Monkey Business

by Lois Schmitt

  “But when Mei was bitten by the cobra, you acted strangely. Right after that, you took off from work. You’ve been gone a long time.”

  “I had the flu. I really was sick. As for my strange behavior, that’s true. But not because of anything Mei told me. I’ve been fascinated with reptiles since I was a kid. I knew the danger, but I never witnessed a serious problem until two weeks ago.”

  He blushed as he stared at the ground. “First, the crocodile nearly attacked Mei, then the cobra bite. It made me gun-shy, or I guess I should say reptile-shy. When I returned to work, I discussed this with Tim. I’m better now.” Gary glanced again at his watch. “I should go.”

  Once Gary left, I paraded up to the front desk, where Mary sat sorting the mail. “My brother asked me to put this in his office,” I said, holding up the chart.

  “His door is open as usual. Go right in.”

  There wasn’t an empty space on the desk, so I placed the chart atop a stack of papers. Turning to leave, I spied three keys dangling from a large metal ring hanging from a hook near the door.

  Despite Tim’s insistence that he always carried the key to the snake room, knowing my brother’s absentmindedness, I suspected it might be on that ring. Tim frequently spent time away from his office. What would prevent someone from stealing the key, making a copy, and returning the original?

  I needed to find out if any of those keys unlocked the snake room door, and the only way to do that was to try them. I could ask Mary, but I didn’t want to take the chance that she might mention it later to Tim. I shuddered. I didn’t want to be in that small enclosure, surrounded by venomous reptiles, even if they were in tanks and couldn’t get to me. Snakes gave me the creeps. Still, if one of the keys granted access to the area behind the terrariums, the list of murder suspects expanded.

  I peeked outside at Mary, still engrossed in the mail. I grabbed the key ring, dropped it in my bag, and strolled out the door, calling good-bye.

  I hurried through the public portion of the reptile exhibit until the staff entrance to the snake room came into view. Before inserting a key, I glanced over my shoulder at the crowds, looking out for zoo employees. They would know I didn’t belong.

  Certain no staff was in the immediate area, I attempted to unlock the door. The first key didn’t fit. I twisted and jiggled the second key. Then I tried the third, but the lock still didn’t open. The key for the snake room wasn’t here.

  “Kristy!” a voice called. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Less than ten feet away stood my brother.

  “I thought you were meeting with the zoo’s veterinarian,” I said.

  “It was cancelled. Do you want to explain what you are doing?”

  I explained why I’d taken the keys.

  “Those three keys are for places I rarely go—the lecture hall, the uniform closet, and the old file room,” Tim said. “Don’t you think I’d want the police to know if another suspect had access to the snakes? That would take suspicion off me. You are so stubborn.”

  “I prefer to be called persistent,” I said, trying to lighten the situation.

  I was about to leave when Tim said, “At least some good came of your escapade.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those keys reminded me that Mei was working in the file room. I completely forgot she had been transferring information from archived material onto our computers. I need to clear out her stuff so I can send someone else in there to continue her work.”

  “Stuff? What stuff?”

  “Mei liked to spread out. Her desk in the herpetology office was overflowing, so she moved some of her personal belongings to a small desk in the file room.”

  I formed a crazy theory—a real long shot.

  “Did the police know about this?” I asked.

  “Probably not. As far as I’m aware, they only checked her work space in herpetology. Do you think it’s important?”

  My brother was a scholar and very intelligent, but I couldn’t believe his lack of common sense. “It could be. Let’s take a look.”

  The file room was located in the basement of the Education building. As Tim opened the door and flipped the switch, fluorescent light illuminated the area. I followed him down the steep, narrow stairs, carefully holding on to the banister. About a dozen metal file cabinets hugged the plaster walls.

  “What are you looking for?” Tim asked as I headed toward an old wooden desk located in the far corner.

  “I’ll know if I see it.” Mei referred to writing all her thoughts in her diary. I had assumed Mei’s journal was that book. But now, thinking back, I realized the journal only contained information concerning work assignments—no thoughts or personal feelings. And Mei had never used the word journal. She specifically referred to the book as a diary.

  Did another book exist?

  After sneezing from the dust, I searched the first two desk drawers with no luck. Only memos, office supplies, and five candy wrappers. But when sorting through the third drawer, I found a book inscribed My Diary.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Tim asked.

  “Something that may hold clues to the murders.”

  “Shouldn’t we contact the police?”

  “Eventually.”

  “But, Kristy—”

  “I’ve got to get back to the magazine office. I’ll see you tonight, Tim. Don’t forget. Dinner at my house at seven.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Stepping inside the Animal Advocate office, I heard an unfamiliar male voice as the door to the editor’s room opened.

  “I appreciate anything you can do. I’ll talk to you next week,” a man said as he exited Olivia’s office.

  Dressed in an open-neck blue oxford shirt and khaki slacks, his tanned skin and muscular physique led me to believe he spent lots of time outdoors. As he passed by and nodded, I guessed his age to be mid-fifties.

  “Oh my God, the facial similarity is nearly identical. Is that who I think it is?” I asked Clara, although I was sure of the answer.

  “Your competition’s father. That’s the senior Schuyler Adams.”

  “Was he here about his son?”

  “I don’t know. He was in Olivia’s office for nearly an hour.” Clara shook her head. “Olivia never spends that much time with one person.”

  Upset as I was, I realized fretting about Schuyler Adams wouldn’t accomplish anything. Right now, my focus needed to be on Mei’s diary. I marched to my cubicle and settled down with the book.

  I flipped through the pages that appeared to contain lots of personal information, including comments about her friends and love life. There was some mention of her work at the zoo, but mostly as it related to her feelings toward other staff members. She described Saul and Tim as brilliant but absentminded, and Amanda as serious and aloof. She thought Ginger was a jerk, and she claimed to hold a deep respect for Linda.

  Then I came across an entry dated about eight weeks ago. Scribbled under the date was the following: “Need to talk to McKenzie about this. Nothing makes sense.” Below that statement was a list of strange terms and numbers.

  Rhynchopsitta terrisi—3—2

  Amazona vittata—4—2

  Anodorhynchus hyacinthinus—3—2

  Poicephalus gulielmi—4—3

  Nyctea scandiaca—6—2

  Were these terms Latin? I wondered if Anodorhynchus hyacinthinus was a flower—a type of hyacinth? If these were botanicals, perhaps Amazona vittata referred to a plant from the Amazon region. Whatever they were, they sounded scientific.

  Who would be familiar with science terminology?

  A doctor.

  Since Matt wasn’t thrilled with my involvement, I phoned Abby.

  “Hi, Mom. I’m a little busy right now.”

  “You also sound down. Is anything wrong?”

  “Jason and I had a fight.”

  Damn! “Did you break up?”

  “I don’t want to talk. I hav
e to go—”

  “Wait. Don’t hang up. I called for another reason.”

  I told her about the list in Mei’s diary. “These words may be Latin or Greek. Maybe you know what they mean?”

  “Fax me a copy. I have two patients to see, but after that I’ll look it over.”

  After faxing Abby the information, I continued reading the diary, finally coming to an entry dated a week before Arlen McKenzie’s death. The writing dealt with Mei’s thoughts concerning the late zoo director.

  It read: “A zoo director’s job is about leadership. And leadership is about character. I don’t know Arlen McKenzie personally. I can only go by what others have said, and I’m aware of how unreliable that can be. Something is terribly wrong at Rocky Cove. I think I know what’s going on, but I’m not sure. I need to make contact with McKenzie and tell him what I discovered. Then I’ll know if my theory is right, and I’ll know what type of man he is.”

  Later that afternoon, Clara barged into my cubicle. “This just came over the fax. It’s for you, Kristy.”

  “Thanks.” I read the message.

  “It doesn’t make sense.” Clara hovered by my desk. “Do you understand it? Is this important?”

  “I understand it, and it is important.”

  Clara lingered.

  “Thanks for bringing this to me.” I smiled.

  Clara left.

  I stared down at the fax. Abby had sent back the list. Next to each term she had written:

  Maroon-fronted parrot—Rhynchopsitta terrisi—3—2

  Puerto Rican parrot—Amazona vittata—4—2

  Hyacinth macaw—Anodorhynchus hyacinthinus—3—2

  Jardine’s parrot—Poicephalus gulielmi—4—3

  Snowy owl—Nyctea scandiaca—6—2

  At the bottom of the paper, she had scribbled: “These birds are all endangered species. But I have absolutely no idea what the numbers represent. Do you?”

  I hadn’t a clue.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  It was one of those quick summer storms. The driving rain pelted the cedar shingles on the house. Gazing out the big bay window, I knew the local roads would soon flood as the rain came down faster than the storm drains could handle.

  When Abby arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “It’s like a monsoon out there,” Abby shook off the water. “Is Uncle Tim here yet?”

  “I expect him any moment.” I glanced out the window again but didn’t express my concerns. Tim was a horrible driver, always preoccupied with his work instead of paying attention to the road.

  “Thanks for inviting me to dinner, Mom. Can I help?”

  “Obviously, the barbecue has been moved indoors. Let’s go chop some vegetables for the salad.”

  “I apologize for my abruptness this morning,” Abby said. “I didn’t want to discuss Jason.”

  “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

  “Jason and I are talking again. We’re having dinner the night after the bar exam to see if we can work out our problems. He wants to move to Santa Fe. That’s where his family is from. His uncle is president of the local bank and offered him a job in their legal department. If he takes it, he wants me to go with him.” Abby sighed. “I want to stay here.”

  “I hope it works out,” I said, afraid my face showed my feelings. I liked having my only child nearby. But what I wanted most was her happiness. She’d need to make her decision without input from me.

  I began chopping onions with a vengeance.

  Tim had been expected at seven. After seven-thirty, I gazed out the bay window. The rain had let up a little, but the slick on the roads could still be dangerous.

  Matt wandered into the living room and rested his arm on my shoulder. “I’m sure everything is okay. You know your brother. He probably got busy at work and lost track of time.”

  By eight, still no Tim. I nervously nibbled a potato chip. “He should have called. Something is wrong.”

  “Have you called him?” Abby plopped down on the sofa.

  “No one picks up the phones at the zoo after hours. I left a voice mail message on the odd chance he’d listen before he leaves. I wish he had a cell phone.”

  “He doesn’t have one?” Abby asked. “Everyone under ninety has a cell phone.”

  “He had one but lost it last week and hasn’t replaced it yet. He’s lost three so far this year. If it doesn’t look like a reptile, he can’t keep track.”

  Matt smiled. “Knowing Tim, I’d guess an emergency popped up.”

  I phoned Tim at home, hoping he’d stopped off on the way, but I got sent to voice mail.

  “Barbara’s away on a business trip, right?” Matt asked.

  I nodded, then set to work on a crossword puzzle but couldn’t concentrate. I rose frequently to look out the window.

  The phone rang. Matt grabbed it.

  “Not interested.” My husband hung up and turned to me. “That was a home remodeling telemarketer.”

  “I think we should contact the police,” I said.

  “About the telemarketer?”

  “No. About my brother. They’ll know if there have been any accidents.”

  “Why don’t I drive to the zoo?” Matt pulled the car keys out of his pocket. “They have twenty-four-hour security. I’ll ask the guard at the front gate to check if Tim is still there.”

  “Zoo security didn’t help the night of McKenzie’s murder,” I said.

  Before Matt could respond, the dogs, barking loudly, rushed out of the living room and into the kitchen.

  I dashed into the kitchen and peeked out the window. “It’s Tim.”

  “What happened?” I swung open the side door.

  “Sorry. We had another crisis at the zoo and I completely forgot about dinner.” Tim dripped water on the floor as he made his way to the table. He yanked out a chair and dropped down. “Someone sent an anonymous letter to the Board of Trustees. He or she accused Saul Mandel of plagiarism on his doctoral thesis.”

  Matt wiped up the water. “That’s a damn serious charge.”

  “I know, but it’s not true. Saul absolutely denies it.”

  “Did the letter include proof?” I asked.

  “None at all. The writer claims proof will be sent within the next few weeks, but several of the trustees are overreacting.”

  “But if it can’t be proven—”

  “Doesn’t matter. At the next meeting, the board planned to appoint Saul as director permanently.”

  “You think now they won’t?”

  “Not only will the appointment be postponed, but one of the trustees is so upset about the possibility of bad publicity that he’s contacted other board members. He wants Saul out as acting director.”

  “Before he gets a chance to prove himself?”

  “You may be innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, but that doesn’t necessarily hold true in the job market.”

  “So what will happen?” Matt switched on the burner under a large pot of water for the corn.

  “I think he’ll stay as acting director. Luckily, the majority of trustees want evidence of plagiarism before taking action. They’re afraid of a lawsuit. As for the permanent position, it doesn’t look good. The board doesn’t like controversy.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I reluctantly agreed.

  “Anyway, that’s why I’m late. When Saul addresses the Board of Trustees next week, he’ll be questioned on this issue. We both stayed tonight to determine the best way to handle the situation. I hope you weren’t worried.”

  “Let’s take our coffee into the den, Mom,” Abby said. The clock read almost midnight. Tim had departed ten minutes ago. Matt, who had an early-morning appointment, was on his way up to bed.

  “Good idea. I could use a second cup. It helps me think.” I poured a refill, then accompanied my daughter into the other room. Before settling down on one of the comfy recliners, I opened the three windows. There was a delightful breeze and I loved the smell of the night
air after a rain storm.

  “So?” Abby said.

  “So what?”

  “You said coffee helps you think. What are you thinking? I noticed at dinner you were unusually quiet.”

  “What if Saul Mandel did plagiarize his doctoral thesis?” I said. “Wouldn’t that give Saul another motive for murder?”

  “Yeah, it would.”

  “And what about Mei’s suspicions about wrongdoings at the zoo? Could that be related to the plagiarism charges?”

  “Uncle Tim seemed to think the accusation is ridiculous.”

  “Tim understands reptiles. When it comes to people, he’s always been naive.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Friday night was the memorial service for Mei Lau. Held at a turn of the nineteenth century gray stone Methodist Church, Abby and I slipped into the last pew as the service began.

  Abby leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Tell me again. Why am I attending a funeral for a woman I don’t know?”

  “This is not a funeral. It’s a memorial service. You’re here to observe. I’m hoping we gain insight into a reason for Mei’s murder.”

  “I’ll be sure to pay attention for hidden clues in the eulogy.”

  I shot my daughter a withering look while handing her a hymnal. Still, I knew her sarcasm masked how upset she was. Abby was only a few years older than Mei. The young woman’s death only emphasized her own vulnerability.

  When everyone rose to sing “Amazing Grace,” I noticed my brother seven rows in front, sitting next to Amanda Devereux. Also in the pew were Linda Sancho, Saul Mandel, and Ginger Hart.

  I wondered about Tim and Amanda sitting together. The police considered my brother to be the prime suspect in Arlen McKenzie’s murder. Did Amanda think the same thing? If so, how could she stay so calm and civil? Not to mention the fact that on her right side sat Ginger Hart, her husband’s lover.

  After the service, Mei’s aunt received visitors in the fellowship hall. Dressed in a simple black suit with black stockings and flats, she wore her gray hair in a small bun atop her head. I guessed her height to be about four-eleven and her weight under one hundred pounds.