by Betty Webb
“Girls, girls,” Bernice cautioned. “Play nice.”
In deference to her greater age and wisdom, we withdrew our claws. But once we’d delivered the animals back to Animal Care, I saw Robin head up the path to the Administration Building to tattle on me. I hoped her complaints would be successful.
Although Zorah didn’t require me to work a full shift after my television appearances, I did anyway. The day, cloudless and crisp, was too beautiful to spend anywhere else, so for the next few hours I communed with my furry friends.
Lucy and Baby Boy Anteater were happy to see me. Lucy especially loved the mashed banana I fed her through the fence. Over in Monkey Mania, Marlon showed his appreciation for his fruit snacks by picking leaves out of my hair with his tiny fingers. In Down Under, Abim sat rapt while I serenaded him with “Waltzing Matilda,” after which I had a brief visit with Malka Malka and Tulang.
I’d saved the friendliest for last.
“Cooeee, Wanchu!” I called, as I entered the koala enclosure.
For once, she was already awake. Upon hearing my voice, she scampered down her tree and bounced over to me, then rocked back on her haunches and opened her arms.
“How’s my good girl?” I said, as I picked her up. Burying my nose in her fur, I smelled eucalyptus, a considerable improvement on lemur. “Does Wanchu miss Kate?”
“Eeep.”
I took that as a yes. “Kate loved Wanchu, didn’t she?”
“Eeep.” She nuzzled her leathery snout against my neck.
“And Wanchu loved her back.”
“Eeep.”
“Did Kate ever tell Wanchu what happened between her and Bill?”
No answer this time.
I tried again. “Was Kate having trouble with anyone else?”
“Eeep.”
This might have been helpful information, but unfortunately, I don’t speak koala. “Poor Wanchu. Losing two friends in a week.” First Kate, then Bill. “But you’ve got me now, Wanchu, and as soon as I find out who murdered Kate, you’ll have Bill back again.” I scratched her behind the ears.
“Eeep, eeep!”
Our conversation continued like this until she dozed off. Taking the hint, I carried her over to her tree and nudged her nose against it. “Climb on up, Wanchu.”
It took three nudges to rouse the koala out of her stupor, but she finally shook herself and scrambled up to her favorite limb. She wrapped her arms around it, the same way she’d wrapped them around me, and dozed back off.
It was only when I left Down Under did I realize that she’d peed down the front of my shirt.
***
At the end of the day, when I was clocking out, Zorah approached me.
“I hear you engineered a lemur ‘accident’ for poor AnnaLee Harris,” she said, disapproval on her broad face.
“I’m not responsible for everything Marcus Aurelius does. Especially after someone ignores me when I tell her time and time again not to touch the animals.”
“A little bird told me you fed him fruit and gave him plenty of water just before you went on. All he needed to let loose was to hear another lemur’s call, which the same little bird told me you so graciously provided.”
“Who is this little bird who’s been telling tales on me?” As if I didn’t know.
“That’s confidential information, Teddy. Seriously, don’t pull a stunt like that again. The Gunn Zoo is getting great publicity because of the TV segment.”
“Which is just another reason you should find someone who wants to do it, and that’s not me. How about Myra?”
At the mention of the great apes keeper, Zorah’s eyes shifted.
“Why her?” she asked.
I ticked off the reasons on my fingers. “One, she’s better looking than I am. Two, her vocabulary is excellent, and she certainly has the required zoological experience. Three, she wants the job badly enough to stab me in the back with a pitchfork.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, Teddy.”
“She would.”
Frowning, Zorah said, “The problem is, it’s not my call. Aster Edwina is determined that you do the program. Could that be because your mother suggested it?”
“Caro thinks having a Bentley on TV is déclassé.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that sounds more like her. But bottom line, you’re stuck doing the program unless you can convince Aster Edwina that someone else would be better. In the meantime, quit torturing AnnaLee Harris. It’s not her fault you have to do something you’d rather not. You’re both in the same boat, metaphorically speaking.”
The idea had never occurred to me. “What makes you say that?”
“Last week, after she’d done that remote from outside the rhino enclosure to publicize Bowling for Rhinos, we got to talking. She told me that she has a Master’s in film from USC and what she wants to do is to go into film. Write and direct her own material, independent-type things that explore the inner torment of the individual in the face of an uncaring world. Shit like that.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I was very impressed.”
“But if that’s what AnnaLee wants to do, why is she wasting her time at a local TV station?”
Zorah shrugged. “The usual reason, I guess. People get themselves in traps, then don’t know how to get themselves out.” Her face fell into sadness, reminding me that she regretted letting the higher salary of a zoo director lure her away from her real love: the direct care of animals. She was right. We all have our traps.
“To change the subject, Teddy, thanks for finishing ZooNews. You have any trouble sending it out?”
I shook my head. Sending out a newsletter via email was simple.
“How about the blog, then? I need you to finish Tiger Teddy’s Telegraph by tomorrow afternoon so I can check it before it’s posted to the blog site. Which animal are you going to focus on?”
“Wanchu, and koalas in general.” Knowing it meant a long night’s work ahead, I added, “It’ll be in your office first thing in the morning.” I started toward the exit, but a sudden thought made me turn around. “Have the Oakland police found Kate’s father yet?”
She shook her head. “There’s no ‘Ty Nido’ on record anywhere.”
“ ‘Ty’ sounds like a nickname. Did they try ‘Tyler’ Nido?”
“The sergeant I talked to said they’d tried Tyler, Tyrone, Terrell, and a slew of other ‘T’ names, but there’re no ‘Nidos’, period, at least not in Oakland. They gave up and turned the whole thing over to the state police, or CHPs, or whatever they’re called these days, to see if those guys can track him down. If they can’t, the FBI’s next. For now, the mortuary’s hanging onto Kate’s body until notification of next of kin, but there’s a limit as to how long they can do that. Aster Edwina says we need to find her father by the end of the week, or we’ll have to hold the services without him. Since she’s paying for the whole deal, her wishes rule.”
“Wasn’t Kate’s father’s full name on her Emergency Contact form?”
Her face twitched in exasperation. “Just that bad phone number and address. You want to know the truth, she didn’t finish filling out the Emergency Contact form, just the first couple of lines, and then she stopped. I couldn’t figure out why it’d been left that way until I looked at the date. She’d started to fill it out the same day you found that dead guy in the giant anteater’s enclosure, and as I’m sure you remember, everything went south mucho quicko, especially for me. Human Resources meant to have her come back and finish the form after things calmed down, but it looks like they forgot and so did she. So here we are, S.O.L.”
Paperwork. We hate it, but we need it. “Tell you what. I’ll drive over to the jail and ask Bill…”
She raised her hand. “Not necessary. I asked yesterday when I visited, but it seems Kate never discussed her father with him. He didn’t even know the guy was in a nursing home.”
What irony. With all the gossip about others Kate had writte
n in The Tasmanian Devil, she’d been closed-mouthed about her own life. Maybe she had her reasons.
Then I remembered something. “Say, I’m going to be seeing Heck Liddell tonight. He and her father used to be friends. Want me to call you at home if I find out anything?”
“Absolutely. The sooner we can get that funeral squared away the better. One other thing. Now that you’re making a little more money, have you bought a new engine for the Merilee, yet?”
With everything that had been going on, I’d actually forgotten. “As soon as I get the time, I’ll start checking prices. But as you know, I’ve been busy.” I’d meant that last bit as a jab, but she just smiled.
“Speaking of busy, Helen says you haven’t gotten together with her yet to learn how to update the zoo’s website, so I’ve made you an appointment for noon tomorrow. Here. On the dot. No excuses.”
“Zorah, I…”
“Didn’t I say no excuses? If you’re worried about lunch, don’t be. I’m ordering out for pizza.”
After my mumbled assent, Zorah let me escape. Thinking about boat engines, blogs, and complicated relationships, I collected my trusty Nissan pickup from the parking lot and made a beeline toward Gunn Landing Harbor. I’d quiz Heck again while I vacuumed cat hair out of My Fancy.
But as it turned out, I was too late.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Ahoy, Heck! Permission to come aboard.”
By the time I’d taken care of my own animals, the sun hung just above the western horizon and the sky had turned crimson. Heck should have been waiting for me, but except for a chorus of cats, his houseboat was silent.
“Heck? I brought the vacuum!”
Rapping at My Fancy’s door again, I heard nothing but plaintive mews. I looked over at the parking lot and the bike rack where Heck kept his aged Schwinn chained. It was still there.
I knocked one more time.
No answer.
I was just getting ready to knock again when Linda Cushing stuck her head out of the Tea 4 Two and shouted, “Teddy Bentley, why don’t you shut up already? Can’t you see the old fart’s not home?”
Old fart? Heck was a mere five years older than Linda. But I let it slide. “Heck’s expecting me. I promised to help him tidy up his boat.”
She nodded toward my vacuum cleaner. “With that little thing?”
“It may be small, but it’s great with cat hair.”
“This I have to see.” She stepped onto the dock and joined me at My Fancy’s door. Knocking, she yelled in a voice that sounded like a sea lion’s bellow, “Wake up, you old bastard! Teddy’s here to clean up your act!”
When Heck still didn’t answer, her face grew concerned. “All I hear is the cats.”
A true houseboat isn’t like a regular boat-turned houseboat. It has a door instead of a hatch, and a small rear window instead of a porthole. I’d been sensitive to Heck’s need for privacy, but the less delicate Linda leaned against the window, cupped her hands around her face to cut out the sun’s rosy glare, and peered inside.
“Dark as a dungeon in there,” she said. “Maybe he turned in early. Wait. There’s some light over by…Oh!”
She jumped back, her eyes wide. “He’s fallen! We should…”
Shoving Linda aside, I opened the unlocked door and rushed inside the cabin, where I found Heck lying face down on the galley floor, surrounded by his mewling cats. When I pushed them away to render aid, I saw a deep red line around his throat. Heck was beyond help. Judging from the coolness of his skin, he’d been dead for some time.
“Heck! No!” A scream from Linda, who had followed me inside.
“Linda, don’t touch…”
Blind to the evidence of her eyes, she bent down and clutched his shoulder. “Wake up, honey! Oh, honey, honey, I’m so sorry, honey, wake up now, wake up!”
As the woman who had acted so calm during the recovery of Kate’s body continued wailing, I grabbed her hand and forced her to let go. “We have to call the sheriff.”
“No! The EMTs! Or get Walt MacAdams, that’s who we need! He’s a firefighter, he knows how…”
“Linda, Heck’s dead.”
“He’s not! He’s just, he’s just…” As suddenly as they’d begun, her wails then ceased. She took a deep breath. “He’s really gone?”
I had misjudged the relationship between Linda and Heck. Love doesn’t always present itself with pretty words. “Yes, Linda, he’s gone, and I’m so sorry.” I put my arm around her and turned her toward the door. “We have to get out of here.”
“But I don’t want to leave him!”
“We must.”
“I want to stay with him until…until…”
“No. And don’t touch anything else, because…” Because My Fancy was a crime scene, but I didn’t want her to know that yet. “Well, because you shouldn’t. I need to call the authorities now, so let’s go. Reception will be clearer outside.” Linda was a big woman, much larger than I, but she was so weak with grief that her feeble protest didn’t amount to much. I guided her through the door and onto the dock where several boat owners had gathered, alerted by Linda’s screams.
“What’s going on?” asked Sam Grimaldi, as his wife Doris stared at me through frightened eyes. As I’d carried my vacuum over to My Fancy, I’d seen them enjoying their evening cocktails on the deck of the Gutterball.
“Is anyone hurt?” This, from Larry DuFries, owner of the Texas Hold ’Em.
Waving aside their questions, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and punched in 9-1-1. After giving the necessary information to the dispatcher, I then called Joe, who told me to do exactly what I was already doing: stay off My Fancy and keep the others away, too.
“You’re sure it’s a crime scene, Teddy?” he asked.
My back was turned to the crowd on the dock so they couldn’t see my lips move. “It looks like he was strangled. By something thin, like a wire.”
A grunt. “Keep the boat clear until I get there, all right? Get those folks off the dock and back to their own boats.” Without waiting for my answer, he hung up.
My next call was to MaryBeth O’Reilly. The harbormaster had a right to know I’d found a second murder victim. When I briefed her, she said she would notify the Harbor Patrol, then she hung up as abruptly as Joe. I knew that within minutes I’d see her marching toward My Fancy.
I turned my attention back to Linda, who had pulled herself together and was slapping away the many arms reaching out to comfort her.
“Leave me alone, you bastards,” she barked. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine. Her eyes were red and her broad shoulders slumped with grief. My heart ached for her almost as much as it did for Heck. Pushing my own emotions aside, I followed Joe’s orders and began herding the onlookers back to their boats. Since boat owners, especially liveaboarders, don’t like being told what to do, they grumbled as they shuffled away.
“Don’t know who you think you are, Teddy, ordering me around like this,” Larry DuFries muttered, as I nudged him toward his Texas Hold ’Em. “You’re not the boss of me.”
Sam and Doris Grimaldi were less argumentative as I escorted them to the Gutterball, but Doris was curious. “What’s happened?”
“The Sheriff will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Is Heck sick? Shouldn’t someone stay with him? Or did…?”
“Doris, I can’t…”
Thankfully, the arrival of the harbormaster, flanked by a khaki-clad foursome from the Harbor Patrol, interrupted us. MaryBeth looked as pale as the hull on Ghost Rider, her all-white Catalina sloop. Leaning close, she whispered, “Teddy, what makes you think it’s murder?”
“Someone looped a wire around his neck,” I whispered back. “Or maybe a thin cord of some kind.”
Always level-headed, she didn’t let her face reveal her shock. “Have you notified the sheriff?”
“He’s on his way with crime techs and the coroner. And, I guess, an ambulance. For Heck’
s body.” It wasn’t easy keeping my eyes dry, but I managed.
MaryBeth turned and issued orders to the men from the Harbor Patrol, three of whom stationed themselves at varying points along the dock, the other at the electronic gate. The harbormaster herself stood sentinel in front of My Fancy, her face grim. Linda and I joined her. Until Joe arrived with his yellow crime tape, our harbor posse would keep anyone from contaminating the crime scene any more than Linda and I already had.
Joe’s arrival seemed to take forever, but a glance at my watch proved it had only been fifteen minutes before a cascade of sirens swept toward us down Bentley Hill, the setting sun casting a pink glow across the black-and-whites. If you hadn’t known why they’d been summoned, you might have thought their lights pretty.
The first thing Joe did when he arrived on the dock was to separate Linda and me. “Go on back to the Merilee, Teddy. I’ll be over to interview you later.” He glanced toward Linda. “Is that Miss Cushing? The woman who was with you when you found him?”
I nodded.
“Isn’t she the one who helped you with…?”
The other body, he meant to say, but didn’t. I nodded again.
He raised his voice so Linda could hear. “Ma’am, don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you.”
MaryBeth put a comforting hand on Linda’s shoulder and answered for her. “Can’t you see how upset she is, Sheriff? Her own boat’s just a couple of slips away. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
After a brief pause, Joe nodded and disappeared into My Fancy.
For the next few minutes, while I cuddled a nervous Miss Priss and DJ Bonz in the Merilee’s salon, more sirens screamed toward the harbor. Myriad feet clomped past. Voices issued orders. Miss Priss, normally the most aloof of cats, tucked her head under my armpit as if to deafen the noise.
“There, cat, there, everything’s fine,” I said, stroking her trembling sides.
Bonz looked worried, too, so along with a few comforting pats, I directed some reassuring words his way. “Nothing to worry about, Bonz. Just some unpleasant human business that doesn’t concern you.”
It was full dark by the time Joe got around to me. When he and two deputies stepped onto the Merilee, both my pets fled into the aft bedroom. At Joe’s first question, I regretted that they’d abandoned me so quickly because I needed comforting myself. Especially since the larger of the deputies was taping our interview on a hand-held digital recorder.
