by Lois Schmitt
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know if you remember me. I was your niece’s English teacher.”
“Of course. She talked about you all the time. You were a godsend after her parents died. It’s so thoughtful of you to come here tonight.” Mei’s aunt cried softly. “Why would anyone do this to that poor child?”
A woman who looked to be Mei’s age wrapped her arms around the aunt. “I’m sure the police will catch the person who did this.” She spoke with a slight Jamaican accent.
Mei’s aunt regained her composure. An elderly couple approached to pay respects. Abby and I offered condolences again and moved on.
The church’s women’s guild provided refreshments.
“I want something cold,” Abby said. “I wish they had bottled water, but I think I’ll have to settle for punch.”
As Abby took off in the direction of the punch bowl, I wandered toward the other side of the room where there was a short line for coffee. Much to my relief, my brother and his colleagues had left at the end of the service. I didn’t want to meet up with Ginger tonight. My inquiries at Treasures of Zeus had angered the public relations coordinator, and although I had no intention of backing down, a memorial service was no place for a confrontation.
I had finished pouring coffee into a cup when a hand lightly touched my arm. “Hi. I’m Sondra Champion. Mei’s roommate.”
I turned and faced the young woman who had embraced Mei’s aunt a few minutes ago. Tall and willowy, with skin the color of café au lait, she was smiling, but her dark eyes radiated sadness.
“I’m Kristy Farrell. I taught Mei—”
“I know. When you introduced yourself to Mei’s aunt, I recognized the name. Mei was so happy running into you at the zoo.”
“I felt the same way about seeing her.” Wondering if Mei had confided in Sondra, I zoomed right to the point. “Did Mei ever talk to you about trouble at the zoo?”
“Trouble? What type of trouble?”
“I don’t know, but something bothered her. Did she ever mention her work?”
“Once in a while she’d talk about her research projects, but to tell the truth I never listened that carefully. Mei could get technical. I’m a graduate student in American history. Talk to me about the United States Constitution, not the DNA of zebras.”
“Did she ever speak about the people she worked with?”
“Only the public relations coordinator. I believe her name was Ginger. Mei didn’t like her, although I think they got along okay. Oh, once she mentioned Arlen McKenzie.”
“Really? What did she say about him?”
“That she’d soon discover if he had any substance or whether he was all show like everyone claimed.”
“After McKenzie’s murder, did you notice a change in Mei’s behavior? Was she nervous? Afraid of anything?”
“Now that you mention it, she did seem jittery, especially the night before she was killed. I was headed to Boston the next day to do research for my thesis. I was a bit preoccupied and didn’t think anything of it at the time, but, yes, her mind was elsewhere. She seemed on edge. Do you think that’s related to her death?”
“I do, but I don’t know how.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Maybe. Are Mei’s belongings still at your place?”
Sondra nodded. “The police searched but they didn’t find anything of interest. I told Mei’s aunt she could collect the things any time she wanted, but I don’t know when she’ll feel up to it.”
“Could I take a peek sometime?”
“Sure. How about now? I only live a few minutes from here. You could follow me home.”
“Great. My daughter is with me tonight. Okay if she comes?”
“Comes where?” Abby said. “They ran out of punch and I didn’t want to wait until they made more. Oh, I see iced tea.”
“No time. We’re leaving now.” I grabbed my daughter’s arm, introduced her to Sondra, and explained that we were going to search Mei’s old room. “Maybe we’ll find something that will help.”
We exited the building and were in the parking lot when Sondra said, “I don’t know if this is important, but the Saturday before the murder, a woman stopped by the apartment asking for Mei. When I told her Mei wouldn’t return until late that evening, she seemed upset. I asked if she wanted to leave a message, but she said no.”
“Did the woman give her name?” Abby asked.
Sondra nodded. “Linda Sancho.”
“Mei’s room is to the left,” Sondra said as we entered the living room in the small apartment. “It’s the way she left it when she went to work that last morning. I’m afraid it’s a little messy.”
I smiled, thinking of Mei’s desk at school. “I can imagine.”
“To make matters worse, I’m a neat freak.”
“Were there problems living together?”
“I’d pick up after Mei in the beginning, especially since we shared the bathroom. We argued occasionally, but finally I mellowed.” Sondra’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore, do I? Shows you how petty most problems are.”
My eyes moistened as I impulsively hugged Sondra.
She led us into Mei’s bedroom. Papers, books, and assorted trinkets littered the top of her desk and dresser, and clothes were strewn across her unmade bed.
“Now that the police are finished, I’ll clean up in here. I want the room presentable when her aunt comes.”
“Where’s her computer?”
“The police have it. But I don’t think they found anything on it. I gave the receipt to her aunt.” Sondra paused. “I’ll leave you two alone to search. If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Sondra wandered out, leaving the door ajar. I searched the corner desk while Abby rummaged through the dresser. I wasn’t sure what we were looking for, but hoped something would pop up.
“No luck yet?” Sondra strolled into the room about forty minutes later with a mug in her hand. Steam rose from the top.
“Nothing. We’ve looked everywhere. I guess we’ll go.”
“Would you like something to drink first?”
“Is that coffee I smell?”
“I just made a pot. Do you want some?”
“I never refuse coffee. I’ll have a quick cup. Black. No milk or sugar.”
“You drink too much coffee, Mom.”
Once in the kitchen, I spotted more than a dozen cookbooks on the shelf near the refrigerator.
“Who likes to cook?” I asked.
“Both of us. But most of the books are mine.” She handed me a mug. “Mei got most of her recipes off the Internet. She kept them in that folder at the end, the one with all the papers sticking out. She never organized them, but she could always find what she wanted.”
Sondra grabbed the folder, opened it, and began straightening out the papers, one by one. “Two nights before her murder, she made a delicious penne ala vodka with peas and artichokes, using this recipe.”
Abby, who stood next to Sondra, stared down at the folder. “Mom, you need to see this.”
I looked. Scribbled on the bottom of the sauce-stained recipe was the following:
Rhynchopsitta terrisi—3—2
Amazona vittata—4—2
Anodorhynchus hyacinthinus—3—2
Poicephalus gulielmi—4—3
Nyctea scandiaca—6—2
555-3287
“Do you know why this list is here?” I asked, instantly recognizing it from Mei’s diary.
Sondra examined the paper. “No idea.”
“Do you recognize the phone number?”
Sondra shook her head.
I pulled the phone out of my bag and punched in the number on the paper. After four rings, I reached voice mail, where I listened to the following message:
“You have reached Linda Sancho.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
My cell phone trilled as I drove Abby home from Sondra’
s apartment. I glanced down at the number. “It’s Tim. Why would he be calling me at this hour?”
“It’s not even ten. Why don’t you answer and find out?”
“This is not good,” I said to Abby after I finished talking with my brother. “Tim heard a rumor from a friend who works in the courts. The district attorney is convening a grand jury on the zoo murders on Monday. Tim’s the target.”
“Do you think they’ll indict him?”
“Yes. The way the system is set up, a prosecutor could convince a grand jury to indict a ham sandwich. And the circumstantial evidence is damning.”
“But I thought the district attorney was super cautious.”
“Obviously Detective Wolfe convinced him to go for it. I know Tim is innocent, but how do you prove it? I’ve reached a dead end and time is running out.”
“Sometimes the best thing you can do is give your mind a rest,” Abby advised.
“Easier said than done.”
“Stop thinking about it. Spend the weekend doing something completely different, and on Monday you’ll be refreshed and ready to tackle the problem again.”
Later that night, while Matt snored contentedly, I stared into darkness as dozens of thoughts squirreled through my mind. The more I investigated, the more frustrated I became. All five suspects had strong motives. Nobody’s alibi was ironclad. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of Mei’s diary. Linda’s name constantly popped up. Was Ginger a psycho serial killer? How drunk was Amanda? Were Saul and Tim the only ones who had access to both the snake room and the rain forest?
I turned over, pushing up my pillows. Abby was right. I needed to clear my mind. Maybe then, I’d come up with an idea.
The next day, determined to give my mind a rest from wildlife smuggling, endangered species, and murder, I drove to a nearby shopping mall. At the last minute I wanted to find a dress to wear to a theater production and cocktail reception that evening.
After trying on a horizontal black and white striped dress that made me look like a zebra, I spotted the perfect blue sheath. I spent the remainder of the day browsing in the mall, finally wandering into a bookstore where I spotted a book about poisons. While thumbing through the table of contents, I discovered a section on snake venom.
According to the author, the venom of each species is unique. Russell’s vipers are primarily hemotoxic, attacking the victim’s circulatory system, destroying capillary walls, causing internal bleeding, and breaking down tissue, often resulting in kidney failure. Victims may bleed from the eyes and mouth. The cobra, on the other hand, is filled with neurotoxins that block nerve impulses to muscles, resulting in paralysis of the heart and lungs. A few snakes, such as the Mohave rattlesnake, contain a combination of both.
Whether or not death occurred after a bite depended on a number of variables including the victim’s age, size, and health, as well as the species of the snake and the amount of venom injected. That last element, the amount of toxins released, depended on specific factors, one being when the snake ate its last meal. A snake injects more venom on an empty stomach than on a full one.
I shut the book and rubbed my forehead. To maximize the chances of Mei receiving a lethal dose, the murderer needed to ensure the cobra hadn’t eaten. Who controlled the reptile feeding schedule? The answer was the curator of herpetology, my brother Tim.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
“What a day!” Matt strolled through the side door and dropped down on a chair next to the kitchen table.
“Problems at work?” I asked.
“No. Just the usual busy Saturday.” He glanced at his watch. “I guess we better dress soon for that thing tonight.”
“That thing? Don’t you mean the play and fundraising reception?”
“Yeah. That thing. I suppose it’s too late to get out of it.”
“Of course we have to go. Barbara is co-chair of the committee, and we promised her. She’s been nagging us to attend her functions, and we’ve always had an excuse.”
“You couldn’t think of one this time? At least we have time for dinner. Come on.” He started up the stairs. “Let’s get this over with.”
“It’s a play, Matt, not a dental appointment.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing.” I folded my arms in front of my chest. “Tim wants to stay home tonight, but Barbara convinced him they need to keep up appearances. Tim needs us for moral support.”
“Wow! You look great.” Matt straightened his tie as I descended the stairs in my new blue dress.
I smiled, knowing I looked good but that I’d look better minus twenty pounds.
“What a shame we can’t ditch this affair and go out for a romantic dinner.” Matt winked. “Followed by an even more romantic night at home.”
“We can accomplish half your wish. We have time for the romantic dinner.”
We dined at our favorite Italian restaurant then drove to the theater, located on the old Cranston estate, which dated back to the Revolutionary War. The league had converted the stable into a small theater with the purpose of providing an outlet for Long Island’s playwrights and performers. To raise funds, the group frequently held cocktail receptions in conjunction with new plays.
After the third act ended, Matt and I strolled with the rest of the theater patrons through the sculptured garden to the manor house. The reception was taking place in the great hall, a stately room with mahogany walls adorned with oil paintings of fox hunts and English gardens. The crowd attending tonight’s affair included many of Long Island’s movers and shakers.
“How long do we have to stay?” Matt asked.
“We just arrived. We’ll have a drink, mingle, make small talk . . . Oh, I never expected to see her here.”
Linda Sancho stood only a few feet away. This was the first time I’d seen her wearing makeup. Although she wasn’t beautiful, she looked elegant in a tea-length cream-colored lace dress, her black hair piled atop her head. Next to her was a man, slight of build, with black wavy hair and large dark eyes.
“Come on, Matt. I want to introduce you.” We approached the couple. “Hello, Linda. Did you enjoy the play?”
Linda’s eyes widened, first appearing startled, and for a fleeting moment, frightened.
“Oh, yes,” she said, finally acknowledging me.
Before Linda could introduce the man to her right, he stuck out his arm for a handshake. “I’m Linda’s husband, Manuel Sancho. Do you work at Rocky Cove, too?”
“No, but I’m spending time there writing an article for Animal Advocate magazine.”
Linda crumbled a napkin in her hand. “There’s Evan,” she said to her husband. “Didn’t you want to see him?”
“Yes. I need to speak to him.” Manuel Sancho smiled. “Please excuse us. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head as Matt and I maneuvered through the crowd to the bar. No pomegranate martinis were available, so I ordered a red wine and a scotch for Matt. “Linda obviously didn’t want us to talk to her husband. But why?”
“What are you whispering about so seriously?” someone behind me said.
Recognizing Barbara’s voice, I turned and faced my brother and sister-in-law.
“We ran into Linda Sancho and her husband,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see them here.”
“It’s business,” Barbara explained. “Manuel Sancho’s law firm is a major contributor to the performing arts.”
“Is that who I think it is?” Tim motioned toward the middle of the room, then turned toward the bar and ordered a scotch.
Barbara nodded. “It certainly is.”
About a half dozen men gathered around a woman in a slinky black dress and silver stiletto sandals.
“Ginger Hart. What’s she doing here?” I asked.
“She’s dating the assistant producer of the theater group.”
“Really? I can’t imagine her dating an assistant anything.”
“This assistant is
heir to a fortune. His family owns real estate, manufacturing plants, restaurants, a major retail chain . . . He could buy and sell a dozen production companies.”
Matt chuckled.
As I glanced in Ginger’s direction, I noticed the public relations coordinator appeared to be the center of attention amid her little group. Ginger was a woman who never underestimated her own appeal and her effect on men.
“By the way, did you see Amanda? She’s here tonight,” Tim said, grabbing his drink from the bartender.
“Amanda Devereux?” I scanned the room.
Barbara discreetly nodded toward the right side of the hall. “There she is. Doesn’t she look fabulous?”
Amanda wore a peach cocktail suit and moved effortlessly from group to group, stopping only for the briefest conversation. She worked the room like a seasoned politician.
“Amanda always attended these functions with Arlen. I think he used it as a way to network, but she really seems to enjoy the arts. It’s my guess she plans to continue her involvement with the group.” Barbara waved to a couple near the cheese and fruit display. “I need to say hello to the Weinbergs. I’ll see you later.”
“Since I’m not on call tonight, I’m getting another scotch,” Matt said. While he tried to grab the bartender’s attention, Tim pulled me aside.
“I hinted to Amanda about Frank Taggart attending the animal auction,” he said.
“Hinted? You’re the most unsubtle person I know. How did you hint?”
“I told her you saw Frank at Malur’s Animal Auction.”
“Why would you come right out and tell her, Tim? What if they’re in cahoots? Did you think of that?”
Tim’s face flushed. “Amanda is rich and highly regarded in her field. I doubt she’d be involved in some petty scam.”
“But even so, why would you come right out and tell her?”
“Because she’s probably the only one at the zoo he talks to. If he’s an animal breeder on the side and sells to Malur, I thought he might have mentioned it to her. Unfortunately, he didn’t. She knows nothing about his life beyond the zoo.”