A Taste Fur Murder

by Lyle, Dixie

  I glanced at her. “Wow. That’s impressive—but what does it tell us?”

  [That she’s wasted time talking to a hung-over primate.]

 

  I frowned, thinking back on what Gant had said at dinner. “Well, that doesn’t contradict what he told us. He said Amos likes the taste of booze and that he gets sort of wild once he’s had it. That’s pretty much the truth.”

  [But a very slanted version of it. A man who derives enjoyment from giving animals alcohol is ignorant at best, abusive at worst.]

  I couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t really fit with my image of the man. He was pleasant, charming, intelligent, and quite knowledgeable about the animals he used in his TV spots. Even the pet food he sold was ecologically friendly. ZZ usually had pretty good people radar, which was why he’d been invited back.

  “Look, bottom line is that you got your information from a groggy monkey. He’s not necessarily the most reliable or objective of witnesses. And…” I stopped myself, but it was too late.

 

  “And … Capuchin isn’t your first language. Maybe you misinterpreted something he said.”

  Boy, was that the wrong choice of words. I could almost feel Tango’s icy glare on my face. When she finally spoke, it was with great formality.

  “Yes,” I said meekly.

 

  We rode the rest of the way in silence.

  Tiny, oddly enough, had nothing to add.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I made the call from a pay phone outside the drugstore, leaving a message with the coroner’s office and making sure the woman who answered the phone wrote down exactly what I said. I hung up as soon as she asked who I was, then quickly got back in the car and drove to the florist’s shop. They knew me there, and were shocked to hear about Maria’s death.

  I picked up some cat food while I was in town, and a bagful of doggy treats. Tiny might not have to eat, but he certainly seemed to enjoy it. Tango didn’t seem impressed by the brand I picked, but I got the impression she wouldn’t have been impressed by an entire salmon served on a bed of catnip in her current mood.

  “Okay,” I said when we were back on the road. “New game plan. If Tango’s right and ZZ is still the target, we have to keep her under constant surveillance. If Maria was the one who was supposed to die, we need new instructions.”

  [Agreed. In fact, we shouldn’t have left ZZ alone.]

  “I don’t think the killer would strike again so soon, not while the police are there. If it was a mistake, he or she will bide their time and wait until things settle down before trying again. That’ll give us an opportunity to catch or stop them—and once the police learn Maria was poisoned, they’ll be doing the same thing.”

  [Perhaps. Brower didn’t seem terribly competent to me.]

  “You’re not wrong. Tango and I will do a little more investigating, while you get in touch with your superiors. Uh, how exactly do you do that?”

  [I’ll have to visit the graveyard.]

  I nodded. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to do the same, but I was in no hurry. “Something I’ve been meaning to ask you guys. The last time I was in the graveyard, I had an … unusual experience. Right after that, I started seeing things—ghosts, I guess. Animal ghosts.

  “It’s just that, well—I saw something in the graveyard, that first time, that kind of freaked me out.” I hesitated. “It was big—like, SUV big. And made of out shadows. And sort of … crackling.”

  [It was on fire?]

  “Not that kind of crackling. More like it was plugged in and short-circuiting.”

 

  “You do? What is it?”

 

  [Oh, that’s mature.]

  It was my turn to glare. “Guys, I’m serious. It was huge, I could only see it when I closed my eyes, and every time I did it was closer. Are you trying to tell me you have no idea what it was?”

  [I’m sorry, Foxtrot. There are many entities on the spiritual planes; some of them are harmless, some are not. Whatever that was, it doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard of, other than—] He stopped abruptly.

  “What?”

  [Never mind. They haven’t been seen in centuries, and they were rare before that.]

 

  “Come on, Tiny—finish your thought. What did you think it could be?” I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him shake his head, which made it look a little like he was trying to dislodge a flea.

  [My apologies again. We’re simply not allowed to tell you certain things—there are rules.]

  Rules. Sure, there were always rules, especially when it came to the supernatural—vampires couldn’t go out in daylight, a leprechaun had to grant you three wishes if you caught him, ghost dogs couldn’t reveal the secrets of the afterlife. “Okay, but—who makes these rules? The same ones that gave me the ability to see spectral wildlife?”

  Tiny didn’t reply, which was an answer anyway. Just not a very helpful one.

  “All right, fine. When we get back, here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll find ZZ, try to get her outside where Tango can watch her. Then Tiny and I will slip away to the graveyard, where I’ll let him in and wait for him by the gate until he’s done. Then we’ll rejoin ZZ, and Tango can do a little spying.”

 

  “Whoever looks suspicious. The killer has to be nervous at this point, having tried and failed. He or she might tip their hand. Use your instincts—I’m guessing yours are a lot sharper than mine.”

 

  [Don’t be a specieist, Tango.]

  I sighed. “Work with me, guys. You don’t want anything bad to happen to your graveyard, I don’t want anybody else getting killed. We can do this.”

  I wished I were as confident as I sounded. But I was used to facing disaster with a easygoing smile and an optimistic approach—that was what I did for a living.

  For now, anyway.

  * * *

  If there was a single mantra I had for my professional life, it was that things never went as planned. Planning was good, planning was essential, but so was the ability to improvise; whenever possible, you wanted a Plan B, C, and even D ready to pull out when events decided to suddenly veer away from your carefully laid-out itinerary and into oncoming traffic. Sometimes, those alternative plans were nothing more than the words TAP DANCE AND SMILE! scribbled on a napkin.

  So I really wasn’t surprised when, on our return, I couldn’t find ZZ anywhere. She wasn’t answering her phone, she wasn’t in the house, no one seemed to know where she’d gone. Brower was still talking to the staff, but the body had been taken away by the coroner.

  I didn’t panic. “Tiny? Can you track her by scent?”

  [If she’s on foot, yes. If she drove, probably not.]

  ZZ rarely drove, preferring to leave that to Victor. I checked the garage anyway, and none of her vehicles was missing. “Okay. Tango, you keep an eye on the house in case she comes back. Tiny, you and I are going to the graveyard—it’s about the only place we haven’t checked.”

  So we did. Tiny stopped at the threshold, sniffing the air, th
en abruptly shifted his shape to that of a sad-faced, droopy-eared hound—a bloodhound, I realized. [Better sense of smell.] He sniffed again. [Yes. She came this way, and recently. Shall we follow?]

  I hesitated. I wasn’t inside yet—in fact, I couldn’t even see inside, because I was standing next to the open gate, behind the hedge. This was not an accident. “I—I don’t know if I’m ready for that, yet. I mean, you and Tango are one thing, but a whole graveyard full of ghosts? Not to mention whatever that gigantic black shape was.”

  [I understand. But this is where ZZ went—]

  Tiny abruptly leapt to one side, changing back into a golden retriever at the same time. [Never mind. The question has just become academic—here she comes now.]

  I breathed a sigh of relief—but I still didn’t get any closer to the entrance.

  ZZ walked through a minute later, looking around. “Foxtrot! I didn’t expect to find you here—I thought I saw a dog run through the gate a second ago, but it wasn’t Tiny.”

  “Must have been. We’re the only ones here.”

  She looked troubled. “I could have sworn it was—never mind. I didn’t get a good look and it was only for a second, anyway. Hello, Tiny.” She leaned down and petted him. Tiny wagged his tail and panted at her idiotically. “Going for one of your daily constitutionals? I’ve always thought they were a splendid idea, but I never seem to have time to do so myself. So I made the time, just now.” She was smiling, but her eyes were sad.

  “Thinking about Maria?”

  “Yes. She was with me a long time—fifteen years, I believe. She used to be a meek little thing, until she figured out that I didn’t want someone to push around; after that, she wasn’t shy about expressing her opinion. She was smart and tough and hardworking, and I feel like I failed her.”

  “You didn’t,” I said quietly. “She told me once you were the biggest pain she’d ever worked for. When I asked why she didn’t quit, she looked at me like I was crazy and said it was the best job she’d ever had.”

  “Oh, fantastic. So I was a slave driver, but she couldn’t do any better?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. I sort of implied the same thing to her, and Maria interrupted me and told me I didn’t understand. ‘Job is so good because of ZZ,’ she said. ‘Big pain in the ass, yes—also best boss I ever have. Pays me with more than money. Pays me with respect, too.’”

  I saw ZZ’s eyes fill with tears. “Thank you, Foxtrot. I needed to hear that. And I’m very, very glad to know she understood how I felt about her. She used to swear at me in Cantonese, did you know that? Surprised the hell out of her when I looked up what she’d been saying and taught myself a few choice phrases of my own. Well, surprised her for all of a second—then she replied with something else, just as vehement but more obscure. Took me a while to figure that one out, but I did. It became a little game between us. How many employer–employee relationships are based on cursing at each other?”

  “All of them. Just not face-to-face.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Except the one between you and me,” I said with a grin. “Of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Uh—I was wondering something. Did Kenny Gant take his monkey to see you when he first arrived?”

  “Why, yes, he did. He introduced us—Amos seemed much calmer then. Why do you ask?”

  This time I was prepared with an answer. “I was looking for that pair of earrings you said you’d lend me, but I couldn’t find them. Gant mentioned Amos could be a bit of a thief, and I had this crazy idea maybe he took them.”

  “Oh, the little silver things? They should still be there. I’ll check when—” Her face clouded up. “—well, when Brower’s finished playing authority figure. I’m sure they’re still there; Amos didn’t get anywhere near my jewelry box.”

  Tiny whined at me in an impatient tone, and glanced from the open gate to me and back again. I wondered why he didn’t just say whatever was on his mind—and then I understood. “I was just taking Tiny to—do his business,” I said. “I thought the graveyard would be okay for that. And I’ll clean up after him, obviously.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure that would be fine. It might be considered disrespectful in a human graveyard, but animals are more practical about such matters. I’ll see you back at the house.”

  When she was gone, I said. “Good thinking. You don’t actually have to go, do you?”

  [I told you before—ectoplasmic beings don’t require that sort of thing. I’ll be back as soon as I can.] He dashed through the open gate, leaving me alone.

  I stood there, shifting from foot to foot, consciously avoiding staring at the opening in the hedge. Then I started glancing in that direction, convinced that while I wasn’t looking something would sneak through. I realized that I had no idea what the rules were; who said animal spirits couldn’t just stroll right out of the graveyard? All the roadside ghosts I’d spotted the first night seemed pretty unrestricted. For all I knew, there were a dozen dead mice unliving under my bed.

  I had just about worked myself up past nervousness and into actual dread when I felt a hand upon my shoulder.

  And yes, I made a loud shrieking noise.

  And spun around.

  And punched someone in the face.

  * * *

  “I am so sorry,” I said again.

  Ben Montain did his best to smile. He had a handkerchief held to his face to stem the flow of blood from his nose. “S’ogay. Really. Shouldna snug up on you like dat.”

  I was about to launch into my third apology when, out of nowhere, it began to rain.

  I looked around, thinking maybe a sprinkler in the graveyard was spraying us from the other side of the hedge, but no—it was a sun shower, one of those weird weather events when rain falls from a clear blue sky. Well, not completely clear, of course; I could see some dark clouds off to one side of the sun, though I hadn’t noticed them before.

  “I’m fine,” Ben said, and took the cloth away from his nose. “It’s stopped bleeding already, see?”

  “Oh, good. Now all we have to worry about is getting wet—oh, and it’s stopped, too.”

  “Yeah. Listen, I came by to ask you if you still wanted to do lunch. I mean, with Maria’s death and everything, I understand if you’re too busy—not that I want you to cancel, I just don’t want to, you know—make things more complicated. Not that lunch is complicated, I got that all planned, but you might be, you know—”

  “Ben. It’s all right. I’ll still have lunch with you. Are we doing this on the grounds, or going out?”

  “I thought we’d have a picnic, actually.”

  “Sounds great, as long as the rain doesn’t come back.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a real lucky streak when it comes to nice weather—I get invited to the weddings of people I barely know, just to guarantee a sunny day.”

  “Really? That’s a useful skill to have. I’ll keep it in mind if I ever get married.”

  He grinned and nodded, started to say something, then thought better of it and just waved as he walked away. I did my best not to laugh.

  Tiny came trotting through the gate a moment later, looking worried.

  “What’s the word?” I asked.

  [Maria’s death was not the event we’re here to prevent.]

  “Good news and bad news, I guess. The graveyard’s not doomed, but ZZ’s still in danger. She is who we’re supposed to be protecting, right?”

  [I’m afraid I have no new information on that front.]

  “Of course not.” I forced a smile and added, “Well, let’s go find ZZ before a piano falls on her or something.”

  The dark clouds that spritzed us earlier had disappeared, and it was shaping up to be a hot day. The air had that lovely summery smell to it that always makes me think of trees lying on the beach getting a tan, wearing sunglasses and dangling their roots in the surf, turning their leaves over every twenty minutes so they don’t burn.

  “All
right, so we confirmed Gant’s story,” I said as we walked. “He and Amos were in ZZ’s room. But we still don’t know where the carfentanil came from, or who brought it.”

  [We should do a thorough search of the house, both of guest rooms and staff quarters. If there’s any left, I can find it.]

  “Okay, but that’ll be tricky. I have a passkey to the guest rooms and I can think of a plausible excuse, but staff quarters will be harder.”

  [I’m sure you’ll come up with something.]

  But before I could, I heard Tango’s familiar, raspy voice inside my head.

  I told her. “Where are you, anyway? I can’t see you.”

 

  [You’re over by the rhododendrons.]

  <—except for smart-ass dogs with noses bigger than their brains. Luckily for us, none of the guests seems to have brought one of those, which lets me watch them without them watching me.>

  “Anything to report?”

 

  “A laptop. I don’t suppose you could tell me what she was doing with it?”

 

  [Tango—could you see the screen?]

 

  It took me a second to realize she was talking about an entirely different kind of screen. “No, Tiny meant the laptop’s screen.”

 

  “That would be it, yes.”

 

  “That’s the one.”