by Lois Schmitt
Stopping my car, I gazed at the iron gated entrance anchored by two stone pillars connected to a stone wall. McKenzie hadn’t bought this place on a zoo director’s salary.
I checked my watch. Fifty-seven minutes since leaving the zoo. There were no street lamps in this tony area, and the lights from the homes would be far off the road, making the drive more difficult once night fell.
Roads that twist and turn. Total darkness. If Amanda drove here while even slightly drunk, she’d be apt to hit a tree. No way could she have driven back to the zoo to murder her husband.
I managed a U-turn and headed back down the road. About a half mile later, a black Escalade appeared in my rear window, barreling at a speed well above the posted limit. It was less than a car length behind me.
“Great,” I mumbled. “A tailgater and no place to pull over.”
The Escalade soon came so close I feared it would bump me. I accelerated. The Escalade accelerated. I couldn’t go faster— that would be foolhardy on these winding lanes.
At the crossroads, I swerved left. The black SUV followed. Gripping the steering wheel, bile rose in my throat. This wasn’t a tailgater. Someone was after me.
I flashed around another bend with the Escalade in pursuit. As I maneuvered a sharp right turn, I came within inches of ramming into a tree.
I careened around the next corner, the Escalade on my tail. The end of this road spilled out onto a more heavily trafficked main thoroughfare. If I made it there, I’d be safe. If I made it.
Seconds later, the intersection came into view. Breathing a sigh of relief, I veered off onto the main road. The Escalade followed but now maintained a respectable distance.
Up ahead was a gas station with cars lined up at the pumps. I pulled in, screeched to a halt by the mini mart, and held my breath. The Escalade drove out of sight.
Still shaking, I tried to convince myself that this was just some jerk getting kicks harassing others. A spoiled rich kid seeking thrills. After all, no one knew I was here except my brother.
Determined not to let the incident with the Escalade ruin my day, I decided to visit The Scarlet Noose, a bookstore specializing in mysteries and crime stories. I parked in front of the store, then I wandered through the narrow aisles for nearly twenty minutes, finally selecting an anthology of short stories. While a clerk processed my credit card, I spotted a poem taped to the cash register. The author was anonymous.
Arsenic and Cyanide
Curare, Foxglove, Aconite
From pills come sleep and ecstasy
Or a death that’s crowned in agony
Guns and knives scream of violence
Deadly poisons kill in silence
I couldn’t recall where, but I remembered reading death by poison often indicated a female killer, and I wondered if this theory held true for the murder of Arlen McKenzie.
But those thoughts were swept out of my mind as I exited the store. Pulling out of the parking space behind my car was a black Escalade.
CHAPTER NINE
Saturday.
“How was your conference, Matt?” I asked, stretching up to kiss my six-foot-four spouse. “Learn anything?”
Matt sighed and dropped his suitcase by the door. “Unfortunately, yes. I learned new medical equipment will cost a fortune.”
I debated telling him that I knew about his new competition, the animal health and wellness center. One look at his face told me the time wasn’t right. Worry lines creased his forehead, and his eyes reflected more worry than usual. I’d let him bring up the topic when he was ready.
“I’m bushed.” Matt stretched out his arms and yawned. “I need to shower and change. Then we can go out back and have a drink.”
“Abby’s coming later with patient updates so I’ll make a pitcher of iced tea. What about you?”
“I want a cold beer.”
An hour later, Matt and I were relaxing on our patio, enjoying the late-afternoon breeze and fragrance of lavender from the garden. Matt, with his beer, sat by the patio table and rummaged through his conference reports. I settled down on a chaise lounge with my new anthology, hoping to forget about my husband’s business problems, McKenzie’s murder, and the Escalade incident, at least for a little while.
“Hey, did you hear the news?” Abby barged into the yard. “The medical examiner released the autopsy findings. McKenzie was poisoned by venom from a Russell’s viper.”
I dropped my book. “A snake? Does this mean his death was accidental?”
“No. The venom didn’t come from a bite. It was injected.”
“That means there’s no doubt it’s murder.” My shoulders slumped.
“I’ll bet Uncle Tim knew viper venom killed McKenzie.”
“Why would he know?”
“Because viper poisoning leaves physical evidence. The skin around the wound turns purple. The victim vomits blood and bleeds from the nose and eyes. Since Uncle Tim saw the body, he had to notice this.”
I guessed my face showed my thoughts because Matt said, “Just because your brother is herpetology curator doesn’t mean he’s the only one with access to venom.”
“He’s the only suspect who works directly with snakes. How else would someone get hold of it? You can’t just go into a store and say ‘I’d like three ounces of snake venom, please,’ can you?”
“In a way, you can. There are companies that extract venom to sell. It’s used to make snake bite antidotes and in the treatment of neuralgia and rheumatism. Some medications that coagulate blood actually contain Russell’s viper venom.”
“So it would be easy to obtain?”
“Anything is easy if you have money and know where to go,” Abby said. “Especially online.”
“I would still feel better if Tim had an alibi.”
“I take it he doesn’t,” Abby said.
“Not one he can prove. Tim was home alone most of the evening.”
“An ironclad alibi would be great, but not having one doesn’t prove a thing.”
I realized there was nothing I could do now, so I picked up my book and continued reading.
Abby placed a manila folder on the patio table. “I’m going to grab an iced tea, Dad. You can start looking at this.”
Abby scooted into the house. A few minutes passed.
“How long does it take to pour iced tea?” Matt sounded testy. I was sure the future of his veterinary practice weighed heavily on his mind.
Abby came back. “It’s a good thing I went inside. I cleaned up the accident.”
I dropped my book again. Something told me I wasn’t going to get much reading done today. “What accident?”
“One of the dogs. By the sofa.”
“Are you sure. Neither has had an accident since puppyhood.”
“Of course, I’m sure. A cat never lived here before. They’re acting out against Owl.”
“This situation is getting worse, not better.” I picked up my book and attempted to read.
Abby pulled up a chair next to Matt. “Before I forget, you may be called to testify in court. The Polichaks are divorcing and a custody battle is shaping up for Jake.”
“They’re both crazy for that little terrier,” Matt said. “I can’t believe they’re divorcing.”
Abby turned toward me. “Speaking of marital break-ups, do you think Uncle Tim and Aunt Barbara will hold off on the divorce?”
My book fell to the ground for the third time. “What divorce?”
“Nicholas told me how his parents fight all the time,” she said, referring to Tim and Barbara’s oldest son. “Usually about money.”
Abby was close to both my brother’s children, but especially Nicholas who now attended graduate school in Boston. “Lots of people fight but don’t divorce.” I waved my hand to fend off a nearby bee. “Did Nicholas say they were divorcing?”
“He told me his mom brought the topic up twice, but he’s not sure if she’s serious.”
“When I joined Tim and Barbara for dinn
er the other night, they had been arguing. But that’s nothing new. They’ve been fighting since the first day they met. Otherwise, they seem fine.”
“Aunt Barbara always seems fine in public. But I think Nicholas is wrong. They won’t divorce. A divorce will only make their money matters worse. It would require supporting two households. Aunt Barbara wants more money to spend, not less.”
Despite the severity of the situation, I chuckled. Abby always zoomed right to the practical issues in any situation. But I agreed.
Tim adored Barbara. A divorce would devastate him. And Barbara was motivated by money and prestige, which would be gone if Tim lost his job.
As Abby continued updating Matt on veterinary business, I no longer listened. Instead, I thought about my upcoming visit to the zoo this Monday, when I planned to somehow check out the alibis of zoo employees who had access to the rain forest. It was unlikely but not impossible that Amanda drove back to the Rocky Cove Zoo. What about Saul Mandel, Linda Sancho, and Ginger Hart? Where were they the night of McKenzie’s murder?
In the meantime, a knot tightened in my stomach as I envisioned Detective Wolfe examining motives, means, and opportunity.
Since no one could verify Tim’s alibi, a case could be made for opportunity.
As a herpetologist, he had means.
And his motive kept growing.
CHAPTER TEN
Matt got called into the veterinary hospital Sunday afternoon to perform emergency surgery on a three-year-old Golden Retriever hit by a car. I decided to spend this time finding out what I could about Rocky Cove’s late zoo director.
After whipping around the house and picking up my husband’s extraneous laundry, I settled down at the kitchen table with my laptop and searched for Arlen McKenzie’s obituary.
Basically a puff piece, the obituary extolled McKenzie’s financial acumen. It told how, as former CEO for three major Long Island corporations, he reorganized the businesses and increased profits.
One company struck a familiar chord. I remembered a former neighbor who’d worked there for more than fifteen years. After some quick math, I realized that three months after McKenzie took control, my neighbor lost his job, the victim of corporate streamlining.
To Arlen McKenzie, reorganizing meant downsizing. When he came into a company, lots of people wound up unemployed. It appeared he followed the same pattern at the Rocky Cove Zoo.
“No wonder everyone at the zoo hated him,” I muttered.
“Talking to yourself?” Matt trudged into the kitchen carrying a large bag emblazoned with the logo of our favorite Chinese restaurant. Partners in crime, Brandy, the collie, and Archie, the mixed breed, rushed toward him.
“Scat. You’ll get your dinner later.” He shooed them away.
“How’s the Golden?”
“Fine. Operation successful.”
My husband began removing carton after carton from the brown bag.
“How much did you buy?”
“I’m hungry. Abby watches me at work like a hawk. My days of jelly doughnuts are numbered.”
I grinned as we parked ourselves down at opposite ends of the table with the two dogs at my feet. I palmed off two pieces of dumpling to the dogs as the cat stuck her head around the doorway. “Poor Owl. She won’t come anywhere near Archie or Brandy.” I walked across the room and fed the cat a shrimp.
Returning to the table, I said, “I just finished reading Arlen McKenzie’s biography, but something doesn’t make sense. Why would McKenzie take a job at the zoo? He probably earned three times as much when he headed private corporations.”
“Political ambition.”
I looked up from my white carton.
“I read about McKenzie in a financial magazine,” Matt said. “He made a killing in the stock market. Now he wants to run for congress, but he needs to make a name for himself on Long Island first. How? Become associated with a high-profile organization. The Rocky Cove Zoo fit the bill.”
“But Matt, he was downsizing the zoo. Is that a smart political move?”
“The Rocky Cove Zoo isn’t located in McKenzie’s congressional district.”
“But being responsible for massive lay-offs couldn’t be good for his political career,” I argued.
“Most people don’t care, unless they’re the ones laid off. Arlen McKenzie would have portrayed himself as a successful businessperson who brought the zoo out of financial chaos and would do the same in government.”
“I see what you mean. McKenzie knew the value of public relations, too. He’d make sure the public saw him as a hero who saved the zoo from financial ruin.”
The phone rang. I dropped my chopsticks and grabbed the receiver as I recognized my brother’s home number on the caller ID.
“Kristy, I need your help,” Barbara pleaded before I could say hello. “What’s the phone number of the criminal lawyer Matt knows? The police are here again.”
“Why?”
“Tim lied about his alibi. An eyewitness spotted him in front of the rain forest the night of the murder. Tim was arguing with Arlen McKenzie.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I didn’t make a conscience decision to sit, but I felt my knees folding.
“Barbara, what did the police say?” I couldn’t believe my brother lied.
“Otto Kravitz, part of the zoo’s cleaning crew, overheard McKenzie and Tim arguing a little after eight. McKenzie wanted Tim gone by the end of next month. Tim told McKenzie to drop dead.” Barbara sighed loudly.
“Where was Otto when this occurred?”
“Sweeping by the side of the exhibit. That’s why he heard the conversation without anyone noticing him.”
“I don’t understand. Why was Tim there?”
“He had an appointment with McKenzie. Tim had ideas for the rain forest that he hoped would impress McKenzie.”
“And McKenzie would change his mind about firing Tim.”
“But that didn’t happen. Now Tim’s motive is stronger than before. Detective Wolfe is salivating over this. He told Tim not to leave town. I need a good lawyer.”
“I’ll put Matt on the phone. He’ll give you the information.” I handed my husband the phone while briefly filling him in on the situation.
Matt’s patients included an Old English bulldog owned by one of the top criminal lawyers on Long Island. He was smart and ruthless—the lawyer, not the bulldog. Nicknamed the “courtroom carnivore,” no one would arrest this attorney’s client without a solid case.
As Matt hung up the phone and returned to the table, he shook his head. “I can’t believe your brother’s stupidity.”
After the phone call, we both lost our appetites.
“There’s a Yankee game starting in ten minutes,” Matt said while stuffing leftovers in the refrigerator. “Want to watch it?”
“No thanks. I know you’re trying to take my mind off my brother, but I’ve work to finish. I think I’ll go up to the bedroom where it’s quiet.”
I propped myself up in bed, opened my laptop, and began reorganizing my notes. But I couldn’t concentrate. I kept conjuring up images of Tim arguing with the zoo director. Deciding to postpone working on my magazine assignment, I hit another button on the keyboard and brought up a blank screen. I listed the five zoo employees with keys to the rain forest, leaving space between each name to jot down my thoughts.
TIM VANIKOS: McKenzie refused to renew my brother’s employment contract. How quickly could Tim secure another job? How long could Barbara and Tim cope financially with Tim unemployed?
With McKenzie out of the way, this problem no longer existed.
AMANDA DEVEREUX: She knew about her husband and Ginger. She blew up at him a few days before the murder.
Was she angry enough to kill him? Was she sober enough to return to the zoo?
LINDA SANCHO: Elimination of the wildlife nutritionist job meant an upheaval in her family life, possibly forcing her to choose between marriage and career. And what about moving away during her
mother’s chemotherapy?
Now Linda didn’t need to make these decisions.
GINGER HART: McKenzie’s lover. They’d fought bitterly when she received the news that she’d been denied the promotion he promised. The fight was overheard by her staff. For an employee to confront her boss in public, she had to be stupid or filled with fury.
Ginger is not stupid.
SAUL MANDEL: He had lost out to McKenzie for the top position at the Rocky Cove Zoo.
Would he now become director permanently?
I felt a glimmer of hope. All suspects had motives that were as strong as my brother’s.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Abby had always been a great sounding board, so when she stopped by the house for bagels the next morning, I told her about Tim’s false statement to the police and my incident with the Escalade. She appeared more interested in the vehicle that chased me than in her uncle’s dilemma.
“But who knew you were there?” she asked, pouring her second glass of orange juice. She had just come from running two miles on the boardwalk near her home.
“I don’t know. Maybe someone heard me ask Tim for the address. Or perhaps someone was near the McKenzie estate and saw me stop.” I shrugged. “Someone knows I’m looking into the zoo director’s death.”
Abby bit into a bagel smeared with cream cheese. “What did Dad say?”
I sipped my coffee. “He doesn’t know.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“Why upset him? He’s got enough on his mind. He’s worried about that new veterinary facility, isn’t he?”
“The health and wellness center for companion animals. He certainly is. The corporation that owns the center is renovating a huge facility only two blocks from Dad’s veterinary hospital. By the way, where is Dad?”
“At work. He left early. Ann Carroll called here this morning and asked if she could bring Ivan the Terrible in before regular office hours.”
Ann Carroll was a long-time friend. Lord Ivanhoe of Britain, her hyperactive cocker spaniel, had been nicknamed Ivan the Terrible by Matt’s veterinary staff.
Abby devoured the last of her bagel. “I still think you should tell Dad about the Escalade.”