The Anteater of Death (14 page)

He entered the cabin.

The nightstand light illuminated the intruder’s face, revealing black hair, a neatly-trimmed black beard, bushy black eyebrows—and green eyes fringed by red eyelashes very much out of sync with all that black hair.

I exhaled in relief.

“Hi, Dad.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

“I hardly recognized you with that beard and terrible dye job.” I poured Dad a glass of Riesling, and settled next to him on the salon’s settee. “You’re lucky I didn’t bash your head in.”

“So that’s why you were holding that flashlight up so high.” He took a sip of the wine, made a face. “Jesus, this is cheap stuff.”

“It’s all I can afford.”

“Sorry about that.”

I gave him a look. “I’ll bet.”

“We are what we are, Teddy. Besides, you know that I set up a bank account for you in the Caymans. Still not using it?”

“For charitable purposes only.” Like bailing friends out of jail.

“Aren’t you the self-righteous one.”

Since there was no point in discussing ethics with my ethics-challenged father, I changed the subject. “Let me take a wild guess here. You’ve been hiding out at Caro’s.”

He pushed his wine glass away. “Off and on. I arrived in town a week ago but your mother was having one of her awful parties, so I drove up to Santa Cruz and stayed on Al’s sloop.”

Albert Mazer. The friend who’d kept the
Merilee
for me. It didn’t surprise me that he would lend aid and comfort to my fugitive father, nor that Caro had, too. Her other marriages aside, he’d been the only man she’d ever truly loved.

“This isn’t the best time for you to pay a visit. There’s been a murder here and the authorities are, shall we say, acting hyper-vigilant.”

He nodded sagely. “The unfortunate murderee being Jeanette Gunn’s husband. When you say ‘the authorities,’ I take it you mean the sheriff.”

Annoyed, I grabbed the Riesling he so disdained and gulped it down. “Yes. Him. Anyway, everyone’s nervous around here, so while I’m always glad to see you, you’d be better off in a country that doesn’t have a tight extradition agreement with the U.S.”

“Such as Iran? North Korea?”

“Why not go back to Costa Rica? That’s worked fine so far.”

“It’s too hot for me there right now, and I’m not talking about Global Warming.”

I almost spit up my wine. “Don’t tell me you pulled another of your scams down there!”

You’d think that when my father absconded with his firm’s millions he’d be set for life, but no. After a few years on the relatively legal lam he missed his larcenous ways and began delving into various schemes to relieve the financially unwary of their superfluous money. The only good thing about all this was that he never ran scams on the less-than-filthy-rich, so the poor widows and orphans of the world were safe.

“Dad, I asked you a question.”

He flashed a sheepish grin. “That was a statement, not a question. If you must know, there was this young man at the El Presidente Casino in San Jose…”

It took me a minute to realize he wasn’t talking about nearby San Jose, California, but San Jose, Costa Rica, and the casino we sometimes visited with him during one of my infrequent trips to Central America.

“…and he was flashing around such a big roll of cash that I knew it would eventually give him back problems, so I just kind of helped him out. Played proactive chiropractor, you might say. I told him I could get my hands on some perfectly executed counterfeit twenties for about three cents on the dollar, a bargain rate…”

“I don’t need the details. What was your haul?”

“Less than two hundred thou. Mere pocket change.”

With people like my father, it’s not the money but the game, the adrenaline rush. This was why, with off-shore bank accounts totaling in the millions, he continued to rob, cheat, and steal as if he was one crust of bread away from starvation.

“If it were mere pocket change, what are you doing back here in Gunn Landing? You know the feds haven’t given up.”

“And I admire their persistence. But that’s why I grew the beard and gave myself the dye job you are so critical of.”

“You could at least have used some black mascara. Those red eyelashes are a dead giveaway.”

“Not a problem, since I always wear sunglasses when I’m out and about.”

Suspecting that I’d need it, I poured myself more cheap wine. “As much as I love discussing cosmetics with you, I repeat my question. What are you doing back here when there’s an open warrant out for your arrest? Yeah, it’s been twenty years since you’ve shown your face in Gunn Landing, but still…” The straits must be dire indeed if they’d chased my fugitive dad north of the border again.

“You sure there’s no single malt whiskey around?”

“I’m sure.”

His face took on an serious expression. “Some warrants are worse than others, Teddy, and while the feds might want to do unpleasant things to me, at least their unpleasantness won’t involve cement galoshes. Whereas the young gentleman’s relatives…Well, let’s just say they’re already mixing up the cement.”

It took me a moment to understand. When I did, some of my earlier panic returned. My darling dad was talking about a
death
warrant. “Don’t tell me you didn’t pull a fast one on the Mafia!”

“Not the Mafia. Even
I
know better than that. But as it turned out, the young gentleman in the casino was the only son of Seamus Fitzgerald.”

“
Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You scammed Chuckles Fitzgerald’s son?!”

Mere months before my husband left me, the San Francisco newspapers had been filled with stories about the Seamus “Chuckles” Fitzgerald murder trial. Fitzgerald, who’d supposedly made his fortune in import/export—but everyone, especially the cops, knew better—was suspected of murdering his cousin, James “Little Jimmy” Hannon. Little Jimmy had ratted Chuckles out to the feds over various money-laundering schemes, and soon afterwards, Little Jimmy was found floating down the Sacramento River. Without his head.

Following the disappearance of several key witnesses and two suspected instances of jury tampering, the murder trial collapsed into chaos, and Chuckles walked out of jail, free to decapitate again.

Dad leaned forward and tipped my mouth shut with an elegant finger. “Such a nice girl, so concerned about her wayward father.”

“Dad, this isn’t funny. That man’s a
killer!”

He raised a too-black eyebrow. “Unlike the person who eased Grayson Harrill out of this vale of tears?”

“That’s different.”

“I doubt he would think so.”

“Don’t change the subject. Why in the world, with Chuckles Fitzgerald only ninety miles away, would you even consider coming back here?”

“Because it’s the last place he’d think to look.”

I didn’t buy it. Only fools returned to the scene of their crimes, and Dad was nobody’s fool. I was about to point that out when he interrupted me.

“If you’re worried about him taking out his pique on you and your mother, rest easy. Even Chuckles has his standards and would never hurt a woman. Now it’s my turn to criticize you. While I was staying at your mother’s, she gave me an earful about all the snooping you’ve been doing and, for once, I agree with her. Stop playing amateur detective and leave crime to the experts.”

“Experts like you?”

“Don’t be naughty.”

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I mean it, Teddy. There are dangerous people in this world, I should know. You’re not equipped to deal with them.”

Dangerous.

Like the animals we keepers cared for at the zoo? They were dangerous, too, but as long as we took the proper safety precautions, we were fine.

Then I thought about Chuckles Fitzgerald and headless corpses and began to feel sick. But when I remembered that one of my best friends was facing trial for murder, I decided that safety was overrated.

With my most sincere smile, I said, “You’re right. I’ll stop snooping around. Now that we’ve got all that cleared up do you need me to take you back to Caro’s?”

He shook his head. “I’m driving Al’s Lexus.”

Of course he was. Fugitive or not, Dad always traveled first class.

***

The Cayman Islands transfer arrived at my bank Tuesday morning. After receiving the call from the bank manager, I found another zookeeper to sub for me and drove a cashier’s check over to the bail bondsman. By early afternoon, Zorah had been released from jail, courtesy of “an unknown benefactor.” Her gang-banger nephew drove her home in his low-rider. Gee, what a nice kid.

When she showed up for work the next day, joy reigned supreme in the staff lounge. Later that morning, her face drawn from her week in lockup, she approached while I was feeding the wolves. Without preamble, she said, “How are we going to get that poor anteater out of the holding pen and back into her enclosure?”

Remembering my upcoming date with the zoo director, I said, “I’m working on it.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Care to share?”

“Not yet.”

With a grunt, she started to leave, then paused. “One more thing. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Bailing me out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Oh, yeah, I forgot. I have tons of friends ready and willing to pony up two hundred and fifty thousand dollars bail money.”

Before I could think, I blurted, “No, no. That’s wrong. When you front someone’s bail, you only have to pay ten percent of the stated amount, so it would have been no more than twenty-five thousand. Plus a small fee.” Seeing her “gotcha” expression, my face flamed. “I learned about that kind of thing when my father had his own, ah, legal troubles. But as to who paid
your
bail, I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Her mouth twitched into a smile. “The tooth fairy?”

“Or a secret admirer.”

“Whatever.” She squeezed my shoulder. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And you don’t have to worry about me skipping bail. You’ll get your money back.” With a final squeeze, she headed back down the keeper’s path toward Africa Trail.

Skipping bail? The thought had never occurred to me, but if she did flee and my money was forfeit, I didn’t care. The Caymans account was dirty money. At least my father’s thievery had finally accomplished something good.

Humming with satisfaction, I went back to feeding the wolves.

The rest of the day passed without a major crisis. The sun shone, the animals behaved themselves, and the zoo’s visitors did, too. A cloud of unpleasantness arrived, though, when Joe dropped by as I was feeding the capybaras. He told me my help was no longer needed in the Grayson case.

“But you
asked
me to find out what I could,” I reminded him, trying not to notice how handsome he looked in his uniform, and how unnerved his presence made me. I didn’t need more complications in my life.

“That was then, Teddy, and this is now. We’ve made an arrest. Too bad our suspect’s made bail. I wonder how that happened.”

Just the sound of his voice made my heart pound, though I didn’t like what he was saying. “You arrested the wrong person!”

“No, I didn’t. Stay out of it.”

I glared at him. “Or what? You’ll arrest me, too?”

His face grew grim. “Don’t think it can’t happen.”

“Is that a threat?”

“If you want to take it that way, yes.”

How could I have ever loved such an immovable man? Unable to meet his eyes, I turned my attention to the capybaras, where Gladys and Myrtle had begun to fight over Gus. Both hungry for love, they nipped at each others’ shoulders while the male stood there and watched with what almost seemed like a smug expression.

Men
.

“Stop it!” I yelled to the females.

They did.

“You, too!” I yelled at Joe.

He blinked. “What?”

“Stop threatening me! Now I’ve got work to do, and I imagine you do, too. Elsewhere.”

After he stomped off, I finished the rest of my chores wondering why I felt so unhappy.

I felt even worse when, during my late afternoon break, I placed a call to Tommy Prescott. “Zorah’s trial date is set for mid-October, right?”

“Yep. Listen, you know I always like to talk to you, but I’m going over a brief right now and I…”

I cut through his excuses. “Be truthful with me. What are her chances of acquittal?”

“Your friend’s got one of the best defense attorneys in the state, remember?”

“The sheriff put together a pretty good case, didn’t he?”

Sighing, he answered, “That’s what the D.A. informs me. The murder weapon may present a problem since Ms. Vega’s prints are all over it. Same for her perceived motive. She was pretty angry with the murder victim, remember, and she does have a history of violence. The prosecution will probably call as witness that man she roughed up at the zoo.”

I wondered how many animal-lovers would be on the jury. “Point taken. So, back to my original question. How would you rate her chances of acquittal? Eighty percent? Seventy?”

A long pause. Then, “More like sixty. Maybe less.”

“Please tell me you’re exaggerating.”

“Sixty-five percent at best. She’s in real trouble, Teddy.”

“Thanks for your honesty,” I whispered, ringing off. As I shoved the cell back into my pocket, I remembered Zorah’s many kindnesses to me, to other keepers, to her animals. For all her perceived toughness, she was as hypermaternal as my mother, only better at hiding it. When I had first been hired, she’d followed me from enclosure to enclosure, making certain I never came too close to snapping teeth or snatching talons. She had also acted as a buffer between me and the other zookeepers, who at first dismissed me as a spoiled little rich girl having a lark at the zoo and who would cut and run the minute the party got rough. She’d wasted no time in setting them straight, and within weeks, they’d accepted me as an equal.

Leaving her fate to the caprices of the criminal justice system wasn’t acceptable.