Maltese Vulture Murder Page 8

  I didn't want to tell him about Riley's trunkful of Twinkies. Then my husband would arrest my old handler, and Kelly would lose her job and blame me, Riley would lose his business and blame me (although it would be his own fault), Claire the receptionist would lose her job (which wouldn't be a bad thing because the woman was super competent), and the sorority girls would never get Poopsie back.

  How did I let that slip? I'd been a spy! I used to keep multiple secrets going at once without ever spilling the beans. Ever. Now I was like a leaky colander.

  He waited patiently. I've never been one for patience, which isn't a great attribute for a spy. There'd been this time, in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan, where I'd spent five days waiting for my informant to bring me the intel I needed. Five days! I almost lost my mind.

  The hotel I'd been holed up in had no wireless access, and the TV had only three channels—one that followed the adventures of the President for Life's pet frog (utilizing the first ever Frog Cam), one devoted exclusively to Christian macramé, and one home shopping channel that was pretty much white noise for the entire time I was there. There was a small library in the hotel, but it only had two well-worn books—Desert Agricultural Advances of 1958 and Howler Monkeys & You.

  I read both books fifteen times. Each. When my informant came to the hotel to tell me that he hadn't gotten me what I needed, due to an impromptu bear hunting trip with Russian President Vladimir Putin, I punched him in the nose. Hard. Then I stole Howler Monkeys & You and fled the country.

  "I can't tell you." I sighed. "It's possible he's done something illegal, and I don't want to incriminate him."

  Rex took out his cell and held it up. "That's too bad. I was going to order takeout from Oleo's, but if you won't tell your own husband what's going on…"

  Dammit. He knew my weakness. Oleo's had the best burgers in the state.

  "Would I be telling my husband this, or would I be telling Detective Rex Ferguson of the Who's There police force?"

  His right eyebrow went up as he thought about how to handle this hurdle. "If Riley has done something illegal, I'll need to deal with that. But since he once worked for the FBI, I can't imagine it being that bad. So maybe just a slap on the wrist."

  Ooooh! This was hard. Dangling Oleo's on one end and hinting that he wouldn't do anything about it on the other. This was a dilemma between trusting my husband and trusting Riley—a man with a long history of lying to me.

  "He has more Hostess products than two grocery stores put together!" I blurted out a little too quickly. "I think they might be stolen."

  Rex burst out laughing. "Okay, I can see where you would think that way. But it's not."

  I stood up, mouth open. "You know what's going on? And you didn't tell me?"

  He nodded but said nothing as he called Oleo's and ordered two burgers, each with a side of fries.

  "Rexley?" I threatened. "I told you. Now you have to tell me. Quid pro quo."

  He shook his head. "They aren't stolen. I can tell you that much."

  "Did he dumpster dive outside a Hostess bakery?"

  That's when the phone rang. "I've got to get this." He stood up, walked away, and answered.

  How did everyone know about what Riley was up to but me? That was extremely frustrating!

  "Yeah, thanks, Soo Jin." Rex ended the call and pocketed the phone.

  I was about to go all-out on him over this Riley betrayal, but something stopped me.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Soo Jin got the fingerprint results from the lab. We now know who our guy is."

  There was an excruciatingly long moment of silence.

  "Well? Are you going to tell me? If you won't spill the beans on Riley, you at least have to tell me I'm right about this." Or wrong. But mostly right.

  "It appears that we have a draw on the bet," he said after a moment's pause.

  I threw my hands up in the air. "A draw? How is that possible? The guy's either a spy, or not. Pretty simple if you ask me."

  Rex shook his head.

  I jumped up with glee. "I won, didn't I? Yay!" I danced around the room a little, causing Philby to give me a disapproving look. But then, she always looked like that.

  Rex interrupted my gyrations, which seemed a bit rude. "Not necessarily. But the results are interesting."

  I stopped dancing. "Not necessarily? I don't understand how there could be any gray area."

  "Well, you're wrong, because the victim is the man who previously owned Nellie Lou."

  Hmmm…that did sound like it related to me. Damn. I really wanted to win.

  "Are you telling me the guy who died, whose relatives shipped the twins the bird, is dead again? Hey! If he was just a normal guy, why are his fingerprints on file?"

  Rex sighed. "Because. He's a cop."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Soo Jin emailed Rex, and I stood over his shoulder, reading the file. The victim, Norbert Bingley, was a policeman in Houston, Texas. He was reported as dying when trying to save a police dog from drowning. The dog made it, but he never resurfaced and they never found his body. They did find his shoes. One had a bite taken out of it.

  The verdict had been alligator attack, based on the toothmarks on the shoe. The next day, his badge and a torn shirt washed up on shore. By the amount of the blood on the shirt, the local coroner had declared him dead, as no one could've survived losing that much blood.

  "He faked his own death?" I asked. "Why would a cop do that?"

  "He would if he was dirty," Rex said as he scrolled through. "But there's no mention of that in the file."

  "Could he have faked his death in order to go undercover?" Even as I spoke the words, the idea seemed very farfetched.

  "I've never heard of that happening before. Not if he had a family." Rex got up and packed up his paperwork. "I'd better head into the office."

  I waved him away, my mind gnawing on the puzzle. "I'll pick up the food and drop yours off."

  As he walked out the door, the thought occurred to me—how did Rex know this Norbert Bingley had owned Nellie Lou? I called the one person (or two) who might know as I drove to Oleo's.

  "Randi?" I waited for bubbly confirmation. "Have you ever done business with Norbert Bingley?"

  "That's so strange that you should know about him!" she enthused. "He's the one who owned Nellie Lou! The zookeeper gave him to Bingley!"

  "That's odd. Why did he do that?"

  "I have no idea," the twin answered.

  "Then how did you know Bingley had the bird?"

  "We have a strict policy that when you give a creation to someone else, you have to alert us. That way we can do repairs if needed and we know it wasn't stolen." I could practically hear her smiling. "Such a nice man. I met him once. Did you know the mayor gave him a big award?"

  An award? "For what?"

  She cocked her head to one side, thinking. "He sent us an article a while back. I don't have it anymore, but it said the mayor of his town had awarded him a commendation for valor."

  "How do you remember that?" I asked.

  "Because it was kind of unusual. The article never said what the commendation was for. It was just an award given by the mayor. It even said in the article that the paper was confused as to what it was for. Isn't that strange?" There was a moment's pause. "Is there anything else you need?"

  "I'm good. Thanks!" Knowing that these dioramas were ridiculously expensive, it made sense to have new owners send the info to Ferguson Taxidermy.

  I hung up before picking up the food and was barely aware of my surroundings as I dropped off Rex's dinner. He was so engrossed in his paperwork, he didn't seem to notice me. Back in my van in the parking lot, my mind was racing.

  Norbert Bingley, a dead man who'd allegedly survived an alligator attack to save a police dog, was in my garage. Why? Was he there for Nellie Lou? It seemed pretty likely. Had he laced her with hallucinogens? Why did he want her back?

  For the brief time I'd owned the bird, I hadn't noticed anything
special about her—well, except for the fact she was a dead king vulture. I pictured her, wings spread above her body, head low as if ready to take flight. What was so special about Nellie Lou that made a dead man come after her?

  It also seemed likely that she might be what Mr. Sun and Mr. Moon were looking for all along. I was starting to believe that they were behind the other dead bird thefts. Had they killed Norbert?

  The only place I might find the answer to this question was in Soo Jin's office. And it was getting late. I dialed, but she didn't pick up. Probably off for the night with her state trooper boyfriend, Eddie Ruiz.

  Poopsie the Penguin popped into my mind. That was a bird taxidermied by the twins, the same time that Nellie was created. A stuffed dodo—a creation of Ferguson Taxidermy—was stolen from the Iowa Museum of Natural History, and then the penguins and ostrich were taken from Randi and Ronni's. Maybe Sun and Moon didn't really know what they were looking for, just that it had been created by the twins. But how did they find all of this out?

  The logbook! At the barbecue, Randi had mentioned that strange things were going on that included a crowbar, unlocked doors, and so on. Had the two men broken in and copied the logbook?

  What if they weren't the perpetrators? Sure, it looked bad that they'd breezed into town and were seen examining the penguins and ostriches. And didn't those sorority girls say a man who looked like Mr. Sun or Moon had been seen loitering around just before Poopsie went missing?

  Someone was stealing dead, stuffed birds that had been worked on by my sisters-in-law. And they'd succeeded in taking them. Except for Nellie. She was safe. Wasn't she? Then again, the trashing of my house made me wonder if it was a search for Nellie Lou. Maybe it wasn't teenagers.

  I was too restless to go home and eat. Instead, I shoved handfuls of fries into my mouth as I raced over to Riley's. Sadly, the office was closed. Every light was out. I could call him, but I didn't think he'd answer. And stopping by his house was out of the question, just in case he was "entertaining."

  After polishing off my dinner in the parking lot, my mind turned toward Nellie Lou, who I now believed was the key to this whole puzzle. I really wanted to go get her. What if she wasn't locked up tight? What if she was sitting out because Soo Jin hadn't gotten to analyzing her or maybe she was about to be shipped out to a lab? My heart began to pound heavily in my chest, but that might've been from all the grease I'd just consumed.

  Good thing I had my lockpick set in my purse. I never left home without it these days. It's so useful to have when you need to get access to someplace that your husband wouldn't (but your troop would) approve of.

  The morgue was in the basement of the hospital. I knew both places well because Kelly used to work there and Soo Jin still did. It shouldn't be too hard to break in. Right?

  I parked on the farthest side of the lot, away from the morgue. There was one exterior door to Soo Jin's office that was almost always deadbolted. Breaking in there was a bad idea, since it was in full view of the lot. Entering from inside would be my best bet. Since the morgue was the only thing in the basement, it would be easier to get into unseen.

  I walked up to the main entrance and entered the building. Before I could get to the information desk, I took a quick right, ducking down a long hallway before stepping into the stairwell and skipping down the steps.

  It was quiet. But that's how a hospital in a small town worked. Too bad, because a busy city hospital was far easier to break into. People were too engrossed in their own emergencies to notice anything, and the staff were swamped dealing with people.

  I once broke into the main hospital in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. As far as big cities go, it was a quiet night, and the only problem I ran into was a goat in the room I'd been looking for. I'd thought, cute goat!

  Then I tried to pet it. Like a majestic 1980s wrestler, the beast jumped up on the desk and, with a loud cry, launched himself onto me, knocking me to the floor. He kept me pinned while eating my clothes and braying loudly. At one point I scrambled to my feet, but he head-butted me from behind, knocking me down again. It took me at least ten minutes to extricate myself, and it sounded like he was calling me Fred, over and over.

  I had to admit, I'd been impressed that the hospital employed an attack goat as I wriggled and shoved the animal that was aggressively chewing on my black leather jacket, but I finally did escape, minus a few bite-sized holes in my clothes (and my pride) and the file I'd been looking for with the Defense Secretary's health report. I never did get my hands on it because I couldn't find any kind of goat repellent. That would've been useful. Instead, we scrapped the mission, and I had to buy a new jacket.

  There would be no goats here, but I'd still have to be careful. I was just opening the door to the basement level when I spotted it. A row of security cameras that lined the hall all the way to the morgue.

  When did they put that in? That seemed kind of paranoid. I mean, who breaks into a morgue? What kind of idiot…oh, wait. I guess that would be me. Had they known I was coming? That would be spooky.

  The cameras made things far more complicated. I retreated to the stairwell, closing the door carefully and peeking through the window in the door. It didn't take much to realize that I was screwed.

  The cameras were zigzagged across the ceiling, with half of them being on the right and the other half on the left. With a setup like that, there was no chance of a blind spot. When you're a spy, there are really only three ways to deal with security cameras.

  Either you manage to disable them, sneak under them, or you just walk right through because you have no time to waste and assume that they know you're coming anyway. The third option was no good. I couldn't put either Soo Jin or Rex into a tough spot because I was busted for breaking in on a hunch that my LSD-coated dead bird was in trouble.

  There were so many cameras that disabling them seemed like it would take forever, if I could even do it. I could break into the security office upstairs and wipe out the digital files. The problem with that being that they had coverage 24/7. Most likely with lots of cameras there too. And unlike situations I'd been in in many third world countries and Germany, missing tapes would be a problem in a place with a well-organized security team.

  That left sneaking around. The cameras were maybe six feet apart. There literally was no blind spot to hide in. Aargh! What was I thinking? If I stole Nellie Lou, it wouldn't take much for everyone to think I was behind it, which seemed kind of unfair.

  On the other hand, what if whoever killed Bingley was also looking for Nellie Lou? I was pretty sure Rex would rather I'd stolen her than they did. Okay, I was going in. But how to do it without leaving behind evidence of my trip?

  A door banged open somewhere above me, and I pressed myself against a wall, hoping that the tappity-tap of footsteps wasn't coming toward me. When a door banged open on the next floor up and the footsteps stopped, I let out a deep breath.

  What about a disguise? I could stuff my hair under a cap or hoodie and keep my face down as I ran to the door. There were a couple of problems with that idea. One, it was July, which meant I didn't have a stocking cap or hoodie. And I didn't really want to run back home to get clothes.

  What if I snagged a lab coat? I could hit the laundry on the first floor and snag some scrubs. No, that wouldn't work because you could still see my face and hair. It was too risky. It was evening, and even though I was sure Soo Jin wasn't in the office, I needed to make my move soon.

  Besides, even without my head being exposed, Rex would know right away it was me by my gait—something he called "distinctive." I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded bad.

  I heard voices and once again pressed my back against the door. There really wasn't anywhere to hide, since I was in a stairwell. The exterior door was in the hallway, and I heard two men come in. A quick glance told me they were Soo Jin's orderlies.

  "I can't believe you forgot the present." One of them laughed.

  "It'll just take a moment, and then we
can head to the party."

  The other guy pressed, "Who brings a kid's toy to the morgue?"

  "Someone who works there," the other guy grumped.

  The office door closed behind them with a bang. It was agony because they were going where I wanted to go. For a moment I entertained the idea of saying hi and how happy I was they were here because I came to retrieve my dead vulture. But then, there'd be two witnesses who would know exactly what I was doing here, and Soo Jin liked these guys, so killing them was out.

  I headed upstairs, entering on the first floor in hopes I'd figure something out. No one was there, but I heard voices close by. At any moment someone might stumble upon me. This was ridiculous and stupid. How was I ever going to come up with something when all there was within reach was an empty gurney pushed up against the wall.

  Wait a minute!

  Running to the window, I waited until I saw the two men leave the building and drive away. One of them was holding a giant stuffed bunny. The other guy was right. It was creepy that he'd kept a cuddly bunny in the morgue all day.

  Time was running out, and I only had a couple of seconds to pull this off. I'd seen these gurneys in action every time I was there when Soo Jin picked up a body (which, sadly, happened more often than you'd think) and knew there was a way to fold the legs up underneath the bed part so I could carry it downstairs.

  Did you know that hospital equipment is way harder to figure out than you think? I tried every single lever, but nothing budged. How is it in movies that the hero can walk up to something he's never seen before and automatically make it work, whether it's defusing a nuclear bomb for the first time (which, from experience, I don't recommend ever doing) or driving a yacht out of a harbor at full speed without any experience with so much as a canoe?

  I could only pull that off with things like a machine gun or butterfly knife (certainly not the nuclear warhead—thank God that retired, ex-pat nuclear physicist happened along, or Belize and I would be long gone), but in this situation I was completely helpless. Every few seconds, I would poke and prod the equipment, waiting to get caught, but by some small miracle, I didn't.