Mikovitz answered, too glibly: “Everyone. These animals are extremely rare.”
“How rare, exactly?”
“Kovo was a snow leopard,” said Rhodes. “Panthera uncia, from the mountainous regions of Central Asia. Their fur is thicker and paler than an African leopard’s, and there are fewer than five thousand left in the world. They’re like phantoms, solitary and hard to spot, and they’re getting more and more rare by the day. It’s illegal to import their skins. It’s even illegal to sell a pelt, new or old, across state lines. You can’t buy or sell them on the open market. That’s why we’re anxious to know. Did you find Kovo’s?”
Instead of answering his question, Jane asked another. “You mentioned something earlier, Dr. Rhodes. About an agreement.”
“What?”
“You said you delivered Kovo to the taxidermist as part of the agreement. What agreement are you talking about?”
Rhodes and Mikovitz both avoided her eyes.
“Gentlemen, this is a homicide case,” Jane said. “We’re going to find this out anyway, and you really don’t want to get on my bad side.”
“Tell them,” said Rhodes. “They need to know.”
“If this gets out, Alan, the publicity will kill us.”
“Tell them.”
“All right, all right.” Mikovitz gave Jane an unhappy look. “Last month, we got an offer we couldn’t refuse, from a prospective donor. He knew that Kovo was ill, and would most likely be euthanized. In exchange for the animal’s fresh, intact carcass, he would make a substantial donation to the Suffolk Zoo.”
“How substantial a donation?”
“Five million dollars.”
Jane stared at him. “Is a snow leopard really worth that much?”
“To this particular donor, it is. It’s a win–win proposition. Kovo was doomed anyway. We get a big influx of cash to stay afloat, and the donor gets a rare prize for his trophy room. His only stipulation was that it be kept quiet. And he specified Leon Gott as his taxidermist, because Gott is one of the best. And I believe they’re already acquainted.” Mikovitz sighed. “Anyway, that’s why I was reluctant to mention it. The arrangement is sensitive. It could put our institution in a bad light.”
“Because you’re selling rare animals to the highest bidder?”
“I was against this deal from the start,” Rhodes said to Mikovitz. “I told you it would come back to bite us in the ass. Now we’re going to get a shitload of publicity.”
“Look, if we can keep it quiet, we can salvage this. I just need to know that the pelt is safe. That it’s properly handled and cared for.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Dr. Mikovitz,” said Frost, “but we found no pelt.”
“What?”
“There was no leopard pelt in Gott’s residence.”
“You mean—it was stolen?”
“We don’t know. It’s just not there.”
Mikovitz slumped back in his chair, stunned. “Oh God. It’s all fallen apart. Now we’ll have to return his money.”
“Who is your donor?” asked Jane.
“This information can’t get out. The public can’t know about it.”
“Who is he?”
It was Rhodes who answered, with undisguised scorn in his voice. “Jerry O’Brien.”
Jane and Frost glanced at each other in surprise. “You mean the Jerry O’Brien? The guy on the radio?” asked Frost.
“Boston’s own Big Mouth O’Brien. How do you think our animal-loving patrons are going to feel when they hear we cut a deal with the shock jock? The guy who brags about his hunting trips to Africa? About the fun he has blasting elephants to smithereens? His whole persona is about glorifying blood sport.” Rhodes gave a snort of disgust. “If only those poor animals could shoot back.”
“Sometimes, Alan, we have to make a deal with the devil,” said Mikovitz.
“Well, the deal’s off now, since we have nothing to offer him.”
Mikovitz groaned. “This is a disaster.”
“Didn’t I predict that?”
“Easy for you to stay above it all! You have only your damn cats to worry about. I’m charged with the survival of this institution.”
“Yeah, that’s the advantage of working with cats. I know I can’t trust them. And they don’t try to convince me otherwise.” Rhodes glanced down at his ringing cell phone. Almost simultaneously the office door flew open and the secretary burst into the room.
“Dr. Rhodes! They need you there now.”
“What is it?”
“There’s been an accident at the leopard enclosure. One of the keepers—they need the rifle!”
“No. No.” Rhodes sprang from his chair and pushed past her, out of the office.
It took only an instant for Jane to decide. She jumped up and followed him. By the time she made it down the stairs and out of the building, Rhodes was already far ahead of her, racing past startled zoo visitors. Jane had to sprint to keep up. As she rounded a curve in the path, she came up against a dense wall of people standing outside the leopard enclosure.
“Oh my God,” someone gasped. “Is she dead?”
Jane shoved her way through the crowd until she reached the railing. At first all she saw through the cage bars was the camouflaging habitat of greenery and fake boulders. Then, almost hidden among the branches, something moved. It was a tail, twitching atop a rocky ledge.
Jane moved sideways, trying to get a better view of the animal. Only as she reached the very edge of the enclosure did she see the blood: a ribbon of it, bright and glistening, streaming down the boulder. Dangling from the rocky shelf above was a human arm. A woman’s arm. Crouched over its kill, the leopard stared straight at Jane, as if daring her to steal its prize.
Jane raised her weapon and paused, her finger on the trigger. Was the victim in her line of fire? She could not see past the lip of the ledge, could not tell if the woman was even alive.
“Don’t shoot!” she heard Dr. Rhodes yell from the rear of the cage. “I’m going to lure him into the night room!”
“There’s no time, Rhodes. We need to get her out of there!”
“I don’t want him killed.”
“What about her?”
Rhodes banged on the bars. “Rafiki, meat! Come on, come into the night cage!”
Fuck this, thought Jane, and once again she raised her weapon. The animal was in plain view, a straight shot to the head. There was a chance the bullet might hit the woman as well, but if they didn’t get her out of there soon, she was dead anyway. With both hands steady on the grip, Jane slowly squeezed the trigger. Before she could fire, the crack of a rifle startled her.
The leopard dropped and tumbled off the ledge, into the bushes.
Seconds later a blond man dressed in a zoo uniform darted across the cage, toward the boulders. “Debbie?” he called out. “Debbie!”
Jane glanced around for a way into the cage and spotted a side path labeled STAFF ONLY. She followed it around to the rear of the enclosure, where the door into the cage hung ajar.
She stepped inside and saw a congealed pool of red beside a bucket and fallen rake. Blood smeared the concrete pathway in an ominous trail of drag marks, punctuated by paw prints. The trail led toward the artificial boulders at the rear of the cage.
At the base of those boulders, Rhodes and the blond man crouched over the woman’s body, which they’d pulled down from the rock ledge.
“Breathe, Debbie,” the blond man pleaded. “Please, breathe.”
“I’m not getting a pulse,” said Rhodes.
“Where’s the ambulance?” The blond man looked around in panic. “We need an ambulance!”
“It’s coming. But Greg, I don’t think there’s anything …”
The blond man planted both palms on the woman’s chest and began pumping in quick, desperate bursts to restart the heart. “Help me, Alan. Do mouth-to-mouth. We need to do this together!”
“I think we’re too late,” said Rhodes. He
placed a hand on the blond man’s shoulder. “Greg.”
“Fuck off, Alan! I’ll do this myself!” He placed his mouth against the woman’s, forced air past pale lips, and began pumping again. Already, the woman’s eyes were clouding over.
Rhodes looked up at Jane and shook his head.
EIGHT
MAURA’S LAST VISIT TO THE SUFFOLK ZOO HAD BEEN ON A WARM summer weekend, when the walkways were crowded with children dripping ice cream and young parents pushing baby strollers. But on this chilly November day, Maura found the zoo eerily deserted. In the flamingo enclosure, the birds preened in peace. Peacocks strutted on the path, unmolested by pursuing cameras and toddlers. How nice it would be to stroll here alone and linger at each exhibit, but Death had called her here today, and she had no time to enjoy the visit. The zoo employee led her at a brisk pace past primate cages and toward the wild dog enclosures. Carnivore territory. Her escort was a young woman named Jen, uniformed in khaki, with a blond ponytail and a healthy tan. She would have looked right at home on a Nat Geo wildlife documentary.
“We shut down the zoo right after the incident,” said Jen. “It took us about an hour to get all the visitors out. I still can’t believe this happened. We’ve never had to deal with anything like it before.”
“How long have you worked here?” asked Maura.
“Almost four years. When I was a kid, I dreamed about working in a zoo. I tried getting into vet school, but I just didn’t have the grades. Still, I get to do what I love. You have to love this job, ’cause you sure don’t do it for the pay.”
“Did you know the victim?”
“Yeah, we’re a pretty tight group.” She shook her head. “I just can’t figure out how Debbie could have made this mistake. Dr. Rhodes always warned us about Rafiki. Never turn your back on him. Never trust a leopard, he told us. And here I thought he was exaggerating.”
“Doesn’t it worry you? Working so closely with large predators?”
“It didn’t worry me before. But this changes everything.” They rounded a curve, and Jen said: “That’s the enclosure where it happened.”
There was no need for her to point it out; the grim faces of those who stood gathered outside the cage told Maura she had arrived at her destination. Among the group was Jane, who broke away to greet Maura.
“This is one case you’re not likely to see again,” said Jane.
“Are you investigating this death?”
“No, I was just about to leave. From what I’ve gathered, it’s an accident.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“It looks like the victim was cleaning the exhibit area when the cat attacked. She must have forgotten to secure the night cage, and the animal got into the main enclosure. By the time I got here, it was long over.” Jane shook her head. “Reminds you exactly where we stand in the food chain.”
“What kind of cat did it?”
“An African leopard. There was one large male in the cage.”
“Has he been secured?”
“He’s dead. Dr. Oberlin—he’s that blond guy standing over there—he tried to hit him with the dart gun, but he missed both times. He had to shoot him.”
“So it’s safe to go in now.”
“Yeah, but it’s a frigging mess. There’s buckets of blood in there.” Jane looked down at her stained footwear and shook her head. “I liked these shoes. Oh well. I’ll call you later.”
“Who’s going to walk me through the scene?”
“Alan Rhodes can do it.”
“Who?”
“He’s their large-cat expert.” Jane called out to the group of men gathered near the exhibit: “Dr. Rhodes? Dr. Isles is here, from the ME’s office. She needs to see the body.”
The dark-haired man who came toward them still looked shell-shocked by the tragedy. The trousers of his zoo uniform were bloodstained, and his attempt at a smile couldn’t disguise the strain in his face. Automatically he reached out to greet her, then realized there was dried blood on his hand, and he dropped his arm back to his side. “I’m sorry you have to see this,” he said. “I know you’ve probably encountered some terrible things, but this is awful.”
“I’ve never dealt with a large-cat attack before,” said Maura.
“This is my first time as well. I never want to see another one.” He pulled out a key ring. “I’ll take you around back, to the staff area. That’s where the gate is.”
Maura waved goodbye to Jane and followed Rhodes down the shrubbery-lined pathway marked STAFF ONLY. The walkway cut between neighboring exhibits and led to the rear of the enclosure, which was hidden from public view.
Rhodes unlocked the gate. “This will take us through the squeeze cage. There are two inner gates on either end of this cage. One leads to the public exhibit area. The other gate leads to the night room.”
“Why is it called a squeeze cage?”
“It’s a collapsible section we can use to control the cat for veterinary purposes. When he walks through this section, we push on the cage wall and it traps him against the bars. Makes it easy to vaccinate him or inject other meds in his shoulder. Minimum stress for the animal and maximum safety for the staff.”
“Is this where the victim would have entered?”
“Her name was Debra Lopez.”
“I’m sorry. Is this how Ms. Lopez entered?”
“It’s one of the access points. There’s also a separate entrance for the night room, where the animal stays during off-exhibit hours.” They walked into the cage and Rhodes shut the door behind them, trapping them in the claustrophobically narrow passage. “As you can see, there are gates at both ends. Before you enter any cage, you confirm the animal is secured in the opposite section. That’s Zoo Safety One Oh One: Always know where the cat is. Especially Rafiki.”
“Was he particularly dangerous?”
“Every leopard is potentially dangerous, especially Panthera pardus. The African leopard. They’re smaller than lions or tigers, but they’re silent and unpredictable and powerful. A leopard can drag a carcass much heavier than he is straight up a tree. Rafiki was in his prime, and extremely aggressive. He was kept in solitary because he attacked the female leopard we tried to place with him in this exhibit. Debbie knew how dangerous he was. We all did.”
“So how could she make this kind of mistake? Was she new to the job?”
“Debbie worked here at least seven years, so it certainly wasn’t lack of experience. But even veteran zookeepers sometimes get careless. They fail to confirm the animal’s whereabouts, or they forget to latch a gate. Greg told me that when he got here, he found the gate to the night cage wide open.”
“Greg?”
“Dr. Greg Oberlin, our veterinarian.”
Maura focused on the night cage gate. “This latch didn’t malfunction?”
“I tested it. So did Detective Rizzoli. It’s in working order.”
“Dr. Rhodes, I’m having a lot of trouble understanding how an experienced zookeeper leaves a leopard’s cage door wide open.”
“It’s hard to believe, I know. But I can show you a spreadsheet of similar accidents involving big cats. It’s happened in zoos around the world. Since 1990, there’ve been more than seven hundred incidents in the US alone, with twenty-two people killed. Just last year, in Germany and the UK, experienced zookeepers were killed by tigers. In both cases, they simply forgot to lock the gates. People get distracted or careless. Or they start to believe the cats are friends who’d never hurt them. I keep telling our staff, never trust a big cat. Never turn your back. These are not pet kitties.”
Maura thought about the gray tabby she’d just adopted, the cat whose affections she was now trying to win with expensive sardines and bowls of half-and-half. He was just another wily predator who had claimed Maura as his personal servant. If he were a hundred pounds heavier, she had little doubt he’d see her not as a friend, but as a tasty source of meat. Could anyone truly trust a cat?
Rhodes unlocked the inne
r gate, which led to the public exhibit. “This is the way Debbie would have entered,” he said. “We found a lot of blood next to the bucket and broom, so she was probably attacked while doing morning cleanup.”
“What time would this have been?”
“Around eight or nine o’clock. The zoo opens at nine for visitors. Rafiki’s fed in the night room before he’s let into the exhibit.”
“Are there any security cameras back here?”
“Unfortunately not, so we have no footage of the incident, or what preceded it.”
“What about the victim’s—Debbie’s—state of mind? Was she depressed? Troubled about anything?”
“Detective Rizzoli asked that same question. Was this a suicide by cat?” Rhodes shook his head. “She was such a positive, optimistic woman. I can’t imagine her committing suicide, despite what was going on in her life.”
“Was something going on?”
He paused, his hand still on the gate. “Isn’t there always something going on in people’s lives? I know she’d just broken up with Greg.”
“That’s Dr. Oberlin, the veterinarian?”
He nodded. “Debbie and I talked about it on Sunday, when we brought Kovo’s body to the taxidermist. She didn’t seem too upset about it. More … relieved. I think Greg took it a lot harder. It didn’t make things easy for him, since they both work here and they see each other at least once a week.”
“Yet they got along?”
“As far as I could tell. Detective Rizzoli spoke to Greg, and he’s pretty devastated about this. And before you ask the obvious question, Greg said he was nowhere near this cage when it happened. He said he came running when he heard the screams.”
“Debbie’s?”
Rhodes looked pained. “I doubt she lived long enough to make a sound. No, it was some visitor screaming. She saw blood and started yelling for help.” He swung open the exhibit gate. “She’s lying in the back, near the boulders.”
Only three paces into the enclosure, Maura halted, disturbed by the evidence of carnage. This was what Jane had described as “buckets of blood,” and it was splashed across foliage, congealed in pools on the concrete pathway. Arterial splatters arced in multiple directions, sprayed out by the victim’s last, desperate heartbeats.
The Rizzoli & Isles Series 11-Book Bundle Page 318
