The Otter of Death

by Betty Webb

  “Then don’t drink it. What did Lila tell you?”

  Evasion wasn’t working, so I gave up and confronted the issue head on. “It’s okay to talk to Lila as long as I report the conversation to you? That’s hardly fair, Joe.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit that I might have been out of line there, but I’m begging you, please stay away from Lila Conyers.”

  Evasion time again. “I’m getting us some salt.”

  “Salt is bad for your blood pressure.”

  “My blood pressure’s fine. Waitress, can we get some salt over here?”

  Joe sighed. “You’re being difficult.”

  “And you’re prone to exaggeration.” I smiled to take the sting out of my words. I did love this man, but sheriffs are so used to bossing people around that they sometimes forget to leave that kind of behavior at the office.

  “Are you kidding me, Teddy? You’re a veritable danger magnet. Why, look at what you do for a living! You’re out there daily with lions, tigers, elephants, and all kinds of lethal animals. Any one of them would kill you as soon as look at you.”

  “The animals I work with are quite nice. Most of them, anyway.”

  He ignored my fib. “Not only that, but you keep getting yourself mixed up in murder cases, which scares me more than the lions.” He put his fork down. “Promise me you’ll stay away from Lila Conyers.”

  Just then the waitress arrived with a salt shaker, which I used sparingly, the burger having been fine without it. “Ah, that’s better. It just needed a little boost.”

  Joe snorted. “Stop changing the subject. Don’t you remember almost getting killed the last time you meddled in a murder case?”

  “I try to remember only the good times. You know, I’m beginning to suspect that couple over there doesn’t like me. You think maybe it’s because I didn’t have time to shower before we left the Merilee?”

  “You smell fine. Look, I admit choosing this restaurant was a bad idea. Any place that calls a burger Boeuf Grillé Entre Pain should probably be avoided. Maybe we should just drive down to Gunn Landing Beach and neck.”

  “We’d never find a parking place. All those teenagers.”

  “Then how about the Merilee?”

  “With Bonz and Miss Priss watching? Anyway, I’m too tired. And I need a shower.”

  “I have a shower at my house. Two, actually.”

  “You also have a mother at your house. And Tonio and Bridie.”

  “Mom’s more broad-minded than she used to be, and the kids are asleep. Speaking of your facility for subject-changing, when are we getting married?”

  That caught me off guard. “Next summer, maybe?”

  “Last year you said this summer. It’s already June.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, ‘oh.’ We need to talk about your boat, too, but every time I bring it up, you change the subject. Like you’re doing now.”

  And there it was. The unresolved issue that kept me from setting a firm wedding date. Ever since a killer had ambushed me at the harbor, Joe’s feelings about the Merilee and the harbor had changed. He now believed the Merilee was not only dangerous, but a needless expense, and had been pressuring me to sell her. I didn’t want to sell my floating home. Yes, boat slips, even at the south end of the harbor weren’t cheap, and neither was upkeep. But regardless of Joe’s continued urging, I couldn’t imagine a future without her.

  Or without Joe, for that matter.

  I understood his concerns about my safety—after all, his first wife had been murdered and her killer was still out there somewhere—but he couldn’t spend the rest of his life being overprotective. Or could he? The problem was, an overprotective man often came across as a controlling one. I already had two control freaks in my life—my mother and my boss—and I didn’t need a third.

  But I loved Joe so much…

  Suddenly, the recent demands of others—Caro, Lila, Aster Edwina, Lex, and dear, dear Joe—became too much. Feeling miserable, I said, “Oh, Joe, I’m just too tired to talk about the Merilee right now.”

  He placed his napkin carefully on the table. “Then perhaps I should take you home.”

  I didn’t sleep well that night, because every time I started to drift off, the image of the Merilee’s empty berth rose up before me. If I sold her, would her new owner keep the keel-eating barnacles scraped away? Keep her brass fittings shined, her teak deck varnished?

  Would her new owner love her like I do?

  Chapter Seven

  The next day I was eating lunch in the staff lounge with Zorah when I saw Lila on the TV screen. She was walking between two uniformed deputies and looked terrified. The crawl at the bottom of the screen blared in capital letters, MURDER SUSPECT TAKEN INTO CUSTODY.

  I felt sick.

  “Teddy, are you all right?” Zorah asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost and it didn’t resemble Patrick Swayze.”

  Waving at the TV, I said. “She’s a friend.” And Bonz’s savior.

  Zorah turned around to face the TV. “Her? The suspect? Hey, and there’s your boyfriend! He’s terrific looking, isn’t he? Oh, well, from what I’ve been hearing about that Booth guy, he had it coming. But I’m sorry about your friend.”

  Having once been a murder suspect herself, Zorah’s compassion was genuine. “Poor thing,” she added. “At least she’ll be treated okay. Maybe not as well as your mother was last year when she ran into her bit of trouble, but… Wait. Isn’t your new stepdad a lawyer? Why don’t you…”

  My phone was already in my hand, my finger punching in the number of Hamilton, Lawler, and Grissom, attorneys at law. Evelyn, Al’s secretary, recognized my voice and put me through immediately.

  “Teddy! How nice to hear your voi…”

  “Joe just arrested Lila Conyers for Stuart Booth’s murder!”

  A moment of silence followed, so long that I was about to speak again before Al beat me to the punch. “Interesting. Would I be wrong to guess that Ms. Conyers is a friend of yours?”

  “We’re closer than sisters,” I fibbed. “She needs a good defense attorney.”

  “And I’m the best, which is why you’re on the phone to me right now.” He sounded gratified. “Well, there’s not all that much going on here at the office, so I’ll mosey over to the county jail and see what’s happening. One thing. How’s she fixed for money? You know I don’t come cheap.”

  “She works part time at Tiny Tots Day Care.”

  Al sighed. “Pro bono case then.”

  “But maybe I can, you know…”

  Al understood what I was hinting at. Right after my father’s flight to Costa Rica with his embezzled funds, he set up a secret account for me in the Cayman Islands. It was of impressive size, but it included his ill-gotten gains, so I never touched the money. Well, almost never. Once I had withdrawn funds to help a friend in need. Now Lila fit that category.

  “No, no, no, Teddy!” Al near-shouted. He, of all people, knew the trouble I’d be in if caught using the account. “Your mother would never forgive me if I charged you a dime, so let’s have no more of that. You hear? And let’s not discuss the… the thing, okay? I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of.”

  “You’re a saint, Al.”

  “Naw, I’m just crazy about your mother.”

  When I ended the call I felt better, but I knew enough about Joe to know he would never arrest someone without good reason.

  “Grissom’s going to help her, then?” Zorah asked, startling me.

  I nodded. Al was such an ace criminal defense attorney that Lila could have shot Booth point-blank while Booth’s entire Marine Science 101 class stood around capturing it on their smartphones, yet still convince a jury of reasonable doubt. But even if found not guilty, Lila’s reputation would be tainted. Having her declared innocent wasn’t enough; the real killer had to be brought to justice.

  An hour later I was driving my zebra cart toward my next group of chores when Bernice Unser, the volunteer who usu
ally accompanied me to the TV studio, hailed me at the crossroads of Tropics Trail and Friendly Farm. Besides wearing the zoo’s standard khaki uniform, she sported heavy gloves and clutched a wicked-looking pair of gardening shears.

  “Teddy! I hoped I’d find you here.”

  I braked. “Hop in. I’ll bet you want tell me about your daughter’s wedding. How’d it go?”

  “Without a hitch. I am now the proud occupant of an empty nest. But that’s not what I wanted to talk you about. It’s my niece. She’s in trouble.”

  For the first time I noticed the worried expression on Bernice’s usually jovial face. She had been a zoo volunteer longer than I had been working there, and during my first few months had helped me over the rough spots. Since then I had seen her drop fifty pounds and her muscles tighten to near-teenage firmness.

  She hopped into the cart without the aid of the safety rail. “My niece has been arrested.”

  “Your niece’s name wouldn’t be Lila, would it?”

  “How’d you know? We don’t have the same last name. Lila’s my sister’s girl.”

  “She made the noon news.”

  While opening and closing those lethal-looking gardening shears, she said, “You still engaged to the sheriff?”

  I could see another request for aid coming. Why is it people believe that just because you’re going to marry someone you have any influence over them? “Yes, and I’ve already done what I can. I called my stepfather and he…”

  “Al Grissom?”

  It was a good thing I hadn’t started the cart up again or I might have run into the family of five that suddenly stopped in front of me to study their zoo map.

  “You know Al?” I asked Bernice.

  “My sister had to…” She stopped. “Well, that’s water over the bridge. But, yes, I know him. From even before.”

  “Even before what? Are you talking about the sexual harassment complaint Lila once filed against Booth?”

  “You can start the cart now.”

  Having found the spot on the map they were looking for, the family had moved on, so with Bernice beside me, we hummed along the trail to Down Under, where we climbed out. Me, to shovel poop in the Wallaby Encounter, Bernice to trim overgrowth.

  Before we went our separate ways, I asked, “C’mon, Bernice. What is it you’re not telling me? Was Lila in trouble even before she spray-painted Booth’s boat?”

  She squinted her eyes as if the sun hurt them although a huge cumulonimbus cloud was blocking it. “The teen years can be rough on girls, especially the pretty ones. That’s all I’m going to say. But please do what you can for her. And for my sister, who doesn’t need any more trouble in her life right now.”

  With that she charged into the underbrush, gardening shears at the ready.

  In Down Under, the wallabies took my mind off the accumulation of demands being made on me. Feed a wallaby, it’s happy. Pick up droppings, it’s happy. Put a wallaby on TV, it’s grateful for the exercise.

  “How you doing, Abim?” I asked the largest wallaby, who had once led Bernice and me on a merry chase through the KGNN-TV studio when he’d gotten loose during a live segment of Anteaters to Zebras.

  Abim was doing well, and scratched at my pocket for any treat that might be hidden there. He soon found the piece of carrot I’d stowed away, and after I’d handed it to him, he leaned on his tail and munched happily.

  “How are the girls today?”

  The “girls,” five female wallabies traded to us by the San Francisco Zoo in exchange for one of our Andean bears, were doing well, he let me know, and hopped after me as I approached the eucalyptus tree where they were hunched, waiting for their own treats. I scattered more carrot pieces around, along with lettuce and alfalfa pellets—wallabies are herbivores—and left them to it while I scooped up pellets of another kind.

  After taking care of the wallabies, I did the same for the koalas, although they were too sleepy to let me know how appreciative they were. Why can’t people be more like animals? Eat, defecate, sleep, mate. No worrying about the seesawing stock market, what Congress is doing, or keeping up with the Joneses. Actually, humans are animals, too, but somewhere along the way we’ve forgotten our true natures in our rush to complicate our lives. Thus the need for lawyers.

  I fished my cell out of my pocket and called Al again.

  This time he didn’t sound so happy to hear from me. “What is it now, Teddy?”

  “Have you seen Lila yet?”

  “I walked over to the jail the minute we hung up.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “How does it look for her?”

  “The case, you mean? You know I can’t talk about that.”

  “Can’t you give me a general idea?”

  “Technically speaking, your friend is in deep doo-doo. Bye.”

  Ring tone.

  I seldom leave the zoo as soon as my shift is over—I enjoy my work so much I’m loathe to leave it—but today I clocked out at six sharp. After calling Linda Cushing, who lived on the Tea 4 Two next to the Merilee, and obtaining her promise to feed DJ Bonz and Miss Priss, I left for the San Sebastian County Sheriff’s Office.

  Joe and Deputy Emilio Gutierrez were talking to the Dispatch officer when I walked in. Joe’s face lit up when he saw me, making me feel guilty because I wasn’t here to see him, so before he could say anything, I blurted out, “It’s visiting hours, right?”

  His smile dimmed. “I’m not even going to ask who you’re here to see, because I think I know.”

  “I need to talk to Lila.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “It’s a free country, Joe.”

  “And a dangerous one at times, especially when people stick their pretty noses in places they don’t belong.”

  At least he’d said my bumpy nose was pretty. “I still want to talk to her, get her side of things.”

  “Her attorney already did that.”

  “Joe. Please.”

  The worry line between his eyebrows deepened. “Sometimes you scare me, you really do.” But he turned to Emilio and said, “Take her on back, but don’t let her in the cell with the prisoner. And you stay right there with her, hear? Keep her safe.”

  Emilio nodded.

  “Hey, wait a minute, Joe. How about some privacy? Or a little compassion? The conversation might include some girl talk, too, and we can’t do that with Emilio hovering around.”

  Without waiting for Joe’s answer, Emilio said, “I’ll stay far enough away that you two can say what you need to say.”

  Joe raised his hands in surrender. “Oh, go ahead, then. But if anything happens to you, I don’t know what I’ll…” He looked down at the cement floor. Not finishing his sentence, he walked away.

  Jails aren’t comfy places. They’re not meant to be. This one, divided by gender, provided the basics and little else. Cement floor, pillowless bunk, blanket, toilet, sink. Because of the bare bones philosophy, the acoustics were raw but loud. Someone was crying, her sobs reverberating off the cinder block walls, echoing along the corridor. Lila? As I clattered along, I realized the sobs came from a granny-aged Hispanic with a large bruise on her face. When Emilio and I neared her, she stifled her cries and turned her back.

  Lila wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, either. Looking sallow in her orange jail jumpsuit, she sat on her bunk, her honey-blond hair hanging down in lank tendrils across her face, as if she was using it to shield herself from the ugliness of her surroundings. True to his word, Emilio stopped ten yards from her cell, giving me plenty of room to ask what I’d come to ask.

  “Hi, Lila.”

  No answer.

  Keeping my voice low, I said, “I heard Al Grissom stopped by to talk about your case.”

  When she looked up, I could see she had been crying, too, only silently. “Yeah, he was here.” Her own voice was little more than a whisper.

  “He’s the best defense attorney
in Central California.”

  “Whatever.”

  This new apathy alarmed me, so I tried some lighthearted chat. “I saw your Aunt Bernice today and she told me your cousin’s wedding went off beautifully. That was in Chicago, right?”

  A nod.

  “Nice town, Chicago, but I wouldn’t want to live there. The winters are brutal. Ever been?”

  Head shake.

  “They say the summers are pretty, though. And the Field Museum is extraordinary. My dad took me there once, before he…” I stopped myself. Jails weren’t the place to discuss my felonious father’s flight from justice. “Anyway, I got to see Sue, you know, the big T-Rex skeleton?”

  Nothing.

  This wasn’t working so I what-the-helled it and dove in. “Lila, did you get into some kind of trouble when you were a teenager?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “A little bird.”

  “A little bird named Bernice, I bet.” There was bitterness in her voice, but it was preferable to her earlier apathy. Contrary to popular opinion, apathy can kill.

  “It slipped out while we were talking about the....” What should I tell her we’d been talking about? The anteater? The wallabies? “Uh, talking about the koala.”

  “I apologized for what I did. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “It kind of depends. Tell me what happened, and what it has to do with you winding up here.”

  She stood up and approached her cell door with a suddenness that made me take two steps backwards.

  “Scared of me, Teddy?”

  “Of course not. You just startled me.”

  She vented a sound that could have been either a laugh or a sob. “You will be, when I tell you.”

  “Give me a little credit, Lila. And by the way, keep your voice down because Deputy Gutierrez is standing by the door.”

  “Have they found the gun yet?”

  I almost asked what gun, but then I realized she had to be talking about the murder weapon. “Not as far as I know.”

  “Well, at least that’s something, anyway.” Some of the edge left her voice.