Meerkats and Murder Page 5

"I wouldn't want you to. Don't worry about Randi and Ronni. They mean well."

  I nodded. "I know. And I love them for it. But snakes are a deal breaker."

  We went to bed early. Rex was too tired to even read—a habit that was part of his ritual. Me? I liked to make ice cream sundaes before bed.

  Once he was soundly asleep, I slid very carefully out of bed and got dressed. I was too tired to chase after anyone. But I could use some advice. And there was only one person I wanted to talk to.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I needed to talk to Mr. Fancy Pants, who wasn't a person but a vulture. I wanted to see him mostly because I hadn't broken into the zoo in a while and out of concern that he was suffering from Girl Scout cookie withdrawal.

  The king vulture, on loan from the National Zoo to Obladi Zoo here in town (a kind of demotion, I think), had actually saved my life a couple of times. The fact that he was addicted to Girl Scout cookies made rewarding him easy. Cookie season was over, but I was always prepared. The huge chest freezer wasn't hiding a body in it at the moment because it was stuffed with ten boxes of every kind of cookie. And that's a joke. The part about the body, not the cookies. That part is real.

  Being that it was late at night, there'd be no one around. I'd made a copy of the keys a while ago. I won't tell you how, so you can have plausible deniability. My only problem with visiting the raptor late at night was Dickie.

  Dickie was a mouthy scarlet macaw who lived in the open, on a stand right in front of Mr. Fancy Pants' enclosure. The main problem with the parrot was that he tended to repeat everything that Robby Doyle, the nineteen-year-old kid who fed the animals and kept their enclosures mucked out among other demoralizing tasks, said.

  Whether it was about why girls didn't like him or his many cosplay adventures with a demigod who worked at Hardees and was named Stewie, this kid said it, and Dickie repeated it. I've often thought of bringing Susan, my therapist, here for a listen. She could diagnose him as a dork in seconds. Not sure there's any way of curing that. On the other hand, Dickie once rescued me from some hungry big cats here at the zoo, so I cut him a little slack.

  As I eased my way inside, I noticed that the lights were down lower than usual. That's odd. Normally it's dimly lit so the animals can sleep, but this was almost pitch black. I'd have to cross the floor to get to the dimmer switch.

  "Squack!" Dickie shrieked. "It's her again!" He gave me a one-eyed glare from his perch. "I know what you did!" he called out. "I am the Mage of Demon Spawn!"

  This was new but not unexpected. You never knew what this bird brain would say.

  "Hi, Dickie," I said softly, in hopes he'd chill out. I waited for the insults that usually followed to begin.

  "I know what you did! I know what you did!" he repeated. "It's not a blankie! It's for…um…wiping off my monitor!"

  The things Dickie said rarely surprised me anymore, although this I know what you did was new. But what did Robby and Stewie do that deserved the threat? Roll a nine on a ten-sided dice and lie to say it was a thirteen? Wear the wrong wizard hat? Play Dungeons & Dragons ironically?

  I was almost in front of the vulture's window when I tripped over something. Looking down, I jumped backwards, aiming my cell phone's flashlight app downwards. There was a dead man on the floor. He was dressed like a sort of janitor. His skin was white, eyes open and glassy, and there was a dark bruise on his temple where I'd hit him last night.

  It was Bart.

  Very slowly, I knelt down and reached out for a pulse. This was scary. Not because I'd be touching a dead body but because it was creepy dark and I was afraid the guy would jump up and shout boo! Yes, I know that's ridiculous, but Rex and I watched a movie the other night where a corpse did just that.

  The skin was cold to the touch. I felt for the pulse on his neck, but there was no sign of life. Great. Now I'd have to call it in. Then Rex would know I broke in here. That wouldn't be good. I'd tried so hard to keep things on the down low.

  This dead guy was my intruder. I had no choice but to do the right thing. But that wouldn't stop me from taking a few pictures first, maybe checking his wallet for ID.

  I was still wearing the gloves I always wore when I visited my bird so I wouldn't leave prints behind. The most important thing would be to touch the body as little as possible. The last thing I needed was a charge for defiling a corpse. I shuddered just thinking about it.

  "He's dead! Murderer!" Dickie screeched. "Stop cheating, Stewie! You can't use the Demogorgon twice in the same roll!"

  I ignored him and took a few pictures of Bart's face. Good thing he was lying on his back. His head was resting in a small puddle of blood. Very slowly I searched his pockets, careful not to disturb much. No wallet. This guy had no ID on him whatever. The only thing that identified him was his janitor coveralls.

  Did Bart work here? Or was he masquerading as a janitor to…to do what, exactly? Nothing here had anything to do with me. Well, nothing but Mr. Fancy Pants. Oh no! What if he was here to kidnap the vulture and hold it hostage until I gave him Nye?

  Get a grip, Merry. Rex always says that the most obvious explanation is probably true. Bart could actually live here in town and actually work here at the zoo. We'd find out from Dr. Wulf—the zoo director—whether or not he worked here soon enough.

  If he did work here, where were his personal effects? Maybe janitors left everything in a locker? I wasn't about to go traipsing about looking for the employee locker room. I took in the position of his body, and that's when I noticed his hands were clenched into fists.

  It didn't look like he had any defensive wounds—or any other visible sign that he fought an attacker off. In fact, Dickie's announcement of murder was the only thing that led me to believe he'd been killed. I couldn't see what had killed him. There were no obvious bullet holes or stab marks in the front. And the puddle spreading beneath his head indicated the wound was there. However, the last thing I wanted to do was turn him over. Rex and the medical examiner, Dr. Soo Jin Body, would notice if I did that.

  What was he doing here? They never had janitors in here this late at night, or I would've run into one long before now. I got to my feet and turned up the lights. And that's when I spotted the black leather briefcase on the floor a few yards away. My spydy senses tingled. Maybe I'd just look through it and put everything back before calling Rex.

  There was a tapping that made me jump. Mr. Fancy Pants was right up against the glass, staring at me and tapping his beak against it. Oh right. The cookies. Very quickly, I entered his enclosure and dumped a box of shortbread cookies on the branch we always sat on. Then it was back to the body.

  Could he have died of natural causes? Had a heart attack and dropped dead?

  "I saw what you did! I saw what you did!" Dickie opened his wings and flapped them.

  The briefcase was basic. No monogram and no locks. I popped it open very slowly. Remember James Bond's case in From Russia With Love? If you opened it normally, gas came out and knocked you silly? You couldn't be too careful. Sure, I'd never come across a booby-trapped briefcase in my career as a spy, but there's a first time for everything.

  The leather creaked as I opened the case. But there was nothing inside. Not so much as a speck of lint. What reason could this guy have had to bring a briefcase into a room full of zoo animals? Something was way off. And the fact that the case was empty told me that whatever had been inside was stolen.

  "You were murdered, weren't you?" I asked the body, which, thankfully, didn't reply.

  "I know who did it!" Dickie squawked. "You can't curse me! I'm wearing my Cloak of Righteousness!"

  That was odd. He hadn't mentioned murder earlier, just kept saying he knew what I did. It was strange, but this seemed like he was cognizant of the situation and had something to say. I stepped up to him.

  "Was it murder?" I asked.

  "Murder!" Dickie screeched. "Stewie is a demigod from the Omega realm!"

  Huh. I'd never really talked to him before. Maybe he
'd seen some mystery movie the kid watched on a tablet and heard that word. I felt a little stupid as I walked away.

  "I know who did it!" the bird insisted.

  I turned around. "Okay, I'll act like someone who's just lost their mind and ask. Who did it?"

  "Can't tell! Can't tell!"

  "Seriously?" I threw up my arms. "Now you're not going to tell me?"

  Okay, now I was approaching idiocy. The bird would've had to know the name of the killer in order to answer me. And why did I think he could answer me?

  The macaw shook his head. "Can't tell!"

  "Why not?" I shouted.

  "Pinky swear!" he answered.

  Whoa. There was nothing on this earth that could break a pinky swear. Working with little girls, I'd had a lot of experience with this. But I was fairly certain that little girls hadn't killed Bart.

  Wait! This was a bird. "You don't have pinkies!" I yelled. "That renders the pinky swear non-binding!" Look at me. I'm having a quasi-legal argument with a parrot.

  Mr. Fancy Pants was still at the glass. He hadn't touched his cookies. That wasn't good. Not good at all if he was off his cookies. I walked over to the glass and tapped.

  "You okay in there?"

  He didn't blink. Just kept staring at the body. I walked back into his enclosure and noticed that the lock had been tampered with. And not by me, because I had a legitimately stolen key. There were scratches around the lock, which meant someone had made a quick and failed attempt to get into the vulture's enclosure.

  Had this guy come to hurt the bird or, like I'd wondered before, to hold him hostage? My hackles went up, and anger flooded my veins. No one hurts Mr. Fancy Pants. No one.

  I still had to call Rex. He kept his cell on his nightstand for work. I knew he'd answer. He always answered. My heart sank. Once again I'd run off and done something he wouldn't like. Would this be the tipping point? I pushed those thoughts away. I had to call him. He was the only detective in town. With a heavy heart, I hit his number and waited.

  Rex answered, and without asking why I was here instead of in bed with him, he told me he could be here in a few minutes. And the jig would be up for me.

  But this was a body. I had no choice but to turn it in. Damn. I should've brought one of my burner phones.

  I went back into the vulture's room and scooped up the cookies. Sadly, I couldn't let anyone know I had a key to his room.

  "Sorry," I said.

  But the vulture only had eyes for the body. Maybe he wouldn't notice the cookies had been here. After a brief hesitation, I realized that this might kind of help my case, as it would be evidence as to why I was here. I replaced the cookies.

  "Dickie," I said to the parrot. "Before I get myself into trouble, can you please tell me who killed this guy?"

  "Pinky swears are never broken!" He turned his back to me. "And neither is the Desolate Circle of Aggador the Phoenix!"

  I wondered if he'd heard of Basim and the truck. Did I have time to tell the story? Would it even make sense to a bird?

  "I'll bring you cookies next time." I motioned toward the vulture. "Just like I do for Mr. Fancy Pants."

  "Can't say!" Dickie screamed.

  "Of course not, you dumb bird," I grumbled.

  The parrot turned and looked at me. Then he shrieked, "Nye!"

  CHAPTER SIX

  For some reason, Rex didn't scold me. He arrived on the scene with Kevin—Officer Dooley—who was drinking a giant Slurpee. Where did he get one in town at this hour? Nothing was open in town after ten p.m. Of course, now I wanted a Slurpee.

  Dr. Soo Jin Body showed up with a couple of EMTs, and they took over the crime scene. As medical examiner, only Dr. Body could touch the corpse. Even if a gun was sitting on his chest, the police would have to wait to get it once the deceased was in the fridge at the morgue. I thought that was fascinating.

  Soo Jin was a drop-dead gorgeous transplant from Chicago. It was hard to be friends with someone so pretty, friendly, and perfect, but eventually she won me over and was even a bridesmaid at the wedding. I really liked the ME, and on occasion she helped me with the troop, who loved her. She even gave them a tour of the morgue—to which, after a couple of girls got locked in the freezer and Betty broke something that looked like it came from a Spanish Inquisition torture pit, I was pretty sure we'd never be invited back.

  Rex interviewed me as if he didn't know me, which stung a bit. He was probably so mad he'd decided to keep it all professional for now. The two of us didn't really fight. We bickered a little, but the best thing about my husband was that he understood and accepted my quirks.

  Of course now he was dealing with his wife breaking and entering into the zoo to feed cookies to a South American raptor. That would be tough to explain. Dickie was strangely silent, which was no help whatsoever.

  "This is the guy," I insisted. "The guy who broke into my house twice!"

  Rex had a curious look on his face. "Are you sure?"

  I decided to check again. What if I was wrong? I made my way over to the body and knelt beside it.

  "He was shot in the back of the head," Soo Jin said over her shoulder as she examined the top of his head. "The bullet is still inside. No exit wound."

  With a bright smile she said, "Hey, Merry!" Then she called Rex over as if it wasn't weird that I was at the crime scene. "Small caliber bullet in the back of the head, I think."

  "It couldn't be suicide, then." Rex shook his head.

  She nodded. "It would take some acrobatics to maneuver a gun into place and then pull the trigger. Considering the fact that we would've found the gun near him if it was suicide, but didn't, my guess is murder."

  "You didn't touch anything, right?" Rex asked me for the sixth or seventh time.

  I shook my head. "I didn't."

  Dickie hadn't uttered one word since the others arrived. Now why would he do that? You'd think he'd be telling everyone that he'd solved the case. And since he wasn't talking, I didn't mention what he'd said.

  Mr. Fancy Pants had taken to pacing when everyone showed up. The vulture was clearly agitated. And that bothered me.

  "I'm taking the body to the morgue," Soo Jin announced before leaving with the two men who were rolling the body out of the building.

  "Detective Ferguson!" Dr. Wulf, the zoo director, raced into the room. "Merry?" She seemed surprised I was there. Then she looked around and gave me a curious look. Did she know about my nocturnal visits?

  "Is that Joel?" She walked over to the corpse, her hand to her mouth. The director went white as a sheet and looked unsteady on her feet.

  "Joel?" I squeaked. Rex gave me a look loaded with surprise, and I felt guilty for not telling him everything.

  She nodded. "Joel Janson, our new janitor."

  That sounded awfully close to Joe Hanson. Was this the guy who used to live in my house? And what was he doing here where my bird was?

  Rex filled her in on what had happened. With a side glance at me, he recommended that she get the locks changed first thing and said he'd leave Kevin behind to guard the crime scene. He also asked that they keep this building off limits to visitors tomorrow.

  "That's too bad." She shook her head sadly. "People love the meerkats." She motioned to the big cage in the middle, just as two meerkats slowly went by, riding on two tortoises. One of them waved.

  Huh. I'd never noticed they did that before.

  Dr. Wulf caught my eye and smiled. "The meerkats started doing that a month ago. We think they must be bored. The tortoises don't seem to mind."

  As Rex went over to Kevin, who was staring at Dickie (possibly wondering if he could eat the bird), Dr. Wulf and I turned our attention back to Mr. Fancy Pants.

  "He seems agitated," I said. "He must have witnessed the whole thing."

  The bird stopped pacing and started grunting and hissing. I'd never heard that before. I looked at the zoo director.

  She nodded. "He does seem upset. I'll have the vet check him out in the morning."
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  "Mrs. Wrath?" Rex said as he joined us. Uh-oh. He only got formal like that when he was mad. "I need to have a word." He leaned in and whispered, "Wait for me at home."

  The zoo director, who knew we were married, must've decided that I was going to have it worse from him. She didn't even ask why I was there. I nodded and left the building and zoo, climbing back over the fence where I usually came in. I was home in three minutes.

  Waiting for Rex to come home and lay into me was agony. Why was he taking so long? I wanted to get it over with. And yet, he wasn't home. I tried Riley again, but there was no answer. Most people might worry that something was wrong there, but I wasn't. I had a feeling Riley was avoiding me. Probably with that knockout of a secretary or whatever she was.

  I started pacing around the room, trying to figure out why Dickie had called out "Nye" when I'd asked him who'd done it. Was he referring to the killer? Was that what he was trying to tell me? It was pretty tricky getting around the pinky swear.

  He'd referred to the killer when he said "Nye." Hadn't he? And this guy, Joel, was the guy who broke into my house. And possibly the guy who lived here before me.

  No. I mean, it didn't make sense. The macaw repeated words. How could he have said all those things? How could he know the name of the killer? And if the killer knew that Dickie knew who he was, then Dickie wasn't safe.

  Did that mean that Mr. Fancy Pants wasn't safe either? Someone had tried to break the lock on his enclosure. Was the king vulture in danger?

  My heart sank into my shoes. I couldn't just stand by and wait for the killer to come for the birds. I'd have to do something. Was there a witness protection service for animal witnesses? I'd probably get laughed at if I asked.

  Maybe I could do it myself? If that habitat was going to be closed for a while, I could…

  The key turned in the lock. I braced myself.

  Rex was home, and I was pretty sure that the killer wasn't the only one he was mad at…

  CHAPTER SEVEN