Monkey Business

by Lois Schmitt

  “I have an ironclad alibi.”

  “No. Not an ironclad one. You could have scooted out of Treasures of Zeus, driven to the zoo, murdered Arlen, and returned to the restaurant without anyone realizing you were gone.”

  Ginger planted her hands on her hips. “If you checked your facts, like a competent reporter, you’d have discovered I didn’t have my car that night. I hitched a ride with friends. Without transportation, it would be impossible to get to the zoo and back in the time involved. Or did you think I would take a taxi to commit murder?”

  “I’m trying to help my brother.”

  “Maybe you should face the fact that your brother could be the murderer.”

  “You can’t believe that. The evidence is purely circumstantial.”

  “True, but the evidence leans the most toward him. Anyway, I’m clear. And I don’t have hard feelings.”

  “Glad to hear that.” I turned to leave.

  “By the way, I’m aware there’s another applicant for the feature writer position at Animal Advocate,” Ginger said as I began my trek down the path.

  I slowed down.

  “One with impressive credentials, I might add,” she continued. “Your editor assigned him an article on the Siberian tiger. I’ve been working closely with him to ensure he obtains all the material he needs.” Ginger smiled maliciously. “I guess you didn’t know about him, did you?”

  Schuyler Adams!

  During my drive back to the office, all I could think about was Schuyler Adams’s feature story on the Siberian tiger. I couldn’t believe no one at work, including Clara, had told me.

  There were no spaces on the street so I pulled into the municipal lot behind the Animal Advocate building just as a red sports car zoomed out of the parking area, nearly crashing into me.

  I recognized the driver.

  “Schuyler Adams just sped away, Clara,” I said, stepping into the office. “Was he here to see Olivia?”

  Clara didn’t look up from her work. “I think so.”

  “What do you mean, you think so? Olivia can’t sneeze without you knowing it.”

  Clara raised her head. “Okay. He had an appointment.”

  “Do you know about the article he’s writing on the Siberian tiger?”

  Clara nodded.

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “The last time we discussed him, you looked so upset. Besides, I hoped he’d mess up the story.”

  “I doubt he’d do that.” I couldn’t help but smile at Clara’s loyalty.

  Clara lowered her head, staring at a blank paper on her desk.

  My smile quickly faded. Her demeanor indicated she knew more about this situation than she let on.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Clara?”

  “Olivia took Schuyler to lunch Friday. At La Scala.”

  My heart sank. At La Scala, offers were extended and deals finalized.

  As if reading my mind, Clara added, “I don’t know for sure if he’s locked up the job, but he was talking with Olivia for more than an hour today. When he left he said he’d see me soon. And he was smiling.”

  “I need a caffeine fix.” I poured coffee into a mug and wandered down the hall. I desperately wanted the permanent position as feature writer. I couldn’t remember when I had enjoyed my work as much as I had this last month.

  But there was more. Looming on my mind was the opening of the new animal health and wellness center. Matt thought the impact of the new facility on his veterinary practice could be disastrous. I needed this promotion and the accompanying salary raise, no matter how meager it might be.

  Back in my cubicle, I sloughed behind my desk, staring at the blank computer screen. But worrying wouldn’t accomplish a thing. Until I heard officially from Olivia, anything could happen. Meanwhile, I’d focus on proving my brother’s innocence.

  Although I felt I was grasping at straws, my next step was to check out Abby’s theory concerning my sister-in-law’s alibi. Glancing at my watch, I noted it was ten minutes past one. Since this was lunch time for many corporate executives, I phoned Barbara’s office. With any luck, she would be out of the building and I could ferret the information I needed from a member of her staff.

  Barbara’s assistant answered the phone. I had never met Amy, but we’d spoken many times on the phone.

  “Barbara’s at lunch with the pharmaceutical reps,” Amy said. “You can reach her on her cell if it’s important. Or do you want me to have her call you back when she returns to the office?”

  “No thanks. I’m heading into a conference in a few minutes, so I’ll reach her at home tonight.” I zoomed right to the point of my call before Amy picked up another phone line. “Barbara said she had a great time at that retirement dinner a few weeks ago. Did you enjoy it, too?” I tried sounding as casual as I could.

  “I sure did, but I paid for it the next day. Most of the group left after dessert, but a few of us hung out at the bar. I had to take the train back to Long Island, so I didn’t get home until after midnight and I’m up at six.”

  “That’s the problem with city functions when you commute from the suburbs. Barbara usually rises before six, too. I’ll bet she scooted out of the dinner early.”

  “I don’t know. Come to think of it, the last time I saw her was during the cocktail hour.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  My phone trilled as I was driving. I let it go to voice mail and played it back when I arrived home.

  “This is Barbara. I need to talk to you, Kristy. Please call me as soon as you hear this message.”

  Had Barbara found out about my call to her assistant and figured out what I was doing? Or was there more trouble with my brother? Had the indictment been handed down? I called back and Barbara answered on the first ring.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart pounding. “Your message sounded urgent.”

  “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Not on the phone. Can we meet tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Is it Tim?” I wondered if my brother told her about the grand jury.

  “I really can’t talk now. I’ve a one o’clock appointment at the nail salon across from my office. Can you meet me there? You could get a manicure too and we could chat. I’ll make the appointment for you.”

  “That’s fine, but can you at least tell me if Tim is in more trouble.”

  “I’d rather talk in person. It’s complicated. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

  It’s complicated? I hung up, wondering why the secrecy.

  The nail salon was crowded with women trying to squeeze manicures, pedicures, and other assorted beauty treatments into their lunch break. When I arrived, Barbara was in the waiting area, sitting on a high-back wicker chair next to a potted palm and sipping from a bottle of sparkling water. This place was big on ambiance, and I had no doubt this would be reflected in their prices.

  I slid into a chair across from my sister-in-law.

  “Okay. What’s this about?” I asked.

  “I need your help. But let’s wait until we’re called for our manicures. That way we can have some privacy.”

  “In here? The nail stations are less than two feet apart.”

  “I arranged for Lu and Jenna to do our nails. They work out of the little alcove in the back. No one will hear what we’re saying.”

  “Lu and Jenna will.”

  Barbara waved her hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. The point is several of my coworkers come here for treatments. I don’t want them to overhear our conversation. We should be called in about five minutes.”

  I realized that once we settled down at our manicure stations, my sister-in-law would immediately start explaining what was bothering her. If I wanted to verify Barbara’s whereabouts for the night the zoo director was killed, I’d need to question her right now.

  “You couldn’t alibi Tim because you were in the city for a retirement dinner
and didn’t return home until midnight, right?” I asked.

  Barbara nodded.

  “How did you get in? Did you drive?”

  “Long Island Railroad.”

  “Did you travel with coworkers?”

  “No. I returned home alone. No one else takes the same line. Why are you asking me this?”

  “Oh, no particular reason. Matt likes to drive to Manhattan, and I like the train. I’m always interested in how others feel about this.”

  “I prefer the train.”

  I sighed. As far as finding witnesses to the time Barbara left the retirement dinner, I had reached a dead-end. But that didn’t mean she’d lied. Still, could Abby’s theory be right?

  A few minutes later, we were shown into the main salon. I sneezed. Probably a reaction to the allergens in the room. The four vases of lilies displayed throughout the salon couldn’t mask the strong odor of nail lacquer and polish remover.

  I settled in my chair. “Now, what’s so important, Barbara, that you needed to talk to me privately?”

  “Tim told me Saul may not be appointed permanently as director. With the trouble at the zoo, there’s a growing sentiment among the trustees to bring in an outsider.”

  “That’s too bad, but why are you so upset about it?”

  “Because there’s also a growing sentiment to do a sweep of all top staff and that would include Tim. If they do hire someone other than Saul as director, the new person may decide to bring in a new team.”

  “You mean Tim would lose his job?”

  “The Board of Trustees has decided that any pending employment contracts or new hires should wait until a permanent director is appointed. So yes, it’s possible a new director may choose not to keep Tim, especially since he’s the leading suspect. Not that I think he’ll be arrested.”

  I realized that Tim still hadn’t told her about the grand jury.

  “But you can’t stop rumors, and the zoo runs on good public relations,” Barbara continued. “Of course, no one would admit that’s the reason. Tim and I need your help, Kristy.”

  “Me? What can I do?”

  “Tim needs positive publicity. In your article on the Rocky Cove Zoo, could you emphasize the work Tim’s done with breeding reptiles? He could be the main focus of your story.”

  “My article on captive breeding is completed.”

  “Can’t you change it?”

  “No. It’s an overview of the zoo’s breeding program for all endangered species, not just reptiles.”

  “Well, you could include the others but concentrate on Tim’s work.”

  “If my editor thinks I slanted the article to fit my personal agenda, she’d fire me on the spot, and I wouldn’t blame her. The purpose of the story is not to boost Tim’s career.”

  “I didn’t realize you were such a moralist.”

  “Come on. I’m doing my job. It’s my first assignment.”

  “Your story is more important than your brother?”

  “Finding out who killed Arlen McKenzie and Mei Lau would help more than some puffed-up article.” I lowered my voice. “Until the real murderer is discovered, Tim will always have that shadow over him. If he’s arrested for murder, it wouldn’t matter if he single-handedly saved all reptiles from extinction.”

  “So you’re not changing the article?”

  “What part of ‘doing my job’ don’t you understand? No, I’m not changing it. But I can tell you that Rocky Cove’s breeding program is excellent. All three curators come across in my story as innovative and dedicated because it’s the truth. If the trustees read my story, maybe they won’t change staff.”

  Barbara narrowed her eyes while we walked to the drying machines. “Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Something was up. I spotted Matt’s car in the driveway when I returned home. My watch read five, and Matt rarely came home before six. As I entered through the front door, I found him slouched in his armchair with the New York Times on his lap. But he wasn’t reading it.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “It was one of those days.”

  “What happened?”

  “One of my hydraulic examining tables broke. It will cost a fortune to replace. And Lucy Garone’s cat almost escaped out the front door.”

  I rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders. “Didn’t anything good happen today?”

  “I guess so. Lady Snow gave birth to her puppies.”

  “That’s great news.” Lady Snow was an Alaskan malamute show dog owned by Matt’s best friend, Jake. “How many puppies?”

  “Only four. Three males, one female.”

  “Four is small for a malamute litter, isn’t it?”

  “Litter sizes vary.”

  I rubbed Matt’s shoulders as he sat silently, his muscles in knots. Meanwhile, his statement about litter sizes kept flashing through my mind. But I didn’t know why.

  He finally spoke up. “Your brother called today.”

  “Oh? What did he want?” I felt my muscles tense as I wondered if there was more news about the impending indictment.

  “On top of his legal problems, which seem to be mounting, he’s afraid of losing his job,” Matt said.

  “I know.” I told Matt about my meeting with Barbara at the nail salon. “She’s desperate. She always puts on a showy front. It’s not like her to ask for help.”

  “Mike Murphy, one of the zoo trustees, had been one of my clients before he moved to Manhattan. Tim asked me to talk to Mike on his behalf.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I don’t know. It’s awkward. I haven’t spoken to Mike in more than four years. I don’t even know if I can find his phone number.” He sighed. “Besides, I honestly don’t believe it will do any good.”

  “Do you really think the trustees won’t renew Tim’s contract?”

  “It’s possible. If that happens, Tim and Barbara won’t be able to keep up the payments on their home equity loan. They could lose their house. And they won’t be able to pay their attorney fees.”

  “And it’s pretty likely Tim will be indicted next week.”

  Archie padded into the room, plopping down next to me. I spotted a large scratch under his right eye by his nose.

  “What happened to Archie?” I knelt down beside the dog.

  “I wanted to talk to you about that, too. The situation between Owl and Archie has escalated. Archie cornered Owl by the refrigerator. She scratched his face. It will be fine, but that’s not the problem. Owl’s not working out. We can’t keep her.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I promise, we’ll find her a good home.”

  “I know. But if she’s adopted, I won’t see her again.”

  I fought back tears, thinking how ridiculous this was. My dream job was down the tubes, my husband’s business in danger of failing, my daughter might move away, my brother faced the possibility of jail, and I was about to cry because of a cat.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  I woke at sunrise.

  “Matt, are you awake, yet? Why don’t we go out for breakfast?”

  He rolled on his side, pulling his pillow over his head.

  I couldn’t get back to sleep. It was too early to go to the zoo, but an idea popped into my mind. A brisk walk on the ocean boardwalk would clear my head and refresh me for the day. I showered, dressed, made a thermos of coffee, and headed out to my car. It was only a fifteen-minute drive from my home to the local beach.

  Soon the beach would be crowded, but at this hour I shared the boardwalk with a handful of joggers and early-morning walkers. Sea air always invigorated me. Later on, it would be mixed with the smell of sunblock, but not yet.

  By the time I finished my walk, more beachgoers had arrived. Settling down at a table near the concession stand, I poured my coffee and sat back, momentarily inhaling the salt air and listening to the waves crashing on the shore. Gazing at the horizon, I was hypnotized by the rolling water—until my
concentration was interrupted by a nearby conversation.

  A boy of about four, a girl who appeared to be a preteen, and a young woman I guessed to be their mother occupied the next table. The girl’s grumpy expression indicated she’d rather be home in bed than participating in this early family outing.

  The woman had apparently brought breakfast from home for the children. She sat patiently while the boy played with the bowl in front of him. “Travis, eat your cereal. You too, Ashley.”

  “No, I hate it,” the girl said.

  The woman sighed. “You’re the one who insisted I buy this brand because it has strawberry chips.”

  The girl looked up from staring at her blue nails. She leaned over and grabbed the box. “This cereal is a rip-off. The picture on the label is full of strawberry chips, but only two chips are in my bowl. It says right on the box you get one hundred chips. I bet you don’t get ten in the whole box.”

  The mother snatched back the carton and appeared to examine the label. “You’re wrong. It doesn’t say that. It says you get up to one hundred strawberry chips. That’s a common advertising gimmick.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Advertisers often like to emphasize the maximum but they only give you the minimum.”

  The girl returned to staring at her nails while her mother cleared off the table.

  Something about that conversation bothered me, but I didn’t know what. I sat there, savoring my coffee and gazing out at the whitecaps and rolling waves.

  Then it came to me.

  Hurrying to my car, I began putting it together. The lone baby eagle I saw on my first visit to the Rocky Cove Zoo’s bird nursery. Tim’s statement about the zoo’s low birth rate with certain species. Matt’s comment on how litter sizes varied. And now a mother’s casual remark about maximum and minimum.

  As I pulled onto the parkway, I realized that was what the numbers in Mei’s diary meant. Back home, I raced up the stairs into the study and dragged one of Matt’s veterinary books from the shelf to the desk. I thumbed through the index but couldn’t find what I needed. As for trying the Internet, I wasn’t sure where to start the search.