by B R Snow
“Don’t do that,” Josie said. “You’re gonna scare the kid.”
“What did you just say, Rooster?”
“I said sometimes the truth is hiding in plain sight. What about it?”
“Give me a hand,” I said, approaching the wolf painting.
“You want a round of applause?” Josie said as she eyed the appetizer tray.
“Funny,” I said, motioning for Rooster to grab one side of the painting. “Let’s take this down.”
“I take it back,” Rooster said to Josie. “She is weird.”
“Lift,” I said, grabbing the other side. Moments later, we gently set the painting down on the floor. I glanced at the spot on the wall where the painting had been hanging and frowned. “Dang it. I thought I was onto something.”
“You expected to find a wall safe?” Rooster said.
“Yeah.”
“Well, it was worth a shot,” he said, reaching for the painting. “Let’s put it back.”
“Can’t win them all,” I said, then had another thought. “Hang on. Turn it around.”
Rooster turned the painting around and leaned it against the wall.
“How did you do that?” he said, stunned.
“Lucky guess,” I said, staring at two envelopes that were sticking out of a makeshift pocket folder on the back of the painting. I grabbed both envelopes and made my way back to the couch.
“That was spooky,” Lacey said, staring at me in disbelief.
“You’ll get used to it,” Josie said. “What have you got there, Snoopmeister?”
“The thick one is called Understanding the Wolfdog Hybrid,” I said, exploring the contents of the thick manila envelope. The other one is sealed.”
“What does he have to say about the hybrids?” Josie said, sitting down next to me.
“It looks like he was working on a book,” I said, flipping through the pages. “And all his daily logs are here. Diet, feeding times, socialization habits. It’s pretty comprehensive.”
“That’s the Jeremy I knew,” Lacey said.
“The book has a lengthy preamble,” I said, beginning to read aloud from the first page. “The practice of crossbreeding wolfs with dogs has existed for years, and little is known about the genetic composition of the offspring produced by this breeding practice. I hope this book will both educate and enlighten readers of the benefits and potential dangers associated with this emerging science.”
“Science?” Josie said. “Maybe if the guy’s name was Dr. Frankenstein.”
“He talks a lot about first generation puppies and uses a jelly bean analogy,” I said.
“I could go for some jelly beans,” Josie said.
“You had more than enough at Halloween to last you a lifetime,” I said.
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault the trick or treat traffic was light.”
“Listen to this,” I said, again reading from the document. “If you’re breeding a purebred wolf with a purebred dog, you can logically assume both parents have a one hundred percent lineage from a DNA perspective. As an example, put one hundred red jelly beans in a jar to represent the wolf and another hundred green jelly beans to represent the dog’s DNA. Select any fifty beans from each jar to represent fifty percent, shared parentage. Since only one color of bean is associated with each parent, all first-generation offspring will logically be a fifty-fifty combination of wolf and dog. But it’s the subsequent generations of offspring where the randomness of hybrid DNA combinations come into play.”
“I can’t believe you dated the guy,” Josie said to Lacey.
“I’d never met anyone like him before,” she said. “There’s something to be said for that.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Josie said, shaking her head. “What else does he have to say?”
“It gets pretty technical in a hurry,” I said, flipping through the document. “He rambles on about nucleotide polymorphisms, Bayesian something or other, outlier genes, and various multivariate factors. And he mentions homozygosity several times. What the heck is that?”
Josie and Lacey glanced at each other then shrugged.
“I must have missed that class,” Josie said.
“I’ve heard the term before,” Lacey said. “But I don’t have a clue what it means.”
“Homozygosity deals with someone who possesses two identical forms of a particular gene,” Rooster said. “One inherited from each parent.”
“Really?” I said, frowning.
“Hey, I read.”
Lacey laughed and patted Rooster on the knee. She left her hand there, and I glanced at Josie and grinned at her before refocusing on the document.
“He’s got all the hybrids identified,” I said, studying a diagram. “It lists all their names and ages by cage and percentage of wolf for each one. We were right. The two males are purebred wolves. Let’s head outside and see how they respond to their names.”
“Good call,” Josie said. “But let’s take a look at the second envelope first.”
“Geez, I almost forgot,” I said, tearing the seal and removing a stapled document that only had a handful of pages. I flipped through it as I scanned the contents then shook my head. “Wow. What do you know?”
“What is it?” Josie said, peering over my shoulder.
“It’s a handwritten copy of Peters’ last will and testament,” I said with a blank stare.
“Let me see that,” Rooster said, reaching for it. He spent a few minutes examining it then handed it to Lacey. “If it’s any consolation, he definitely wanted you to have this place.”
“Take a look at the last page,” I said.
“What about it?” Lacey said.
“Did Peters sign it?” Rooster said.
“He did,” Lacey said, nodding. “And it’s witnessed as well.”
“Now, that’s interesting,” he said. “Who was it?”
“Clarissa George.”
Chapter 19
The closer my due date got, the more the house dogs hovered around me. And it had become readily apparent that my daughter, in addition to the women who would soon be central in her life, was going to have four furry, four-legged protectors keeping a watchful eye over her. As such, Chef Claire’s Goldens were curled up at my feet under the desk with Chloe tucked between them. Captain, Josie’s Newfie, without enough room to get comfortable, had opted for the couch and was currently stretched out, snoring contentedly.
I took several sips of coffee between stifled yawns and focused on the door when I heard the soft knock.
“Come on in.”
All four dogs stirred and got up to greet my visitors. Chief Abrams and Detective Williams responded with head scratches and tummy rubs until the dogs resumed their resting places.
“Thanks for coming over,” I said, motioning for them to sit down. “I couldn’t bear the thought of trying to climb into the SUV.”
“No problem,” the Chief said. “Where’s Josie?”
“She’s doing an annual exam. She said she was going to swing by when she finishes up.”
“You look tired,” the Chief said. “Did the baby keep you up all night?”
“No, these did,” I said, removing the two envelopes we’d found yesterday from a desk drawer. “I was up most of the night reading.”
Both men leaned forward and stared at them.
“We found them yesterday out at Cabot Lodge.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” the Chief said.
“The thick one is all of Peters’ research and writing on his work breeding hybrids,” I said, then paused for effect. “The other one is Peters’ handwritten last will and testament.”
“What?” Detective Williams said, reaching for the envelope and removing the document.
“Yeah, it caught us by surprise, too.”
“Where did you find them?” the Chief said.
“Behind a painting he had hanging on a wall in the living room,” I said, stifling another yawn.
&nbs
p; “Huh,” Detective Williams grunted. He set the will down on the desk in front of him and frowned.
“What’s the matter?” the Chief said, reaching for the document.
“It was witnessed,” Detective Williams said. “Last page.”
The Chief flipped to the page, and his expression soon matched the detective’s confused look.
“He had his research assistant witness it?” the Chief said.
“But she didn’t say a word about it during the reading of the will,” Detective Williams said.
“No, she didn’t,” I said. “But in the handwritten version, Peters didn’t leave her a book worth a hundred thousand.”
“You think she was somehow involved in changing the will?” Detective Williams said.
“Either that, or she was just seizing the opportunity to get her hands on a first-edition copy of The Origin of Species.”
“By playing dumb and keeping her mouth shut?” the Chief said, giving it some serious thought.
“Yeah,” I said. “But if she was involved in changing the will, that probably means she was part of the murder.”
“I gotta tell you,” Detective Williams said. “I’ve been involved in some weird investigations, but this one is off the charts.”
“Did you get a chance to interview all the beneficiaries again?” I said.
“We did,” the detective said. “That’s eight hours of my life I’ll never get back.”
“Is the wife still making noise about suing Larry?” I said.
“That’s the least of Larry’s concerns at the moment,” Detective Williams said. “She’s forcing our hand about arresting him for Peters’ murder.”
“And you’re going along with it?” I said.
“I don’t have any choice, Suzy,” he said. “Given the evidence in front of us, if she starts squawking to my higherups, which is something she’s threatened to do, I’ll have some serious problems to deal with.”
“Even though he didn’t do it?” I said, pressing the point.
“Pretty much,” Detective Williams said. “Hopefully, it will sort itself out long before Larry goes to trial.”
“When are you going to arrest him?”
“Probably sometime later on today,” Detective Williams said. “I called Judge Thompson and explained the situation, but he pretty much confirmed what I already knew. But he thinks Larry will be able to make bail.”
“Will things change when you tell them about the handwritten copy?” I said.
“Apart from maybe identifying this woman, Clarissa, as a co-conspirator, I doubt it.”
“What did the brother have to say for himself?” I said.
“P-Squared?” Detective Williams said, laughing. “About what you’d expect from an inveterate gambler. He said he and his brother were never close. It sounded like Peters used to help him out from time to time, but he cut P-Squared off several years ago.”
“Motive?” I said.
“Sure,” the detective said. “He hated his brother.”
“Alibi?”
“Said he was playing poker with his buddies in Vegas. A three-day marathon.”
“Will it check out?”
“Given the social circle the guy travels in, I doubt if he’s going to have a hard time getting people to confirm it,” Detective Williams said. “All he’d need to do is sprinkle a little cash around.”
“Do you like him for it?” I said.
“Peters’ murder? Nah, I’m still leaning toward the wife.”
“Does she have an alibi?” I said.
“She was on a Caribbean cruise,” Detective Williams said. “Airtight.”
“Unless she had a reeeeally long piece of firewood, right?” the Chief said, then caught the looks we were giving him. “Well, I liked it.”
“Yeah, good one, Chief,” I said. “But if she had somebody doing her dirty work, I can still make it work.”
“Me too,” Detective Williams said. “And since she stands to inherit everything now that the will is invalid, I like her even more for it.”
I stared off with a deep frown.
“What is it?” the detective said.
“It seems too easy,” I said, then a thought popped. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Did you finally tell Larry about Althea?”
“We did,” Chief Abrams said. “He was crushed. Genuinely crushed.”
“I feel bad for the guy,” I said. “Just when it looks like he’s starting to turn his life around, everything falls apart.”
“Well, if the wife and brother were working with Althea, that means three people were involved. And you know what they say about the chances three people can keep a secret.”
“It’s possible, but only if two of them are dead?” I said.
“That’s the one,” Detective Williams said, then shrugged. “Well, if that was how it went down, we are down to two.”
“Maybe P-Squared should be sleeping with one eye open,” I said. “What did Charles Howard have to say for himself?”
“Not much,” the detective said. “He insists he was simply one of Peters’ investors in his wolf research.”
“But why would anybody throw millions into breeding hybrids?” I said.
“Howard says it’s important work,” the Chief said. “He kept prattling on about how it was vital to restoring natural habitats and indigenous species. Calls himself a bleeding-heart environmentalist.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Not a word,” the Chief said. “He’s a strange dude. I understand why he and Peters hit it off.”
“Did you ask him how he felt about the possibility of losing control over Peters operating fund?” I said.
“We did,” Detective Williams said. “It was like water off a duck’s back. It barely registered with him.”
“Who the heck doesn’t worry about losing control over millions of dollars?” I said.
“Probably somebody with billions,” the Chief said. “He said he was happy for Charlotte. Said she deserved to maintain her New York lifestyle. But I think he was lying.”
“You think they have history?” I said. “You know, of a romantic nature?”
“I don’t think so,” Detective Williams said. “Based on what we observed, he seems to be a connoisseur of younger women.”
“We interviewed him over lunch at C’s,” the Chief said. “And he was hitting on every woman in the place under the age of thirty.”
“Maybe he’s working with Clarissa,” I said. “She certainly fits the bill.”
“That thought crossed our minds,” the Chief said. “But we haven’t been able to connect them.”
“Howard could have met her at Peters’ office,” I said.
“It’s certainly possible,” Detective Williams said. “But I still like the wife for it. And even if she and Howard weren’t romantically involved, they may have some shared interest in making sure Peters got removed from the equation.”
“Equation, huh?” I said, laughing. “I see what you did there, Detective Williams.”
“You two must be rubbing off on me.”
“What did you find out about Howard’s businesses?” I said.
“That’s where it gets tricky,” Detective Williams said. “He’s got a bunch of different companies.”
“Lots of people do,” I said, frowning. “What’s tricky about it?”
“They’re all registered in the Cayman Islands,” he said. “I’m sure his holdings are like a spider web.”
“The Cayman Islands?” I said.
“Yeah, do you have any idea how complicated that place is when it comes to people who are trying to keep their finances from prying eyes?”
“I could probably ballpark it.”
“Huh. Now, there’s an idea,” the Chief said, nodding at me. “Are you thinking what I am?”
“I’d be surprised if I wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about?” Detective Williams said.
“Gerald,” I said. “You met h
im at my wedding.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, he’s the Premier of the Cayman Islands,” I said, my neurons surging.
“Which one was he?”
“He was sitting at my mother’s table during the reception.”
“The big black guy with the booming laugh?” Detective Williams said.
“That’s him,” I said, nodding.
“That guy runs the government of the Cayman Islands?”
“He certainly does.”
“Wow, I thought he was just some guy you and your mom knew.”
“He is,” I said. “He’s a good friend who happens to be the head of the government.”
“Do you think he’d be willing to help us out?” the Chief said.
“There’s only one way to find out,” I said, reaching for my phone.
“You have the Premier of the Cayman Islands on speed dial?” Detective Williams said.
“Sure,” I said, making the call. I put the phone on speaker and set it down on the desk. He answered on the third ring. “Hi, Gerald.”
“Suzy. Let me guess, you’re calling to tell me you just gave birth to the most beautiful little girl on the planet.”
“I wish,” I said, rubbing my belly. “But it won’t be long.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Gerald said. “We’ve missed you down here this winter.”
“We missed you too. But we’ll be back in full swing next year. Have you got a minute?”
“For you? Of course. What do you need?”
“We’re trying to get a handle on the activities of someone who might be involved in a murder,” I said.
“A murder? What is it with you and people getting killed?” he said, then followed it with his trademark laugh that reverberated around the office.
“We probably don’t want to turn that rock over, Gerald,” I said, laughing along. “Anyway, the guy we’re looking at apparently has a bunch of companies registered down there.”
“It’s been known to happen,” Gerald said. “And?”
“And I was wondering if you could do a little poking around for us,” I said, gently tossing the idea out. “I know it’s a lot to ask given how busy you are.”