Marshmallow S'More Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  "No clue."

  "Doesn't that bother you?"

  I nodded. "It drives me crazy. All we know is that she was found dead in my kitchen. And at the same time as some other terrorists started dropping dead around me. But we'd solved those murders. Just not hers."

  "Are you sure it wasn't the same person?" Maria asked.

  My thoughts scaled backward to a year ago. "I'm sure. So were Riley and Rex. Turns out it was just coincidence."

  "Do you believe that?"

  "I don't believe in coincidences as a rule. But in this case, it was. No one has ever figured out how Midori got here or why she was in Who's There, Iowa."

  "Look out!" Maria pointed, and I slammed on the brakes.

  There, in the middle of the road, was Mr. Fancy Pants, the escaped king vulture from the National Zoo. Looking at us with his googly eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "Are you kidding me?" I asked. Almost killed by rednecks in the Virginia hills and now stalked by a zoo animal? I didn't have days this crazy as a spy. Oh wait, there was that panda who thought I was his mate and kept showing up at inconvenient moments to let me know. Like when I was being held at gunpoint by a couple of gun runners in the middle of a bamboo forest. Relax. I didn't use him as a shield or anything. The gunrunners were dead, but the panda now had a new lady love in the Beijing zoo. And she was an actual panda.

  I got out of the car and walked to the front of the truck. Mr. Fancy Pants didn't move. Well, his eyes did. They rolled in opposite directions like lazy eyes on meth.

  "What should we do?" Maria joined me. Her cell was out, and she was searching for the number of the National Zoo.

  "Um…catch it?" I asked.

  "How are you going to do that?" Maria stared at me.

  "I have no idea." How did one actually catch a giant bird of prey? Was it dangerous? Docile? For all I knew, it could be a killer vulture. Hey! Maybe he was sent by the yakuza! That would be extra devious.

  "Too bad we don't have a blanket in the truck we could throw over him," Maria said.

  "Rental trucks rarely come with blankets," I murmured, studying the bird. "My question is, where do we put it once we catch it?" I pictured the vulture sitting between us in the truck as we drove it back to DC, staring at Maria with one crazy eye while staring at me with the other. It didn't seem like a good idea.

  Maria found the number for the zoo and dialed. She started talking quickly into the phone.

  "Where are we, exactly?" she asked.

  "About twenty miles north of Charlottesville on 250," I replied, my eyes still on Mr. Fancy Pants.

  His body didn't move, but his eyes did. Why was he there? What did he want, and why did he think I had it?

  "They said to be careful," Maria said as she put her cell away. "They're going to send animal services out from Charlottesville to try to catch him."

  "So we have to stay here or go around it?" I asked.

  Maria shrugged. "I guess so."

  This was ridiculous—a sort of stare down between two spies and a vulture. I didn't want to stay here any longer than I had to—the girls needed me.

  "Get back in the truck," I said softly. "We're going to backtrack to the last junction. I can't wait forever for this stupid bird."

  "We can't just leave him here," Maria whispered.

  "Why not? He's just going to fly off anyway. Maybe he'll follow us?"

  Maria and I carefully got into the truck. I started it up, and we looked behind us as I threw it into reverse. A crash distracted us. When we turned around, Mr. Fancy Pants was standing on the hood of the truck, staring at us.

  "Now what?" Maria asked out of the left side of her mouth—as if the bird could hear us.

  "I'm starting to think Ito Jr. sent him…" I mumbled.

  It was a good thing Earl, Clem, or Elvinia weren't with us or else this bird would be fricasseed for dinner.

  Mr. Fancy Pants began to pace back and forth across the hood. Clearly, we weren't going anywhere. I sent a silent prayer to Charlottesville in hopes animal control would get a move on.

  "Why is he doing that?" Maria asked.

  "No idea," I replied. "But we're going nowhere fast with him on the truck like that."

  We were stuck. An important specimen of the Smithsonian's zoo was holding us hostage, and it seemed there was little we could do about it.

  "Why us?" I asked. "Why is he stalking us?"

  Maria shrugged. "Maybe he didn't like the name the girls gave him?"

  The vulture stopped in mid-strut and walked right up to the windshield. He reared back and began pecking on the glass.

  "I think he heard you," I said as I slowly rolled up the windows.

  Mr. Fancy Pants stopped pecking and cocked his head to one side, studying us. I had an idea.

  "Maybe he's hungry," I said as I fished around inside my backpack. I'd brought a pink backpack with me because it was a gift from the girls. And it held a lot more than a purse did. For instance, it held snacks for between meals. Snacks like the Girl Scout Cookies I'd packed just in case.

  I pulled out a box of shortbread cookies and held it up to the windshield. Mr. Fancy Pants went nuts, pecking harder at the glass, as if that was the only direct path to the bright blue box in my hands.

  "How does he know what Girl Scout Cookies are?" Maria marveled.

  "No idea," I said. Now what? I had the cookies. And he wanted the cookies. But how to get them to him?

  I lowered my window and opened the box. The vulture became very still before shivering in expectation. He looked like he was having some weird avian seizure. I tossed a couple of cookies onto the hood of the truck. Mr. Fancy Pants snatched them up, swallowing before he could even identify what they were. Then he started hopping up and down, excitedly.

  "I'm not sure that things are better…" Maria said as I tossed two more cookies onto the hood.

  "Well, at least we have a defense should we ever find ourselves surrounded by king vultures." I threw a couple more cookies at him, and he caught one in midair. The other was devoured seconds later.

  Where were those animal control people? We didn't have all day. I wanted to get back to my troop.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Fancy Pants was tired of waiting for the cookies and had now begun pecking hard at the windshield. I threw him a couple more cookies.

  "I think you should quit feeding those things," Maria said.

  "You're going to get your wish in a minute. I'm almost out," I said.

  The last few cookies went onto the hood of the truck and were immediately devoured. Mr. Fancy Pants looked right at us and then took flight, soaring up into the air. Now how do you think he knew we were out?

  Just then, a truck pulled up beside us. On the side it said City of Charlottesville. Nice timing.

  "You guys are a bit late," I said as they got out of the truck and walked toward us.

  "Are you the ones who called?" the first guy asked. Both men were wearing white coveralls, and one was carrying a net.

  "Yes—but the bird's gone now." Maria let out a long sigh. Had she been tense the whole time?

  "Great," said the second guy. "Well, maybe we can still get it."

  The man with the net nodded. "Should be just fine, as long as you didn't feed it."

  Maria and I looked at each other as I dropped the empty cookie box to the floor of the truck, shoving it under the seat with my foot.

  "Why should that make any difference?" I asked.

  "Because that bird"—he stabbed at the sky with his index finger—"has a problem with processed, white flour. If he eats any, he kind of goes nuts."

  "How did you know that?" Maria asked.

  "The folks at the zoo told us. They said under no circumstances were we to feed it. And if it got hold of anything with flour in it, we were to avoid it at all costs. I guess he almost killed his handler one time when a troop of Girl Scouts accidentally dropped a box of cookies into his pen."

  I started the truck. "Well, thanks for the heads up!
We have to go now!" I floored the gas pedal and drove off in a cloud of dust.

  Maria whistled under her breath. "Great. We just handed the equivalent of raw meat to a lion on the loose."

  "How was I supposed to know that?" I asked, pushing harder on the gas pedal and racing down the highway.

  "You couldn't," Maria said. "But it explains why he got excited when he saw us at the zoo and possibly why he escaped in the first place."

  I didn't say a word. I'd been responsible for pissing off the yakuza and turning a bird of prey into a cookie-guzzling killing machine. And I had no idea which was worse.

  We made it to the rental-car place in record time and turned in the truck in exchange for our van. Neither one of us had spoken for the duration of the trip. I didn't know what Maria's motivation was, but I felt like mine was a mixture of guilt and fear.

  "Hello?" I called as we burst through my parents' front door fifteen minutes later.

  A flying blur of neon pink came at me, tackling me in the entryway. The four Kaitlins had me in a group hug. I hugged them back, grateful that they were okay.

  "Mrs. Wrath! Mrs. Gomez!" they squealed. The girls then all started talking at once as the remainder of the troop joined us.

  "Hold on!" I held up my hand, making the Scout quiet sign. The hallway was immediately silent.

  "Let's hit the kitchen, and you can tell us all about it," I said.

  "Hey, ladies!" My dad stood at the kitchen island, handing out paper plates with chocolate cake. My troop was certainly not getting a balanced diet here. "You made it back, I see." Mom took his place and handed out the rest of the plates while Maria and I followed my father into his den.

  "There," he said as he sat in his chair and closed his eyes. "Peace and quiet."

  "Sorry, Dad," I apologized. "We had a couple of delays."

  "It's alright, kiddo," Dad said. "In fact, I had fun. You have a great group of girls there."

  "Really?" I asked. "I mean, I know that."

  My father laughed. "Tell me what happened today."

  I filled him in on our trip, ending with Mr. Fancy Pants but leaving out the part where I fed the animal its version of crack cocaine.

  "So Midori Ito's daughter is at the embassy, eh?" he said, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think I can get you back in there without raising suspicion."

  He was right. There was no way we could ask for another tour without piquing the ambassador's interest. And if Baby Ito was on to me, it would be like serving me up on a plate to the yakuza. I pictured Mr. Fancy Pants sitting at that table, eating mint cookies, and fixing one of his eyes on me.

  Maria shook her head. "I don't see how we can go there again without blowing Merry's cover."

  "Well, at least we know a little more. And that helps." I shrugged. "I'll just have to find a way to do this on my own."

  Dad pointed at me. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it. You shouldn't go back there."

  "We don't even have evidence that Riley's there." Maria nodded.

  "I know." The one person whose advice I needed on this was Riley. But he was the reason I needed help in the first place.

  "Is it possible to solve Midori's murder?" Dad asked. "That would give you some leverage. Something to trade."

  He was right. If we knew who'd killed Midori in the first place, we could use that to negotiate Riley's release. But that case had long gone cold. Almost a year cold. And Rex didn't even know about it. I'd never told him about finding Midori's body in my kitchen. There was no evidence. No trail.

  And yet, Midori had somehow made it into this country, come to my hometown, and gotten herself murdered. That's where it happened. That's where the mystery was. The one place where I wasn't.

  I'd need Rex's help. And to get that, I'd have to tell him everything. Which meant he'd be really pissed off I hadn't told him before. Which was the equivalent to lying to my boyfriend. Our relationship had started to get better. We were doing well. So how could I tell him about Midori and not ruin everything we had going for us?

  I needed to talk to the one other person who'd been there when we found Midori's body. I needed to talk to Kelly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Merry!" Kelly squealed into the phone, and I immediately felt awful. My best friend and co-leader of the troop was about to have a baby any second, and I hadn't called her once since we'd arrived.

  "I'm so sorry, Kelly! I should've called before now! How are you? What's the news on the baby?"

  Kelly laughed into the phone. "Don't feel bad. I knew you'd have your hands full. I figured you'd call when you needed bail money."

  I sighed with relief. She wasn't angry. That was good.

  "The baby is late," Kelly continued. "It was due two days ago. I think it's refusing to come out."

  I laughed. "Maybe it knows about the troop." The girls were extremely excited when they'd heard one of their leaders was about to have a baby, and they'd immediately named it an official mascot of Troop 0222. The kid was doomed.

  "Well, it has no choice," I said. "It has to come out sometime. I've never heard of a woman who was pregnant forever." It sounded like something an evil villain would come up with. That would've been worse than torture, I'd think.

  We were back at the hotel, and I was in Evelyn's room. Evelyn and Maria were wrangling girls through the showering process. I'd have some privacy for a while.

  "You need to tell the baby that," Kelly said.

  She sounded happy. Really happy. Kelly usually was more frustrated with me. Either the baby was mellowing her out, or she was happier because I wasn't there. I hated to think the latter was the case.

  "Okay, put it on," I teased.

  Kelly laughed. "I'm glad you called—I'm going stir crazy. The hospital made me start my maternity leave last week. This house is spotless. So's yours, by the way."

  "You cleaned my house?" I kind of felt bad about that. Not that it was very messy to begin with.

  "It's called nesting. I needed something to do. You have actual drapes in the living room now—you're welcome. And I organized your weapons in alphabetical order. I even cleaned them."

  I groaned. "Tell me you didn't clean my guns!" Kelly knew nothing about guns…by choice.

  I was also a little sad that the Dora the Explorer curtains were down. And while it was true I had to get real curtains sometime, those sheets were the first thing I bought after I got the house. They'd been on sale at the dollar store, and I liked them. Dora was kind of a kids' cartoon version of a CIA agent, I thought.

  "No. But Rex did. He saw me waddling around and came over. He had Philby and the kittens with him. What's up with the one that looks like Elvis?"

  "Isn't that better than having her look like Stalin? Or Pol Pot?" I adored the Elvis kitty. I hadn't named any of them yet. I wasn't sure why. Maybe because I was in denial about being the owner of enough cats that they could eat me if I died.

  "Ooof!" Kelly grunted.

  "Are you okay? Are you having the baby? Are you going to name it after me?" I fired off questions like a well-greased Uzi fired off bullets.

  "Relax. The baby just kicked is all. It's been doing that a lot."

  Kelly didn't know the sex of her baby. She and Robert wanted it to be a surprise. So she called the baby it. Which was weird. But maybe that was the pot calling the kettle black since I hadn't named my kittens.

  "So why did you call?" Suspicion crept into her voice. Ah, that was the Kelly I knew.

  I sighed. "Remember Midori's murder?"

  "How could I forget?" Kelly snorted. "It's not every day I find a dead terrorist in your kitchen."

  "You said you thought her neck had been broken with a blow from behind—something like a baseball bat. Right?" Maybe I should get the details straight before I told Rex.

  "That's what I thought," Kelly said. "But we didn't exactly do a detailed autopsy, now did we?"

  My best friend had been really mad at me when we found Midori. I understood that. She was a nurs
e. Her job was to save lives, and instead, I'd involved her in covering up an international murder. Even pinkie swears couldn't help that blow to a friendship.

  "We have a problem…" I told her about Riley's kidnapping. About Baby Ito, my trip to the Japanese Embassy, and my trek into the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains. To her credit, Kelly just listened. As I spoke, I realized I felt better. Well, a little better. But still. I left out the part about the vulture. She didn't need any more blackmail material. The woman had plenty of that.

  "Riley's missing?" Kelly had a soft spot for Riley, and they had first met over Midori's body. I wouldn't say the two of them were BFFs, but they had each other on speed dial.

  "I'm trying to find him," I answered, but it came out a little weak.

  "Merry,"—Kelly's tone was measured—"you can't put the troop in danger. It sounds like that's what's happening."

  I shook my head, even though she couldn't see it. "I'm not. At least I'm trying not to." And that was the truth. Wasn't it?

  "Riley is the CIA's concern—not yours." Her voice was what I'd have called urgent, with a dash of fury. "You shouldn't deal with this."

  "The CIA still doesn't know about Riley and me hiding Midori's body. He'd lose his job and be part of a federal investigation—maybe even go to prison," I protested.

  "You know I adore Riley," Kelly said. "But he knew the consequences. You, on the other hand, have the lives of twelve little girls in your hands. They are your first priority." I'd bet she was shaking her finger at the phone. I could picture the disapproval on her face. It made me a little homesick.

  "I know that, but Riley did what he did to save me. To keep me from being the target of a foreign crime syndicate. It will all come out if I turn what I know over to the Agency."

  "The girls come first," Kelly growled. "You can't get involved in this." Now she was probably shaking her head at me. I wondered if the baby would inherit her ability to project disappointment. Maybe it was shaking its little fist at me inside her.

  "You're absolutely right," I said, flinching. "I didn't want to interrupt their trip. So far, they're safe, but I need to think of what happens should everything go south."