The Only Clue

by Pamela Beason

  Then he heard her shriek.

  His heart lurched. Zyrnek beat him to the handle, jerking open the gate with his left hand as he grabbed a capture stick from its holder outside with his right. Finn unsnapped the safety strap on his holster and curled his fingers around the grip of his pistol as he jogged in behind the kid.

  It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He hadn’t been inside the building since Grace and LaDyne had transformed it from a horse barn into a gorilla house. The interior was now a cross between a jungle and a playground. The diagonal trunks of several large trees were wedged at various angles between the walls. Swings and nets hung from the ceiling. Large square shelves jutted from the walls like bracket fungus. Dust motes danced in the weak sunlight filtering in from high windows, skating from side to side as puffs of wind blew in. At floor level, the interior was shadowy. Finn stumbled over broken branches and stuffed toys. Masses of greenery seemed to be scattered randomly around the floor.

  “What the hell?” Zyrnek slammed to a stop in the middle of the space, throwing out an arm and accidentally setting in motion a tire swing that almost clobbered Finn in the forehead. Finn ducked and trotted to the rear of the building, where Grace was silhouetted against the sun.

  She stood spread-eagled, one hand clutching the door frame, the other the sliding barn door, as she stared out into a dusty lot that held only her van. Her knuckles were as white as her face.

  Finn touched her arm. “Grace?”

  Letting go of the door frame, she turned toward him. “They’re gone, Matt. Neema. Gumu. Kanoni. Gone!”

  “They escaped?” That was bad news. The two cats joined them in the doorway. “I didn’t know there was a door back here.”

  “We keep it padlocked from the outside. They couldn’t have escaped on their own.”

  That was even worse news.

  The calico cat scampered through the opening into the sunlight. Grace edged a foot through the door.

  Finn pulled her back. “Evidence,” he explained.

  He leaned out through the opening as far as he could without touching anything, saw a sliding bolt and a hasp for a padlock. “No lock,” he reported.

  He stepped back to examine the inside of the wall. Scuff marks marred the rough wood surface along the lower portion. Significant? He glanced around. Probably not. Scrapes and stains adorned the siding everywhere, from the floor to almost six feet off the ground. Looked like the gorillas took turns tossing each other against the walls. “Could they get out on their own?”

  “You should probably come see this.” Jon Zyrnek’s voice was gravelly. He stood in the middle of the cluttered floor, staring at the sawdust floor in front of his shoes. The white cat sauntered over to rub against his blue-jeaned leg, then jerked a paw up from the ground and frantically washed it.

  They joined Zyrnek. A large dark stain spread darkly across the ground in front of their feet. Finn put his arm around Grace’s rigid shoulders, but she slipped out from under his embrace to unlock a cover on the wall, then flipped a switch. An overhead light flashed on.

  The wet patch on the sawdust floor was a dark rust color on the edges, a bright red in the center. The stain was roughly oval and at least three feet across.

  Finn had never seen a bigger puddle of blood.

  Chapter 4

  Grace couldn’t stop staring at the blood stain. Superimposed over the blood, her brain conjured up a gorilla corpse stiffened in rigor mortis.

  She groaned. “No! Not again.”

  Matt’s hand brushed her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, staggered stiff-legged to the low shelf that bordered the wall, and collapsed onto it with a thud that radiated up her backbone. Leaning forward, she lowered her aching head between her knees. Wake up, wake up, wake up! Please God, let this be a nightmare.

  She felt his weight settle beside her. He pulled one hand away from her head and caressed it gently between his. “It’ll be okay, Grace,” he said softly.

  She jerked her head up. “How could this ever be okay, Matt? You know about Spencer.”

  He nodded. “Your gorilla that died.”

  His words made it sound like a natural death. “Who was murdered!” she corrected, her voice shrill in the muffled stillness of the barn.

  “We don’t know yet that any gorilla was murdered here,” he told her. “Someone broke in, and then—”

  “Gumu confronted them,” she ended the sentence for him. “He’s afraid of people, but he would rush to defend his territory and his family. And then—blam!” She waved her hand angrily in the direction of the blood pool.

  Jon’s gaze was fixed on the stain at his feet. He pulled the long hair around his shoulders as if he intended to yank out huge tufts. “It’s my fault. I should have walked all the way around the barn last night.”

  Grace looked up. “Do you usually do that?”

  “No,” he admitted sadly.

  “Neither do I. So don’t go blaming yourself.” She put her face in her hands. “I didn’t even look in the barn last night when I put Neema and Kanoni back. I didn’t even make sure Gumu was actually sleeping in his nest.” How could she have been so careless? She should have known better, with all those strangers milling around.

  “I don’t think this is enough blood for three gorillas,” Jon murmured. “Maybe the gorillas escaped, at least some of them.”

  She could feel Matt studying him, and she knew what he was thinking. Jon Zyrnek had “liberated” animals before. He had easy access to the gorillas, and he spent his days in the company of his ARU comrades Caryn and Sierra.

  Sure enough, Matt stood up and strode over to Jon. “What do you know about this?”

  Jon blinked a couple of times. Then anger replaced his worried look. “I know exactly as much as you do.”

  “Maybe you and Caryn and Sierra only intended to set them free,” Matt accused. “You probably weren’t expecting a fight. You didn’t mean to hurt any of the gorillas.”

  “Matt!” She jumped up to intercede.

  Jon stiffened, fisting both hands. “I’d never hurt a gorilla. These gorillas are my life.” The overhead light glinted off tears pooling in his eyes as he turned to her. “You know that, right?”

  “I do, Z.” She nodded. She put one hand on Jon’s forearm and the other on Matt’s. “He’s not involved, Matt.”

  “I love these gorillas,” Jon insisted.

  Matt pointed to the open front door. “Wait outside. I’ll be out to talk to you in a while.”

  Jon faced her. “I’ll go search the woods. They could be out there.”

  She let go of his arm. “Good idea.”

  “Don’t go far, and don’t talk to anyone,” Matt warned.

  His eyebrows knit into a frown, Jon picked up Snow and hoisted the cat to his shoulder, then retreated through the shadows toward the yard.

  Matt’s attitude was maddening. He always had to believe he was smarter; couldn’t stop being the jaded detective. Why couldn’t he accept her judgment about the ARU kids? She worked with them daily. He didn’t.

  “Stop it,” she told him. “Jon would not do this.” Biting her lower lip and twisting her hands together, she looked around the barn, unsure of what to do next. She wanted to believe all the gorillas had escaped, but she couldn’t erase the vision of Spencer’s body from her brain.

  “Is it possible there was a gorilla fight and they somehow pried open the door?” Matt asked.

  “How could they open the door? The padlock was on the outside,” she reminded him. “There’s not even a handle on this side. And they’d never hurt each other enough to—” Her gaze shifted back to the blood.

  “And this couldn’t be like last time? Nobody forgot to lock that door?” he asked.

  Her gaze met his. Why did he have to remind her of that mistake? She knew nobody had been negligent this time. “We don’t use that door, so there’s no reason to unlock it. It hasn’t been unlocked since we remodeled in here.”

  “So th
ere’s no doubt that someone broke in. I’ll get an evidence tech here ASAP.” He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contact list.

  A new source of panic suddenly flared in her mind. She yanked his wrist. “Don’t!”

  He dropped the phone.

  “Grace, what the heck?” He fished the phone out of the sawdust and wiped it against his pant leg. “The sooner we get a team on this, the sooner we’ll find the gorillas.”

  She twisted a strand of her hair around her fingers as she explained, “The council.”

  * * * * *

  Her words landed with a thud in the still air, and Finn instantly knew what Grace meant. After Neema and Gumu escaped from her compound last year, the county had passed a resolution against exotic pets. Only one vote had forced the county council to grandfather in her right to keep her gorillas in a “secure research facility.” If word of this second incident got out, the county could yank her permit within days.

  “And the college,” Grace added. “They’re voting next week about whether to continue my funding.”

  “Shit.” Finn rubbed one hand against the back of his neck. He spat curses at the ground as he paced along the wall, scuffing sawdust into his shoes. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  As soon as his report hit the police call log, this story would be all over the local news. It would migrate outward like a toxic waste spill. Finn could hear it now. A pool of blood! Missing gorillas! This was exactly the sort of news TV stations nationwide clamored for, an attention grabbing story they could twist in a dozen different ways.

  “The whole county will freak,” Grace murmured. Tears were pooling in her eyes. “They’ll break out the guns again. If they’re out in the woods, Gumu and Neema will be in even more danger then.”

  She was right. But three unpredictable apes were missing. The blood indicated major violence of some kind. A wounded gorilla could be a threat to public safety, especially if that gorilla was Gumu.

  She read his mind. “They wouldn’t hurt anyone, Matt. Not unless it was self-defense.”

  Finn gently touched Grace’s shoulder. “I’m a cop,” he reminded her. “I have responsibilities. The break-in is a crime. And the blood...” He couldn’t figure out any good way to end that sentence.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Grace, sweetheart. We need to think this through.” The words sounded condescending, even to him. He tried again. “Don’t you want the gorillas back? The faster we start—”

  A tear streaked down her face as she interrupted, “Of course I want my gorillas back!” She swiped angrily at her face. “That’s the whole point. If word gets out, I’ll never get them back.”

  “This is a crime scene, Grace. Whoever did this”—he waved his hand vaguely to include the open door and the blood stain—“whatever this is, might be getting farther away each minute we stand here debating.”

  Grace locked both hands around his upper arm. “Just hold off on reporting this, just until we can get a handle on what happened? Just until we can tell a cohesive story? Just until I can tell the story? You don’t even have to be involved.”

  “I’m already involved.”

  Another tear trickled down her face.

  Tears. He never knew how to react when a woman cried. Wendy had turned on the waterworks every time they’d argued. Tears were a weapon in her arsenal. But Grace hated drama. She hated to break down. He’d only seen her cry a few times last year when her gorillas were in danger. He patted himself down, found a handkerchief in his front pocket and held it out.

  Taking it, she mopped at her face. She didn’t look as if she’d welcome a hug right now.

  He had a duty to report crimes. Three missing gorillas were not in the same category as a wandering dog or cat, or even a stolen horse or cow. And with Jon Zyrnek involved, there was no way this was going to stay quiet, especially if ARU was behind it. The kid could be calling the local news right now.

  He took a deep breath. Start at the beginning; the break-in. “What are the reasons someone would break in here?” He held out a finger. “One, someone wanted to set the gorillas free.”

  “It’s not ARU.” Grace bunched the handkerchief in her fist. “Jon and Caryn and Sierra would never let them.”

  “Or that’s what they want you to believe.” Those kids were a secretive bunch, and their records proved they had no qualms about breaking laws.

  She locked eyes with him. “The ARU kids are not involved, Matt.”

  “I worry about them working here.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “They’re reckless, Grace.”

  She bristled, crossing her arms. “I’d call them dedicated. Fearless. Loyal.”

  He decided to let that go. For now. He thrust out a second finger. “Reason two. Someone wanted to kill the gorillas.”

  For an instant Grace looked as if he’d slapped her. Then her eyes narrowed. “Frank Keyes! He could have been at the open house. It’s been years. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize him now.”

  Finn knew that Keyes was the zealot who had killed Spencer with a cup of cyanide-laced Kool-aid.

  “Last time we checked, Keyes was still in Tacoma.” He pulled out his cell phone.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Please don’t say anything about this.” She tilted her head in the direction of the blood stain.

  “Okay.” He called the station.

  “Why are you looking for Frank Keyes?” Miki was a nineteen-year-old technician, a glorified go-fer, but she liked to think of herself as an up-and-coming detective.

  “Dr. McKenna says she may have seen him yesterday, and a no-contact order is a condition of his parole. Get Tacoma PD to check on him.” After pressing END, he stared at the phone, wondering what he should do next.

  “Reason number three,” Grace held up three fingers. “Someone wanted to kidnap the gorillas.”

  All animals were classified as property, so the crime would be theft, not kidnapping. “Why would someone want to steal a gorilla?”

  “Gorillas are endangered. It’s almost impossible to get one legally,” she said bitterly. “Zoos want them. Collectors want them for pets.”

  “Pets?” he echoed lamely. That was hard for Finn to imagine. Then again, he’d read stories about wackos keeping tigers and cobras in their apartments.

  “Gorillas are worth tens of thousands of dollars. I had to pay twelve thousand for Neema and eight for Gumu last year, and those prices were cheap because of the media pressure.”

  Money was always a good motive. “Who knows how much they’re worth?”

  She twisted his handkerchief in her hands. “Everyone who works with exotic animals.”

  Which turned his thoughts back to her staff. Especially to the ARU triplets. And most particularly to the one young man living with a criminal. The timing was too convenient. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. The Zyrneks were in on this.

  “Grace, what about Jon Zyrnek’s father? He got out of prison a few weeks ago, and he knows all about the gorillas. This might have been his idea.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I met Tony Zyrnek yesterday. He’s really interested in our project, and he’s so proud of Jon. He seemed nice.”

  Finn kept his expression neutral. Most felons seemed nice when they were after something. That something was usually money or booze or drugs, but in this case, it might have been gorillas.

  “No.” She shook her head. “This is the work of Keyes or a stranger who wanted to capture or kill—” Her voice broke on the last word and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

  He wrapped his arm around her. “What do you want to do, Grace?”

  She rubbed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths, composing herself. “You could start the investigation on your own, couldn’t you?”

  All detectives took crime scene classes; even patrolmen were educated in the basics these days. And like most officers, he carried rudimentary supplies to gather evidence that might disappear before
the techs arrived. “It’s been a long time since I processed a scene by myself. Any evidence I collect could easily be called into question in court, given our relationship,” he reminded her.

  She stepped out from under his arm. “But maybe we could find my gorillas before anyone realizes they’re missing. Please, Matt,” she begged. “You know I could lose everything if this goes public.”

  It was true. Gumu and Neema and Kanoni were her gorillas. And if Grace lost the gorillas for good, she’d have no reason to stay in Evansburg. He might lose her for good. He brushed a finger across her wet cheek. “You really think the public is not in danger?”

  “If they’re in the woods, they’ll probably stay in the woods. Nothing happened last year,” she reminded him. “If they’re not outside...”—her voice cracked, and she swallowed before continuing—“if someone has them, then only the gorillas are in danger, aren’t they?”

  Her eyes pleaded with him.

  He gave in. “We’ll try it your way. But just for a day or two.”

  She nodded. “Just for a day or two.”

  “I’ll get my camera and my kit.” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his car keys. He’d have to be damn careful. This was going to come back and bite him in the ass, he knew it.

  * * * * *

  A half hour later, he clicked the lock on his measuring tape and positioned it over the widest area of the blood stain. The camera’s flash brought out the crimson in the center of the dark blotch, and he was briefly, irrelevantly reminded of the poppy field in his painting at home. Alizarin crimson, with a dash of indigo to dull the brightness.

  Except for the occasional groan of siding when the wind gusted, it was quiet inside the barn. He could barely hear Jon Zyrnek shouting as he wandered through the thick forest that surrounded Grace’s compound. “Gumu! Neema! Yogurt!”

  The last word surprised him. Yogurt must be the gorilla equivalent of “Come here.”

  Using his pocketknife, he scraped a sample from the dampest section of the pool into an evidence bag. The stain extended the length of the blade—three inches deep into the sawdust. Could any creature survive that much blood loss?