeed I do. Sh.” Bridgid pointed.
A cock Gambel quail hopped up onto the rail and chirped, his topknot bobbing ludicrously. Behind him three hens fluttered onto the rail behind him and the parade strutted along, tight-rope-walking. Joe grinned at the happy, rapt expression on Bridgid’s face. Suddenly the cock squawked and all four flew away the way they had come.
“Oh.” Bridgid sounded disappointed. “I must’ve moved.”
“No.” Joe hustled to the rail. “They weren’t afraid of us, they flew to escape something down there.” He pointed toward the ground and hung out over the rail, watching.
Tommy leaned way out. “A bush moved.” He bolted into the apartment. Joe could hear him run down the steps outside the front door bunkbunkbunkbunkbunk.
He almost drew his service revolver, but that was silly.
Tommy popped into view below and stopped. He stood listening. He came back thumping up the steps a lot slower than he went down. He rejoined them and closed the patio door behind him. “Methinks it was kids; I got a bit of a look at one. The lad appeared to be watching us.”
“Prowlers?” Bridgid asked.
Tommy intoned sonorously, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of teenagers?”
Joe responded just as sonorously, “The Shadow knows.”
“Oh Jeeesh!” Gretchen wagged her head. “I remember that radio show when I was little, before I was even old enough for school. My father listened to it every week. Scared the liver out of me.”
“I have an idea. Tommy, how about you and Gretchen join Bridgid and me and we can all go to the zoo tomorrow.”
Gretchen smiled. “I’d love it. It’s been ages since I’ve been there.”
“And every time meself goes to the zoo, it’s on business; one does not really see the place whilst on business. Aye, let’s.”
“Marvelous!” Bridgid rubbed her hands together and swigged some Guinness.
Tommy flopped down in his chair. “Allow me to emend the plan. No need to take two cars. Joe, y’rself and Bridgid come with us. We’ll drop ye off at the house and go snuggle up in a nice motel, as is appropriate for newlyweds.”
“Mmm,” Gretchen purred, “Romantic.” She hopped up. “Let’s get the dishes put in the dishwasher and go.”
Bridgid asked, “Directly?”
“Right now.” Gretchen stacked dishes.
“But do ye not need go home for a nightdress?”
Gretchen studied her. “Do you need a nightdress?”
And to Joe’s delight, Bridgid turned the most amusing, becoming shade of red.
Joe sat with his wife and two best friends beneath the shade umbrella in front of the zoo’s snack bar. They had changed out the umbrellas twice since the Zoo opened. The sun is not kind to canvas. He knew exactly which exhibits had been replaced, which had been emended, which looked basically the way they looked the day the zoo opened.
The zoo saw his marriage to Louise, and her death. It saw the birth of two splendid kids. And it saw the most wonderful woman in the world, the new Mrs. Rodriguez. Louise had never taken to the zoo, but Bridgid seemed enthralled. So much change. He was ready now for rapid change to slow down so he could savour what he had, not what was going to come next.
His phone rang. Now there was a change he absolutely did not need. He tried to ignore it.
Tommy wiggled a finger. “Answer it, if ye would, or they’ll next be calling me.”
“We wouldn’t want that to happen, now, would we.” Sulking, he unholstered it and answered.
“Joe? Hugh. That little Alicia trick has disappeared. Poof. Now you see her, now you don’t.”
“Protective custody is still custody!” Joe relayed the news to Tommy and Gretchen.
“You knew her as well as anyone, which is to say not at all. Any idea where she could have gone?”
“We found her in the southside America Legion soup line, but she probably won’t go back there. Does she have money?”
“I would say no, but then I would also say she can’t get out of protective custody.”
“They didn’t put an ankle monitor on her?”
“They said they thought they didn’t need to. Did you give her your card?”
“I did. So she can call me if she chooses.” Joe slurped the last of his Pepsi.
“I guess that’s better’n nothing.”
“Are you acting?”
“Yeah. Jerry took Marj up to Flag to that resort they like. I’m him til Tuesday.”
Joe smirked. “Enjoy the romp.”
Hugh hung up whilst executing a Bronx cheer.
Bridgid frowned. “That was Hugh, aye? What is acting?”
“He’s running the Roost, in charge of Homicide while Jerry is out of town.”
“Ah.” She returned to her zooburger. She seemed to really enjoy zooburgers, which rather surprised him because she was such a good cook. Oh well, no matter. He would cheerfully buy her all the zooburgers in the world.
“Methinks Jerry be grooming Hugh to take over when Jerry retires.”
“Hugh would do a great job. He’s super smart and he works well with people.”
“Yeah.” Gretchen looked wistful. “And I bet he wouldn’t let grumpy teenagers escape protective custody.”
They tidied up their detritus and walked off to see the newest and grandest exhibit (except maybe the African Savannah), the orangutan enclosure.
Probably the zoo board had the orangutan enclosure in mind since the beginning, because this area had never been the location of any major displays. There were foxes for awhile, and then an anteater whose nearly-two-foot-long tongue fascinated the children. They used it to house the ostriches until the African set piece was completed. But now, it was a glorious and much ballyhooed home for these very rare apes.
There were two heavy platforms, one on each side of the enclosure. The one to the right was sort of a tree house, with the remains of a dead ironwood sticking out behind it. The designers had set up ropes and swings in high frameworks for the apes to play with if they so desired. There were ladders and leaning logs. From a human viewpoint it was a marvel of thoughtful, practical engineering. How the orangutans viewed it remained inscrutable; Joe had never seen them play with the ropes and swings.
“I guess the baby’s inside today.” Bridgid sounded vaguely disappointed. The only apes in the big enclosure were the two teenagers, and they didn’t seem the least bit interested in putting on a show or even paying any attention to each other.
A keeper came out and set up an easel in front of the enclosure rail. Another keeper brought a white bucket. Instantly the two orang kids were closely watching the keepers. Using her flip charts, the first young woman explained orang reproduction. Most of the gathering audience probably now knew more about orangutan reproductive cycles than they knew about human p
rocreation.
The young woman with the bucket leaned into the rail and called a name. One of the orang kids began shuffling excitedly. The keeper threw him a banana. Immediately he sat on his haunches, fully engaged with the fruit. The other received a banana. The lecture on orangutan motherhood resumed.
Then the grill at the back rose. The huge male, Seba, presently came out of the night cage and made his way sluggishly to the tree platform, flowing gracefully up onto it almost in slow motion. He pondered a pile of leaves on the platform, thoughtfully plucked one, and put it in his mouth. His huge, sagging jowls shifted about as he chewed, staring off absently at nothing. He looked almost whimsical, but whimsy is as whimsy does. Joe had once seen him casually pick up a big truck tire and effortlessly fold it completely in half.
Five minutes later, Momma finally made an appearance, her little one cradled in the crook of her elbow. The little one had not been named yet; schoolchildren were invited to submit suggestions. The momma was Lily. Joe recalled that many’s the time he watched Fel hustle about her kitchen, the infant Linda loosely cradled on the crook of her arm, just as Lily was doing.
Bridgid watched attentively, silently. Then, “Gretchen? Have ye ever really, really wanted a baby?”
Gretchen stood quiet a while, draped on the iron rail. “No, not really. I knew women are supposed to want kids, but I never did. I know how much work and devotion they are. Of course, Big Mama here makes it look easy.” She watched Bridgid a long moment. “But you do.”
Gretchen parked at the curb beside the apartment building. Joe got out of the back seat as Bridgid stepped out onto the sidewalk. They goodbye all around and Gretchen and Tommy drove off.
Joe led her off toward the steps. “I really enjoyed that.”
“And I as well. Per’aps we can do more of this sort of thing before I commence working full time.”
“I agree. Let’s…” He stopped in midsentence and sidetracked over to his little car. He frowned at his trunk. Not only had someone written Bridgid’s name in the dust, they had deliberately misspelled it as Bridget.
She came over and studied the name. “Who would do this?”
“Someone who can’t spell.”
“Eh, well, that leaves out all your friends. They be educated, at least minimally, as Tommy would say. And all of mine be yet in Ireland.”
“Someone who heard your name spoken but not written.” He grimaced. “This dust is gritty, and when you write in it, it scratches the wax job. Press hard enough, and you can scratch the paint. I’ll wash it tonight after dark.”
“I should not think it dirty, really. Twould be impossible to keep it shiny in all this constant dust. I dust twice a week. And that be inside.”
But his keen police mind could not discern who the culprit might be.
Irish breakfasts. Not only were they the world’s best, Bridgid made the best of the best. Joe watched as she brought her plate to the breakfast table and sat down across from him. He loved just watching her move, so lithe and graceful was she.
She smiled as she picked up her fork. “Thank ye for the love note. Twas special.”
Huh? “Love note? I didn’t write a love note. At least not lately.”
“But…. Really? Ye know, I wondered. Ye did not sign it ‘I love ye’ the way ye always do. And ye must’ve forgotten that we’re going to the botanical garden today, for the note suggested we meet at noon at McDonald’s. ”
“Where is it?”
She went back to the bedroom and returned with the note. “This is not yours?”
Dearest Brigett,-
I love you. I have loved you ever since the first moment I saw you. I can make you incredibly happy if only you will let me. Please meet me at MacDonald’s at noon I beg you. You have nothing to lose, and you can not imagine how much you will gain. Do not disappoint me Bridgett
He scowled at it a moment. “No. How did you get this?”
“Twas slipped under the windshield wiper of the MG. I found it when I took our trash to the dustbin. Sure and the meter maids would not ticket ye in y’r own parking space, would they? They ofttimes be ruthless, but that would be a bit over the top.” She watched him a moment. “If tis not y’r work, I’d guess that ’tis one of your homicide friends about to pull a wowser joke.”
“If it is, he’s going to get a really ugly boot in the rear.”
“Per’aps someone left it on the wrong car, I should think.”
He folded it. “Let’s take this along and drop it off at Maria’s office. Any groceries on the way home?”
“Salad vegetables, milk, and eggs. And I saw an ad for lamb on special.” She stood up and took her plate to the sink. “They do not often offer lamb, let alone on special.”
“Let’s do it after the garden.”
The phone rang. Reluctantly he got up and answered.
“Joe, Do you have any appointments this morning?”
He told Bridgid, “Gretchen.” He told the phone, “No.”
“I’m working on that Warren case, a fresh lead and I think it’s a good one, but I need someone bilingual. Can you help?”
“Oh yeah. Visneros is out of town. I’ll see.” He covered the speaker. “Do you mind if we do the botanical garden tomorrow? Gretchen needs an interpreter.”
“Tomorrow will work as well, aye.”
“Bridgid and I were going to go stare at cristate cactus, but it’ll still be there tomorrow. Okay.”
“Joe, I appreciate this so much, and thanks to Bridgid, too. I’ll pick you up in twenty. Oh, and dress casual. The guy’s a forklift operator who doesn’t like suits.”
“I’m in jeans. Is that too casual?”
“Perfect.”
He returned to the table and sat. “Thank you. Neither Gretchen nor Tommy asks for help unless they really need it.”
“And I be certain that from time to time meself will have to change our plans because of work. We’ve that sort of job, haven’t we?”
“We do indeed.”
Bridgid was watching out the window when at ten til six Joe pulled into their apartment parking lot. By the time he turned the car around to drive back out, Bridgid was locking their door and bouncing down the steps. He leaned over and opened the passenger door and she slid in. She kissed him soundly and quite appropriately; after all, she hadn’t seen him for hours and hours and their phone conversation an hour ago had been brief. She giggled at the thought and could not stop grinning.
He pulled to the street watching for a hole to duck out into. “You’re a cheerful earful tonight.”
“I wrote to me girlfriends in Galway and told them about the Grand Canyon. This was in response to a lovely letter I just received from Amalie. Y’ll remember her, me bridesmaid.”
“I remember her, and Lacey, and of course, Becca. In fact, I even remember the little one, that Glo.”
Bridgid laughed out loud. “Y’re just as jolly as I tonight.”
“I called Johnny Paredes to explore some ideas about Wilson Cooper and it turned into a one-hour conversation. It’s always fun to talk to Johnny. He knows even more about the ins and outs at the raceway than Bubba does.”
“Ah, Joe, ye do love racing.” She thought a moment. “But then, ye love police work as much.”
“That’s true. When do you start at the fire station?”
“Thursday morning. They’re bringing me on at the beginning of the pay period. The very, very beginning, midnight to eight A M.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as Joe pulled out into traffic. They were midway through September and not a breath of cold air. Now that the grueling heat of summer was subsiding, she was coming to love this climate. Here she was in a sundress in a convertible at past six at night, and no need to reach for a heavy jumper.
Basha’s welcomed them—rather their checkbook—with open arms. Joe picked up a cart and they hit the produce section first. Here was something else Bridgid loved, the ready availability of not just all sorts of fresh produce, but exotic f
resh produce. To Arizonans, barley, turnips, and parsnips were exotic. To Bridgid they were the joy of making an Irish stew the way it ought be made, with all the correct ingredients.
His phone rang. He grimaced as he pulled it out of his holster. His dislike of modern convenience amused her. She took over the cart and continued around the corner to the meat counter, Joe trailing behind. Beef, pork, here was the lamb, tucked between pork roasts and whole chickens. But at least it was there.
He holstered his phone.
“I’m torn between the chops;” she hefted the package; “and this roast; less bone.”
“You love lamb and it’s on sale. Get both and freeze the chops. Get the shanks too. Stock up.”
She kissed his cheek. “You are wonderful!” She took all three packages. They cut through the Mexican foods aisle to pick up another jar of chunky salsa. Tommy and Gretchen were coming to dinner tomorrow and Gretchen liked the spicy stuff.
In checkout, she asked, “Who was the phone call?”
“Our medical examiner, Laura Svenson. You haven’t met her yet. She figured out what killed our CPA in the swimming pool.”
“At past six at night?”
“She doesn’t like question marks, and it’s been bugging her. She’s been working on this off and on ever since it happened.”
They checked out and found their eyes were bigger than the Midget’s boot. “No matter,” she said. “I can put two or three bags at me feet.” She plopped into the seat and he handed them to her.
“That’s the only thing inconvenient about this little car. Not enough space in the trunk.” He slid in and they started home. “Laura has it all in the proper vocabulary in her report. Bottom line in words I can understand, someone injected a big bubble of air into the fellow’s vein. It’s not easy to detect, but it can kill quickly.”
He parked under their carport and relieved Bridgid of the bags in her lap. She got out. “Just a moment.” Here was her key in her purse. She gathered up the bags and he turned to unlock the boot.
She started up the steps with the three grocery bags, the apartment key dangling in her hand. She heard a thump behind her. Out under the carport by the Midget, Joe must have dropped something, or one of the other bags broke. These grocery bags were so flimsy. She would look around for some good sturdy shopping bags, canvas ones like her Mum used. She heard his footsteps behind her, so he was ignoring whatever had dropped. She’d help him after she opened up and put down her groceries.
Pony Up Page 9
