Midori Ito's murder had put a target on my back. It seemed a little unfair, since I had nothing to do with her death. And here was Riley being blamed for it too. With everything else that happened during that time, it was obvious I was targeted somehow. But who really did it?
My experience with the bloodthirsty yakuza boss had been spotty at best. When I did fieldwork in Japan, I never ran into her. The yakuza weren't even in my sights. I was working on a Russian project.
There wasn't any reason for Midori's body to be in my kitchen or even in the United States. No matter how many times I wrapped my brain around it, I still came up with nothing. Zip. Nada.
This was ridiculous. I was moving in circles. I had no new information to prove motive or method in Ito's death. Of course, that would be cold comfort to Ito Jr. at the embassy. I briefly toyed with going in there and just marching up to her, asking her where Riley was, and insisting we had nothing to do with her mother's assassination.
"You aren't seriously considering that," Maria whispered moments later after I told her about this new option.
"Why not? Riley and I were completely innocent in that situation. It wasn't our fault."
"That is the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard." Maria shook her head. "You'd be outing her to the embassy and yourself to her."
I nodded. "That's true, but I think she already knows who I am. Baby Ito's as sharp as her mom was. Dad said she's already suspicious."
"I still think it's a terrible idea," Maria said. "Why blow your cover like that? And why walk straight into her hands?"
"Chances are she wouldn't do anything at the embassy with so many people around. And it would totally catch her by surprise," I insisted.
And it would. In fact, I wasn't sure that anyone in the entire history of espionage had ever done anything so bold. Maybe I'd finally get into the CIA's secret Who's Who in American Espionage!
"The risk factor is way too high," Maria responded as she swatted a fly away. "What if she just grabs you right then and there?"
"I've thought about that," I answered. "At least then I'd have an excellent chance of being imprisoned where Riley was. I could wear a wire, and you could alert the cavalry and rescue us."
Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but this idea was sounding better all the time. As long as I introduced some shadow of a doubt that Riley and I were innocent, maybe Ito's daughter wouldn't kill me on the spot.
"She'll shoot you on the spot," Maria said.
"She hasn't killed Riley."
"We don't know that. When was the last time you heard from him? They could be sending you recordings, and Riley could have been dead for days now."
I stared at her, stunned. Was it possible? Was Riley already dead? That would mean all of this was just a trap to lure me in and kill me.
"In a way," I said slowly as realization dawned, "you might be right. But then that means they've had my cell number to send me fake calls all along. Why not just kill me outright? Why toy with me?"
The girls, having finished with the park ranger, started reading the inscriptions on the memorial walls. They were so quiet and well-behaved, I suspiciously wondered if someone had slipped them Xanax.
Evelyn stood with the girls, and to my amazement, she was just as engrossed in Lincoln's quotes on peace, war, and the rights of all men. Did she have a normal side? I hadn't made any effort to get to know her on this trip. I kind of felt bad about that. On any other trip, I would've tried to bond with her. Granted, she made no effort to be friendly with me or even to stick with us earlier in the trip. But I was in charge here. It was my responsibility to make sure everyone had a good time.
Instead, everyone was on edge. Was I making everyone crazy over this mess? If so, then walking into Ito's trap would be worth it. I should just send the girls home early and do it. No one but me and Baby Ito. No one else at risk.
Besides, I couldn't take this home with me. I couldn't let the people hunting me follow me there. Too many people and animals to hold against me. And Kelly was about to have a baby.
As if on cue, my cell began ringing. I slid it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. It was Robert—Kelly's husband.
"Is everything okay?" I asked. "Is Kelly alright? Is the baby here?"
Robert laughed on the other end. "Yes. Everything is fine. False alarm. They're sending us home. Kelly just didn't want you to worry."
I thanked him and hung up. False labor. That would piss Kelly off. I could imagine her screaming at the doctor. She wanted this over and done. And the baby was late already. I didn't envy the doctor facing her wrath right now.
"Mrs. Wrath?" Inez was tugging on my T-shirt. "Where's the ice cream? I thought there'd be ice cream."
I looked around to see twelve little faces staring up at me. For now, I'd have to take care of them. They deserved it, Troop Leader Merry Wrath. I owed them at least that.
"Okay!" I shouted so they'd all hear me. "Let's go get some ice cream!"
A cheer went up, and we stepped outside, where I scanned the mall area for a vendor. I found one about halfway down the reflecting pool. A little old man with an ice cream cart.
He'd never know what hit him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We found a hot dog stand just a few feet from the ice cream vendor, so we made a completely balanced lunch out of it. Totally healthy. Evelyn managed to not frown as she found a picnic spot for us while Maria scored the hot dogs and I grabbed the ice cream and several thousand napkins.
"Okay, ladies!" I said as I passed out the food. "Remember that we have to collect up our garbage when we're done."
"We know." Betty rolled her eyes. "Take only pictures, leave only footprints. We got it."
Wow. They actually remembered the Scouting mottos we'd drummed into their heads for a year. I thought they'd just been ignoring us. The girls sat in a semicircle around me, and I decided this was the perfect opportunity for some quality time with them. After all, I could be killed as soon as later on today. Might as well give the troop happy memories to remember me by.
"Is everyone having fun on this trip?" I asked. I was pretty sure the answer was yes but a little prepared in case I was wrong.
"I love Washington DC!" the four Kaitlins said in unison.
"How come there aren't any playgrounds?" Ava asked.
"It's hot here," Inez said, ketchup running down her chin. "But that means we get ice cream!"
I wiped her chin and said to Ava, "We're not here to play in parks. We're here to learn about our nation's history. This is the seat of government." As soon as I said that, I realized my mistake.
"The government has a seat here?" Betty said as she chewed her second hot dog. "Can we sit on it?"
I'd made the mistake of not being clear. These girls took things literally.
"I said that wrong," I spoke up. "What I meant is that DC is the headquarters of our government. You've been to the White House and met a senator. This is where laws are made."
"We were at the White House?" The usually silent Caterina shrieked.
Hannah nodded. "When we met the First Lady, doofus."
Caterina looked at her. "We met the First Lady?"
I made a mental note to stop giving her sugar. The girls explained to her that we had met the First Lady earlier in the trip. Caterina didn't say any more, but her eyes bulged in their sockets. Yup, definitely cut her off.
"Mr. Czrgy is a senator…" Lauren said slowly as if that would make her believe it. "Does he carry a gun?"
"What kind does he carry?" Betty asked.
I shook my head. "A senator is an elected official." That might be too difficult. "Your parents voted for him to go to DC and represent them."
"Why?" Lauren asked.
"I didn't vote for him," Inez grumbled.
Maria giggled. "You have to be eighteen years old to vote for someone. And each state—including Iowa—picks people to go to DC to vote on laws for them."
The girls looked at each other dubiously
. A civics lesson was probably premature at this point.
"What about ambassadors?" Hannah asked. "Do we vote for them too?"
"I liked that Japan place," Betty said. She'd eaten her hot dog and the remains of a couple of other hot dogs and was starting in on the ice cream.
"Ambassadors are chosen by the government of their country to represent them here. The Japanese Embassy is where Ambassador Nakano works."
"What about the CIA?" Lauren asked, staring directly at me. "Do we elect them too, or do other countries do that for us?"
Maria was in danger of bursting out laughing. I couldn't blame her. Imagine Russia picking our CIA agents? They'd go for lobotomized goldfish if they could get away with it.
"No, the CIA employees are hired. The director is appointed by the president." I wasn't sure where this was going.
"You work there, Maria." Inez squinted at the woman who was desperately trying to keep a straight face. "Are you a spy?"
Before I could deflect that question, Hannah jumped to her feet and asked, "How many people have you killed?"
"Is it true you have a cyanide pill to swallow if you're caught?" Betty asked. "And can we see it?"
Maria looked at me. Time to change the subject.
"Which memorial did you like best so far today?" I asked before digging into my lunch. I loved hot dogs. Hot dogs were my favorite. Hopefully with my mouth full, they'd wait to ask any more questions. And no, we didn't have cyanide pills. That was so 1947.
"I liked Mr. Fancy Pants," one of the Kaitlins cried. The others agreed with shouts and screams.
"No." I was not giving that damn bird any more of our time. "I asked about the memorials. Lincoln or Jefferson. Which one did you like better?"
"Mr. Fancy Pants!" Hannah and one of the other Kaitlins squealed.
"Girls!" I shouted, a little frustrated. "I want to know what you think of the memorials we saw today. Answer the question."
"No! It's Mr. Fancy Pants!" Hannah shouted as she pointed to a grassy area just a few feet away. Sure enough, there was the king vulture. Standing on the ground and staring at us and monopolizing our whole trip. Stupid bird.
"Do you think he's dangerous?" Evelyn looked at me nervously.
I knew the answer but wasn't going to tell her to hide any cookies. That would just make the girls hunt for a box to give him. The last thing I needed right now was a bloodbath.
The vulture wasn't moving. But he wasn't flying away either. The girls were wound tight, and I was afraid that at any moment they might rush him. Where were the zookeepers? And we were right near the Smithsonian for crying out loud!
"Can we keep him?" asked one of the Kaitlins. The other three nodded vigorously.
"No," I said, my cell out as I dialed 9-1-1. "He has to go back to the zoo."
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" a woman asked through my phone.
"I want to report a vulture," I said, keeping my eyes focused on the bird. I couldn't tell if he was staring at me or the girls.
"Technically," the voice droned on, "vultures aren't illegal. Is it threatening you?"
The girls were coiled like twelve little snakes, ready to spring on their prey.
"No. He's not. But he's looking at us," I said absently, watching the girls prepare to pounce.
"Ma'am," the voice said a little impatiently. "This number is for emergency use only. You can face fines and prison time for misusing it."
"No!" I shouted a little too loudly. "I mean, it isn't just any vulture. It's Mr. Fancy Pants." The girls were slowly edging closer to the vulture. He just stood still, waiting. Dammit.
The voice sighed. "Ma'am, I'm going to disconnect. And fortunately for you, I'm not in the mood to report this offense…"
The girls were slowly moving now. The vulture did nothing. He was so still I think his eyes were frozen in place.
"Sorry. Let me start over. This is the escaped king vulture from the National Zoo! He's here on the mall with us and surrounded by children. I don't know if he's dangerous." I gave the coordinates of where we were. The dispatcher sounded a little skeptical but agreed to send the info to the zoo and animal control.
"Wait!" I called out to the girls as I shoved my cell back into my pocket.
It was like I was moving in slow motion. The girls started running as a group toward the googly-eyed bird who stood there as if he faced down a Scout troop every day.
I was running after them, grabbing girl after girl as I went along. But it felt like everything I was doing was underwater. Silently, I was willing the vulture to take off into the air, but he showed no signs of doing that. Maria came out of nowhere on my left and threw herself between the bird and the girls.
They ran over her like a kid-shaped steamroller. Mr. Fancy Pants watched but made no effort to move. The girls surrounded him and then just stopped. They stood in a circle, with the vulture in the middle.
"Girls!" I said when I caught up. "Don't touch him! We don't know if he's dangerous!"
That wasn't really on my mind though. I was more worried that touching this vulture was the equivalent of touching a painting in the National Gallery of Art or Dorothy's ruby slippers in the Smithsonian. This bird was an exhibit piece. It was probably a federal offense of some sort to mess with him.
Lauren stepped forward, as if she were the girls' ambassador to the bird. For all I knew, they could've elected her to that very position, because the others didn't move. She held out her hand, and I saw slivers of her ice cream sugar cone in her upturned palm. Oh, no!
Mr. Fancy Pants looked at her for a moment before stepping forward and gently retrieving a piece. As he tasted it, he looked like some of the food connoisseurs on cooking shows. His left eye went up as his right eye went down. Then he scooped up the remaining shards of sugar cone and gobbled it down.
I had to do something before Mr. Fancy Pants decided that the girls might also be made out of cookies.
"Girls," I said in a steady voice. "I want you to step back slowly and head back to the picnic area. Do you understand?"
They looked at me in unison, then, with a collective sigh, began to back off. That was a surprise. I waited until they were several feet away before I turned back to the bird.
But he wasn't there. He'd flown off. Just as an animal control van pulled up. Nice timing. A couple of guys carrying nets got out of the vehicle and came toward me.
"Ma'am," one of them said. "Are you the one who called about the vulture?"
Lauren stepped forward again, as if silently elected by the others. "We don't know what you're talking about. What vulture?" The other eleven kids all nodded in agreement.
The men squinted at me.
I glared at Lauren. "He was here. But he's gone now. Sorry."
"Don't listen to her," Betty shouted. "She's hallucinating."
Inez nodded. "Heat exhaustion."
"So there was no vulture…" One of the men said slowly. "And you called it in to 9-1-1? Do you think this is a joke?"
Maria decided this might be a good time to step up. "The girls are teasing you. Of course the bird was here. We all saw it."
I took the opportunity to wave the girls off to Evelyn. "The kids like the vulture. They're afraid that capturing it is a bad thing… You know, Free Willy and all that?" I was babbling like an idiot.
The men looked at each other then at me. "You are certain that it was the king vulture?"
I described the bird to them, and they nodded. I relaxed a little.
"Yup. Sounds like him," the first guy said.
"He's been following us," I added. "He shows up wherever we are." I didn't want to tip my hand and incriminate myself for having given him cookies. There was no way I was going to admit to vulture tampering.
The second guy squinted at my troop. The girls were sitting with Evelyn, eating their ice cream. One of the Kaitlins waved.
"Are you part of a Girl Scout troop?" he asked.
I nodded. "That's right. We're from Iowa. We saw Mr. Fancy Pants at th
e zoo the other day, just before he escaped." I explained the encounter in Virginia and at the Jefferson Memorial.
"Mr. Fancy Pants?" The first guy's eyebrows wiggled.
"Uh, that's kind of our nickname for him," I said.
"Well, this is bad," the second guy said. "That vulture has been known to follow groups of little girls around."
"So I heard." I nodded. "Animal control in Charlottesville just missed him too. They told us about his fetish."
"Then you know that this is serious, ma'am. He's a protected animal and property of the Smithsonian."
I shrugged. "I didn't ask him to follow us. What do you expect us to do?"
The second guy asked for my contact information in case the zoo had more questions. I gave it willingly. This bird was stalking us and had to stop. I watched as the men got into their van and drove away.
Maria and Evelyn were organizing the girls as they cleaned up the area. I decided not to yell at the girls over their little charade. There wasn't any point. These girls got attached to animals. We'd had a similar problem with a horse at summer camp. It went beyond obsessive.
Maria really was a natural with kids. I made a mental note to ask if she'd be willing to move to Iowa when she retired. But by then, my girls would probably be all grown up. Did I want to start another troop when these girls were gone? At this particular moment, I would say no. But tomorrow might be different.
The girls were keyed up by the sugar and appearance of Mr. Fancy Pants. They skipped along the length of the reflecting pool, giggling and squealing. I was glad I'd dropped the whole why did you lie to animal control thing. I wanted to get back to the fun we were having earlier.
The sky was still clear and bright blue, and in spite of the suffocating heat, we were all in a pretty good mood. As we walked, Maria pointed out various landmarks and gave the girls fun facts about Washington DC. They listened to her because they loved her. I really was lucky to have her helping out.
Marshmallow S'More Murder Page 12