“Cassandra must see something worthwhile in him,” I offered.
“Yeah! Money, most likely,” Loxie snorted. “I keep telling her that you don’t need a rich man. All you need is one with good credit.”
“Tell Rachel the other piece of advice you give the girls,” the admiral prodded, walking back out on the porch. “You might find this useful,” he added with a wink.
“It’s something my mother passed on to me, and damned if she wasn’t right,” Loxie drawled. “Men are like linoleum: lay them just right, and you can walk on ’em for years.”
Ooookay. I turned my attention back to the admiral. “Speaking of the Krabbs, I understand you supply some of the animals for the Happy Hunting Ranch.”
Maynard nodded his head. “That’s right. I fill special orders. All through the proper channels, of course,” he hastened to add. Maynard reached for a cookie and Max let out a reproachful shriek. The admiral swiftly pulled back his hand. “I never had any problems when Johnny Lambert had your job. He was a very understanding man.”
I silently wondered how much that had cost the admiral.
“And I’m hoping we can work something out which will likewise prove mutually beneficial,” Maynard said with a smile.
“Such as?” I mildly inquired.
“Well, I guess I’d leave that up to your discretion,” the admiral replied, tiptoeing around the subject.
“I don’t intend to give you any trouble at all,” I said.
The admiral sighed.
“Just as long as you don’t furnish the Happy Hunting Ranch with anything illegal. Like a black rhino, for instance.”
Maynard’s beam quickly lost its radiance.
I lifted Mr. Max off my lap and stood up to take my leave. “By the way, I imagine you’ve already heard that Timmy Tom Tyler was murdered.”
The admiral’s expression turned into a perfectly blank slate. “Can’t say that I have. Why? Is he someone I should know?”
I would think so,” I replied, used to this response by now. “Tyler was the animal dealer Krabbs worked with before he switched to you.”
Maynard remained silent, as did Loxie. Only Mr. Max made any noise, greedily munching on the cookies.
“In fact, Tyler’s partner recently sent someone over to see you about buying a chimp. A guy by the name of Dan Kitrell,” I pressed.
The admiral shrugged. “Sorry, but it doesn’t ring a bell,” his electronic voice croaked.
It was amazing how bad everyone’s memory was. Either I’d hit yet another sensitive topic, or the alien brain-sucking phenomenon was a real problem out here.
Twelve
There was no doubt in my mind that primates were being laundered at Maynard’s place. The problem would be trying to prove it.
Once numbering close to a million in population, there are now only around a hundred thousand wild chimps left. This is partly due to habitat destruction. The rest of the blame lies with the voracious demand from circuses, roadside zoos, the entertainment industry, illicit research facilities, and the exotic pet trade.
The capture of a baby chimp is a quick, easy way for a poacher to make cash. However, the infant is never their only victim. An entire family always comes to the baby’s defense, and inevitably winds up being mercilessly slaughtered. That translates into ten to twenty deaths for every baby chimp that’s abducted.
I wished a mothership of aliens would beam up every poacher and smuggler around, including Loxie and her husband. This seemed the perfect time to pop in for a visit with F.U. to pump him for additional information.
I reached the ranch and was about to turn in, only to be stopped by a pair of prostrate bodies. F.U., Jr. and a young woman had secured themselves to the entrance gate with bicycle chains and locks.
“Ooowww!” F.U., Jr. howled in greeting.
The girl joined him in the call of the wild.
“Are you out catching a few rays of sun? Or should I take it that this is some kind of protest?” I inquired.
Rage removed his ever-so-cool wraparound shades and cocked a pierced eyebrow in my direction. I noticed there was a sterling silver fly perched on one of the hoops. “We’ve decided to up the pressure on this place,” he informed me.
I observed the cans of red paint by his side and didn’t have to guess what they were for.
“What are you doing here? Come to mingle with the enemy?” he demanded.
“I need to talk to your father,” I replied.
“Cool. You gonna bust him?” F.U., Jr. asked, with a note of hopeful expectation.
“Not today. I just have a couple of questions for him.”
The girl lying next to Rage was a young, updated version of Morticia Adams, with a stud in her brow and a ring in her nose.
“I take it that you’re Cassandra,” I said, not waiting for anything as bourgeois as an introduction.
The girl looked at me with a bored expression. “Yeah.”
Lucky me. I got to see that a stud pierced her tongue as well.
“I saw your paintings at Rage’s loft the other day. They’re interesting,” I remarked, hoping that might help loosen her up.
“Hey, if Georgia O’Keefe could get away with all her crap about vaginas looking like flowers, I can do whatever the hell I want with dicks!”
She seemed a tad sensitive about her work.
“Listen, I don’t mean to break up your party, but I need to get into the ranch,” I said to end the small talk.
F.U., Jr. pulled his shades back on. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to skip the visit with Big Daddy today. We didn’t bring the keys for the chains.”
I pulled out my trusty Leatherman, flicked it open, and jimmied each of the locks on their necks. Sometimes you just had to wonder why life wasn’t always this simple.
“Say, where did you learn to do that?” F.U., Jr. asked eagerly.
“It’s a secret they teach you when you become a law enforcement officer.”
Then I jumped back in my pick-up and drove through the gate. I parked next to the motorized herd of snoozing zebras, bounded up the steps, and entered the lodge. I hurried through the gallery of decapitated heads, and strode into F.U.’s outer office.
Velma naturally manned the entrance to Krabbs’ inner sanctum. Today she was attired in a lovely chartreuse jumpsuit, doodadded up with garish black and white bejeweled zebra stripes. Someone needed to take this gal in hand and tell her that horizontal lines were not the way to go.
“Well, lookee here. If it isn’t little Miss Fish and Wildlife, herself. If you think you can just sashay in and disturb Mr. Krabbs’ schedule, I’m here to tell you that you’re one-hundred-percent dead wrong,” she sneered.
“Don’t even think of trying to stop me,” I snarled. “This hasn’t been one of my better days, plus my PMS is acting up and I’m just itching for an excuse to kick some butt. So get out of my way, or I’ll cite you for hindering a federal officer!”
Velma reluctantly moved out of my path. “You just better make sure all your ducks are lined up before you try pulling anything funny,” she hissed.
“Don’t worry, Velma. I plan to have my ducks and whatever else it takes geared up, ready to aim, fire, and hit a perfect bulls-eye.”
Let her chew on that for a while. Heck, even I hadn’t figured out what I was up to yet. I entered F.U.’s office.
Talk about being transported to la la land: this was a hunter’s paradise. Zebras, cheetahs, and emus gathered about, mingling with panthers, leopards, and lions. Each critter had been tenderly taxidermied in tribute to F.U.’s heartfelt affection for them.
“Cupcake! What a surprise!” the well-aged bourbon voice drifted toward me.
My Western-fried colonel sat behind a massive, semicircular desk with amber push buttons lining a built-in panel. He came over to greet me. Grabbing my hands, he held them against his chest. His Elvis pompadour never swayed, giving the impression it had been molded from plaster of Paris. He lifted my hands to his l
ips and eagerly tried to kiss them as I pulled away.
“Oh, oh. You’re angry with ol’ F.U., aren’t you?” Krabbs asked, slipping a sad expression on his face. “I know I promised to call, but things have been pretty hectic around here the past few days. Tell you what: let me make it up to you. You got a hankering to shoot anything today? ’Cause you know I can have it arranged.”
If he’d known what I was gunning for, he might have thought twice before asking.
F.U. tried to grab my hands again, but I held them firmly behind my back, so he went for my waist.
“I gotta be honest with you, Cupcake. There’s a little problem, what with you being my wife’s best friend, and all.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper, and he gave my midriff a squeeze. “But I’m also finding this whole thing pretty damned exciting.”
I pushed his forearms away. “You’re right; there is a problem. I don’t like the way Lizzie’s being treated.”
“Okay. We’ll play it your way for now.” F.U. ambled back to his desk, where he gave me a sly smile. “You’re one smart gal. You know us men always enjoy a good chase.”
This seemed to be especially true in F.U.’s case, so I decided to play along, certain I’d get a whole lot further.
“This is quite the office,” I flattered him.
“You like it? I did it myself,” F.U. said proudly. “Come here and I’ll show you how my toys work.”
I had to admit I was curious. Besides all the buttons, his desk had an assortment of high-tech gadgets, making it look like a space shuttle cockpit. James Bond could have died and gone to heaven in this place. F.U. waited until I was standing beside him, then pressed a button. Two wall panels off to the right whipped around, producing a wet bar.
“Pretty fancy, huh?” he eagerly asked. “Just wait till you see this.”
F.U. pushed another button and other panels spun open to reveal a large TV monitor. I remembered the camera mounted near the ranch entrance, and sure enough, there were F.U., Jr. and his girlfriend with their necks once again padlocked to the front gate. Somehow they knew they were being watched; they simultaneously turned and shot the camera the finger.
“Children can be a joy in your life, but they can also be a major pain in the ass,” F.U. conceded. “Still, we all need to do our part by propagating if we want to ensure the continuation of our species.”
“Why, do you think that’s going to be a problem in the future?” The animals in this room were closer to extinction than the human population.
“Hell, yes!” Krabbs said with conviction. “It’s gonna be harder than ever to survive, what with all those itty bitty countries whose names nobody ever remembers, always declaring some sort of war. Never mind the damned, crazy terrorists running helter skelter all over the world.”
Whadda ya know? F.U. Krabbs actually thought about something other than shooting animals.
“So, how about it? Don’t you think about having a coupla little ones galloping around your skirts?” He flirtatiously slid his fingers up my arm.
I swatted his hand away as if it were an annoying fly.
“I can see ’em now. Maybe a boy and a girl with your curly red hair, and my baby blue eyes. Hell, I could even teach them to shoot good,” he coyly added.
“I believe you have a wife to help you in that department,” I responded repressively.
“Well, me and Lizzie haven’t been getting along all that well these days. She doesn’t really understand me,” he confided.
Now, there was an original line.
“Besides, you look to me like a filly with good genes. And since the Krabbs family lineage speaks for itself, I’d be more than willing to offer my services,” he generously proposed.
“Thanks, but I’m not in the market,” I replied, taken aback. It was bad enough being viewed as a sperm bank recipient, but F.U. apparently believed he was the best I could do. How did Lizzie ever hook up with this guy?
“Let me be blunt and quit beating about the bush,” F.U. continued with a lascivious gleam in his eye. “I’m proposing to set you up in style somewhere close by. What’s more, I’m willing to give my personal guarantee that you and our little darlins will always be safely out of harm’s way.”
“Safe from what?” I asked skeptically.
“Oooh, let’s just say anything and everything,” he answered with an enigmatic smile.
At the moment, the only thing I needed protection from was him.
“To sweeten the proposal, I’ll provide you with a large enough monthly allowance that you’ll never have to work again,” F.U. magnanimously offered.
No wonder Ma Krabbs was worried about her money.
“I happen to like my work. Why would I want to stop?” I asked, giving him enough rope to hang himself.
“Hell, working for the government can’t be any picnic. What you enjoy is saving animals,” Krabbs shrewdly replied. “Why, I can set you up with your own zoo. Just think about it a minute.” He drew a step closer, and his breathing grew heavier. “I’ll get you whatever critters you want. We’ll have two of everything so they can spend their time breeding like bunnies, while you and me are busy doing our thing in the bedroom. What say we consummate the deal right here and now, on the couch?”
The thought was nearly enough to make me lose my lunch.
“It’s tempting. But it’s not that easy setting up a zoo. There are all sorts of paperwork and regulations to follow. I’m afraid you’d find it difficult,” I wistfully remarked.
His caresses became bolder. “Leave that part to me, Cupcake. There are always ways around those things.” He punctuated his point with a vigorous wink as he led me toward the couch.
“Like the One World Zoo?” I asked, with feigned naiveté.
“Exactly!” he agreed, only to realize his blunder. His hands shot up to his ears and began to fiddle with his hearing aids faster than you could say “monthly allowance. Sorry, Cupcake. What was that you said again? Darn these things! I don’t believe I heard you properly.”
I gave his auditory range a boost by turning the volume higher. “We were talking about the One World Zoo,”
F.U.’s hand dropped and nervously hit a button on the side of the couch. A video camera popped out of the ceiling, aimed directly down at the sofa. I shot him a dirty look, but Krabbs’ attention was focused on other matters.
F.U. shook his head, and cleared his throat. “Can’t say I ever heard of the place.”
I now suspected that One World and the Happy Hunting Ranch were one and the same—which zoomed Krabbs onto my A-list of suspects for the murder of Tyler. Maybe Timmy Tom had been blackmailing Krabbs by threatening to turn over information.
I decided to play out my hunch. “Tyler told me that you dropped him and moved on to Maynard when he couldn’t get hold of the animals you wanted.”
“Let me tell you something about Tyler, sugarplum.” Krabbs voice was tinged with a menacing edge. “He was a no-good scoundrel who didn’t care a fig about anything other than himself. Never mind your precious wildlife.”
“And Admiral Maynard is a man of such upstanding character?”
“Maynard’s a man of his word, and that’s all I’m gonna say on that subject.” F.U. fixed me with a hard stare. “Now, let’s get down to business. I hope you haven’t got it in your head to try and shut down my ranch. Because I’d hate to start cutting back on your future allowance already.”
“Well then, I guess that all depends on how much you’re willing to cooperate,” I sweetly responded. “Who came up with the One World Zoo scam?”
F.U. clucked his tongue and sadly shook his head. “This is all because I didn’t call you sooner, isn’t it?” he asked dolefully.
I wondered how the man could be so blasted conceited. “Believe me, one thing has nothing to do with the other,” I assured him. “Just answer the question.”
“Well then, I guess I gotta tell you, don’t I? It was all Tyler’s idea. I told him I wanted nothing to do with it.
That’s why I started using the admiral,” he said, flashing a sly smile.
I leveled Krabbs with my best dubious glare. “Funny about that. Timmy Tom told me the zoo was your idea.”
F.U. shrugged good-naturedly. “Well, being that Timmy Tom is lying dead on a slab, I guess you’re gonna have to take my word on it.”
“Okay. In that case, I want to see the paperwork on all the animals that Timmy Tom had shipped to you.”
“That wouldn’t be a problem if it were up to me, Cupcake. But Tyler kept all those records. Maybe that boyfriend of his can get ’em for you,” he cordially responded.
“Then I’ll settle for the paperwork on all the shipments that were arranged by the admiral. Or did those happen to burn up in some fire?” I asked snidely.
F.U.’s face immediately lit up. “Why, heck! How’d you know about that? Now, there’s a truly sad story.” He shook his head despondently. “Just like you said, the admiral up and had a fire at his place a while back, and every single one of his records went right up in flames.”
“How convenient for him.”
“This isn’t gonna cause any hard feelings between us, I hope,” F.U. added.
“Not at all. But I can tell you here and now that I intend to watch every single move that you make. I’m going to be closer to you than your underwear,” I warned, having always wanted to use that expression. Unfortunately, it didn’t get the response I’d been hoping for.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a damn tease, Cupcake?” F.U. asked. “But that’s fine by me, ’cause I’m planning to hunt you down and get you in the end, no matter what it takes.”
What a delightful vision.
I glumly left, ignoring Velma’s murderous glare.
I drove off knowing that whatever F.U. had been involved in wasn’t over yet. I pondered the problem all the way back to the entrance gate, where I again jimmied the locks around F.U., Jr. and Cassandra’s necks.
“So, how’d you make out?” Rage inquired.
“I suspect your father’s involved in something illegal, but it’s going to be difficult to prove,” I responded, having turned my back to the camera.
Border Prey Page 16
