Maltese Vulture Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  Both men looked at me.

  "What?" I asked.

  "You can't be there," Carnack said. "As much as I love chasing your theories around, this is the mayor we're talking about."

  "So?"

  Rex spoke up. "He's right. Your relationship to me would make it a conflict of interest."

  My jaw dropped. "But this is my theory. I was the one kidnapped because of his daughter and brought to his cabin. His wife is probably Mr. Big, and I'm working with her. It just makes sense that I be there."

  The two men looked at each other before both shook their heads.

  I threw up my hands. "I'm so connected to this case I'm practically the bad guy!"

  "Trust me," Rex soothed. "This is for the best."

  Rex drove me back to the parking lot where I'd left my van as I fumed in the passenger seat. While he droned on and on about political conflict of interest, I moped. I'm an excellent moper.

  I sat in my van watching him drive away and ate the last of the cookies. A thousand thoughts were going through my mind. And unanswered questions. Like what was the commendation that Bingley had received? And why was there LSD on Nellie Lou? Where was Riley, and what had he done with her? Was Tammi in on her husband's schemes, or was she innocent? And where was Ronni?

  Oh crap! I'd forgotten about her! I called Rex, who answered on the first ring.

  "No," he said before I could speak, "you can't be present for the interrogation."

  "It's not that," I replied. "Although I really think you should reconsider. It's Ronni. Randi thinks she's missing!"

  I told him everything I knew, and my husband promised to give Randi a call before hanging up. With that off my chest, I decided what my next step should be. I had a bird to retrieve.

  Turning the key in the ignition, I guided the van out of the lot and towards Riley's.

  "I was so close to cracking the case," I complained to my best friend as she sat at her desk, typing furiously, "when your boss kidnapped Nellie Lou."

  Kelly rolled her eyes. "He was your boss long before he was mine. How could I know he was going to do that?"

  "You have no clue as to where he is?" I slumped into a chair.

  Claire was busy typing away at whatever she did. Then I remembered that Riley had said Claire had the day off.

  "Oh, hey, Claire," I said awkwardly. "Riley said you were off today."

  The woman shook her head but didn't answer. And because I was a little intimidated by her, I let the matter drop. Instead, I confronted Kelly.

  "Where is he?" I nodded toward his desk.

  "No idea," Kelly lied.

  I knew she was lying because she had a little tell. When Kelly lied, which was something that rarely ever happened, she blinked. Like a lot.

  "What's going on?" I pressed. "Do you think he was the one following me?" If so, he was in big trouble by not attempting a rescue.

  She shook her head. "No, he's at Marlowe's ordering…" She slapped her hands over her mouth.

  "Ordering what?" I asked levelly.

  Marlowe's was one of two grocery stores in a town that only needed one. They both set up shop at the same time in the 1920s, and a bitter rivalry ensued. In fact, people in this town were either Marlowe's people or Clinton's people.

  We were Clinton's people. And had been for three generations. And because of this, we very rarely ever darkened Marlowe's doors. And the rest of the town was divided up the same way. Kind of like the Hatfields and McCoys, except with less shooting and inbreeding.

  "Something," Kelly hedged. "It's nothing." She glanced at Claire, who acted as if she had no idea we were even here talking.

  "Hmmm…" I pondered out loud. "I wonder. What are the things you can order from Marlowe's?"

  "Here it is!" Kelly shouted quickly, pointing at the screen, where a photo of the dead man from my garage stared back at us.

  From her zealous cry, I couldn't tell if she was trying to change the subject or had really found something significant. So I let the Marlowe's thing go.

  "This must be the article Randi mentioned. Officer Norbert Bingley," Kelly read aloud, "received a commendation from Mayor Bill Jones for valor." She frowned at the screen. "She's right. It doesn't say what for."

  I squinted. It was indeed our mayor, with a less than happy look on his face, as he handed Bingley a nondescript award. Kelly typed some more, and I waited anxiously. After a few minutes, she sat back from her screen.

  "Randi's also right about the newspaper wondering what the award was for. Eventually, they were told the reason was CLASSIFIED, and they dropped it."

  "In what small town is any award CLASSIFIED?" I wondered. "It's not like there are state secrets involved in small town politics. They should've said what it was for. For example, there was a mayoral commendation given out here a few months ago when that kid saved a kitten who got stuck in a tree. The whole town showed up, and the newspaper ran five different stories on it."

  Kelly nodded. "I don't get it. The town they're from is pretty small. Maybe a little bigger than Who's There, but still. You'd think it would be a big deal for a policeman to get an award like that."

  "Look at the mayor's face." I pointed. "He looks upset, not happy about handing out the award."

  "And Bingley looks like the cat who swallowed the canary." Kelly pointed to his unnerving, smug grin.

  "I must be right." I sighed. "Bingley had dirt on the mayor and stashed it in Nellie Lou. It must be something big for the cop to fake his own death and come here to retrieve it."

  "He was thinking of running for higher office, right?" Kelly asked. "What would be enough in Texas to destroy voters' faith in you? And there's another thing… Why did Norbert Bingley fake his own death?"

  I shook my head. "Can you call down there? Maybe pretend you're with the police department here and have a few questions."

  Kelly looked like she was going to pass out. "I can't do that! You know I'm a terrible liar!"

  "Yeah, but they won't see your blinking tic over the phone!"

  She shook her head. "No, I can't do it. They won't buy it. And I'm sure it's illegal to impersonate a policeman."

  "Only if you get caught. What if I write you a script?" I asked.

  She gave me a long look. "I'm a terrible actress. Remember when we did the Wizard of Oz in high school?"

  My best friend was right. Kelly's performance was so wooden that they replaced her halfway through the play. And she was a tree. She didn't even have any lines.

  "Why don't you do it?" she asked me.

  "I don't know," I grumped. "Normally I'd say yes, but Rex is super picky in this case. He'd think it's a conflict of interest."

  "I'll do it," Claire's voice came from behind me, and Kelly and I jumped.

  "Will Riley be mad?" Kelly chewed her lip.

  Claire shrugged. "What's he going to do? Fire me?" Then she laughed. Hysterically. Until tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Kelly and I huddled together in something akin to horror. This woman could read minds, rarely spoke, and never laughed. I was kind of afraid she'd explode. Riley would totally blame me for that.

  And with that, Claire went back to her desk and picked up the phone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I walked in the door and collapsed, facedown, on the couch. Exhaustion crept over every inch of my body. Even Philby and Leonard seemed to know to stay away. Martini, however, trotted over, climbed up on my back, and promptly passed out.

  Which was how my husband found me a few minutes later.

  "Merry?" He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

  "Mmmmmrrrnnnph," I said into the couch cushion. I turned my head, gasping in the cooler air. "Can't get up. Have a cat on me."

  "I see that." I could virtually hear Rex smiling. "Should I call for an extraction?"

  "Don't do that. I'd feel bad. She's snoring."

  Despite my protestations, the weight of the small cat was lifted from my back, and I slowly got up into a sitting position.r />
  Rubbing my eyes didn't help wake me up. "Did you find Ronni?"

  Rex sat down next to me. "No. But we've stopped looking."

  My eyes shot open, and I was suddenly awake. "No? Randi must be freaking out!"

  "I stopped by and talked to her." Rex stretched. He must've been exhausted too. "She's doing better. She said her twintuition told her that Ronni just needed a break and is out there, somewhere, okay."

  "That's weird." I yawned.

  He nodded. "Twintuition? I have to admit, I've always felt like my sisters had telepathy."

  I shook my head. "No, that she needed a break. I assumed Ronni ran on pure anger 24/7. Where does the angriest person alive disappear to for a break?"

  "I have no idea. By the way," Rex added, "you'll be happy to hear that Riley turned Nellie Lou in to the station."

  I was too tired for moral outrage. "Oh yeah? Did you bring her home? Where is she?"

  "No, I didn't bring her home. She's a bad influence on you. That bird has you running all over the place, behaving strangely, and altering your usual activities."

  I frowned. "Usual activities?"

  "You"—he pointed at me—"haven't been to see Mr. Fancy Pants once since she showed up."

  "This is a first." My jaw dropped open. "You hate when I go visit him in the middle of the night!"

  "I hate when you break into the zoo in the middle of the night," Rex corrected. "Not when you visit the vulture."

  I shrugged. "It's not breaking in if you have a key."

  Rex wasn't having any of it. "Which you stole and made a copy of."

  He had me there.

  "Dr. Wulf called me at the station. She asked if you were alright and said Mr. Fancy Pants is a little dejected."

  My stomach sank. I hated for that glorious king vulture to be depressed. "It's kind of been a busy few days. I'll take him two boxes of cookies once it's all over."

  "As long as the visit is totally on the up-and-up," he insisted.

  I nodded, but to be honest, I wasn't going to change my ways. At night, my raptor friend and I had some privacy. He was my confidant and an excellent listener. That and the zoo didn't like me giving him cookies.

  "By the way," Rex continued, "the toxicology came back on the hallucinogen."

  I was so tired I didn't even care that Soo Jin bypassed me for Rex. After all, that was her normal chain of command.

  "Oh? Was it LSD? I still have no idea why Norbert Bingley coated her with it. I'm thinking it's to keep people from discovering where whatever is concealed on her."

  Rex shook his head. "It's not LSD."

  There was a pause that caused me to stare at him. My husband responded by shaking his head.

  "It's a very complex combination of chemicals that acts like LSD. But it isn't."

  "What is it, then?" I thought I'd heard of every substance that could alter the brain. Hell, I'd been exposed to almost every substance that could alter the brain. When I'd told Kelly about that, she said it explained a lot. I wondered what she'd meant by that.

  "I didn't write it down, and I don't think you'll know it," Rex said. "But it doesn't really matter, because those same chemicals are used mostly for one thing."

  "What?" Rex's slow reveals and my exhaustion were starting to make me cranky.

  "They're almost exclusively used in taxidermy."

  I sank back into the couch, overwhelmed by this information. Had Ronni coated Nellie Lou with drugs? Why would she do that? She was mean, but I'd never known her to be a prankster. Then again, she had run off to take a "break." Whatever that meant.

  Rex stood up and took my hand. "How about we go to bed?"

  I resisted. "I'm so tired, I don't think I can make it to bed."

  My husband smiled. "There's a massage in it for you."

  I'd never run up those stairs faster.

  * * *

  It was late morning when I finally woke up, and remembering what Rex said motivated me to shower extremely quickly. I was just about to grab my keys and run out the door when I picked up my phone.

  There were thirty-five calls, starting at four in the morning through to now, from Susan, the therapist at the hospital who'd seen me six months ago. That didn't seem good, and I called her back as I ran to the van, fearing the worst. I wasn't sure what the worst would be, but multiple calls from a mental health counselor since early morning couldn't be good.

  "Hey, Merry!" Susan answered brightly. "If you have a moment, can you run by my office real quick?"

  I told her I would and raced across town to the hospital, ran into the building, and sat across from my counselor.

  "What's wrong?" I asked while panting. "Is it Kelly? Has she freaked out? Is it someone else?"

  Susan held her hands up to calm me down. "No, it's nothing like that."

  I stared at her. "You've called me thirty-five times since four this morning!"

  She frowned and looked around her desk. "No, I didn't. I…" The woman stopped and looked at me. "Oh. That's right. I left my phone in the Kline Ward."

  The Kline Ward was the mental health wing of the hospital. I'd once done a sleep study there that turned into a fight for my life. Blah…blah…blah… It's a boring story, but Philby actually saved me. And if she could talk, she'd remind me of it. Every. Single. Day.

  Anyway, the Kline Ward had been named recently for a generous donor named Albert Kline, who on February 28th, out of the blue, decided he was a marsupial. It started out harmlessly enough. At first, he was a kangaroo, hopping through town as he ran errands. This was followed by a stint as a wombat, then a koala—all while still doing peopley things. Then for a few days, no one knew what he was as he walked around town on four legs, trying to catch wild squirrels to put in his "pouch." He actually caught one—which sent him to the emergency room for injuries I'd rather not think about.

  After a one-month stay, he left the facility, no longer thinking he had marsupial abilities. Two days later, he gave the hospital two million dollars to establish the Kline Mental Health Ward. Then, he disappeared and was never heard from again. There were sightings of course. My favorite one was when he'd been seen in a Des Moines park, climbing a tree with five baby opossums clinging to his back.

  Hopefully it wasn't Albert Kline who'd wanted to talk to me. "You have someone in the Kline Ward who called me over and over?"

  Susan nodded. "I'm pretty sure I know who it was. And that's why I called you in fact. There's someone here who needs a ride home."

  "You're joking."

  She shook her head. "I'm not. And it's not who you think it might be. I wanted to talk to you before we release her."

  "Who. Is. It?" I said through my teeth. What's with everyone lately, drawing things out like a suspenseful reveal? It was like being trapped in a PBS British Mystery.

  "It's your sister-in-law. Ronni Ferguson."

  Once I picked my jaw up off the floor, several seconds later, I found the ability to speak. "Ronni's here. And she wants me to drive her home." I looked around for a hidden camera, in case I was being pranked.

  "I assure you, this is totally on the up-and-up," Susan insisted.

  "Ronni hates me," I declared. "She's probably doing this to kill me somehow."

  Susan laughed. "I can't talk about her situation. But let me assure you, she isn't going to kill you."

  "What is she doing in here? Her sister and brother have been freaking out over her disappearance! Has she finally snapped? Had a meltdown? Gone completely mad?"

  Susan ignored my questions because she knew she wasn't allowed to answer them. "She did tell me I could say to you that she was just tired and needed a break."

  That's what Randi had said. "A break? She's had everyone worried sick about her." Everyone but me, but I left that part out.

  "Regardless, Ronni wants to go home, and she wants you to take her. Not her twin. Not her brother. You."

  "You do realize that the woman absolutely hates me, right?" I asked.

  Susan nodded. "Yes, a
nd with your history, you know she's not the only one. Maybe you should start seeing me again. Having people hate you is really unhealthy."

  Juliette Dowd popped into my head. The Girl Scout Council employee hated me the moment she met me (she'd been in love with Rex for years), and I knew she'd done a brief stint in here after a fundraiser went bad this past spring. It was possible there might be one or two more. How was that my fault?

  "You really think she's going to do something to you?" Susan seemed to find this interesting.

  I grumbled, "She's already drugged me with hallucinogens."

  Susan leaned in, frowning. "She did what now?"

  I waved her off. "Forget about it. How do I collect my sister-in-law?"

  A few minutes later, after Susan gently chastised Ronni for calling me so early and often on her cell, the Evil Twin was released into my care. I had no idea what to do. If it were Kelly or Rex, I'd have coddled them a little. Ronni would probably hate that.

  She followed me out to my van in what seemed like hostile silence. For someone who called me thirty-five times, she sure had nothing to say during the drive. Once I pulled up in front of her home and office, she turned to me.

  "Sorry I drugged you," she snarled. "I did it because I absolutely hate you. But now I'm working on being a more positive person," she said with a look that screamed rabid junkyard dog. Then the woman's lips peeled back into what most people would think was a sneer. I realized it was a smile.

  It was terrifying.

  "Yeah," I said. "No problem. Glad I could help."

  She got out and slammed the door, but before she left, she glared at me through the passenger window. "I need to work on being a better sister to you," she said through clenched teeth.

  As she walked up the porch, she shouted, "Goodbye, LOSER!"

  I sat in the van for half an hour, trying to figure out what had just happened. When I realized that there was no way to do this, I turned the key in the ignition and drove in the direction of Riley's office.

  I opened the door to find Claire holding out a bag of cinnamon rolls. For a moment, I was stunned, but she just kept holding out the bag until I took it. I had to get to the bottom of this. How could she possibly know that my mom and grandmother baked me cinnamon rolls when I was surprised by bad news? Kelly must've told her. But Kelly wasn't at her desk. In fact, her computer monitor was off.