by Lois Schmitt
“Yes. Something is wrong.”
“What?”
“The turtles are dead.”
Chapter Forty-five
Madge was standing by the parking lot, waiting for me.
“Oh, Mrs. Farrell,” she said. “It’s awful. They think the turtles ate something bad.”
Poison. “Let me see what I can find out. I’ll—” I stopped talking and scowled at Madge.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Where did you get that necklace?”
“I didn’t steal it. Honestly, I found it.”
“Where?”
Madge didn’t answer. She looked down at her shoes.
“You’re not in trouble,” I said. “This is important.”
“I found it on the ground near where the fire took place. I know no one is allowed there, but I just wanted a peek. I started looking around after work the other day, and I dropped my gum wrapper. I didn’t want to litter, so I picked it up. That’s when I saw the necklace. Are you sure I’m not in trouble?”
“Positive. But the necklace belongs to someone else. Why don’t you give it to me, and I’ll return it to its real owner.”
Madge unclasped the necklace and placed it in my hand. “Tell the person I’m sorry, but it’s so pretty, and I didn’t know who owned it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later,” I said. “Meanwhile, let me see what I can find out about the turtle poisoning.”
“Okay. I better get back to my sea lions.”
The turtle exhibit was inside the aquarium, near the front entrance. The area had been roped off. Two security guards were keeping the public away.
“I heard what happened,” I called to Bradford Monroe who was inside the petitioned off area along with two uniformed aquarium workers. “Can I come in and talk to you?”
He nodded. I ducked under the rope.
“Three of our turtles are dead,” he said. “Why couldn’t this have happened one day later? The Mulgraves were coming in late this afternoon with their check for the sponsorship of this exhibit. Now they may back down.”
“Three dead? Last time I was here, I saw five turtles. What happened to the others?”
“They appear to be okay. We removed them temporarily, and our veterinarian will keep a careful eye on them for a few days.”
“What caused the deaths?”
“It looks like poison. To find out definitely, we’re going to perform a necropsy.”
I knew from my brother, curator of reptiles at the Rocky Cove Zoo, that a necropsy is the animal equivalent of an autopsy.
“How could these turtles have been poisoned?” I asked.
Bradford shrugged. “Don’t know. But at least now we have security tapes. We only installed the system the other day. Maybe we can see what happened.”
“Have you looked at the tapes yet?”
“No. Commander West wants to see them too, but he had to make some calls first. We’re planning on looking at the tapes in about ten minutes.”
“Can I watch with you?”
I could see his mouth about to form the word “no” but he paused, then said, “That’s up to Commander West. You need to ask him.”
“You’ve called the police, right?” I asked.
He sighed. “Yes. Turtles aren’t their top priority, but since we had a murder at the aquarium, plus arson, the police are taking this fairly seriously. They’re sending a detective out later today.”
Bradford looked up. “Commander West is here now.”
*****
Commander West did not look happy. No one likes to be in charge of a crumbling empire.
I asked if I could view the tapes.
“That’s highly irregular.” He frowned.
“But I may be able to help. I’ve talked to tons of people about the land acquisition. Maybe I’ll recognize someone.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Follow me.”
Since the administration wing was still uninhabited because of the fire, he led us to a small room behind the sting ray exhibit. The room appeared to be about ten by ten. A security guard stood behind a table.
“The turtles were alive when the aquarium opened today,” the guard said as he turned on a monitor. “The poisoning happened sometime this morning. Since large crowds don’t normally arrive until after eleven, this is a break for us. It means we should be able to get a decent look at everyone in the area, and see if there is any suspicious behavior.”
We reviewed the tapes. Most visitors to the exhibit today, which was a school day, were families with preschoolers. But twenty minutes into the tape, a lone figure appeared on the screen. The figure appeared nervous, constantly looking right, left, and behind. When the only other people viewing the turtles, a woman with two young children, moved on, the figure quickly threw something over the three-foot Plexiglas fence surrounding the exhibit.
“That’s it,” Commander West yelled, pounding his fist on the table. “Can we get another look at her face?”
The security guard rewound the tape, freezing it at a spot where a side view of the figure’s face appeared.
“I have no idea who this is?” Commander West said, shaking his head.
I did.
Before I could speak up, my phone binged. I glanced down and saw that Abby had texted me the name of the owner of the ash gray convertible.
“Excuse me, Commander,” I said. “But I may have the answer as to who poisoned the turtles and started the fire. I believe it’s the same person. I’ll get back to you.” The Commander stood with his mouth open as I scooted away.
*****
“Mr. Moray is not here today. Even if he was, I told you that you can’t see him without an appointment,” said Mama Grizzly as I stood in front of her desk. She eyed me as if I were a cockroach she wanted to squash.
“I’m here to see you,” I said.
“I have nothing to say to reporters. Contact our corporate press office if you need more information about the land acquisition and condominium development.”
“It’s not about the land acquisition. It’s about the crimes committed at the aquarium. I know you’re responsible for the turtle poisoning and arson.”
“How dare you.” She rose from her seat. “Get out, or I’ll call security.”
“You do that. Why don’t you call the police too? I have proof. A few days ago, the aquarium installed security cameras at their exhibits. I viewed the tape of the turtle exhibit and saw what you did.”
Mama Grizzly’s face turned ghostly white. She obviously didn’t know about the cameras. She twisted her hands together.
“You’re also responsible for starting the fire?” I said.
“You can’t prove that.”
Abby’s client, who worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles, had gotten back to her. The text I had received from my daughter listed the owner of the gray convertible in Moray’s lot as Helen Eubanks—Mama Grizzly’s real name. I knew it wasn’t enough, but I had more evidence.
“Recognize this?” I pulled out the necklace from Madge. It was a cameo on a gold chain. “This was found on the ground in the area near where the fire occurred. I saw you wearing it the first time I met you. I remember because my grandmother had a necklace just like this.”
Mama Grizzly quickly gained her composure. “Then maybe it’s your grandmother’s. You can’t prove it’s mine.”
I decided to lie and see if she would call my bluff. “The police found your fingerprints on the accelerant in Sam’s garage.”
Mama Grizzly sank into her chair, defeat evident on her normally haughty-looking face.
“I did it for him. The turtles. The fire. For Lucien,” she said with a sigh. “No one was hurt.”
“Tell that to the turtles,” I m
umbled under my breath.
I don’t think she heard me, or didn’t care, because she continued. “It looked as if the aquarium might actually raise the money to buy the twenty acres.” She shook her head. “Bradford Monroe was on a roll with his sponsorships and had to be stopped.”
She paused. “My sister, who lives upstate, goes camping and used this particular accelerant for her camp fires. I decided a fire would be a good way to stop the aquarium’s momentum, so I took a can. I just wasn’t sure when I’d commit the act. When I dropped off Sam’s bonus check, his garage door was partially open. He told me he fed a stray cat. Can you believe that?”
I ignored her remark. “I take it this was when you decided to frame Sam?”
She nodded. “I set the fire that night, then returned to his place and stashed the open can in his garage. When I spotted the boots, I sprinkled them with accelerant.” She shook her head. “I thought I wiped off my fingerprints off the container.”
I wasn’t about to tell her I made up the part about the fingerprints. Meanwhile, one thing didn’t make sense. “Damage caused by the fire could hurt the aquarium financially. But why the turtles?” I asked.
“I heard about the Mulgraves, and I hoped this would head-off their sponsorship.” She hesitated. “Mr. Moray needs this project. He had some financial setbacks, and the condos would be a real money maker. I know how worried he’s been. He’s developed an ulcer, and he’s preoccupied all the time.”
I sucked in my breath. “Did he ask you to commit these crimes?”
She shook her head. “He has no idea what I did. As gruff and hard nosed as he is, he wouldn’t break the law. He said there are too many government agencies looking at a man of his stature, and he didn’t want to spend his final years in jail. But I knew nobody would be looking at me. I figured I would tell him what I did after everything was settled, and he’d be so pleased. Maybe he’d realize how much he needed me.”
Mama Grizzly was in love with Lucien Moray.
Helen Eubanks, AKA Mama Grizzly, had committed the arson and turtle poisoning, but there was more.
“If Katie hadn’t been murdered, there was no way Moray could acquire the land,” I said. “You had motive to kill her.”
Mama Grizzly’s eyes dilated to the size of marbles. “Oh, no. I didn’t do that. I’d never murder someone.
I don’t know why, but I believed her.
Chapter Forty-six
I phoned Ben Barone, the arson squad supervisor, and told him about the evidence and Mama Grizzly’s confession. It turned out it was Mama Grizzly who had made the call to the police. She claimed to have seen Sam drive into the aquarium parking lot a few minutes before the fire. Of course, that was a lie. By the day’s end, Mama Grizzly had been arrested for arson. She was also charged with the turtle poisoning. All charges against Sam Wong were dropped.
As for the murder of Katie Chandler and Jack Patterson, there was no direct evidence linking Mama Grizzly to the crimes, but Ben stated he would contact homicide detective Steve Wolfe. Ben didn’t believe she committed those murders. But based on her actions against the aquarium, he felt Wolfe needed to initiate a thorough investigation.
As far as I knew, Detective Wolfe never investigated anything thoroughly. Wolfe had a reputation for laziness and sloppy work, always looking for the easiest solution, which in this case would be arresting Mama Grizzly. But if Mama Grizzly didn’t kill Katie or Jack, someone else did, and that person would get away with the murders.
When I arrived at my office, Clara was away from her desk. I made my way to my cubicle, pulled my phone from my bag, and turned to the photos I’d taken of Katie’s diary.
The last time Katie had written in the book was three days after the body of Jack Patterson had been discovered.
She wrote, My first reaction to the discovery of Jack’s dead body was relief that it wasn’t my Sam. Although I am still worried sick about Sam’s disappearance, I find myself thinking more and more about Jack. I know he wanted us to be more than friends. If it wasn’t for Sam, that might have happened. Now, I’m wondering if deep down, I really loved Jack. Is it possible to have two great loves? Was my relationship with Sam more about passion? Was Jack my soul mate? The pain of his loss in my life has become unbearable.
I sat back and tried to digest this new information. The major motives for murder were greed, jealously, blackmail, and revenge. I had been focused on greed and the land acquisition fight. Was that the wrong track? Perhaps the reason Jack and Katie were killed was jealously.
Long before he got hold of the diary, Sam may have suspected Jack and Katie of having feelings for each other. Was Sam afraid of losing Katie to her childhood friend? Did he feel betrayed?
Did he murder Jack? And Katie?
Next, I came across an earlier section where Katie had expressed doubts about her relationship with Sam Wong. She wrote: I met him at a party about one month before Lucien Moray made public his interest in buying the twenty acres of land for condominiums. At first, Sam and I never discussed business. Then he started talking about how wonderful the condos would be fore the growth of Clam Cove.
Sam also tried to convince me that the Clam Cove Lighthouse Preservation Fund needed money more than the other organizations specified in my grandmother’s will. At one point, I wondered if my chance meeting with Sam at the party and our subsequent relationship had been a set-up. Did Sam really love me? Or was he using me to get information and steer me away from donating six million dollars to the aquarium?
This must have been the rough patch Abby had talked about. But according to my daughter, Katie and Sam had settled their differences and were very much in love. From what I had seen, that seemed true. Katie didn’t appear to realize her feelings toward Jack until he was dead. Still, I wondered.
I sat back and stretched while dozens of scenarios squirreled through my head. To get to the bottom of this, I needed a caffeine fix. I made my way to the coffee machine located on a table near the entrance to the editor’s office.
Clara was back at her desk, pecking at her keyboard. I said hello, but she barely acknowledged me as she continued focusing on her computer.
“Is Olivia in?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Will she be in later?”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay, Clara. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing.” Clara didn’t look up.
“Not true. Tell me what’s wrong.” I poured coffee into a mug.
“I’m busy. That’s all. Why do you think something is wrong?”
“You haven’t bombarded me with questions, and you haven’t filled me in on the latest gossip. This is unlike you. Your office nickname is Chatty Clara. Stop staring at your computer and start talking.”
She spun her chair to face me. “I need to type our financial data into a report for Olivia. She has another meeting at corporate headquarters tomorrow.” Clara sighed. “The more I type, the more depressed I become.”
“I’m guessing our financial situation is bleak?”
She nodded. “Our big problem is that our advertising revenue has plummeted.”
“Any idea why?”
“For the last year, John hasn’t been aggressive in seeking business. Thank God, he’s retiring.”
John Williams was our advertising manager. When he first started here he was a dynamo salesman, but he lost his wife two years ago, and ever since, his work went downhill. I had heard he was moving to Delaware to be closer to family, and I hoped he would find happiness.
I was about to question Clara when my phone binged. Clara went back to her keyboard while I read the text. It was from Olivia and it read: “The Baumgarten Museum is featuring a special exhibit this weekend on the history of sharks. Visit it before completing your article ‘Dangers of the Deep.’ Might add an interesting twist to your story.”
/> Although my article was almost complete, I knew when Olivia made a suggestion, she expected it to be followed like an order.
My thoughts were interrupted by Clara, who said, “Olivia has hired a new advertising manager. I hear he’s a real go-getter.”
“That’s great.”
Clara shrugged. “Revenue will play a key role in whether we merge with Green World. That will be decided in December, which is only two months away. Olivia is asking for more time to turn our finances around before corporate management comes down with its final edict. I don’t know if the big brass will grant her the extension. My gut tells me our new advertising manager is coming too late.”
*****
“So, where’s grandma tonight?” Abby asked. She and Jason were eating dinner at my house. We were sitting around the kitchen table. Archie and Brandy were playing in the backyard. When I last saw Gus, he was curled up on my bed.
“She’s with Paul and Marcia,” I said.
“That’s become quite a threesome.” Matt pulled the white cartons out of the Chinese take-out bag and placed them on the table. I was not known for home cooked meals.
Abby frowned. “For an engaged couple, they almost never spend time alone.”
“Marcia Silver is your grandmother’s best friend,” I said. “They only see each other when grandma visits, so I understand why they want to spend time together. Grandma and Paul will have lots of time alone when they return to Florida.” The thought of the two together unnerved me. I changed the subject. “Have some garlic shrimp, Abby.” I passed the carton to my daughter.
After dinner, I suggested we have our coffee in the den.
“This is a perfect night to use the fireplace. Abby, why don’t you and your father bring in some logs and start the fire. Jason, you can help me with the dessert.”
Jason looked surprised to be assigned cake duty, but he followed me into the kitchen.
“Did you get the information yet?” I asked as I sliced a cheesecake and placed each piece on a plate.
“Not yet.”
