Cry Wolf

by Charlie Adhara

  Cooper looked toward the set and saw that the makeup artist was gone and that Genevieve had taken her position as close to the perched monkey as was allowed. She looked very smooth and professional. Nothing like the flighty stereotype he’d been imagining based on Hirano’s comments, and he was about to say something to that effect when one crewmember shouted something to another, laughed loudly, and the monkey dropped his fruit and fled deep into the foliage.

  “Are you kidding me?” Genevieve demanded. She had a very clear, ringing sort of voice that swept out over the suddenly dead silent onlookers. “No, really, is this some kind of joke to you? I was under the impression that we were all professionals, here to complete one simple shot on a deadline, but apparently I was wrong. My mistake!”

  Her words were getting more and more enunciated, until she was spitting consonants more than anything else. “Please, go on. I wouldn’t want the job we’re all here to finish interrupting your extremely important conversation. Just let me know when you feel like working so I don’t continue to waste your precious fucking time.”

  Genevieve spun on her heel and walked briskly out of the room, yanking furiously at the heavy door to get out of the monkey area with a great whoosh of air. Cooper noticed Neil slip out after her before the door could fully close.

  “Looks like Crane’s taking her break now. So this is your chance to speak to her,” Hirano murmured sweetly after a moment of stunned silence. “Do me a favor and let her know we need her back on set in twenty.”

  “Thanks,” Cooper said. “I appreciate that.” Hirano started to walk away, but he stopped her. “Just a couple of questions before we go. How well did you know James Finnigan?”

  “Me? My work is to manage the education and publicity programs, oversee our nonprofit volunteer base. I only work with the keepers peripherally.”

  “But we heard Mr. Finnigan often hung around these shoots, which you also oversee, isn’t that correct?” Cooper asked.

  Hirano stared at him blankly for a long moment, and he almost thought she was going to deny it, but finally her eyes flicked between him and Park, and she almost resignedly said, “Yes. Yes, he was here often. But I wouldn’t say I knew him well.”

  “Your curator Mr. Basque said James had a talent for handling animals,” Cooper said, nodding at Ryan, who had joined the efforts to coax the titi monkey back. “He said they loved James and people like Genevieve appreciated his presence here. Would you say that’s true?”

  Hirano’s eyes narrowed. “Undomesticated animals don’t love people. They’re not your pets. They can become accustomed to us, even occasionally playful with us. But the quality of the relationships is based on what service the human provides them and how well their signals are respected. James understood that. And he understood them. When to approach and when to back off.”

  “Would you say he ever received any signals to either approach or back off regarding Ms. Crane?” Park asked.

  “You work quickly.” Hirano laughed and her gaze drifted in the direction that Genevieve had disappeared. “I think you’ll find more clarity in that regard if you go speak to Crane now. But I will say that today is the first day in a long time that her husband is not hovering on set, so if he was worried about something, that something no longer seems to be an issue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have feathers to unruffle.” She left to speak with the crew.

  “Seems like that’s two people who believe Arthur had something to gain from James’s death,” Park noted.

  “And two people who have avoided giving a clear answer as to how Genevieve might have felt about it herself,” Cooper added. “Shall we ask her ourselves?”

  They started walking in the direction that Genevieve and Neil had left in.

  “I did manage to catch her scent when she opened the door,” Park said as they did the same, leaving the bright open monkey space for the dark interior of the building with another whoosh of air. “She’s human.”

  “Which doesn’t exclude her as a suspect. It is possible that none of this has anything to do with James being a werewolf or ex-rebel pack leader,” Cooper mused. “He was blackmailing at least one if not two people and possibly mixed up with embezzlers who are being watched by the FBI. Not what I’d call a quiet retirement.”

  “But to be slit in the belly like that?”

  Cooper touched his own stomach reflexively, feeling it clench and swoop. “A number of weapons could have been used to do that. Someone hoping to pin it on a werewolf. Or even a zoo animal. Local zookeeper mauled to death. Accident. Then whatever made his face slip made the killer panic. Change of plan.”

  They walked down a long, dark curved hall, with low lighting directed at various plaques about the Amazon River.

  “I suppose that depends on what the tox report says.”

  “Hmm,” Cooper said, thinking. “Did you happen to see the makeup artist Hirano said was filling in?”

  “I suppose. Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure I saw her at the zoo a couple days ago. When I was here with my family.”

  Park shrugged. “Is that strange? Hirano said she was B-team, maybe she was working that—”

  Cooper was looking directly at Park, so he saw the moment he stopped speaking and his nose wrinkled as if catching the scent of something surprising.

  “Wait,” Park said, but Cooper had already turned the corner and caught Genevieve and Neil quickly shuffling away from each other, silhouetted against the enormous, luminescent fish tank that took up the entire thirty feet of wall. Behind them, Cooper could see ugly gray tube-shape fish drifting past and a rapidly fading handprint on the glass.

  His gaze immediately shot to Neil, surprised, and found Neil staring back with an expression so furious Cooper stumbled a bit.

  “Sorry, I believe this building is closed to the public today,” Genevieve said in that ringing voice.

  Park took out his badge, and Cooper belatedly reached for his own as well. “Genevieve Crane? I’m Special Agent Park and this my partner, Agent Dayton. We’d like to ask you a couple of questions regarding James Finnigan.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought—of course, I’m happy to help any way I can. That poor man.” She swept her hair out of her face, and the light of the fish tank cast blue shadows on her skin. This close, he could see she was definitely on the forty-five end of the age range, or perhaps even older. Still beautiful, of course, but with harder edges, and thinner wrapping—wet lambskin draped over marble.

  “This is my assistant, J.T.,” she said, gesturing to Neil, who didn’t even pretend to acknowledge them. “I’m not sure how much help we can be, though. I just met Mr. Finnigan recently, here during filming.”

  “We’re speaking to everyone who might have spent time with him this last week. Standard procedure,” Park said. “We’d like to talk to your partner after this, too.”

  “You mean Arthur? Really, I think you might be disappointed. He spoke to James even less than I did.”

  “Nevertheless,” Cooper said, “sometimes an outside perspective is the most helpful.”

  Neil interrupted, “Excuse me, if you don’t need me, I should be getting back to work,” and walked abruptly away, brushing past Cooper.

  “Oh, please don’t mind him,” Genevieve said. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit short-tempered myself. We’re all under some stress at the moment. This horrible death, and just before the gala tonight. I’m sure you think we’re total ghouls, but it’s not really something you can cancel.”

  “Of course not,” Park said evenly. Maybe that was just to build rapport with her, but Cooper wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been to more than a few galas already himself and knew what he was talking about.

  Seemingly bolstered by Park’s agreement, Genevieve continued, “We’ve worked very hard on it, Arthur, Niko and I. Everyone on the project has, here at the zoo and at Wild Nature. We hav
e almost two hundred guests registered, a musical performance, catering—it’s really quite crucial this evening’s a success.

  “Two hundred?” Cooper repeated. At eight-fifty per ticket or more? “Sounds like you’ve succeeded already.”

  “Oh, ticket prices are a small percentage of it. Enough to cover our expenses, but a lot still depends on how tonight goes. There’s the live auction, raffle and any commitments we can raise in the moment. That’s where the real measure of success is taken.” Her eyes darted between the two of them. “Please, let me offer you a couple of tickets. It would mean a lot to me that you were there.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t accept,” Park said apologetically. “It would be a conflict of interest. But I’d be happy to purchase two tickets.”

  Cooper tried not to wince.

  “Oh, how lovely.” Genevieve beamed, her teeth very white. “Thank you for your contribution to our cause.” She cocked her head and seemed to examine Park. “You said your name is Park, didn’t you? Any connection to the Park Foundation?”

  “Ah,” Park said. “My family’s project. I can’t say I’ve been involved in years.”

  That did nothing to temper Genevieve’s delight. “I’m a huge admirer of the charity work they’ve done. Particularly their contributions to the global conservation efforts. It’s really a gold standard for us all.”

  “Habitat conservation is very near and dear to my family’s hearts,” Park said mildly. “How long have you and your husband been running Wild Nature?”

  Genevieve’s smile turned a bit sharp and stiff. “Wild Nature is my baby. I gave up my acting career and invested everything into getting her up off the ground. And even then I had to call in a lot of favors. It was tough in the beginning, but we’ve come an enormous way. Arthur only came on a few years ago.”

  “You met through conservation work?” Cooper asked.

  “Oh, no.” Genevieve laughed. “He’s the most appalling city boy. Arthur’s background is in financial management. Three years ago, he interviewed to be our treasurer. I suppose you could say it was a whirlwind office romance.” Her gaze turned distant. “It was very unexpected. We’re so very different. He’s absolutely terrible with animals—not that you need to interact with them much for the work we do. I only insist on being part of these videos because I love them so, but he refuses to come near them. Won’t even agree to me having a dog in the house.”

  “Seems like an odd career path for someone like that,” Cooper noted.

  “Oh, it wasn’t his career path at all. Like me, Arthur gave up his old life entirely after some soul-searching. He refers to it as his penance.” Genevieve laughed again, though Cooper wasn’t entirely sure why. He thought the whole thing sounded terribly grim.

  “Your husband’s been spending time around animals here with you on set recently, hasn’t he?” Park asked. “Why’s that?”

  Genevieve looked at him sharply, before seeming to remember the whole Park Foundation thing. Her expression softened. “As I said, I’m under a great deal of pressure at the moment. Arthur has been very supportive.”

  “We heard he wanted to leave. That he was trying to persuade you to come with him and you argued,” Cooper pushed.

  Genevieve frowned, shaking her head. “That’s simply untrue. It doesn’t even make sense. Why on earth would he want to leave right before the most important event of my career?”

  “How would you describe Arthur’s relationship with James Finnigan?” Park asked.

  “I told you, there wasn’t one. Arthur never interacted with that man and neither did I.”

  “But you did say your husband spoke to Mr. Finnigan even less than you did,” Cooper said in a confused voice. “What did you mean by that if neither of you ever interacted with the victim?”

  Genevieve pursed her lips. “I had a total of three conversations with James Finnigan. The first time he wanted to know about Wild Nature, the second time we talked about Toronto; I was living there when Arthur and I met, and Mr. Finnigan was thinking about moving soon. Said he was from up north originally and had a hankering for some familiar faces. The last time we spoke, the day before he died, all we did was talk about animals. We were shooting with the python. I was nervous, and James gave me some advice. That’s it. That’s all there was. But J.T., Arthur, none of you will believe me. Everyone demanding what did he say to you, what did he say to you? Like I’m not a grown adult woman who can speak to whomever I please without being chaperoned every goddamn sec—”

  She cut herself off and exhaled, sweeping her hand through her hair, again. “I was very sorry to hear what happened, but as you can see I didn’t know him.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Cooper was considering what she’d said about “J.T.” when Park asked, “What was the advice?”

  Genevieve looked confused. “What?”

  “What advice did he give you? About the python?”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Don’t run and you won’t be chased.”

  Cooper raised an eyebrow. “Is that typical snake advice?”

  “Well, perhaps phrased a bit oddly, but it’s what they always say, one way or another. No sudden movements. Don’t do anything that might make the animal think you’re prey. Which is precisely what I told Arthur he said.”

  “And did Mr. Crane think that was strange?” Cooper asked.

  “Did I think what was strange?” a voice said from down the dark hall, and Cooper jumped a little.

  “Oh, goodness, you scared me,” Genevieve said, holding a hand to her chest as a man emerged from the shadows, but she seemed extremely relieved to see him, and for good reason. He’d completely interrupted their questioning.

  The man was white with silvery gray hair pulled into a top knot, a trim beard and probably in his sixties or so—a good fifteen years older than Genevieve, but just as fit and nearly as good looking in his own way. He wore expensive, loose-fitting clothes, dark-tinted glasses that obscured his eyes and multiple leather bracelets with little charms. They tinkled as he sipped from a travel mug that smelled very strongly of a fruity tea. All in all, he looked precisely like the sort of person who had done some self-proclaimed soul-searching, and turned his back on a finance career for penance in conservation work.

  “Arthur Crane,” he introduced himself a bit unnecessarily, shaking their hands briskly. “J.T. said some people here wanted to speak with me?”

  Fucking Neil, Cooper thought. What, had he run directly to Arthur and sent him to interrupt their interview with Genevieve? For what purpose? “We’re investigating the murder of Mr. Finnigan and speaking to anyone who might have seen him in the time leading to his death.”

  “Murder?” Arthur said, taking another sip of tea. “Are they sure? I’d heard it might be an accident.”

  “This is a murder investigation,” Cooper said firmly.

  “How awful,” Arthur murmured. “Anything I can do to help, of course.”

  Cooper glanced at Park, who would normally step in at this point of an interview to balance it out, but Park said nothing. He was studying Arthur with a strange look on his face, quizzical and a little disturbed. As Cooper watched, he leaned toward Arthur, as if taking a closer look.

  “Um,” Cooper said hastily. “Could you tell us the last time you spoke with Mr. Finnigan?”

  “I didn’t,” Arthur said evenly. When Cooper frowned, he clarified, “That is to say, I never spoke to him. Which sounds terrible, I know. All this time, I’d seen him around. I wish I had, now. It’s terribly sad how caught up in our own little lives we get and don’t know the first thing about the person standing right beside us.” He put his hand around Genevieve’s waist.

  Park leaned in even closer, and though Arthur’s expression remained placid behind his tinted glasses, Genevieve’s turned a little annoyed. “Is there some kind of problem, Agent Park?” she asked.


  He looked at her, surprised, as if he’d completely forgotten her presence, and quickly took a step back. “I’m sorry,” Park said. “I’m afraid I’m having a hard time, ah, seeing in here.”

  She relaxed somewhat, happy to go along with whatever excuse the guy with the rich family chose to provide, no matter how thin. “Yes, they do keep it terribly dark. I’m always surprised they don’t have more accidents. Little heads running around and crashing into each other.”

  “Shouldn’t you be heading back to filming soon, babe?” Arthur asked. “I did think I saw Niko looking for you.”

  “Oh, shoot!” Genevieve kissed Arthur quickly on the cheek. “You’re right. She’ll be furious. Excuse me, I really must go. It was a real pleasure meeting you, Agent Park, and—” She looked at Cooper blankly, clearly having forgotten his name. “And please do come find me tonight and say hello,” she covered as smoothly as possible.

  They said their goodbyes, and Cooper listened to her footsteps recede down the hall. As soon as they heard the whoosh of the door leading back to the others, Park turned back to Arthur.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked immediately, shocking Cooper into silence.

  Arthur, on the other hand, looked as if he’d expected this. Like this, in fact, was the exact reason he had sent his wife away. “Nothing whatsoever, I assure you.”

  “I can barely scent you,” Park protested. “You don’t smell human, but you—you don’t—I almost can’t smell the wolf in you.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind keeping your voice down,” Arthur said perfectly pleasantly, glancing past Park in the direction Genevieve had gone. “I’d be happy to explain. But this is a topic I’d rather avoid having to explain to my wife.”

  “She doesn’t know you’re a werewolf?” Cooper asked incredulously. “How is that possible?