Shallow Grave

by Karen Harper

  “Talk to Brittany about it for me,” he said, still speaking fast as if to fill the awkward silence. “The beginning of this place—Dad’s pipe dream—was not a family affair, but the end of it can be. Tell her we’ll be here to play and keep the music light and—and triumphant.”

  He turned and strode away toward Sandra, who was down the way already tying ribbons on the railing of the bridge that led toward Tiberia’s cage. Lane had used the word triumphant twice just now. Was that the way he felt about getting rid of the BAA? About getting rid of his father?

  She knew she’d have to tell Nick her continued fears about Lane. Here she was involved again, but she really didn’t feel she could accuse Lane any more than she could accuse Brit of setting up their father’s demise. They were his children. Surely it was one of Stan Helter’s men, just across that double fence, and Bronco said he’d report to them right after his afternoon of work there.

  * * *

  Nick and Claire were worried that Bronco didn’t appear when they thought he would. Surely he wasn’t doing overtime on his first day at the Trophy Ranch—and in the dark. Nick debated whether to call him but said he didn’t want to in case he was still on ranch property.

  But Bronco phoned Nick at about 8:00 p.m. and said he’d like to come over and bring Nita with him.

  “Here’s how he put it,” Nick reported to Claire. “He and Nita wanted us to see they are happy together, not like last time they were here.”

  “Good,” she told him, and met his smile with hers. “Everything is looking up. Even Lexi fell asleep without the usual questions about visiting Tiberia after he’s moved. I had told her, yes, for the tenth time, we will take the Comfort Zone kids to the zoo just as soon as Tiberia’s settled in and on display. And Marta says Duncan wants to see his favorite pig there too.”

  Bronco, when he arrived with Nita, seemed both relieved and nervous. “That ranch—what a place, boss, even behind the scenes,” she heard him tell Nick the moment he was in the door. “Those tree houses way back on the grounds are really something! Really open-air. Big and fancy!”

  “You got a tour of them already?” Nick asked as the four of them sat in the formal living room they seldom used, but, after dark, because of the gator incident, they preferred not to be in the lighted, glassed-in Florida room out by the pool.

  “Not a tour, but went up the steps to peek inside one. Mr. Helter wanted me to start hunting pythons and stray gators in that back area. He had a guy drive me in a dune buggy. I pointed out a couple places there were fire ant colonies too. Those things can sting a man nearly to death—least you wish you was dead. Those babies bite hard.”

  With a playful punch in his ribs, Nita put in, “Harder than an upset wife?”

  “Not quite that bad,” Bronco said with a grin. “Boss, there’s Russian guys there now, that’s what my driver said, though I thought they were still talking German. I think they’re leaving tomorrow. I caught one pregnant python who was in an old deserted gopher tortoise hole.”

  “You killed it?”

  “He doesn’t want the first couple killed. Wants his guests to see them, ’specially one gonna have little snakes.”

  “Ugh. To impress them?” Claire asked, realizing she’d put her hand on her rounded belly.

  “That, or—” Bronco hesitated, frowning now “—Mr. Helter just likes to see things dead and dying, I swear he does. And—he was gonna feed the python a couple of rats he got somewhere.”

  “That snake in the driveway—the rats,” Nick said.

  “My thinking too,” Bronco added.

  Claire said, “Bronco, you can’t trust Stan Helter. You have to be very careful of him, careful there.”

  “Promised Nita and the boss I would be.”

  “Anything else important?” Nick asked him.

  “They talk a lot about preserving animals on the ranch, saving them for the future, not just killing them. Wanted me to hear that, I think. Mr. Helter said something about a guy that stuffs and mounts them—taxi something...”

  “The taxidermist, Drew Hewitt?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah, him. ’Course, what he does is preserve dead things. That big back area at his shop might be a kind of private museum where certain folks can see the remains of special projects he does.”

  “I remember that back area of his shop,” Nick said, “the exterior of it anyway. He said the only thing in the back room was storage and a freeze dryer unit. The place has no windows, so no way you can peek in.”

  “I guess the only folks who have the key to that place are Mr. Helter, Hewitt and that nice insurance man that’s your friend.”

  “Grant Manfort?” Nick asked. “Doesn’t sound like his style, but he is big on preserving animals—live ones running free, I thought. So glad you’re keeping your eyes and ears open too.”

  “And,” Bronco said, reaching for Nita’s hand, “anything Mr. Manfort does or says is okay with Nita and me. ’Cause we’re gonna start buying that house at a real good monthly rate and can move in soon as the papers get signed. Would really appreciate it if you’d look them over first, boss.”

  “I’d be glad to,” Nick said with another quick, proud glance at Claire as if to say, Everything’s coming up roses.

  Yet, she thought, they still couldn’t let go of the earlier evil events. Dead animals, the dangerous, frightening kind, had been thrown in their yard as obvious threats to steer clear. Jace and Brit could have been hurt in his car, and he was temporarily out of action. Jackson was comatose and critical, and Ben was dead. At least the BAA saga was ending tomorrow, so that might make everyone safer at last.

  29

  The Saturday of the big event at the BAA dawned bright and crisp. Although Claire and Nick were going early to help oversee things, and it would be a long day, they took Lexi with them, after she promised to always stay with her mother or Nita. Gina helped them set up a long buffet table for the food, which would be arriving at about 2:00 p.m. They’d ended up ordering from Wynne’s, Claire’s favorite grocery and deli store in Naples, but she’d packed sandwiches, potato chips, apples and sodas in an ice cooler to get them through until then.

  The entire area was awash with fluttering ribbons and bows and balloons Sandra had arranged. Claire thought she’d gone overboard with helium animal balloons tied here and there, but at least Sandra—hopefully Lane too—would feel a part of the petting zoo as they had not been part of its short run so far.

  Claire hated to admit it, but this dissolution of the place today was probably for the best for the Hoffmans as well as the animals. But she’d had the most unsettling dream last night that both Ben and Jackson had been peering through the back fence in their yard and gesturing to her. And, in the dream, both of them were bearded.

  “Glad it’s Saturday so I can be here all day, help keep an eye on things,” Bronco said as he hurried past carrying a pail of smelly shrimp. “Brit said to empty this back on the flamingo island, last time they’ll be fed here. Zoo’s gonna move them last, ’cause they have a nice habitat, she said.”

  “Jackson loves them. I’m sorry he’s not here today, yet it would have really crushed him, not to mention the fact he’s been living here and would have to leave. Brit said she’ll have to get a U-Haul to move his things to his oldest daughter’s house before they raze the buildings. Well, don’t let me keep you with that stuff. The way the shrimp advertises itself,” she said, fanning the air in front of her face, “I’m sure the pink pets will be able to locate it right away.”

  “Mrs. Claire—Claire,” he said, turning back as he started away, “we’re hoping Nita gets pregnant too, soon, ’cause we kinda got a late start on getting married. She loves to help you and Lexi—I know you’d help her through that too.”

  “I would be honored to play nanny for her, and we can rear them together, just like Lexi and her cousin or like my sister and I g
rew up, tight as could be. You know, Darcy finagled an invitation here today representing that Save Our Wildlife group she’s in.”

  “Clever as you, getting what she wants,” Bronco said with a grin and headed for Flamingo Isle.

  Jace had planted himself at the front gate where Brit would welcome visitors when they started arriving. But the Naples Daily News reporter and photographer came early and a wildlife officer too, followed by two police officers, one who was manning the front gate, one who would circulate inside. Claire noted that the older officer had been here the day Ben died.

  Time and people blurred by. An hour before the program would begin, Nita kept Lexi tight to her so that Claire could lie down for a few minutes. She had the choice of either the bed in Jackson’s apartment or the one in the back room of the trailer, which she picked. But she was too excited to sleep and could hear Ann’s voice on the phone in the attached office as she fielded phone calls.

  At one of them, Claire came wide awake. “Yes, Lane, people are already here, but I don’t think your musicians are. You’re on your way right now?...I don’t like it that you use the phone and drive. Now I know I sound like a mother, but people get hurt and worse with distracted driving...No, no picketers, not yet, at least, and we have a police officer out front...Yes, some TV people. I know your music is a gift today, but listen, I want you to support your sister. I don’t want another rehashing of the argument you had with your father right before he died...Of course he told me. Look, my dear, I can’t tie up this phone right now, but...What?”

  Her voice went on, her words more muffled now. Claire got up and tiptoed to the door to hear better. She hated spying on Ann, but she still could not let Lane’s forging his father’s letter go. “No, of course, I never told them—not even Brittany—that you threatened him. I know you didn’t mean the things you said, and he should not have thrown you into the wall, but you’ve never been able to keep your temper in check either...Of course, of course, I know you didn’t want him to die. Now, I have to go, so thank you for the music later today and don’t get in a huff if people don’t stop to listen. The tiger is the focus today, not you, dear...Yes, I—”

  She said something else, and Claire scurried back to the narrow bed. She would never sleep now, but she couldn’t go right out so that Ann might think she’d overheard the call. The possibility that Lane had dirtied his hands to hire someone to hurt his father—and maybe silence Jackson too—had just gone from being a long shot to being a much shorter one.

  * * *

  The zoo truck, with a cage inside for transporting large animals, had backed up to Tiberia’s enclosure. Claire could tell the crowd made the big cat nervous, so she was glad the zoo would be gradual in its introduction of the animal to the public. In the waiting crowd, more than once she heard the whispered word killer. They no doubt meant the cat was the killer—or was she getting so obsessed with finding who killed Ben and hurt Jackson that she was imagining things? She was still tired, emotionally on edge, and should take one of her strong pills to stay alert.

  The guests had nearly wiped out the food and drinks, and were standing behind the low fence barrier to watch the transfer. Again, Claire scanned the small crowd, looking for Gracie or one of her sons. She even studied the nearby fence line where Gracie had climbed to watch her dear Thunder. Shifting a bit more to the side and moving to the periphery, she scanned the fence, wondering if the bearded man would appear. There were several bearded men in the crowed she studied, but the photo had just been too blurred to tell if any of these men bore a resemblance.

  Since she wasn’t in the press of people, she took pictures with her phone camera, though she knew the ones the professionals were taking would be much better. Brit had asked Nick to stay near the front of the audience in case there were any last minute legal questions. He held Lexi so she could see as the zoo representatives spoke, then Brit. Jace was sitting somewhere up front, invisible from here. Claire had had a brief chat with Darcy, but she was also lost in the crowd, taking notes for her committee. Bronco and Nita, Heck and Gina were somewhere on the periphery.

  Claire saw Lane with Sandra standing close to his mother in front. His group had performed for over an hour near the food table, so everyone who came by for a bite could see them, even if no one stayed long to watch. The wild birds and other animals got more attention, which probably had not gone over well with him. Claire hadn’t found time yet to tell Nick what she’d overheard from Ann.

  She was getting tired from so much standing after an active morning and lack of a nap, but if she left the area, she needed to tell Nick. She was tempted to take some herbal meds or even one of her hard-hitters, but decided to wait to see the entire tiger transfer. The other animals would be leaving with much less fanfare.

  She edged closer to Nick. Brit was explaining in a loud voice that she was going to hand the program over to the zoo director, just as she was ready to hand Tiberia and the other animals over. She said she hoped they would continue to help children love wildlife, but on an even bigger stage than her father had first envisioned.

  I’m going to sit down back there a minute, Claire mouthed to Nick with gestures.

  “Mommy,” Lexi said, “Tiberia doesn’t want to leave here.”

  “He’ll like his new home just as we like ours.”

  You okay? Nick mouthed back to her.

  She nodded. Just tired.

  The crowd applauded, and Claire saw Tiberia react, stopping his pacing and glaring at them. He hissed, then showed his fangs with a low roar. A hushed murmur went up from the crowd as the tiger slunk back to sit in the corner of his cage, still glaring at everyone.

  Perhaps this public program was a mistake, she thought, as she made her way to the end of the same bench where she’d ended up the day Ben died. If they had to tranquilize the big cat—as they had that day—it might make him more than restless. The tiger who had escaped from its cage at that facility near Tampa had gone berserk when it was tranquilized, and that’s why they’d shot it.

  She felt as upset and restless as poor Tiberia. She had to go to the bathroom, and the closest one was back of the bridge Sandra had decorated so elaborately that it looked like a parade float. Had she had too much lemonade at the buffet? No, it was just another sign her pregnancy was progressing.

  The crowd had pressed in even more around Nick and Lexi. Bronco and Nita had edged closer. Jace, balanced on his crutches, had moved toward the back edge of the crowd, where he wouldn’t be jostled. He’d said earlier he didn’t want to get in Brit’s way anyhow.

  Claire decided she’d just go to the bathroom and hurry back, hoping the tiger would be in his transfer cage by then. And that would be the end of Ben’s dream and Jackson’s love for the BAA.

  “If anyone’s missing me, I’m just going to the restroom,” she told Jace, since she could get to him. “I’ll be right back. There’s still a policeman at the gate.”

  “Poor Brit,” he told her, looking back toward the tiger cage. “I don’t think the cat’s going to cooperate. It’s like Tiberia’s not leaving until he clears his name from jumping poor Ben. Brit’s speech was good, but she’s jumpy too—afraid something’s going to happen to screw things up before she can clear things up.”

  “You don’t mean she wants to clear herself of harming her father?”

  “No, my fave amateur psych detective girl,” he said, turning to look at her again. “She just wants answers about who set Ben up, and it wasn’t her.”

  “Right. Of course,” Claire said, and hurried away.

  * * *

  When Claire left the deserted restroom and headed back toward the action, she noticed a police officer was still at the gate. She’d seen the other one watching the crowd as the Naples Zoo personnel were preparing to move Tiberia into the truck that had backed up and was almost touching the back bars now. It was a blessing that none of the picketers—or Gracie, the
boys and the possums they brought for the tiger—had appeared today.

  As she walked toward the beribboned and balloon-laden bridge, she noticed the flamingos were running amok again as they had one other time she’d been here. What if one of them ran out the gate? What if Tiberia looked up and saw running game? If a tiger ever ate a flamingo, it surely wouldn’t be more than a few bites—poultry lite.

  She waved her hands and flapped her purse at one of the loose birds. It made a U-turn to head back toward Flamingo Isle. Amazing any of them stayed where they were with that low stone fence and shallow water, though they knew well enough when they were going to be fed. In their new home at the Naples Zoo, would the flamingos have room to run like this?

  She paused a moment, watching yet another graceful bird nearly sprint from the isle they called home. Its spindly legs barely stirred the shallow water in the moat. She shooed that one back too.

  Oh, maybe that nesting pair Jackson had been so proud of were running the others off. Or what if the female had already laid the egg or hatched their single chick, and something was threatening it? Brit had said that occasionally raccoons got in there.

  She took off her loafers, held them in her hand, rolled up her jeans nearly to her knees and waded into the moat. She’d just peek through the thick foliage as she had before when Jackson was trying to dig a nesting spot for the pair. She didn’t want to startle them, but what if that distant tiger roar just now or the applause of the crowd had set them off?

  She sneezed and jammed her finger under her nose to stop a second one. They didn’t need to be scared off by her. The palm fronds Jackson had left behind where he’d been digging had been moved. Evidently Brit, or maybe one of the zoo workers who had stayed here last night, had seen what he’d been doing and picked up where he’d left off.