Zoology 101 Page 3

  “Mr. Honnor will be right out for you,” the girl said. “We’re all sorry to hear about Dr. Lane.”

  “You knew her?” Was that odd for a gate attendant, likely the lowest of the low on the zoo totem pole—unless she took dude out at the parking lot into account—to know the head vet and researcher?

  “Everyone knew Diane.” Amy hesitated before leaning toward the Plexiglas keeping Gerri and the girl apart. Her voice was muffled through the small, round hole but Gerri heard her well enough even when she half-whispered. “She was… friendly.”

  Gerri leaned in herself. How she loved office gossip. It usually led her where she needed to ask the most important questions. “As in, friendly-friendly? Or liked everyone?”

  Amy’s big, dark eyes rolled. “As in, male and heartbeat,” she said, grinning. Then covered her mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry. She’s dead. That’s terrible of me.”

  Gerri shrugged it off. “Thanks, Amy.” She stepped away to the sound of footsteps behind her, carrying even through the chatter of the crowd. A large, heavyset man wearing the biggest combat boots she’d ever seen, the source of the sound, stomped toward her.

  She really needed herself a pair of those.

  He barely stopped in front of her. His bulk overshadowed her, blocking the sun in his military issue black ops uniform. It wasn’t often Gerri met a man who could intimidate her and, while he didn’t make her nervous, he was certainly giving it his best shot.

  “This way.” He spun around and stomped off again, leaving a wide open trail behind him.

  Gerri winked at Amy who looked nervous, and followed. Mr. Honnor, she assumed. Some kind of security head, likely, though he seemed to care little for the opinion of the patrons who scrambled out of his way.

  He held open a door for her, plain and with an ordinary metal knob, painted the same brown color as the decorative wall to disguise its presence. Gerri stepped through into air conditioning and the scent of computers, that faintly burning plastic smell they always seemed to give off to her. Rather than let him lead her, Gerri took a 50-50 guess and headed to the right on her own, hands swinging at her sides, the vision of utter confidence. She heard him grunt behind her but didn’t try to stop or correct her and she caught herself grinning.

  She loved being right.

  A half-open doorway on the left lured her down the concrete hall, the fluorescents overhead offering plenty of light. A huge change from the rustic feel of the zoo entrance, the inner workings felt spare and boring.

  Two voices came hushed but harsh from the room, falling silent as Gerri stopped and pulled the door open. The man and woman inside looked up with sudden guilty expressions.

  Ah, nothing like a little guilt in the morning. Gerri’s favorite.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton?” She forged ahead, loving they were off balance. Bernice looked over her shoulder with a sharp glare in her designer suit while Gerri strode into the room with her badge out. Jay, the more casual of the two in a golf shirt and dress pants, took Gerri's offered hand, shook it. Dropped it a moment later as the detective, smile wide and open, offered the same to whom she assumed was his wife.

  Her limp response made Gerri want to wipe her hand on her jeans.

  “Detective Geraldine Meyers.” Gerri looked back and forth between the two, noting the anxious presence of Gail Morris, the young woman from the ravine. She did mention she worked for them, some kind of assistant. The wife seemed nervous, unhappy, but the husband was more in control. So, partnership? Or did one of them wear the pants in the family?

  “Detective.” Jay spoke up. Pants, Gerri’s gut whispered. He gestured for her to follow him, to sit at a wide desk. This room was, at least, a bit more decorated. Likely his office or hers. As Gerri followed them, Gail exited with as small, sad smile, arms full of files. Gerri watched her leave, noticing another desk through the connecting doorway. Gail retreated into that new room. When Jay took a seat behind and his wife in front, Gerri guessed that had to be her space.

  Nice to know the hierarchy before she started asking questions.

  Gerri sat in the well-upholstered chair, not quite a wingback but more comfortable than she was expecting and pulled out her notebook. “Thanks for seeing me on short notice.” Always best to put them at ease while keeping them off balance.

  “Anything we can do,” Jay said while Bernice nodded instantly, her brown bob swinging in answer.

  “Anything,” she repeated.

  “You sent a Dr. Matt Brichert to identify the body of Diane Lane?” Would be nice to get that out of the way. And to find out who the hell he was. Gerri had no doubt the man she’d met at the morgue was a vet, worked for the zoo, knew Diane Lane as a colleague. But there was a lot more to him. Something that she couldn’t seem to shake, giving her the most powerful anxiety she’d ever felt in her life, standing there in the room with the dead woman. So much in fact, she felt compelled to make sure everyone else in the space was safe from him.

  He had to be a paranormal. But she had no idea what kind or why she had such a powerful reaction. He smelled familiar, too, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.

  “Matt has been with us for years.” Bernice slumped in her seat, hands in her lap. But, they didn’t dance and twist with nervousness, just lay there, limp. Her grief was real, as far as Gerri could tell. “He recommended Diane to us, for the wolf project. We were thrilled to have her. And thought it would be appropriate for him to take care of the matter.”

  “Bernice doesn’t mean to say we don’t care.” Jay shot her a look while she grimaced and looked away. “Just that…”

  “You have a business to run, and Dr. Brichert was the right choice. I get it. I just have to ask.”

  They both seemed to relax somewhat.

  “I hope you’re not suggesting Matt had something to do with Diane’s death.” Bernice shivered, leaning in to Gerri, elbows on her crossed knees. She smelled like flowers and baby powder. Did they have a child? They were certainly young enough to have an infant, though their early forties was pushing it.

  “Dr. Lane’s body was found in a position and under circumstances that lead us to believe it might have been foul play.” Gerri couldn’t release the details, and didn’t want to. At least, not yet. Both of the Pendeltons exclaimed little mutters of unhappiness at the news. “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her?”

  Jay opened his mouth, but it was Bernice who spoke first.

  “There’s only one person who gave Diane any trouble.” She half turned, as if for permission from her husband to go on, but he just shook his head, face troubled as he stared at the top of his desk. “There’s this terrible woman who’s been attacking the zoo since Diane arrived with the wolf pack she’s rehabilitating.”

  Gerri’s pen hovered. “Name?”

  “Abigail Armstrong,” Bernice said.

  They’d run into each other before, and not so long ago. Another murder investigation, the death of Veronica Pascal, ending in Gerri pulling the trigger on Ian Moore in the sad last stand at an animal shelter. Gerri fought off a sigh of irritation at having to question the old woman again, but knew it was a necessity. “You think she might have had the means and opportunity to harm Diane?”

  Jay spoke this time. “They’ve come to blows before.” He gestured over Gerri’s shoulder and she heard—and felt—Mr. Honnor stomp off. “Bill will fetch the video tapes for you.”

  “It was terrible, just terrible.” Bernice pressed one long fingered hand to her chest, brown eyes full of anger. “How that woman got into the fundraiser in the first place, I have no idea.”

  “It was a private function, three nights ago.” The stomping feet were returning. Jay went on as Honnor entered the room and bent beside Gerri, setting a stack of DVD’s on the desk in front of her. Jay reached for the top one, slipped it into his computer, turning the monitor around so they could all see. The black and white footage was a little grainy, but it was obvious, even in the silent video, Diane
Lane and Abigail Armstrong did not like each other. Gerri watched as Diane turned and tried to walk away from the older woman, only to be spun back. She was surprised, though probably shouldn’t have been, when the activist lashed out, slapping the researcher. Jay turned the feed off, retrieving the DVD and slipping it into the case while Gerri sat back. He restacked it on the top of the pile of four disks while he spoke again. “But, as far as we know, Diane was otherwise universally loved.”

  Gerri was pretty sure the lurking security guy next to her didn’t know how to love, but she let that pass.

  “We wanted to press charges,” Bernice said, “but Diane insisted it was fine. We had that woman banned from the zoo with a warning.”

  “What was the fight about specifically, do you know?” It might not matter. But, then again, it could be motive for murder.

  “The wolf pack.” Bernice sat back again, tossing her hands. “Here Diane was doing a great thing, rehabilitating the pack to return them to the wild. You’d think Miss Activist would be grateful.”

  Her husband reached forward and took her hand as she held it out in response. “Not everyone understands what we’re trying to do here,” he said. Jay met Gerri’s gaze. “We take on animals other small zoos don’t want and do what we can to rehab them, return them to their native environment.”

  “This isn’t an ordinary zoo,” Bernice said. “And we like it that way. We just wish people like Abigail Armstrong would give us the chance to prove it.”

  How altruistic. Gerri stuffed down her cynicism as Bernice spoke again.

  “Diane’s passion for the wolves—for all of our animals—was uncompromising.” She wiped at a tear that came to the corner of her eye. “She fit our family perfectly. And we’ll miss her.”

  Truth, Gerri’s gut whispered.

  “I’ll need to know where both of you were last night, around 10PM,” Gerri said. “Just for my records.”

  “Home,” Jay said. “Together.”

  Bernice nodded. “With friends. Dinner party.” She reached in her pocket, pulled out her cell phone. Rambled off names and numbers which Gerri dutifully jotted down to check.

  And, she would. Because as Gerri rose to her feet, notebook tucked away, hand reaching for the vids, she noticed the flicker of nervousness on Jay’s face. Wondered, at the brief exchange of a look between him and Honnor, just what she might find when she watched them.

  And what might be missing.

  ***

  EXT. – DAILY SAVE-MART – AFTERNOON

  Gerri parked the Charger across the road from the grocery store rather than trying to cut through the picket line to use the parking lot. Her contacts had tracked Abigail Armstrong to this suburban strip mall and the shopping center presently under harassment by HACT. Abigail’s organization. Humans Are Creatures Too, served as the activist’s more legitimate touchstone. Gerri was well aware the woman was into more radical means of protesting that had nothing to do with holding up a “Meat Kills” sign and everything to do with breaking and entering labs for some constructive sabotage.

  Abigail took one look at Gerri stomping toward her and grinned. “Detective Meyers,” the woman said through clenched teeth. So, not grinning. And here Gerri thought she was happy to see her. “This is a legal protest. You have no right to be here.”

  The others around her muttered, their signs leaning forward, blocking the sunlight as though fencing the detective in. She spun and glared at each in turn, driving them back with the weight of her stare and her hands on her hips, conveniently showing off the Glock .45 at her hip. When she turned back to Abigail, the woman’s expression had soured considerably.

  “I just have a few questions for you,” Gerri said, motioning for her to precede her toward the Charger. “Don’t make me take you downtown.”

  Abigail grunted her unhappiness, dropping her sign to her side, swinging it almost like a weapon as she tromped across the street, giving the finger to a car that beeped its horn at her as she cut off the driver. Gerri muffled a grin behind her hand. The woman was a pain in her ass, but she had guts, something Gerri couldn’t help but admire.

  By the time they crossed the street to the relative privacy of Gerri’s car, the protestors had gone back into full shriek, calling out at passing vehicles, making it difficult—if not impossible—for cars to enter the lot.

  “You know,” Gerri turned back, sitting on the fender of her car, arms crossed over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at Abigail, “you can protest all you want, but it’s illegal to deny access to the property.”

  The woman shrugged, reached in her pocket, pulled out what looked like a cigarette. Gerri’s eyes widened at her audacity when Abigail lit up the joint and took a long, deep hit.

  “So arrest us,” Abigail said with her usual ladylike manner, flashing her teeth. “And I have cancer. And a medical permit.” She drew on the joint again.

  Gerri let it go. She wasn’t narcotics. But if Abigail didn’t tell her what she wanted to know, she’d pass the info along. Just to be neighborly with her fellow detectives.

  “What do you have against the supermarket, anyway?” Gerri didn’t have time for protests. She was far too busy living. Fighting crime. Normal shit.

  Abigail blew out a cloud of smoke. “Like you care,” she said, “that the meat you eat used to be living creatures raised in inhumane conditions, pumped full of antibiotics and pre-programed to drop dead after being stuffed with GMO’s.” The old woman looked away, lined face angry, long, gray hair crimped from a previous braid. “What do you want, Detective? It’s not to make the world a better place.”

  “I like to think I do my part.” Gerri hated the sudden wash of guilt Abigail’s words roused. Just because she didn’t torment innocent shoppers or break into labs and free test animals, didn’t mean she failed to make a difference. “I solve murders. Speaking of which.”

  Abigail fixed Gerri with her icy eyes. “Who died?”

  “Friend of yours.” For some suspects, the detective went in slow and soft, teased out reactions. Abigail was best hit cold and hard. “Diane Lane.”

  The moment the woman’s eyes flew wide, mouth slack, joint dangling forgotten from her fingers, Gerri’s gut whispered, Innocent.

  God damn it.

  Oh well. Not like Gerri didn’t guess already Abigail had nothing to do with it. Though, it wouldn’t surprise her, someday, to find the activist’s body, crumpled and cast aside. She hoped for Abigail’s sake she was wrong about that.

  “Diane Lane.” The old woman looked down at her joint, watched the smoke rise from the tip. “You think I killed her?”

  “I have video of you slapping her at a fundraiser three nights ago.” Gerri didn’t bother with her notebook, not while Abigail sighed, squeezing the ember off the end of her smoke and tucking the remains into the pocket of her voluminous skirt.

  “I fought with Diane.” Abigail’s voice came out hushed, cracking a little. Gerri had never heard such sadness from the woman before, surprised when she looked up, tears in her eyes. “I had such hopes for her.”

  “What happened?” Gerri waited Abigail out as the old woman shifted her feet, wiped away tears with angry hands.

  “The fucking zoo happened.” She shuddered, crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve known Di for years, Detective. She was part of HACT a long time ago, back when I first formed the organization.”

  That was a surprise. “She left why?”

  Abigail shrugged. “She was offered a job in Colorado, working with a rare breed of wolves. I was happy for her. She had the right attitude. And, when she came here two months ago, to work with the Pendletons, I thought things would turn around.”

  “Jay Pendleton told me Paramount Zoo is a rehab facility,” Gerri said. “That they return animals to the wild if they can.”

  Abigail snorted, tossed her head like a wild horse. “You mean, they sell rehabbed animals to the countries of origin to be placed in private collections for large sums of money.”

&n
bsp; Interesting. But not illegal. “And Diane?”

  “The wolves were my fault.” Abigail joined Gerri, leaning against the car, sounding tired. “Some of my people found them and two cubs, a breeding pair. The female was caught in a trap, the male refused to leave her. We told Diane and she immediately began to rehab the mother. All of them, kept them together.” Abigail’s hands kneaded slowly. “But when the time came to release them, she claimed they weren’t able to return to the wild, that the cubs were too used to humans and the mother would never fully heal or survive.”

  “You didn’t believe her?” She was a vet. She would know, wouldn’t she?

  “I didn’t.” Abigail pushed off from the car, paced a little. “I thought it was an excuse. She’d become attached to them, any fool could see that. She spent so much time with them, too much.” The old woman’s face sank. “I tried to convince her. I overreacted. I apologized to her. And, she told me she was going to release the wolves.”

  “Which she never did, I take it.” Gerri did pull her notebook out then, jotted down details.

  “As far as I know, those wolves are still in captivity.” Abigail stared at Gerri as she wrote. “Are you going to help them, Detective?”

  Gerri stood up, pen in hand. “I’m going to find out who killed Diane,” she said. “I’ll leave saving animals to you, Abigail. One last question.”

  “Ah yes.” The woman barked a laugh, more a cough than humor. “My alibi. When?”

  “Last night, about 10PM.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I have the perfect answer for you. That judge you sent me in front of after my excursion at Beauty, Inc.? He decided community service would be the best choice.” She sounded like she’d have rathered jail time. “Thought it would be ironic to assign me to a youth center. His idea of a joke, me looking after kids.” She shuddered. “There was a dance last night and I was a chaperone.” She snarled. “Little animals.”