Something Fishy

by Lois Schmitt

  “She’s always done the unexpected,” I said.

  Barbara slid down into an armchair, crossing her legs at the ankles. Not a blond hair out of place and not a scuff on her Manolo Blaniks.

  “Tim,” my mother called out as she made a grand entrance into the room. She hugged my brother, then stepped back. “You’re so pale. You need to get out in the sun more. Don’t you spend time outdoors with your lizards?”

  Tim pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Most of my work with reptiles is done within the confines of the zoo not out in a desert.” My brother was curator of herpetology for the Rocky Cove Zoo.

  Once Tim left to help Matt with the drinks, my mother addressed my sister-in-law. “Oh, hello, Barbara. I forgot you were coming. You usually don’t attend family functions.”

  I was about to say something in an attempt to thaw out the frost field between my mother and Barbara when I heard the kitchen door slam shut followed by footsteps. Abby entered the living room and greeted everyone.

  “Where’s Jason?” I asked.

  “His law firm has him working late again. It’s a fraud case involving a wealthy client who handed over more than one hundred thousand dollars to a home improvement contractor for services he never performed. Jason is meeting tonight with a detective from the police department’s fraud and bunco unit.”

  “I think Jason is avoiding me.” my mother said. “Abby, is there some reason you don’t want me to meet him?”

  “This is going to be a fun-filled evening,” I grumbled under my breath before swallowing more wine.

  I was about to steer the conversation in another direction when the doorbell chimed and my mother jumped up. “That must be Paul. I’ll get it.”

  While she bee-lined toward the door, Abby whispered to me, “I spoke with Katie just before I left the house. There’s still no word on Sam. It’s like he fell off the earth.”

  “Any word on Jack Patterson’s autopsy?”

  “Nothing.”

  “This is Paul,” my mother announced as she came back into the room. Trailing her was a tall gentleman with a small mustache matching his silver mane of hair. He wore a navy blazer, gray slacks, and a pale blue turtle neck.

  “Ah, our hostess,” he said as introductions were made. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to dining with you this evening.” He handed me a bottle of champagne.

  “Mom says you’re in New York on business,” I said while Matt fixed Paul a vodka martini.

  “Yes. I’m investing in a chain of health spas.”

  “Isn’t that a risky business?” Barbara asked.

  “Not in this case. This spa is aimed at overweight teenagers in affluent areas. We’ve conducted studies, and parents will pay big for this. If it does well in New York, the project will be expanded to other states.”

  Paul and my mother were sitting on the sofa. As Paul put his arm around my mother, an idea flashed through my mind. I darted into the kitchen, grabbed my phone, and returned to the living room.

  “You two look so sweet together.” I snapped a photo.

  Paul frowned for a split second, then smiled. “I hope that doesn’t wind up on social media. People of our generation don’t like to share our private feelings with the public.”

  “I don’t mind.” My mother winked.

  “I’m not going to post this,” I replied. “This is just for the two of you. I thought I’d print it out, frame it, and give you both a copy.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Romance is intimate. It’s between two people, not the immediate world.”

  Especially if you’re married to someone else or hiding another secret. While I did feel that many folks gave too much information on the Internet, I tended to be suspicious of someone who appeared to hide their life from others.

  The doorbell chimed. This time it was the caterer. While Matt and Abby arranged the platters on our dining room table, I settled into an armchair across from my mother and Paul.

  “Have you lived in Florida for a long time?” I asked Paul.

  “A little more than a year.”

  “Paul has a magnificent condo on the ocean,” my mother said.

  “Where did you live before Florida?”

  “All over. I travel quite a bit because of my business investments. I’ve lived in more than a half dozen places.”

  “You have a slight New York accent.” I smiled.

  “Kristy!” my mother called out. “Don’t be rude.”

  “What? We all have accents.”

  “I was born in New York,” Paul said. “I lived there for many years as well as in California, Colorado, Illinois, Connecticut, and New Jersey. I resided in Europe for a while too.”

  My brother had been sitting back, sipping his scotch, and apparently listening to our conversation. He spoke up. “Kristy told me you met our mother at a gallery opening. Are you interested in art?”

  “Very much.”

  “At one time Paul worked as an art appraiser,” my mother volunteered. “He’s had such an interesting life.”

  “Dinner is served,” Matt announced.

  As we sat down for dinner, I noticed Abby, who was sitting on my right, studying her phone. In the next few seconds, her fingers, looking like a spider on Prozac, began flying across the small device. Abby knew that texting during family gatherings was one of my pet peeves. This had to be important.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

  “That was Katie. The autopsy on Jack Patterson. It’s done.”

  “Did he drown?”

  Abby shook her head. “No They found a small hole in the base of his skull. Someone drove a needle into his brain.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “That means Jack’s death was pre-meditated,” I said to my daughter in a low voice so the others couldn’t hear.

  Abby nodded. “Supposedly he was killed by a long thin object, like a knitting needle or an ice pick.”

  “Any idea of the time of death?”

  “Katie didn’t say, but since the body was in the water, I’m sure it’s hard to pinpoint an exact time.”

  “Do the police have any idea of—”

  “Kristy, Paul wants to tell you something,” my mother interrupted.

  “I just wanted to say that you set an elegant table,” Paul said.

  “Thank you.” Resigning myself to being a good hostess, I turned my attention back to my guests. But the autopsy had piqued my interest, and questions as to what happened flashed through my mind all through dinner.

  *****

  Before heading out to the aquarium the next morning, I drove by the new health and wellness center for companion animals. The facility, which had opened two month ago, was more than a half block in length. The other half was a parking lot which, despite the early hour, was almost filled to capacity. A sign posted on the building door read: Doggie Day Care Coming in Two Weeks.

  I drove away, frowning. Today’s consumers liked one stop shopping, and this place was meeting all their companion animal needs. Matt’s business was declining. I didn’t know if his fall festival for animal lovers would be enough to help him compete with this new facility.

  *****

  When I pulled into the aquarium parking lot, I spotted a Crown Victoria with official plates parked by the front gate. I entered the building, and as I neared my destination, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Oh, no,” I muttered. “It can’t be.”

  Peeking into an office, I spotted a man sitting wide-eyed behind a desk. He was about sixty, dark hair graying at the temples, and an olive complexion with his face just beginning to show age lines. His desk plate identified him as Oscar Mejas. Standing in front of the desk, waving a sausage sized finger, was the man whose voice I recognized. Receding hairline, pot belly, blond mustache, and a smirk that
made me want to slap his face—Detective Steve Wolfe.

  Steve was a bully who had gone to school with Tim, constantly picking on my younger brother. After graduation, Tim had no contact with him until this summer when Steve was assigned the murder of the Rocky Cove Zoo director, of which my brother had been the prime suspect. Much to the detective’s embarrassment, I proved Tim’s innocence by uncovering the real murderer.

  Steve spotted me. His face turned the color of a holiday ham, and the blue veins in his neck protruded until I thought they’d pop.

  “What are you doing here?” He glared at me.

  “I’ve an appointment to interview Oscar Mejas for Animal Advocate Magazine. Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to talk to a dolphin. Why the hell do you think I’m here? I’m investigating a homicide.”

  “Jack Patterson?”

  “What do you know about Jack Patterson?” He eyed me suspiciously.

  Since I didn’t want to say too much, I responded with, “I only knew that he worked here. Do you have any suspects?”

  “I’m asking the questions. You want information, get it from the police department press office, not me.” Facing Oscar, he said, “I’m finished with you for now. But be sure to get me that list of employees. ASAP.”

  Wolfe brushed passed me, then stopped in the doorway, and spun around. “I hope you’re not planning to interfere with another police investigation.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of interfering. But I’m a reporter. It’s my nature to ask questions.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a fool.”

  “What exactly is the wrong way to take that?”

  “You lucked out with the case of the Rocky Cove Zoo director. But murder is dangerous business. Being nosy can cause trouble. Stick to writing about monkeys, seals, and flounders. Leave this investigation to the professionals.”

  Chapter Tweleve

  As Detective Wolfe stormed out the door, I turned around and found myself facing a smiling Oscar Mejas.

  “That bully needed to be put in his place,” He gestured toward a straight back chair in front of his desk.

  “Before we start, I want to offer my condolences on the death of your fish keeper, Jack Patterson,” I said.

  “Thank you. A tremendous loss.” He shook his head. “I was planning on retiring at the end of the month, and Jack was in line to take my job as head fish keeper.”

  “Who will get it now?” I wondered if this was a motive for murder.

  “I don’t know. Our other two fish keepers are too new and inexperienced. Commander West is doing an outside search, but that will take time. He asked me to postpone my retirement until he finds a replacement.”

  “Will you?”

  “As long as it doesn’t take too long. Now, how can I help you?”

  “My article is called “Dangers of the Deep.” While I will be writing about all types of ocean predators, I’d like to begin with sharks.”

  He nodded. “Sharks attack about one hundred humans a year. Ten to fifteen of these attacks are fatal. Still, many stories about shark attacks are more fiction than facts. Most species are shy and swim away from any encounter with humans. Sharks are an important part of our ecosystem.” Oscar Mejas rose from his chair. “Let’s take a walk.”

  We left his office and made our way down the corridor, stopping at the shark tank. “That’s a baby nurse shark,” Oscar pointed out. “Born two months ago.”

  With a full set of teeth.

  “A shark’s skin is studded with bone knobs called denticles,” he went on to say. “A mere touch can make your skin bleed. Sharks often bump objects in the water, and we believe this is deliberate. If the object bleeds, it’s a potential meal.”

  After answering all my questions on sharks, Oscar said, “The ocean is the most dangerous place on earth. It’s not only sharp teeth. Groupers, who can weigh up to nine hundred pounds, have grinding plates in their throats and jaws big enough to encompass a human’s leg or head. They’ve been known to stalk divers. Then there’s the swordfish who uses its razor-like bill to slash. Now let me show you one of the most lethal creatures in the waters.”

  We wandered down the corridor and stopped at a tank which housed a myriad of colorful fish and coral.

  “What do you see at the bottom?”

  I glanced down in the tank. “Nothing but rocks.”

  “See that over by the right,” Oscar asked me.

  I spotted what appeared to be a large bump in the far corner. “A brown and gray rock.”

  “It’s not a rock. That’s a stone fish,” he said. “Its back is filled with venomous spines. Divers who had the misfortune to step on one of these, mistaking it for a rock, suffer muscle weakness followed by paralysis. If not treated, death follows.”

  We continued walking. “Here’s the blue-ringed octopus. Cute little guy, isn’t he?” He pointed to the tank on the far left. “Like the stone fish, he’s highly toxic. His bite isn’t especially painful, but that changes quickly. Your tongue starts tingling and pretty soon you experience paralysis. Within ten minutes, you’re dead.”

  We continued for nearly thirty minutes. At the end of the tour, Oscar’s parting words were, “We have more than a dozen species here at this aquarium that could kill you instantly.”

  *****

  The wind gusts off the bay had picked up. Using my hands to shield my eyes from the blowing sand, I made my way to the sea lion amphitheater.

  The next show was in two hours, so the arena was empty except for Katie who was on stage with one of her sea lions.

  “Come on up,” she called. “I’m finishing a training session with Bea.”

  “Hi, Bea,” I called back. The sea lion responded with three loud honks.

  “I went to the police station this morning and filed a missing person’s report. They finally accepted it.” Katie turned her head away, but not before I saw her eyes well up with tears. “I told the officer about Sam’s voice mail from Lucien Moray, but he didn’t seem interested. I don’t think the police will do anything.”

  “I’ll ask Abby to talk to Jason. He has contacts in the county police department—in fact he’s working on a fraud case with them now. He should be able to make a phone call that will push matters along.”

  “Thanks.” She rubbed the top of Bea’s head like you would with a dog. “But between the officer who took the missing person’s report and that nasty detective I just spoke with, I don’t have a lot of confidence.”

  “You spoke to a nasty detective about Sam?”

  “Not about Sam. A detective questioned me about Jack Patterson’s death. Right here. About thirty minutes ago.”

  “Detective Steve Wolfe?”

  Katie nodded. “I don’t think they have any leads in Jack’s murder either. I can’t imagine any motive. Sure, Jack could fly off the handle, but he never held a grudge. He was the first one to help out if you had a problem. Everyone liked him.”

  “Did he have a girlfriend?” I asked.

  Katie shook her head. “No, girlfriend.”

  “Was Jack close to anyone? What about friends?”

  She paused. “He was close to his older sister Jillian. She runs a horse farm about two miles from here. It’s been in the Patterson family for three generations. Jack lived there with Jillian, and he helped her with the horses too.”

  “You told me the last time you saw Jack was at dinner with Sam. Did Jack act differently? Was anything bothering him?”

  Katie scratched her head, frowning. “Jack was unusually quiet that night. Pensive. And he did ask Sam a strange question.”

  The hairs on the back up my neck stood up. “What did he ask?”

  “It was weird. I guess he questioned Sam because Sam works for Moray who has lots of government and political contacts.”

&nbs
p; I repeated, “Katie, what did he ask?”

  “He asked if Sam knew if the beach was being used for military surveillance.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Since my best ideas always come when I’m eating, I decided to stop for an early lunch. Upon leaving the aquarium, the first place I came upon was a white-shingled restaurant on the beach called the Seaside Cafe.

  The hostess led me to a screened-in patio with views of the bay. With the autumn breeze coming off the water, I was glad I was wearing a wool blazer. I was seated at a table directly behind two women who were deep in conversation while devouring what looked like Cobb salads. Both women appeared to be in their mid-thirties. One was blond and preppy, the other dark and exotic looking.

  “Jillian must be devastated,” the blond said. “She and Jack were so close. I wonder if she’ll postpone the next horse show.”

  The Patterson Horse Farm. While scanning my menu, I eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “I don’t see how she can cancel. It’s too big of an event,” the dark haired woman replied. “From what I heard, she needs the revenue. Taxes are up, prices for grain have skyrocketed, and she’s trying to hold the line on boarder fees and riding lessons.”

  “Jillian can’t afford a funeral for Jack,” the blond added. “She’s only having a private cremation.”

  “I also heard she hasn’t been able to find anyone to lease Magic or Topper. Magic is great for kids, but Topper needs a more experienced rider which may be difficult to find. How will she be able to keep those horses without leasing them?”

  Horse leasing was popular on Long Island with people who didn’t want the expense or long-term commitment of horse ownership. For a set fee, you could lease a horse from its owner on a monthly or yearly basis. Matt and I had leased a horse for Abby when she was fourteen and continued until she left for college. She had recently mentioned that she hoped to get back into riding.

  Suddenly, a germ of an idea began growing in my mind.

  I ordered and quickly devoured a Caesar salad with shrimp. Back in my car, I phoned Abby at the veterinary hospital.