"Mrs. Wrath?" Dr. Wulf came to the fence and stared at me.
I was lying on the ground, rubbing the wolf's belly as he squirmed in delight.
"What are you doing here?" the director asked. "And in there, of all places?"
I got up, and the wolf shoved his ball into my hand. I threw it into some bushes.
"Sorry about that! I was just playing with Wolfie here. I saw him last time I was here…" My voice trailed off as the menacing security guard showed up.
"Mrs. Wrath." Dr. Wulf shook her head. "You just can't keep showing up when the zoo is closed! I'm going to have to—"
She never had time to finish.
"I want to adopt Wolfie here. Say, $1000 a month?"
Dr. Wulf's jaw dropped, as I guessed that was a very generous offer.
"He really seems to like me," I continued as the wolf showed up, dropped the ball, and got down on his front legs, tail wagging. "You know, I never really believed you had a red wolf. Since I was a kid, I've never seen the animal. But it turns out he's a big sweetie!" I turned to the beast, and he dropped to the ground for more belly rubs. "Isn't that right, big boy?"
Dr. Wulf stared at us. "That would be lovely. Why don't you come by when the zoo is open, and we'll set it up."
The security guard looked at his boss quizzically but said nothing.
The zoo director looked like she had a lot of questions yet to ask, like maybe Why are you here? and How did you get in? But to my surprise, she just turned and walked away. The security guard followed, and I was alone. Well, almost alone.
Wolfie followed me to the fence and watched me climb up and over. Once on the other side, I promised to bring him some more toys and a steak or two. His big, sweet eyes haunted me as I drove home.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was about halfway there when I changed my mind and drove to Riley's business. Claire was just walking out and nodded at me as I passed her.
"Merry?" Riley motioned for me to come and sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk.
"What do you know about Robby Doyle?" I asked as I plopped down.
"Who's that?" Riley seemed genuinely confused.
"The kid at the zoo who is a suspect in Joel Janson's murder?" I noticed he was eating chips and took one. "His dad is Russian."
I popped the chip into my mouth and immediately regretted it. It tasted like grass and cardboard. I chewed and swallowed before grabbing the energy drink on his desk and guzzling. That was a mistake because it tasted like onions and feet.
"What the hell?" I studied the can. "Sea kelp?" I snatched up the bag. "Veggie chips? Are you trying to kill me?"
It's a well-known fact among our associates and friends that I was a junk foodie, while Riley was into serious health food. I took a tissue from the desk and wiped my tongue.
Riley laughed and went to the fridge. He brought me a Coke, which I practically shotgunned.
"Better?"
I leaned back against the chair, panting and staring at the ceiling. "What is wrong with you? I hope you don't offer that swill to clients when they come in here!"
Once my heartbeat went back to normal, I sat up.
Riley grinned wickedly and pointed to the can in my hand. "That stuff will kill you."
I shook my head and pointed to the grotesque food and drink on his desk. "Why live if you have to eat and drink that crap?"
He shrugged. "Some people like eating healthy."
"Yeah, and some people have no lives at all." I regained my composure. "Robby Doyle's dad. Do you know him?"
"Merry…" Riley waved me off. "There are a lot of Russians in the area. That doesn't mean this Doyle kid's dad was a spy."
"Lana's behind this," I grumbled. "I just know it. And if she's here and we haven't seen her, she must have local associates who can hide her. Maybe Doyle is involved."
Riley thought about this and then started typing on his keyboard. I scooted the chair, while still in it, all the way around the desk until I could see his monitor.
"You've hacked into the Agency!" I said.
Riley just nodded.
"That encryption is new," I pointed out.
"You've been out of the biz for a while, and I still have connections there," Riley said.
Robby's high school ID popped onto the screen. Riley used the info to hack into the high school database. I guessed he was pretty good at investigating after all. But had he ever played fetch with a wolf? I doubted it.
Doyle's file came onto the screen, and only one parent was listed—his father, Bryan Doyle. I looked at the address.
"Maybe I should pay a visit to Mr. Doyle?" I asked out loud.
Riley scooped up his keys. "I'm going with you."
I thought about this. "Okay, but you're buying fast food on the way. I need some serious grease to get the taste of kelp out of my mouth."
Once I had a giant bag of fries, I began stuffing them into my mouth while wondering out loud about the Doyles.
"You know, he could know Hanson. I was going to find him through Betty's grandpa, but this would be quicker." I snapped my fingers. "He could be helping Hanson! Maybe Hanson has him keeping an eye on things for him…which would mean that Hanson is nearby."
Riley shook his head. "Why do that? If he wanted out, why come back? The contract is still on his head as far as I know. That's what spooked him into leaving in the first place."
I shrugged. "He's sticking around because of the plans in my house. To make sure no one ever gets Operation Wet Dog."
"That's a decent theory," Riley said.
"Decent? It's a great theory!" I might have been retired for a few years, but I still had it. "Did you know I played fetch with a wolf today?"
He rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."
"I did! At the zoo! When I was returning Mr. Fancy Pants and Dickie because I stole them."
Riley shook his head. It's possible he believed me. I've been known to do strange things in the past.
We drove in silence as I polished off the fries. Finally Riley pulled up in front of a small, story-and-a-half green house with black shutters. There weren't any cars in the driveway.
"Maybe he has a job?" I said as we sat staring at the house. Looking at my watch told me it was almost five. "Let's wait for him."
Riley agreed and pulled out his cell, logging into the Agency database one more time. I watched as he tried typing in every combination of Bryan Doyle but came away with nothing.
"He's a ghost," I mumbled. "Hiding in plain sight."
"Or," Riley replied, "he's a normal guy who lives here with his son."
"Okay." I turned in my seat. "What do you think is going on? Who killed Joel Janson? Why was Joel in my house, and what is NYE?"
"Why do you keep asking me?"
"Because you are a private investigator. If you aren't involved, which you are, then you should at least be curious."
"How am I involved?"
I ticked off my fingers. "One, you tricked me into buying my house. Two, you never told me there were secret plans hidden in there. Three, you know all about Lana. Am I missing something? Oh, right. And you tricked me into buying my house."
Yes, I know I repeated myself, but I thought that was fair since the bastard wouldn't even let me pick out my first house on my own.
Riley sighed. "I'm sorry. I was still with the Agency, and they needed to keep an eye on that house. But I should've told you."
"Fine. You apologized. Now, what about Lana?"
He shook his head. "I know you think she's here, but all your evidence is in your head. There's no proof. You asked who I think killed Janson. My answer is that it's either Robby, his father—who could've killed Janson for his son—or Dr. Wulf."
"You really don't think it's Lana." I studied his expression.
Riley looked into my eyes. "I really don't. Lana hates you. Like, hates you. Why would she spend all this time messing with you? Why not just kill you and be done with it so she can disappear once and f
or all?"
He had a point. I'd been obsessed with Lana for months, imagining seeing her here and there. But I had no proof she was here. And knowing Lana, she'd kill me first thing then fade into nothingness. At least, that's what I'd do. Spies who pussyfoot around usually get caught, killed, or both.
"Do you even know what Hanson looks like?" I asked. "I know you showed me that terrible, grainy picture, but have you seen him?"
Riley shook his head. "No. The CIA wanted it that way. I wouldn't know what he looked like if he was standing right in front of me. But I am curious. That's why I'm here. That and to keep you out of trouble."
I gave him a wry smile. "I do seem to get into trouble a lot."
A car pulled into the driveway and parked. We watched as a man in his late fifties/early sixties got out. He was average height, build, hair color—everything. Doyle unloaded two bags of groceries from the car and walked inside the house.
"Here goes nothing." I started to open my door, but Riley put his hand on my arm.
"What's the plan here?" he asked.
"I don't know. We'll wing it." I shrugged him off and got out.
We rang the doorbell, and the man we'd just seen opened the door with a smile. "Can I help you?"
"Yes," I said before introducing Riley and myself. "I'm a friend of Robby's. I know he's being investigated for the murder of Joel Janson, but I know he didn't do it."
Riley added, "Her husband is Detective Ferguson. We thought we could help."
"Come in." The man ushered us inside.
The house was normal with the usual furnishings. There were a couple of framed photos on the walls of Doyle and his son but none of Robby's mother. We all sat in the living room, and Bryan offered us something to drink. We declined.
"So, you're a friend of Robby's?" He had a strange, amused look on his face.
"Well," I said, "not quite. But I know him. I talked to him at the police station. I'm sure he didn't kill Janson."
To my surprise, I really believed it. Sure, Rex and Riley and probably everybody else thought it was Robby, but I knew somehow that it wasn't.
"And you want to know more about his relationship with Janson?" There was that odd grin again.
I wondered why he didn't just shut the door in our faces… Our appearance was kind of unusual. Two adults show up to talk about his son, and he doesn't try to get our credentials as to why we are asking?
"That would help," Riley answered.
Bryan Doyle leaned back in his chair. "I wasn't a fan of Janson. I'd never met him personally, but Robby gave me an earful about the teasing. My boy is a bit sensitive. We've moved around a lot over the years, and he never really connected with other kids. Since we moved here, he's become friends with Stewart."
He must mean Stewie.
"And while they do things I don't understand, Robby finally has a friend. It was cruel for Janson to make fun of the boys." The man's face hardened as he spoke.
This really upset him. But enough to murder Janson?
"Do you think Dr. Wulf had something to do with it?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I don't think so. Bea always turned a blind eye to the boys hanging out at the zoo after hours. She genuinely likes Robby."
The serious look on his face dissolved into that strange grin again. People smile for many reasons—amusement, humor, happiness—but they also grin when they are hiding something. My spydy senses were tingling. What was Bryan Doyle not saying?
I changed tactics. "I understand you're Russian. Robby told me."
The man laughed. "I guess that's true. My grandparents were Russian. But I didn't know them."
"One of my Girl Scouts is Russian. Her grandparents are pretty active in the Russian community in Des Moines."
The man was quiet. I could almost see the gears turning in his head. "Really? I've heard about that group. But I'm pretty removed from my heritage. I don't even speak the language."
It was possible Robby played up the Russian connection for attention. But something bothered me about Bryan's behavior. Had he killed Janson? It was possible. He'd told us that Robby had a hard time making friends. Now that he had one, if you could possibly call Stewie human, I could see things getting violent. Had he shot Joel Janson in the head?
"I'm sorry." Doyle got to his feet. "Robby's going to be home soon, and I have to get dinner on."
Riley and I got to our feet as well. This interview was over.
"I sure appreciate you looking out for Robby," the man said as he warmly shook our hands. "Thanks for stopping by."
Once we were back in Riley's car, I filled him in on my impression.
"I thought he was acting strangely too," Riley said. "There's something off about that man. But does it make him a killer?"
"That's a valid point," I agreed. "Some people just give off a strange vibe. Did you notice how he kept grinning at both of us? Like he knew something we didn't?"
Riley nodded. "It was as if he knew who we were. But that's crazy."
Ping!
I sat straight up in my seat and rummaged in my purse, pulling out a five-dollar bill, which I handed to Riley.
"Doyle dropped this in the driveway. Go return it to him."
We'd been partners for so long, Riley did as he was told without asking. Maybe he knew what I was going to do. I watched as he rang the doorbell. Bryan answered with a frown, but when he saw the bill, he smiled and thanked Riley. What he didn't see was that I was taking pictures of him.
"Now what?" Riley asked as he got back in the car.
"Head to my real estate agent's. Maybe we can catch Veronica before she leaves for the day."
Riley smiled. "I knew you were up to something. Did you take pictures?"
I nodded. "People love to have surprise money returned to them. It's a trick we used in Bolivia, remember?"
Riley and I had been trying to get close to a suspected Vietnamese agent who'd turned for Russia. The minute anyone walked within fifty feet of him, the man ran. So, one day, I chased him down, waving money, and he actually stopped to accept it. He believed me that he'd dropped 10,000 dong (yes, it's very funny) and was very appreciative, even though that's the equivalent of fifty cents US.
As a result, Riley got a good photo of his face, and we turned that over to the proper authorities, and the guy was picked up later that week.
Veronica was just closing up when we arrived. At seeing us, she hurriedly unlocked the door and ushered us inside.
"Thank you," I said. "Quick question…"
"Ha-ha-ha-ha!" Veronica slapped her knee. "You are so funny, Merry!" She sobered up and turned to Riley. "I know you, don't I?"
"Yes," Riley said. "I bribed you to sell a house to her." He pointed at me.
Veronica blinked at him. What, no laughter? That was way funnier than what I'd said.
"Veronica…" I held up my phone. "Do you recognize this guy?"
She giggled at me and took the phone. "Oh yes! I never forget a client." She looked at the image. "That's the guy who had your house before you. That's Joe Hanson!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I smirked at Riley. "You got her to sell me his house, and you didn't even recognize him! Ha!"
Now that was funny. Oddly enough, Veronica didn't laugh. In fact, she looked a little green.
"Merry, I hope we can move past this," she said in a low tone. "I really believed that was the perfect house for you…"
I waved her off. "It's all good, Veronica. And you were right. It was the perfect house for me."
She brightened. "Are you going to sell it? You have two houses now. I can sell it for you."
I shook my head. "No, I'm keeping it."
The woman burst into laughter that made her double over. "Seriously! You're so funny! You're killing me!"
But we barely heard her as we were halfway out to Riley's car.
"Maybe Veronica is the killer," I suggested as we got in and buckled up.
Riley started the engine and pulled away. "Why
was she laughing like that? Is something wrong with her?"
I shook my head. "I'm just naturally hilarious, I guess."
"So Robby Doyle's dad was an important Russian double agent." Riley whistled.
"Oh wow!" I sat straight up. "That's why he kept grinning at us! He knew who we were and thought it was funny that we didn't know who he was!"
"Maybe we should get him and Veronica together," Riley grumbled as he drove back to the office.
"So, what do we do now?" I asked. "Let the CIA know where he is? Turn him in to Rex as a suspect?"
Riley parked the car and turned to me. "I don't know. Neither one of us has to be loyal to Langley anymore. But he is a strong suspect in the murder of Joel Janson."
I nodded. "He has two powerful motives. One being his son and the other that this guy was trying to get ahold of Operation Wet Dog."
Riley thought about this for a moment. "Let's not do anything. Just for now. Let's let Bryan Doyle believe that we have no idea who he is."
I agreed. But as I made my way home, I mentally added him to my list of suspects.
* * *
"Merry?" Rex frowned at the dinner table. "You haven't touched your dinner."
"Oh! Sorry. My brain took a nap." I smiled at my husband and squeezed his hand.
He'd surprised me with pasta for dinner. I loved it when he did that. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but that works on me too.
"Anything I should know about?" My husband squeezed my hand in return.
There were a couple of approaches I could use here, but I was too befuddled, so I went straight to the truth.
"It's the Janson murder. I just can't believe that Robby Doyle and Dr. Wulf are suspects."
Rex took another bite and chewed thoughtfully before saying, "If it helps, I don't think they did it. It's the fact that the victim broke into your house a couple of times that bothers me. Although it's perfectly reasonable to conclude that his murder had nothing to do with that."
He ran his hands through his dark, slightly wavy hair. I loved it when he did that. For one brief second, my unflappable husband looked vulnerable.
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