by Betty Webb
With that, we stuffed Lillian back into her carrier and Jeff took her away.
I turned to Ariel. “And now I have a surprise for you. A little bird told me it’s your birthday. Am I right?”
Bemused, she nodded.
At my signal, Bernice stepped back on set carrying a birthday cake. A sulphur-crested cockatoo was perched on her shoulder, humming softly.
“Ariel, meet Chico. He’s almost eighty years old, but he can sing like a chick half his age. Chico, strut your stuff!” I cued him with a snap of my fingers.
When he launched into the “Happy Birthday Song” in Spanish I could swear I saw tears in the ex-Marine’s eyes.
***
For once the segment of Anteaters to Zebras had gone off without a hitch. No one escaped, no one got bit. Giddy with success, Bernice and I sang chorus after chorus of “The Bear Went over the Mountain” as we drove our charges to the zoo. Once we delivered them back to the clinic we went our separate ways, Bernice to Monkey Mania where she was currently volunteering, me to Quarantine.
On my way to the barn, I looked at my watch. Almost noon. Even Bambi would surely be out of bed by now. I took my cell out of my pocket and began to punch in her number, then changed my mind. She bore no love toward me and would surely tell me to get lost. Dropping in, like I’d done yesterday, might work better. It was important to find out how well she knew Wynona Dade and if Bambi ever let slip her father’s real identity.
My visit with Alejandro took mere minutes. Deborah Holt was already there, accompanied by zoo director Zorah Vega. They were making a big fuss over him and it was a relief to see him looking happy again. He seemed to perk up even more when I renewed my promise that one day he’d have his own fifteen minutes of fame on “Anteaters to Zebras.”
“That animal’s got star written all over him,” Deborah said.
“Don’t rush it,” Zorah cautioned. “Because of the mess with Dalrymple, I want this llama to keep a low profile for a while.”
After agreeing that caution was the best policy, I gave Alejandro a few scratches behind his ears, then left.
***
When I arrived in San Sebastian, I parked my truck down the street from Bambi’s house in order not to give her advance warning of another unwelcome visit. As I approached, I noticed how little the outside of her house matched the gaudiness within. A neat hedgerow separated the yard from its neighbors. Lining the cobbled path up to the house were lovely plantings of blue hyacinth and pale pink tulips. White and lavender gladioli softened the rectangular sweep of the long porch, which was in turn livened by multiple hanging baskets of ferns.
In the light of such tasteful elegance, I doubted Bambi did her own gardening.
Smiling, I raised my hand to knock, then noticed that the door stood slightly ajar.
“Bambi!” I called.
No answer.
San Sebastian isn’t a particularly dangerous town, but like every other small city, it experienced its share of burglaries and break-ins. A woman like Bambi, living in an upscale neighborhood like this, would surely know to keep her doors locked. I looked up and down the street to see if she had simply stepped out to visit with a neighbor but saw no one.
I called out again. Still no answer.
Worried, I pushed the door open. “Bambi? It’s Teddy. Are you all right?”
I stepped into the hall. Nothing. There was no sign of her in the gilt-and-purple living room, either. Nor the kitchen.
But when I walked into the master bedroom and saw what I saw, I knew Bambi would never be all right again.
Chapter Fifteen
“Tell me again what you were doing in Bambi O’Dair’s house.”
For what had to be the tenth time I told Acting Sheriff Elvin Dade that I had merely dropped by for a visit, but upon finding her front door open, walked inside and found her body.
He narrowed his mean little eyes. “I happen to know you two weren’t friends, so why would you ‘drop by for a visit.’”
Of all the times Elvin had to pick to ask an intelligent question, it had to be while I was standing in front of a murder scene as cop car after cop car sirened toward us. Eight were already parked at the curb, and two more blocked off both ends of the street. The only good thing about the situation was that one of the deputies on the scene was Emilio Gutierrez.
Bambi’s neighbors were out in full force, too. A herd of Looky Loos stood on the sidewalk, whispering and pointing.
At me.
“Okay, Elvin, so I dropped by. What of it? Bambi and I talked from time to time.” No lie there.
“That’s ‘Acting Sheriff Dade’ to you. What were you talking about last night?”
“Who says I was here last night?”
He jerked a beefy thumb toward an elderly woman talking earnestly to a plainclothes detective. “Mrs. Scarborough said you came by just as Dancing with the Stars was coming on and that you left before it was over. She also said she heard a big ruckus like furniture being thrown around and Miss O’Dair screaming her head off.”
“Then why didn’t she call the police?”
“I’m asking the questions here!”
“So you are.” I gave Mrs. Scarborough a dirty look. She dirty-looked back. “Please, El…uh, Acting Sheriff Dade, can I go home now? I’ve told you everything I know, multiple times. The minute I realized Bambi was dead I backed out of the house and called you guys.”
“How could you tell she was dead?”
“The nylon stocking tied around her neck. Her bulging eyes and tongue. The fact that she was cold when I checked her carotid for a pulse.” Somehow I was able to keep my voice from cracking.
“What do you know about carotids?”
“Zookeepers sometimes have to check to see if an animal’s dead or alive. Fortunately, that doesn’t happen often.”
Because of the nature of his questions, concern over my own legal situation eclipsed my horror over finding Bambi murdered. Wasn’t having one member of my family in jail satisfaction enough for him?
“You know, Acting Sheriff Dade, on second thought, I’d better call an attorney.”
When I reached for my pocket he grabbed my wrist. “Deputy Gutierrez!” he bawled. “Frisk her!”
Emilio followed orders but I could tell he wasn’t happy about it. Me neither. I was naïve enough to believe that when my only weapon turned out to be a cellphone that would be the end of it, but I was wrong.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a patrol car, my hands handcuffed behind me.
***
The interview room at the station smelled like dirty sneakers, and having a sweaty Elvin Dade sitting across the table from me didn’t help.
“Why’d you do it, Teddy?”
I am not my father’s daughter for nothing. “I want a lawyer,” I repeated for around the one hundredth time since those cold handcuffs clamped around my wrists.
Elvin waved my request away. “Hey, now, Teddy. We’ve known each other all our lives, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you Bentleys is that you people never do anything without a reason. What did Miss O’Dair do to provoke the attack? C’mon, tell old Elvin. He’ll understand.”
There’s not much worse than having a total fool condescend toward you, so I repeated those magic words, “I want a lawyer.”
“Did she attack you first? And you simply defended yourself? That bedroom was wrecked. Chair turned over, nightstand drawer pulled out and papers all over the floor…”
“I want a lawyer.”
“And I want a million dollars. From the state of Miss O’Dair’s body, she died sometime last night. Did you strangle her before you left, when Mrs. Scarborough heard all that noise, or did you come back later and do it?”
“I want a lawyer.” Having never bee
n in trouble or purchased a large piece of property, I didn’t really have an attorney, but I knew who to call. Albert Grissom, my mother’s defense attorney. He might give us group rates.
Elvin narrowed his eyes in an attempt to scare intimidate me. “Hey! Stop being so stubborn and tell the truth for once!”
“I want a lawyer.”
“No, you can’t have…”
The door behind him opened and to my surprise, Grissom strutted through the door carrying a briefcase thick enough to smuggle bootleg copies of the Encyclopedia Britannica. When he plopped it down on the table, the table groaned.
He pinned Elvin with a stern look. “My name is Albert Grissom, sir, and my client isn’t saying anything. Unless you have enough evidence to charge her, you must release her.”
After recovering himself, Elvin snarled, “You’re not the one in charge here. I am!”
“Oh, really? Something tells me you’re going to learn different when Sheriff Rejas gets back. As I said earlier, but apparently must say again, if you don’t have enough evidence to charge my client, you have to let her go.”
“I can keep her in custody as long as I want!”
Grissom give him a thin smile. “The U.S. Constitution and the laws of the Great State of California say you can’t.”
The defense attorney waited for an answer. When none came, he said, “Fine. My client and I are leaving right now. Come on Teddy, we’re out of here.”
Not waiting for me to say anything, he grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out of the chair. Only then did he notice that I was still cuffed.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Elvin, take these off her!”
Grumbling, Elvin did, whereupon my attorney and I hit the road.
On the way out to the parking lot, Grissom said, “That’s the first time an officer of the law ever called me to come down and represent a client.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked. “Elvin Dade did that?”
“Don’t make me laugh. It was your old buddy Emilio Gutierrez. Good man, there. He also said to give you a message. ‘No fingerprints on Mr. Rat or anything else.’ Do you know what that means?” When I nodded, he continued. “I do have a bit of bad news for you, Teddy. It seems your truck has been impounded and you probably won’t get it back for several days, if then. The techies are crawling all over it hoping to find hair, blood, DNA, or whatever. But don’t worry, I’ll drop you off at San Sebastian Motor Rentals.”
“I shouldn’t have to rent a car because Bambi was strangled. And I didn’t see any blood.”
“There’s always something, Teddy. Death’s messy.”
I wished he hadn’t said that because I couldn’t get Bambi’s contorted face out of my mind, let alone the smell of the body fluids that had leaked out of her during the night. “Uh, wait a minute.”
Stepping away from him, I leaned over the curb and vomited into the gutter. It took a while, but when I was through, Grissom handed me a handkerchief and a breath mint.
“Good defense attorneys are never without them,” he said.
***
Local Socialite Murdered! screamed the evening edition of The San Sebastian Gazette.
Still shaken from the morning’s events, I was sitting at the Merilee’s galley table reading the paper in disbelief. After giving a summation of the ersatz socialite Bambi O’Dair’s life, minus her connection to Victor Emerson, the reporter called me “a person of interest.” To close his article, he wrote, “At present, Miss Bentley’s mother, the much-married Caroline Piper Bentley Hufgraff O’Brien Petersen, is incarcerated in the San Sebastian County Jail on charges stemming from her arrest on Sunday for the murder of Victor Emerson, a.k.a. Glenn Jamison. Miss Bentley’s father, Daniel St. James Bentley IV, scion of one of the oldest families in California, is accused of embezzling millions of dollars from his grandfather’s firm of Bentley, Haight & Busby. He has been on the run for twenty-five years.”
The reporter all but wrote, “Like mother and father, like daughter.”
The thinly veiled allegations were upsetting, but I knew better than to call and complain. Past experience with the press had taught me that my every outraged word would be repeated in tomorrow’s morning edition. At least the reporter hadn’t referred to me as a “socialite.”
I was still upset when my cell phone rang. It was the producer of Good Morning, San Sebastian, informing me that “Anteaters to Zebras” was on hiatus until my legal situation resolved itself. Almost as soon as he rang off, Ariel Gonzales called to say she’d done everything possible to keep the segment on the air but the suits were worried about their ratings as long as I remained a murder suspect.
“I can’t believe it,” she growled. “Have you seen those characters on reality TV these days? Talk about a bunch of trolls! You could be a mass murderer and still come across as a nicer person. Whatever happened to the concept of innocent until proven guilty?”
Her ire on my behalf made me smile. “Thanks, Ariel. It’s comforting to know I’ve got a Marine on my side.”
“The stagehands are pulling for you, too. Stay strong, girlfriend. And keep your doors locked. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
She hung up, leaving me thinking about Mr. Rat.
Bonz, curled up in my lap, whined then nuzzled my hand. Ever since I had arrived home he’d not left my side. Animals can sense emotion, and although I tried to contain my horror over the morning’s events he picked up on it.
“It’s okay, Bonz. We’ll protect each other.”
When you’ve been all but accused of murder in the local newspaper, you find out who your friends are. In the next couple of hours I received calls from just about everyone I knew, including Yancy Haas, Deborah Holt, and young Howie. Strangely enough, I hadn’t yet heard from my father. He was probably out robbing banks somewhere.
Even Frank Turnbull, the plump Speedo-wearing attorney I’d met at Bambi’s boat party, called to offer his support.
“Since Victor Emerson was revealed as a fraudulent marriage provider, among other things, I’ve been swamped with people, including your own dear mother, enquiring about their marital and parental status. I want you to know, Teddy, that no matter how busy I am, I’ll always be here for you. Ah, by any chance did Victor marry you to that Michael fellow?”
“Fortunately not,” I said, amused by the blatant ambulance-chasing. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway since I didn’t ask for anything in the divorce settlement and Michael didn’t offer.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Well, take care of yourself, kid. Gotta go.”
I was trying to decide what to do about dinner when I heard Linda Cushing call, “Ahoy the Merilee! Permission to come aboard!”
I opened the hatch to see Linda, firefighter Walt McAdams, Dr. Willis Pierce, and—surprisingly—Deanna Sazac standing on the dock, their arms filled with casseroles and assorted six-packs. Even the formerly hostile Ada Fife had come calling, but protective as ever, she’d left Howie behind. As I waved them aboard, Willis brandished two bottles of Moet and quoted, “‘Do you think because you are virtuous, that there shall be no more cakes and ale?’ Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene III.”
Walt, more down-to-earth, said, “Here, have a Bud.”
Misery shared is misery halved. For the next couple of hours we partied like only liveaborders can. Willis quoted more booze-related Shakespeare, Linda presented a shoulder to cry on, Walt did his impression of Britney Spears (always a hit), and once Deanna Sazac had downed enough Moet to loosen up, she intimated that whoever strangled Bambi had done a solid for every married woman in San Sebastian County.
“Now that Bambi’s out of the running, what’s going to happen with you and Judd?” I asked.
“Nothing, since we’re not legally bound. I’ve already told him I was taking back my maiden name. Along with his
Porsche.”
My wince must have been visible, because she added, “I also said that if he’s a good little boy, I’ll give it back.”
I was saved from giving her unsolicited relationship advice when Willis, somewhat tipsy by then, interjected, “‘O, beware, my lady of jealousy; it is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.’ Othello, Act III, Scene III.”
“I’m not jealous!” Deanna lied.
He gave her a hard look. “The sooner you admit it the sooner you can deal with it. Me, no play, no act, no scene. I’ve lived in the harbor long enough to watch you talk to Judd like you’re talking to some servant. Bambi wasn’t that hot—I’ve seen her undressed…” Everyone’s eyebrows raised, including mine, but he continued, “…and her surgeon wasn’t all that good. Guess that’s what happens when you go bargain-hunting; you wind up with keloid scars where you’d rather not have them. But back to you, Queen Deanna. Why don’t you try treating the guy like an equal for once? Judd wasn’t into Bambi as much for her looks as he was for the ego boo.”
“What’s an ego boo?” Walt asked, while Deanna sat there speechless.
Willis made a face. “You don’t read Entertainment Weekly? It’s short for ‘ego boost.’ Bambi made Judd feel like a big man. Not that he is, but sometimes to keep the peace we have to pretend our partners are more than they really are.”
“Speaking from experience, Willis?” I asked.
“Let’s just say that I once suffered through a relationship similar to Judd’s.” He raised his hands as if to stave off Deanna’s growing wrath. “It was long before I moved here and the less said about my late unlamented marriage the better. Serena Sue, my clumsily named ex-missus, was almost as bossy as you, Deanna dear, so sheath those wicked talons. I’m just sharing my own experience so that you might show more compassion to Judd. He may be an unfaithful jerk but he loves you.”
“Thank you, Dear Abby,” Deanna snapped, but from the look on her face, I suspected she was giving his advice some thought.
Deanna’s attack of jealousy reminded me of another woman—my friend Deborah Holt. Remembering her “Deer Woman” threat on Facebook, and the newspaper articles about her violent behavior in college, I had to face facts: Deborah had to be considered a suspect, at least in Bambi’s death.
