by Ruby Loren
I was still daydreaming about it when my phone rang. A number I didn’t recognise flashed up on the screen.
To my horror, it turned out to be Officer Kelly calling to ask if I could come in to see Detective Treesden and answer a few more questions about what I’d seen the night before Jenna died, and the way I’d found her the next morning. I’d said that it would be my pleasure, whilst silently thinking that I’d rather roll in the freezing mud with the pigs than tolerate more time spent with the brusque Detective Treesden. Officer Kelly had sounded a little nervous when she’d asked if I would be happy to come in. Something about her tone clued me in that Treesden might have done a little background check on me… and what he’d found wouldn’t have been good.
I shook my head. I didn’t have a criminal record, and technically shouldn’t be found anywhere on file, but I knew the truth was a bit different. People talked to each other when favours were called in and crimes were even solved that way. It was unorthodox, but behind closed doors, it worked. I had no doubt that Treesden may now have an inkling that I’d had some trouble up in Hull and had recently witnessed a horrific murder down in Cornwall. I hated to admit it, but there was every chance he thought I was a sightseeing psychopath.
I sighed a little and walked out of the zoo to where my car sat across the car park. Every ounce of my being told me this was not going to be a fun outing, but unfortunately, being an adult, I couldn’t kick and scream and cause a fuss. I had to suck it up and endure the unenjoyable.
“It’s Christmas soon!” I said to myself, trying to feel a little more cheery. It usually worked, but having spent some of my morning skimming through a dead woman’s laptop, I couldn’t help but feel less than festive.
There were quite a few familiar faces down at the police station. I silently wondered if this loss of staff was affecting the zoo and if the police even cared. The only plus was that the men and a few women were from different departments within the zoo. There were caretakers, odd job staff, commercial, and I even recognised the new primate keeper, Adam, who blushed and looked a little shamefaced when I waved at him.
Jenna had shared out her affections equally across the zoo.
Treesden exited an interview room and held the door open. To my immense surprise, the woman who walked out was the lady who'd been screaming about being the illegitimate child of Charles Avery, the founder of the zoo.
Treesden beckoned me with nothing friendly in his eyes. I walked into the room to begin what was probably more of an interrogation and less of an interview.
“Would you like to tell me about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing for the past few months?” Treesden began. I’d been correct to suspect that he’d done some digging.
I considered answering ‘no’ but thought that this was probably one occasion where a truly honest answer wasn’t the right one.
“I worked at Snidely Safari and Wildlife Park. Then my work took me to L’airelle Zoological Park, and finally, I worked at Pendalay Zoo in Cornwall. I’m an animal breeding and habitat consultant,” I explained.
“What does that involve?” Detective Treesden asked, looking more interested than I’d thought he would.
“I visit zoos and use my experience and knowledge of animal welfare and psychology to help zoos construct an environment for animals that encourages natural behaviour. It improves health, happiness, and, when given time, it’s likely that the zoo will have a successful breeding programme,” I told him.
“What about the murders that were reported at the zoo, in one case, and in the same village as the zoo in the other. Did they happen while you were there?”
I inwardly arched an eyebrow. So, Treesden hadn’t asked around after all. He’d probably questioned the other zoo staff he’d been interviewing about what I’d been up to. A few of them had asked, and I’d never tried to hide anything. The rest had been his logic.
“I was close by when they happened. In both cases, I nearly ended up a victim,” I told him, figuring that I should probably skip any details about what had happened in France. Being present for two fatal crimes, not to mention what had happened at Avery before I’d landed the consulting gig, was not in my favour.
“What was the woman who was in here before me doing here?” I asked.
Treesden frowned at me. “That is confidential information.”
“Has she told you she’s claiming to be the child of Charles Avery? Are you investigating her claims?” I asked.
“No, we’re not… I’m the one asking the questions!” he exploded.
The rest of the interview passed in a similarly less than civil fashion. By the end, I was wondering if Treesden was going to let me out of the police station, or lock me up for murders which had previously been solved. He had no evidence, but that didn’t mean he kept his thoughts to himself.
“I’m going to be watching you very carefully,” he told me when he finally released me from the stuffy room.
“It’s nice to know the police are there to look out for people,” I said, flippantly, in response.
I walked away before he could drag me back.
Sunshine had broken through the clouds when I strolled back to my car. The day had that crisp scent of winter. I wondered if it was true, what the weather forecasters were claiming about snow before Christmas. That almost never happened in South East England.
Unfortunately, spending time at the station directed my thoughts straight back to darker matters. Despite my attempts to encourage Treesden to answer a few of my questions, the lead detective had clammed up. I still knew no more about Jenna’s death than I had when I’d arrived at the station.
I frowned and pushed my gold-rimmed glasses higher up my nose. Was there something about her death that everyone, even the police, were missing? I might not know the lab results, but I had seen the whole thing, hadn’t I? The only advantage the police had over me was that info and any additional leads from their interviews with the zoo’s staff. I hoped they had a good idea of who might have stayed behind with Jenna, and were applying pressure, but their seemingly random selection of staff they currently had waiting at the station didn’t fill me with confidence that they’d even managed to establish that much. Or, perhaps it was more complicated than it looked. The person who'd stayed behind with Jenna wasn’t necessarily her killer. Some poisons took a longer time to act.
I thought back to the crime scene and remembered the horrible foam coating her lips. There’d definitely been a blueish tinge to it. I couldn’t be completely sure, but I thought I remembered her drinking one of the Peacock’s Poison cocktails, which would certainly match that colour description.
I shrugged to myself as I walked. I hadn’t seen anyone fetching a drink for Jenna, but that could have happened at any time during the night, for all I knew. There was also a chance that someone could have slipped something into her drink when she wasn’t looking.
There were far too many suspects. I’d never thought of Jenna as someone with enemies, but the longer the investigation went on, the more I could see her potentially being a target. She’d had trouble with a man who hadn’t wanted to leave her alone after meeting him on Tinder, and there could have been others who’d been upset when she’d grown tired of them, too. Officer Ernesto had certainly seemed distraught when he’d arrived on the scene and had realised whose murder he was investigating. But what if he’d been upset even prior to that night?
Then there were the female suspects to consider. Jenna had never, to my knowledge, deliberately gone after any man with a wife or girlfriend, but men didn’t always tell the truth. Jenna had definitely stepped on some toes in the past. Perhaps one of the female staff members blamed Jenna for their partner’s infidelity?
I opened the door to my car and got in. The police probably had all of the same questions I did.
Neither of us seemed very close to figuring out who Jenna’s killer was.
10
The Snow of Sussex
It was the day
before Jenna’s rushed funeral. I was sitting in an equally rushed Christmas plan of action meeting in the late afternoon, called by Barnaby.
The enthusiastic events manager had given us a presentation about the wonderland and the events that were coming up at the zoo, that we were all expected to be promoting. It had been cheesy, the way he’d done his best to make us feel that we were all in this together and that the zoo’s success was our success, but it had felt genuine, and I’d noticed a lot of people nodded along in agreement to his words.
It hadn’t hurt that he’d brought along chocolates and had given them out to anyone who contributed ideas when he’d asked for any ways that the events could be improved.
I’d surprised myself and Barnaby with the number of ideas I’d had, and the amount of chocolate I’d been able to put away.
However, my ideas hadn’t gone unchallenged. When I’d suggested that the arts and crafts day remain more in-house and the promotion stay a little more separate, I’d been contradicted by Claudia. The financial advisor had explained, as if to a child, that everything in this period was being done through the events company, as they worked on a partial commission basis. I’d then had to explain I wasn’t necessarily talking about the taking of bookings, just the promotion side of things, but she’d then argued that it wasn’t our responsibility. I’d retaliated by quoting Barnaby saying that every one of us was responsible for the zoo's success and that every person could make a difference.
All the time this had been going on, Barnaby had looked on bewildered, clutching his family-sized box of Roses chocolates.
When the meeting had come to an end I was fuming and confused. Why had Claudia chosen to pick on me? I didn’t recall having done anything to directly offend her.
I was putting on my work coat when Barnaby managed to extricate himself from a discussion with some of the more senior zoo board members and came over to me.
He held out the box of chocolates. “I think you deserve this. I thought your ideas were great by the way.”
I looked down at the still half-full tub and thought about declining, claiming that I hadn’t been doing it for the reward.
Who was I kidding?
“Thanks,” I said, graciously accepting the gift.
“Did I notice some tension there between you and Claudia?” He asked, slightly raising a dark eyebrow,
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know what that was about. I didn’t think we had a problem with each other until now. I’m not the one…” I trailed off. I’d been about to say ‘I’m not the one practically dating Auryn’ but that was hardly information it was wise to throw into conversation with the head of an external events management company. It would make me just as petty as some of the objections Claudia had thrown up against my suggestions.
I looked up just in time to see the dark-haired woman herself breeze past, wearing a luxuriously padded, and yet somehow slimming (how?!) coat.
“Are we still okay for our eleven o’clock tomorrow?” she said to Barnaby, managing to pretend I wasn’t there.
He nodded. “Yes, that’s still fine.” Something about the way he said it let me know they’d probably only organised it this afternoon, and he was bemused as to why she was checking.
I thought I knew why.
“I know it’s the funeral tomorrow, but seeing as neither of us ever had a chance to get to know Ms Leary, we thought it would be best if we stayed away. It seemed like a good opportunity to go over a few forecasts and progress reports together,” he explained.
I nodded, secretly sure that Claudia wanted to do more than just discuss finance with Barnaby. It would appear that Claudia had dropped the idea of Auryn and had moved on to an older, but no less attractive, potential candidate for her heart.
Even more amusingly, she’d mistaken my passion for free chocolate to be passion for her target. I tried not to grin as I finished up my conversation with Barnaby. It was something that could only happen to me!
“That went well, didn’t it?” Auryn said, coming up to me right as I was about to step outside of the door. I looked out into the cold dark afternoon and reflected that the sky was a funny colour.
“It was great! Everything seems to be running pretty perfectly to plan. Is that right?” I said.
He nodded, happily. “No fatal accidents yet!” he said and then looked mortified.
“I know you didn’t mean…” I told him, but he still blushed.
“Funeral tomorrow. I’ve offered to say a few words. You wouldn't mind looking over them for me, would you?” he asked, suddenly reminding me of his relatively young years with the hopeful look he gave me.
He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out from his pocket and handed it to me. I read it and gave him a couple of pointers for improvement. I was pleased to see it was a piece that felt like it had been written from the heart of all of us at Avery Zoo. I hoped her parents would be pleased.
“You’re going to print off a new copy of your speech when you’ve made the changes, aren’t you?” I said.
Auryn didn’t meet my eyes. “Yes, that was absolutely what I was going to do,” he lied.
I shot him a knowing smile.
“Hey, look! Snow!” Auryn suddenly said. I turned to look out of the door and found that he was right. Thick clumps of white stuff were falling from the sky. As we watched, it fell to the ground and stayed there.
“It’s settling,” Auryn observed. “I hope it doesn’t cause a problem for the funeral tomorrow.”
“It will probably be okay. Everyone’s fairly local, so I'm sure people could walk if they needed to. The real problem will be getting Jenna’s parents there safely.
I was getting ahead of myself. We southerners always had a tendency to panic when the snow started to fall. By the time the day dawned tomorrow, there’d probably be barely a centimetre on the ground. South East England always missed out on any significant white stuff, but it was probably for the best. Even a centimetre of snow would mean that trains were cancelled and work ground to a halt. Then there’d be the usual talk of economic disasters and so on and so forth. All for a measly bit of snow.
I was still lost in my thoughts when one of the new keepers, Ashley, ran up to the doors of the offices. She’d been in the meeting with the majority of staff, but had got out sooner than I had.
“Someone’s managed to let the penguins out of their enclosure. I don’t know how they managed it, but they’re running everywhere,” she said, looking stricken. “I’m sorry,” she added in the direction of the zoo owner, clearly wondering if she’d be fired on the spot,
Auryn looked rather nonplussed.
“Madi…” he began.
“Already on it,” I said, taking charge of the situation. “We’re going to need nets,” I told her. “There are CCTV cameras near to the penguin enclosure. We should ask one of the caretaking team to have a look at the footage from earlier. Perhaps we’ll be able to catch the culprit in the act.”
In the end, there wasn’t actually any need to check the CCTV footage. The person responsible was still at the scene of the crime, loudly proclaiming her responsibility for the act.
I looked at the small double-panel of wire fencing at the side of the enclosure. She’d had to cut through both fences to gain access to the enclosure. The smell of fish rose from the plastic bag she held, and I thought I had a clue or two as to how she’d persuaded the small fish eaters to break free from their enclosure and go for a walk in the snow.
“These should be mine! I am legally allowed to do whatever I like, and I’ve decided they should be free,” she raved.
I ignored her and instead focused on the penguins. How many were there supposed to be? I thought the answer was ten. At the moment, I could see three, waddling around in the snow. A quick glance back into the enclosure revealed it to be empty.
Seven had vanished and the snow was only getting heavier.
I silently kissed goodbye to an evening of drawing comics. At least that wasn’t as
stressful a thought as it had been a month ago. I’d recently completed all of the crowdfunding orders and had shipped them to all of my customers. It had been a far bigger moment than I’d anticipated when I’d received the proofs of my comic books and had first seen my work in book form. Everyone had been thrilled with their copies, and I’d already been asked when I’d be running the next campaign, as this book had only covered the first six months, or so, of the comic.
I’d had to be vague in my response. The publishers knocking at my door made the situation a lot more complex than it had once been. It had occurred to me that if I signed some fancy book deal, there was every chance I wouldn’t be permitted to continue with the webcomic. After all, why would you pay someone to do what they gave away for free?
It was one of the major sticking points and something I still hadn’t made my mind up about. Would my readers turn on me if they thought I was taking advantage of them to make a profit? Would I be happy abandoning the webcomic I’d spent so long building up? I still wasn’t sure. I was fond of my hobby and turning it over to publishers was going to mean kissing goodbye to it being just a ‘hobby’. I knew most people in my situation would be rejoicing, but I already had the job of my dreams and didn’t want to be taken away from working doing what I loved the most.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and took in the scene before me. The strange woman who’d cut the penguins loose was dancing around in the snow, repeating her claim over and over. The penguins were all but lost to my sight and Ashley was looking at me with despair written across her face.
I raised my net. “We’re lucky they’re penguins, not squirrel monkeys,” I told her. My experience of recapturing those tiny terrors was that it was easier nailing jelly to a wall. “The first thing to do after we’ve caught them is to patch up the enclosure, so they won’t just run straight out again. Their vet carrier is kept around by their enclosure in a little storage area. Would you like to run and get it, while I keep an eye on things here?”
