Paw of the Jungle

by Diane Kelly

  Megan came into the living room and barked orders at Brigit, insisting she stop. But they were off duty now, equals as far as Brigit was concerned. Not gonna happen, sister.

  Flopping over on her back, the dog wriggled and writhed, curling one way then the other in a furry frenzy.

  Almost done. Just one more step.

  Brigit rolled to her feet and bolted past Megan into the bedroom. She sprang from the floor and sailed through the air, landing on their bed. She stretched her front paws out and scooped the soft covers toward her until they formed a big, comfy pile. When it was just right, she flopped down on it. Aaaaah.

  FIFTY-TWO

  THE ART OF THE STEAL

  The Poacher, aka Trevor Fleming

  They’d done it. Stolen the rhino.

  Who’s dumb as a box of rocks now?

  Trevor could hardly believe they’d gotten away with it. But his plan had worked.

  Like last time, he’d sprayed leftover flocking spray on the security cameras on the homes and businesses nearby so they wouldn’t record him. The cops thought the thief drove a black Dodge pickup, but he was in a white truck now, the kind you saw a dozen of any time you went anywhere in Fort Worth. Hell, local companies had fleets of them. The cops wouldn’t be on the lookout for a white truck, so he shouldn’t have any trouble on the road.

  He’d placed orange cones at both ends of the McCart cutoff, along with signs he’d snatched from a construction site that read ROAD CLOSED. He’d parked his pickup and trailer at the curb in the restricted area. He’d had to peel off the stickers that spelled out the name of his business on the side of the trailer, and use paint stripper to get rid of the crown logo, but he could reapply them later. He and his partner had worn the ghillie suits again to camouflage themselves as they’d made their way through the zoo.

  Beforehand, the Poacher had watched some videos online and seen that circus trainers used bull hooks to train and control elephants. The comments showed that many people thought it was a cruel practice. The bull hooks reminded him of the batons the prison guards used to keep the inmates in line. He wouldn’t know where to get a bull hook, but he figured a long piece of PVC pipe would work, so he’d picked up a couple lengths at the hardware store. He thought they might have trouble with the rhino, but the animal came right along with only a little prodding. They’d gotten in and out in no time.

  It was four in the morning when the two men stood on either side of the rhino at the back of the open trailer. According to his Internet search, a black rhino could weigh up to three thousand pounds or more. Trevor had bought a wide, heavy-duty ramp for this job. Gently tapping the rhino’s armor-plated bottom with the pipe, they eased the animal forward. The rhino balked at the top of the ramp, refusing to move another inch. Trevor’s gut clenched so hard it hurt, nearly as bad as the time his cellmate had sucker-punched him. They needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible or someone might catch them!

  “Come on, big guy,” Trevor whispered. “Get in there!”

  “What’s wrong with him?” asked his partner.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t like that it’s dark in the trailer.” His boys slept with a night-light on. Harper did, too. You’d think something this big wouldn’t be afraid of a little darkness, but who knows.

  The other guy turned on his flashlight and carried it into the trailer, securing it to the front wall with a roll of duct tape and a pocketknife he’d pulled from the pocket of his cargo pants. Smart.

  Trevor gestured to the tape. “How’d you know to bring that along?”

  The guy shrugged. “I always carry duct tape and a Swiss army knife. Can’t tell you how many times it’s saved my ass.”

  Trevor realized he probably didn’t want to know what all the guy had done with a blade and duct tape.

  They returned to the rhino’s side and the two of them prodded the big beast again. This time, the animal walked right into the lighted trailer. Trevor pumped a fist. Yes!

  When he went to shut the back door of the trailer, he realized he might have celebrated too soon. The rhino’s butt was too big. The doors couldn’t close all the way. They’d never be able to get the lock on it if it wouldn’t shut!

  “Dammit!” Trevor spat.

  They poked the PVC pipes through the three-inch gap, tapping the beast’s enormous buttocks, but the rhino was in as far as he could go.

  Trevor felt panic welling up in him, squeezing his lungs. “What the hell are we going to do?” he wheezed.

  The other guy grunted. “Ain’t no we anymore. My job was to help you get the rhino out of the zoo and into the trailer. From here out it’s on you. Time for you to pay up.”

  “Come on, man!” Trevor said. “You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

  The other guy glanced around nervously. “It’s no good being out here this long.” He fingered the pipe, gave it a meaningful swing, and tapped it hard against the palm of his hand. Thwack. “I want my money. Now.”

  Unless he wanted to be beaten with the pipe and left for dead, Trevor had no choice. He went to the cab of the truck and got the cash. All one thousand dollars of it. The other guy might be smart in some ways, but he’d underpriced his services. Of course, Trevor had lied and said he was only getting three grand in the deal.

  He handed the cash over. The man counted it quickly, tucked the envelope into the neck of his ghillie suit, and dropped the pipe into the bed of the truck, where it landed with a clang. As he backed away, he said, “Heads up.” He tossed the duct tape to Trevor.

  Trevor caught it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Put your suit over his ass,” the guy said, turning away. He spoke over his shoulder as he retreated. “Cover the gap with tape. Use your belt to hold the doors closed.”

  Wow. The guy was amazingly resourceful. It was a wonder he didn’t have a better legit job.

  Trevor did as his partner had suggested. When he finished, he realized he’d been here far too long. I gotta get moving. He left the cones and the ROAD CLOSED signs. He’d worn gloves when he’d snatched them, so there’d be no prints to tie the crime to him. He started his truck and pulled out, running over three cones as he drove off, leaving them crushed on the street behind him.

  He was heading slowly down a residential street when he spotted a roofing company’s sign in a yard. Looked like the homeowners were having new shingles installed. Also looked like they’d hired a sloppy crew. The street was littered with nails. But Trevor couldn’t swerve around them or he’d risk tipping the trailer. His heavy, horned cargo could lay that thing on its side in a heartbeat. If that happened, he’d be royally screwed.

  He grimaced as he rolled over the nails and hoped for the best. He’d made it three more blocks and thought he was home free when he felt the drag kick in. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the trailer tipping to the left. He unrolled his window and stuck his head out. One look back and he could see the trailer’s tire going flat.

  A string of colorful expletives exploded from his mouth like Roman candles. He had no spare tire for the trailer. Hadn’t thought to get one. Duct tape was good for a lot of things, but it couldn’t patch a tire. There was no way he could haul a three-thousand-pound animal for sixty miles on a flat. He was already taking a chance the thing would fall out the back when he got on the freeway.

  His only choice was to take the rhino to his garage. Once the stores opened in the morning, he could buy a new tire for the trailer and weld some metal strips across the back to make sure the rhino was secure and hide its enormous armored ass from view.

  He gingerly pressed the gas pedal and set off slowly down the street. The tire had gone totally flat by then, and the back corner of the trailer dragged on the street, sending up a shower of sparks like a beacon in the night. He spewed more curses. I might as well have a spotlight shining on me!

  At least he could get from the zoo to his garage by smaller neighborhood streets, where he was less likely to be spo
tted. A camera might pick him up, but with any luck law enforcement would dismiss the white truck as unimportant if they happened to watch the footage later.

  He weaved in and out of the streets, the trailer continuing to send up sparks, along with a krrrrrrr sound of metal dragging on asphalt. Luckily, no one was on the road at this time of night. All he saw was a couple of frisky cats chasing each other across the street.

  He was heading north through the Fairmount neighborhood when headlights came at him from the other direction. He slowed, hoping to minimize any sparks. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.

  As the car approached, his eyes made out something on top of it. Could it be pizza delivery? This time of night? As it drew closer, he gasped. It’s a cop car!

  He knew he should jump out of the truck and run, but he couldn’t seem to get his arms and legs to cooperate. I’m done for. It’s over. Vicki will find another guy to stick bows on her butt for. Harper will know her daddy is not a good man.

  As the squad car came upon him, the driver’s window went down and a hand reached out, palm raised in the universal gesture that meant STOP. He had no choice but to comply. The cruiser pulled up next to his truck and the bulky, rusty-haired officer at the wheel made a circling motion with his hand, telling him to roll down his window.

  Weighed down with dread, Trevor felt heavier than the rhino behind him. He pushed the button to lower the window and waited for the man to tell him to put his hands up. But he didn’t.

  Instead, the cop said, “Saw those sparks all the way down the block. Looks like you’ve got yourself a bum tire.”

  The officer had pointed out the obvious. I wonder if anyone ever told this cop he was dumb as a box of rocks?

  “Dragging a trailer like this,” the cop said, “it’ll tear up the roads.”

  “It just happened,” Trevor lied. “Luckily, I don’t have far to go.”

  He hoped the cop would leave it at that, but the guy climbed out of his cruiser, walked over to the trailer, and bent down to take a look. No! Trevor briefly toyed with the idea of grabbing the PVC pipe from the truck bed and whacking the cop over the head with it. He could knock the guy out and take off. But he’d gotten this far without committing violence. It was hard enough getting work with a nonviolent offense on his record. He’d be totally doomed if he was convicted of assaulting a cop.

  The officer reached out to the tire, tugged a nail out of the rubber, and held it up as proud as King Arthur when he’d freed the sword Excalibur from the stone. “Here’s your problem.”

  No, YOU are my problem! Trevor wanted to yell. But he offered the guy a grateful nod. “Thanks. I’ll get that flat fixed first thing in the morning.”

  The cop stepped to the back of the trailer and glanced over at the door. “What you got in here, anyway?”

  Terror choked Trevor. But before the cop could realize that Trevor hadn’t responded, he offered his own answer. “Looks like some bushes.”

  His partner had saved Trevor’s ass by suggesting he lay his ghillie suit over the rhino’s rear end.

  “Yeah,” Trevor squeaked out. “It’s bushes. I’m a gardener.”

  The cop came back around the trailer and headed up the side of the bed. He’d said nothing about the fact that the truck and trailer were missing license plates. He must not have noticed.

  The cop reached down into the bed and picked up the length of PVC pipe Trevor’s partner in crime had dropped into it. “What’s this for?”

  Uh-oh.

  Again, the cop gave Trevor an easy out. “You install lawn sprinklers, too?”

  Thank you! “Sure do.”

  Still holding the pipe, the cop eyed him, his eyes going squinty. “What’re you doing out here this time of night?”

  “It’ll be sunup soon,” Trevor said. “Just getting an early start on the day.” The sun wouldn’t be up for over two hours, but the lame excuse was all Trevor could think of. Had the cop bought it?

  The cop laid the pipe back down and walked up to Trevor’s door. As he did, a female voice came over the radio on his shoulder, informing officers there’d been a collision on Henderson, not far from where they were. The officer pushed the button on the radio and turned his head to the side to speak into the mic. “Officer Mackey responding.”

  Hallelujah! If the cop was going to respond to the car wreck, that meant he was done here, right?

  The cop released the button and turned back to Trevor. “Since you don’t have far to go, I’ll let you carry on. But you get that flat fixed before you get back out on the road. Hear me?”

  Trevor nodded. “Loud and clear, sir.”

  The cop rapped his knuckles on the side of the truck door, climbed back into his patrol car, and drove off.

  Box. Of. Rocks.

  FIFTY-THREE

  MASSIVE MIGRATION

  Megan

  A search of the nail technician’s apartment had led to a treasure trove of rings. While she’d had some of them resized and redesigned, the rings that had been snatched more recently had yet to be modified. Once they were no longer needed as evidence, we’d be able to return the rings to their rightful owners. I’d called the victims to let them know what had gone down, and they’d been thrilled to hear the news. Both the tech and her boyfriend would face charges. Brigit and I could add another successful bust to our ever-expanding list of successes.

  The morning after Brigit and I arrested the nail technician and her barbershop boyfriend, we were on duty again. Realizing I hadn’t finished my research into Trevor Fleming, the owner of King Midas Metalworks, I ran his name through the criminal database. I got a hit. Not entirely surprising given that welding was one of the trades taught in the state’s correctional institutions and, thus, a higher than average number of welders had records. But still, I felt a little tingle nonetheless.

  The records told me that Fleming had been convicted of felony theft after stealing thousands of dollars in merchandise from the toy store where he worked on the receiving dock. He’d had an earlier misdemeanor conviction for stealing from a grocery store where he’d also worked, but for that crime he’d received only a fine and community service. For the felony conviction, he’d spent eighteen months in the Darrington Unit, the same unit where convicted wildlife trafficker Bruno Molina had done time.

  The dates of Fleming’s incarceration overlapped with Molina’s for three months, at the beginning of Fleming’s term and the end of Molina’s. Hmm. Still, there were over fifteen hundred men in the Darrington Unit at any given time. The two might have never even met. Fleming had been released late last year, shortly before the disappearance of Fernando and Fabiana, the hyacinth macaws, the first of the animals to go missing from the zoo.

  It could all be coincidence. But it also couldn’t hurt to stop by and pay him a visit.

  I headed to King Midas Metalworks. I went to the side door, Brigit coming along with me. I tried the handle. Not only was the door locked, but a piece of sheet metal had been leaned up against the window, blocking any view inside. I put an ear to the door but heard nothing. I led Brigit around to the garage door and put an ear to the edge. Still no noise. But even though my nose wasn’t as skilled as Brigit’s, it didn’t take a canine’s superior olfactory senses to smell the hint of garlic in the air.

  I rapped on the bay door. “Hello? Anybody there?”

  There was no answer.

  I circled around to the side door again and knocked there. “Hello? Anyone inside?” Still no response from within. I supposed the garlic smell could be residual. Maybe he’d performed some welding work in the bay last night or early this morning. Or it could be coming from the food truck idling half a block away, serving up breakfast burritos and home-fried potatoes to the blue-collar folks who worked in the buildings nearby.

  Brigit and I returned to our cruiser.

  A half hour later, I was rolling west on Berry Street when my cell phone chimed with an incoming call from Detective Bustamente. I pulled into
the parking lot of a sandwich shop that was not yet open for business and tapped the icon to accept the call. “Good mor—”

  “They got a black rhino.”

  What?!?

  As if he’d heard my thought, he said, “One of the black rhinos is missing. A male named Mubanga. Sharon Easley says the name means ‘strong.’ The thieves must have taken him last night.”

  My first thought was, How in the world could they steal such an enormous animal? My second thought was, If we don’t find that rhino right away, it will be killed for its horn!

  The horn is what made the rhino so valuable to poachers. Some thought, wrongfully of course, that the horn had magical medicinal or aphrodisiac qualities. Frankly, if a guy needed rhino horn in order to perform well sexually, maybe he should just remain celibate. I had a hard time believing men ingested the powdered horn with the hope of being more pleasing to their partner, anyway. It was all about the men and making their own little “horn” happy.

  Brigit and I had to get to the zoo. Now. “We’re on our way!”

  I flipped on my lights and siren, and we hightailed it to the zoo. As we entered, my eyes sought out Janelle in the ticket booth. She shook her head sorrowfully. We hurried inside and found Detective Bustamente, Director Easley, the zoo’s chief security officer, and a keeper at the enclosure, along with Derek Mackey and the chief.

  Every vein and capillary in the chief’s face seemed to be throbbing. As Brigit and I rushed up he turned on me and barked, “I thought I told you to put a stop to this!”

  While Derek was the chief’s golden boy, I was his whipping girl. It was utterly unfair, sexist, and wrong. But it was also a matter to address at another time. Right now, priority one was finding the rhino.

  I turned to Bustamente. “Same MO this time?”

  He nodded. “They cut through the secured staff gates to get the rhino out. But we don’t know where they exited the zoo.”