by Lois Schmitt
“Is she going to question him?”
“Absolutely not. Whatever he does, Amanda is adamant it has nothing to do with Rocky Cove. She agrees with me that he probably has a side business as a breeder. She doesn’t understand how anyone can deal with the likes of Malur, but she feels Frank’s activities on his own time are his own business. And as his boss, she has no legal right to interfere.”
“She sounds more like a lawyer than a curator.”
“I can see her point,” said Matt, who had returned to the conversation with his second scotch of the evening, third if you counted the one at dinner. “I’m sure Amanda just wants to be careful. People sue so easily.”
“She also asked if you’re sure you saw Frank at the animal auction,” Tim said. “Could it have been someone who looked like him?”
“No. It was Frank. I’m sure.”
A waitress approached with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. While Tim and Matt chose from an assortment of lobster rolls and shrimp puffs, I headed to the ladies’ room. I began rummaging through my bag for a comb when the door swung open and Linda Sancho barged in.
“Kristy, I apologize if I seemed rude earlier. My husband doesn’t know about my involvement with the SANAN Society. I was afraid you might say something. If we run into each other again, please don’t mention it.”
Before I could respond, Linda exited.
“Linda Sancho followed me into the restroom.” I’d joined up with Matt on the far side of the room. Tim had gone off in search of Barbara. “Linda wants to keep her membership in the animal rights organization a secret from her husband. My theory keeps growing stronger.”
“What theory?”
“That she murdered McKenzie because he’s blackmailing her,” I said, slightly exasperated that Matt couldn’t remember what I’d said. “I always thought her vulnerability was within the zoological community. Now I think McKenzie threatened to tell Linda’s husband about her involvement with the animal rights group. Manuel Sancho is up for a partnership in his law firm, Webster, Mayer, and Hammond. It may have to do with that.”
Matt let out a low whistle. “If Linda’s past activities involved a radical group of any sorts, her husband could kiss that partnership good-bye. Webster, Mayer, and Hammond represent old money. I went to college with the son of one of the senior partners so I know a little about the law firm. It’s super conservative. The last thing Manuel Sancho needs is to be embroiled in a controversy.”
As Matt headed to the end of the bar to grab some peanuts, Tim returned without Barbara.
“I’m glad I have you alone for a minute,” he said.
“What’s the matter?”
“Barbara doesn’t know about the grand jury. She has no idea that the District Attorney wants to indict me. Please don’t mention it.”
“But you can’t keep that from her. What if it was leaked to the newspapers?”
“My attorney would know before that happens. If so, I’ll tell her. Here she comes. Matt’s with her. Please, Kristy, don’t say anything.”
“Kristy, I wanted to let you know that Professor Layne is here.” Barbara pointed toward the north side of the room.
“Good. You mentioned she might come tonight.” I turned to face my husband. “You remember Professor Layne, don’t you, Matt? Back when I was teaching, I brought her into the high school as a guest lecturer on the theater. I want to say hello.”
I also wanted to get away from Tim and Barbara. I had no desire to be part of my brother’s deception.
Matt said, “I’ll stay here.”
“Me too,” Tim said. “Professor Layne works with Barbara on the league’s fundraising. She’s too much of a character for me. Nice lady, but weird. Definitely weird.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Professor Alicia Layne tended to stand out in a crowd. A large woman, tonight she wore a caftan-style cocktail dress of deep purple, making her look like a giant plum. Her short silver-streaked black hair was adorned with a purple orchid.
Aside from teaching drama at a local college, the professor performed in summer stock theater. She most recently appeared in Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit as the medium, Madame Arcadi, a role suiting her perfectly.
I threaded my way through the throngs of people. To my surprise, I found the professor engaged in conversation with Amanda Devereux.
I said hello to both, then added, “I haven’t seen you in ages, Professor Layne.”
“Kristy Farrell. It’s so good to see you.” Professor Layne extended her arms for a hug, engulfing me in waves of purple. “I heard you left teaching? What have you been doing?”
“I write for Animal Advocate magazine. That’s how I met Dr. Devereux. I interviewed her for an article.”
Professor Layne motioned toward Amanda with her hand. There was a ring on each finger. “Did you know that Amanda is a former student of mine? I still believe my theater arts class provided her with the confidence she has today. Do you remember, Amanda? You were such a mousy thing.”
Amanda smiled, remaining perfectly poised. I winced. Tact had never been Alicia Layne’s strong suit.
A waiter with a tray of champagne offered drinks.
“I shouldn’t, but I will.” Professor Layne reached for a glass. “I have high blood pressure, but I adore champagne.”
Since I was tonight’s designated driver, my one red wine would be enough. I refused the champagne. Amanda hesitantly grabbed a glass.
Professor Layne gulped down half of her drink. “Dee-licious. Do you remember when you acted in some of the productions on campus, Amanda? You were quite good.”
Amanda smiled. “I’ll never forget it.”
Professor Layne swallowed another two gulps, emptying her glass and placing it on the tray of an unsuspecting waitress passing by. I noticed Amanda hadn’t touched her drink. Had her alcohol problem ceased since she no longer had the stress of a philandering husband?
“You had talent and interest in so many areas, but ornithology was always your first love, wasn’t it?” Professor Layne said to Amanda.
“Yes.” Amanda’s gaze veered away. “Oh, I see someone I must speak with. Please excuse me.”
Once the zoo curator left, Professor Layne shook her head. “Poor Amanda. I keep telling her to get in touch with her feelings. She holds everything inside. Always poised and proper.”
I questioned this image of Amanda. She had lost her cool the night of McKenzie’s murder, when she drank so much that staff drove her home. And a few evenings before the murder, Amanda had aggressively confronted her husband about his relationship with Ginger—right in front of Mei Lau. But even Mei claimed that it was out of character. I had to admit, when I saw Amanda sitting at Mei’s memorial service between Ginger Hart, her husband’s lover, and my brother, the number one murder suspect, I was surprised at her self-control. Amanda Devereux was an enigma.
Professor Layne reached out, snatching another glass of champagne from the tray of a nearby waitress. “It’s not good. At our last fundraiser I told her to stop acting like the Queen of England and react like any normal wife would in the same situation.”
“What situation?”
“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here. Didn’t your sister-in-law tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Arlen McKenzie was hitting on her?”
“Hitting her? Do you mean physically abusing her?”
“No. Not hitting her. Hitting on her. He was making a play for her.” Professor Layne winked. “He was flirting shamelessly.”
“He was flirting with his wife?”
“No, no. He was flirting with your sister-in-law.” Professor Layne made a sweeping gesture with her arms.
“Let me get this straight. Arlen McKenzie was flirting with Barbara?”
“That’s right. And Amanda acted as if nothing was going on.”
“What did Barbara do?”
“I really hate to say.”
I didn’t believe that for a minute. The Alici
a Layne I knew loved to gossip. “Please tell me what Barbara did.”
“Well, I suppose it’s okay to talk. In the beginning she flirted back. She went along for a little while, but as Arlen became more . . . shall we say amorous? . . . Barbara tried to avoid him.”
“Did Tim notice?”
“My dear, everyone noticed.” The professor waved a jeweled hand in another sweeping gesture. “You couldn’t help it.”
“Did Tim say or do anything?”
“He mostly looked embarrassed.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, at one point, when Arlen admired Barbara’s necklace . . . a little too closely, if you get my drift . . . your brother’s face turned redder than a Bloody Mary, but he never said a word.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“At least your brother showed emotion. Amanda stood there looking like a new addition to Mount Rushmore.”
“What’s bothering you?” Matt asked during the drive home. I’d been silent for most of the ride.
“I’m getting discouraged. The more I delve into the two murders, the more I discover information to implicate my brother.”
“What do you mean?”
I told Matt about Arlen McKenzie and Barbara. “That just adds to Tim’s motive to want McKenzie gone,” I said.
“True. But all the suspects had good motives. It seems everyone who knew McKenzie hated him.”
“There’s more. I read in a book today that a snake produces less venom on an empty stomach than after a meal. Tim would know that.”
“That’s common knowledge for anyone involved in zoology. I could have told you the same thing. I’m pretty sure all the suspects would be aware of that, not just Tim.”
“Yes, but Tim could manipulate the cobra’s feeding schedule.”
“He’s not the only one. There’s someone else who’d be aware of the snake’s mealtime and would also have a say in the matter.”
“Of course.” I banged my hand on the steering wheel. “Matt, you’re right. I was so focused on Tim, I forgot about the person involved with the diets of all the zoo animals. The wildlife nutritionist.”
Linda Sancho.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“When the phone rings, I expect to hear my brother calling from jail.”
While Matt was upstairs, still asleep, Abby and I sat in the kitchen, savoring early Sunday morning cups of coffee and warm breakfast buns. The aroma of cinnamon filled the air.
“I wouldn’t worry. I talked with Jason last night.” Abby bit into her cinnamon bun and finished chewing. “He said the evidence against Uncle Tim is good but not great. Enough to win an indictment but not the trial that follows.”
“And Jason has so much legal experience,” I said dryly.
“He has graduated from law school, Mom.”
I refilled my cup. “By the way, how are things between you and Jason?”
Abby shrugged. “I told you. We’re waiting until he takes the bar exam to sit down and discuss our problems. I’m glad I have some time before making my decision. I’m sure I can get a veterinarian job in New Mexico. If competition from the health and wellness center is as tough as anticipated, Dad may need to cut staff. If I leave here, it might make things easier.”
“Don’t base your decision on that.”
“I don’t really want to leave. All my friends and family are here. I love Dad’s veterinary hospital and—”
“Do you love Jason?”
“Yes.” Abby smiled. “As I said, there’s lots to consider. But not this morning.”
“Okay. Then let’s get back to the murders. The most damning evidence is that Tim has keys to both the snake room and the rain forest.”
“So does what’s his name . . . Saul Mandel. His motive is strong too.”
“I know. Linda also has strong motivation, and her name pops up in the strangest places. But Tim swears she doesn’t have access to the snake room. Neither does Amanda or Ginger.” I sighed. “If Tim didn’t commit the murders, by process of elimination, Saul must be guilty. Tim doesn’t believe it, but I can’t think of any other possibility.”
“Unless someone else had gotten hold of the keys.”
“That’s what I’d like to believe, but Tim insists he keeps the keys to the snake room on him at all times. So do his reptile keepers. He claims Saul keeps the master keys locked up too, and no one else has access.”
“Does Uncle Tim keep the keys with him when he sleeps?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I would guess not.” I smiled at the thought.
“That widens your suspect list.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ask yourself who wouldn’t want Uncle Tim to lose his job? Who would also have access to the keys at night? Who could easily sneak out and have a copy made? Your answer is Aunt Barbara.”
“No way. Stretching my imagination as far as it will go, and this is a stretch, I can envision Barbara injecting poison in Arlen McKenzie’s arm. But there’s no way she’d handle a live cobra.”
“Listen to my theory,” Abby pressed. “You’re not going to like it. Uncle Tim wouldn’t kill Arlen McKenzie just to keep his job, right?”
“Of course not.”
“But I think he’d kill for one reason. To protect Aunt Barbara. Suppose Mei discovered that Barbara murdered McKenzie. Tim would kill Mei to keep her from talking. It has the makings of a Greek tragedy. She kills for him. He kills to protect her.”
“You have a flair for the dramatic.”
“Aunt Barbara reminds me of Lady Macbeth. Although Aunt Barbara is not as earthy. She’d never use a dagger. Too messy. Poison is her method.”
“Stop it. This is ridiculous. Tim would never kill anyone no matter what the motive. And Lady Macbeth never committed murder. She convinced her husband to do it.” The English teacher in me couldn’t help correcting Abby.
“I know that, Mom.” Abby sounded exasperated. “I only meant Aunt Barbara is stronger and more ruthless than Uncle Tim.”
“That’s not a joke?”
“No, I’m serious. As Uncle Tim’s wife, Aunt Barbara is no stranger to Arlen McKenzie. I’m sure he’d agree to meet with her.”
My daughter had a point. I flashed back to the theater benefit and Alicia Layne’s gossip concerning McKenzie and Barbara. I conjured up images of my sister-in-law arranging a clandestine meeting with the zoo director.
“I know it seems farfetched, but the more you think about it, the more logical it becomes,” Abby continued. “Look where Aunt Barbara works. A pharmaceutical firm that manufactures medicines, some of which contain venom.”
“But she works in the office. The labs are in a different community.”
“I bet she still has access to snake venom.”
Suddenly, I remembered. “Your scenario won’t work. Barbara has an alibi for the McKenzie murder. She attended a retirement dinner that night.”
“An alibi that hasn’t been checked. If Aunt Barbara wasn’t a suspect at the time, I’m guessing the police wouldn’t have bothered to verify her whereabouts.”
“I don’t believe this theory of yours, but I’ll find out what time Barbara left the retirement dinner.”
“How will you do that?” Abby drained her coffee cup.
“I’ll call her office midday tomorrow. She always goes to lunch with the pharmaceutical representatives on Monday. Amy, her assistant, answers the phone. Hopefully, Amy attended the retirement dinner too. I’ll talk to her and see what she knows.”
“What if you discover Aunt Barbara lied?”
“I haven’t gotten that far. One step at a time.”
Once Abby left, I sat back and chewed my cinnamon bun while thinking this case was full of improbable theories. But Barbara a murderer?
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Early Monday morning, the phone rang.
“Is this Mrs. Farrell?” the voice said.
“Yes.”
“Clayton Malur, from Malur’s Animal Au
ction. I’ve good news. I can get you a woolly spider monkey.”
Then he told me the cost.
“I didn’t realize it would be quite so high. It may take a little time to raise the money.” I needed to stall until I contacted Roy Maxwell at United States Fish and Wildlife about setting up a sting.
“You said money wasn’t a problem. How long do you need?”
“I’m not sure. Probably—”
“I’ll give you three days before I find another buyer.” He ended the call.
I punched in Roy Maxwell’s number and explained the situation. “Wouldn’t it be great to prove that Clayton Malur is still involved in illegal sales?”
“We can’t authorize a sting just because you feel he’s smuggling. There needs to be some evidence.”
“It’s more than just me.” I told him about the couple in the Razorville restaurant who were seeking a golden lion tamarin from Malur.
“None of this is evidence. The tamarin might be perfectly legal. In any case, a sting can’t be arranged that easily. Malur will have papers verifying the woolly spider monkey you’re buying was bred in captivity and not stolen from the wild. Same as with the golden lion tamarin. We’d have to find out if the documents are forged.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”
“Proving documents are forged is difficult. Often the paper trail is impossible to follow. That’s why he contacted you so quickly. If it were easy to prove, he wouldn’t have called until he checked you out.”
“But—”
“I wish you’d let me know you were doing this,” Maxwell said. “In fact, you shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
Later that day, I sped off to the Rocky Cove Zoo. I needed to verify statistics for my story on breeding endangered species. After that, both my articles would be done.
I quickly gathered the information I needed in the zoo library and was headed toward the exit when I ran into Ginger Hart.
“How’s your murder investigation coming?” she asked. “Asking any more questions at Treasures of Zeus? Still playing Sherlock Holmes?”
“I’m sorry if my checking your alibi at Treasures of Zeus upset you. I’m verifying the whereabouts of everyone with keys to the rain forest, not just you.”