by Lyle, Dixie
I heard some bellowing from Tango’s direction. It was amazing, the range of sounds she could produce from that tiny throat.
Mr. H grunted in response.
I had visions of that immense gray snout flicking me out of the water like a seal with a beachball. Tell him I’m good, thanks.
More noise from the shore. Mr. H. blinked once, slowly, then sank down out of sight. This failed to reassure me, and I began to move slowly toward where I’d climbed in.
He? He who?
“Foxtrot?”
Great. Of all the people it had to be …
“Didn’t know swimming with hippos was a thing,” said Keene, peering at me with his hands thrust in the pockets of the long leather coat he wore. “Dolphins, yes. Bloody great river hogs? Had no idea.”
The water I stood in was only waist-deep, but it was enough to hide my hands as I stuffed the controller up the leg of my swimsuit and into the small of my back. “Keene. What are you doing out here?”
“Same as you, I suppose—trying to catch the bad guy. Also, is one of the animals loose? Something was making an awful racket in the bushes over there.”
“It’s just a cat.” I waded out and faced him through the wire fence. “This doesn’t look good, you know.”
He eyed me appreciatively. “Looks all right from here. Except for the odd trace of slime. And the smell. Plus, the swimsuit itself isn’t really your style. Other than that, though, you look brilliant.”
I sighed. “Not me—you. A suspicious person might think you came out here to look for the controller yourself.”
He frowned. I noticed, for the first time, that he was wearing the leather coat over a bare chest. “Well, there is that. I take it you were doing the same, though.”
“I’m not a suspect, Keene. The search was my idea in the first place, remember?”
“True. Find anything?”
I studied him through the wire. He didn’t seem like a killer—and I’d been unable to discover any motive he might have to kill ZZ.
“You think I’m the killer, don’t you?” he said, grinning. “Oooh. I feel dangerous.” He raised one bushy eyebrow and gave me what he no doubt thought of as an evil look.
I did my best not to laugh. When they were handing out charm, Keene no doubt conned his way into getting double portions. “No, I don’t. Would you mind tossing my clothes over the fence? I’d rather not climb back over barefoot.”
“How am I supposed to be the nasty mastermind when I’m doing favors for you? You are seriously buggering up my whole evil vibe, y’know? But all right.”
He picked up my backpack and pitched it over the fence. It landed right beside me. “Thanks. Mind turning your back?”
“You’re really not getting the whole evil thing at all, are you?”
I gave him a look. He rolled his eyes at me and turned around.
I used the opportunity to stick the controller in the backpack, then slipped off the swimsuit while making sure Keene wasn’t sneaking a peek. I got dressed and stashed the mask and flashlight, thinking hard the whole time. If Keene was the killer, what would he do once we were both on the same side of the fence? Attack me, then try to retrieve the controller himself? We were all alone out here. Maybe I should have come armed with something other than a snarky feline.
Oops. Sorry, didn’t realize I was thinking that loud.
Easy for you to say.
No offense, but he’s a little out of your weight class.
The disdain in her mental voice was acute.
Okay—guess I don’t really have much choice at this point.
I slipped the pack on over my shoulders and started to climb. I was at the top when Tango added,
I gritted my teeth and climbed down.
“So, what’s the plan?” Keene asked. “Hide in the bushes and wait for the real villain to show up? We might have to keep each other warm.”
“You can do what you want. Me, I’m going home—I didn’t find anything, which means it isn’t here, which means the killer isn’t going to show.” Unless, of course, he just did …
Keene looked disappointed, but not homicidal. “That’s it, then? No midnight skinny-dipping for me? No stakeout with the lovely but impatient Your Foxiness?”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“No, you said I couldn’t call you Foxy. Your Foxiness is a much more elegant title, only conferred upon royalty. And foxes.”
I turned around and walked away, trying to seem casual but on high alert. If he didn’t buy it, I’d know any second.
“Foxtrot. Stop.”
I froze, then spun around.
Keene wasn’t smiling anymore. “Look, I’m sorry if you think I’m making fun of you. I’m quite serious about helping. I promise I won’t screw anything up, all right? No more kidding around.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I really don’t think we can accomplish anything else here. We’ll tackle things again tomorrow, all right?”
He nodded, and his smile came back. “Cheers. Walk you back to the house?”
“Sure.”
Before any of us could take a step, though, there was a tremendous bellow from the hippo pool. I winced, then said, “Hang on a moment. Got something to take care of, first.”
I got the last two cantaloupes from the pack and threw them over the fence. Mr. H snarfed both of them down, then snorted derisively and went back to where he’d been when I first arrived. Mrs. H never stirred.
What did he say? I asked Tango as we left.
That he did. I’ll see about getting him some extra fruit tomorrow. Gotta keep our sources happy, right?
* * *
We went back to the house, where I told Keene good night and got in my car. It had been a long day, and I needed to shower and sleep. But I had one thing left to do, first.
Maybe I should have taken the controller to the police. Maybe the killer had left fingerprints on it or some other trace, but I was pretty sure he or she wasn’t that stupid. No, if there were any kind of usable evidence still attached to the thing, it would be electronic—and Sheriff Brower just didn’t have the resources or the budget to extract anything useful.
I, on the other hand, had Avery.
Avery Shubert lived in town, only one street over from me. He was my go-to guy for all things computer-related, and I’d known him a long time. He kept fairly late hours, so I wasn’t worried that I’d be waking him up.
He answered the door in a tuxedo. Avery was short and chubby, had mousy-brown curly hair, and exuded a kind of Zen-like calm at all times. He looked more like a waiter than James Bond, even in the tux, but he had the attitude to pull it off. “Foxtrot. Is everything all right?”
“Nobody else has died, if that’s what you mean. But I need your help, nowish.”
He motioned me in. “Please. Details?”
I walked in, closing the door behind me. “I’ve got some hardware that requires your full attention. It’s been immersed in water, and maybe worse.”
I looked around. Avery was an upper-class geek, which meant he liked all the same toys that other geeks did but could afford the very best ones. Framed original Syd Mead sketches
from Blade Runner hung on the wall, signed first editions of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy—the books, not the movies—stood on the designer bookshelves, a projection TV tricked out to look like the screen on the bridge of the Enterprise took up most of one wall. “Uh, what’s with the tux?”
“Hmm? Chess club meeting. Long story. The device?”
I pulled it out of the backpack and handed it over. It was in pretty bad shape; it had obviously been stepped on as well as submerged. The case was broken, the glass smashed. Avery handled it as delicately as a piece of tissue-paper origami, turning it over in his hands and examining every inch.
“What was it used for?”
“Remote-controlling a quadracopter.”
“And the information you’re looking for?”
“Flight log, if possible. When it was used, where it went, any video footage it stored.”
He nodded. “I’ll get right to work. Call me in the morning.”
“Nine fifteen okay?”
“Yes.”
And that was that. Avery handled all ZZ’s tech, from installation to maintenance, and no one was better. If he said he’d have something for me by nine fifteen, he would. I thanked him and headed for the door.
“Foxtrot?” he called after me. I stopped. “How’s ZZ doing?”
“No change. She’s hanging in there.”
“Is this device connected to what happened to her?”
It was hard to keep anything from Avery; he put things together very quickly with little information. “Yeah. In fact, it may be a murder weapon. I guess I should have told you that first.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’d do it anyway. I’ll be sure to document every step thoroughly.”
“Thank you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
* * *
Home. Shower. Bed. Exhausted.
Alone.
I tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. Too many things to obsess over, too many things to worry about: What if the killer set the mansion on fire? What if someone tailed me to Avery’s place, broke in, and attacked him? What if Keene really was the killer, knew I’d found the controller, and was right this moment sneaking into my house to get it back?
That last one bothered me a lot. Keene shouldn’t have been there. No matter how charming and roguish he was, him showing up at the hippo pool made him look guilty as hell. Maybe Tango was wrong about him being a lover and not a fighter.
I kind of wondered what sort of lover he’d be. Selfish, probably. Lots of one-night stands, used to getting what he wanted. Pretty package, with not much inside.
But still, that was a pretty cute package …
No. Don’t think about that. Focus on the facts. Like the fact that Keene was seen in the graveyard with something suspiciously like the controller when Maria was killed. Wandering around a graveyard, reading headstones … was that romantic, or creepy? Funny how often those two things blurred together. A guy did one thing and it was sweet and surprising. He did another and suddenly you were being stalked.
Keene flirted with me, but he’d never made me feel unsafe. Not until now, anyway.
I rolled over, punched my pillow a few times, and pretended it was now much more comfortable. Sure.
I’m never going to get to sleep.
Nope. Not ever. I’m just going to lie here and mummify. Archaeologists will discover my pajama-clad body a thousand years from now and murmur, “Look! Her alarm never went off!” Then they’ll shake their heads sadly and put me on display in the Insomnia Wing of the Horrible Fates Museum.
And what’s going on with Ben? What is he trying to hide from me? I couldn’t think of any reason Ben would want to hurt ZZ, but maybe he needed to be on the list of suspects, too.
I groaned out loud. Who wasn’t a suspect, at this point? Me, Tango, and Tiny.
I was still fretting when I finally fell asleep, and had troubled, murky dreams that involved being chased by hippos and toy helicopters. I couldn’t get away because I was wearing these huge shoes made from cast iron that weighed a thousand pounds each, and they were on the wrong feet, and the shoelaces were in a million knots that turned into snakes when I tried to untie them …
I didn’t so much wake up as escape. I sat straight up, stared around me blearily, and mumbled, “Never wearing boots again.” Then I got up, went downstairs, made myself an extra-strong mug of Irish breakfast tea, and drank it in the bathroom.
I called Shondra before I left for work. Nothing to report, no one tried to do anything to ZZ in the night. No change in ZZ.
I arrived at the house early—it was only eight thirty, and the guests weren’t meeting to conduct the search until nine. I called for Tango. and got an immediate response.
Terrible. Let’s hit the graveyard again, all right? I need to ask some follow-up questions.
No. Let’s do it anyway.
The sun had been up for some time, but the grass still glittered with dew. Tango met me at the gate to the graveyard.
“I took some pictures of the controller before I gave it to my friend. I want to see if any of the animal spirits who saw Keene in the graveyard can identify it as what he was holding.”
“I beg to differ. Every cat I’ve ever met could recognize a can opener from a block away.”
She licked her paw and considered.
I squared my shoulders. I could do this. Sure, it had been a steep learning curve, but now I understood the rules. I had made contacts, established myself as a presence. I wasn’t a clueless newbie fumbling around; I was a trained professional on a specific mission. Go in, talk to the locals, collect some data. No problem.
Don’t think about the elephant. Don’t think about the elephant …
“Well, I am now.”
I opened the gate and we walked through.
This time, I didn’t gawk at all the spirits bounding, flying, and scurrying around me. I just marched straight into the thick of it, keeping my eyes out for a particular individual: the white crow, Eli. He’d pointed me in the right direction last time, and I thought he might do so again.
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to be around and I didn’t have time to look for him. I could go searching for Two-Notch myself—but that meant going out to the border again, and risking another encounter with Topsy. I wasn’t ready for that.
Then I spotted another bird that I recognized: Fish Jumping, the parrot. He was perched on a headstone, preening one brilliant green-and-blue wing with his beak. I approached him and said, “Hi. Remember me?”
He regarded me quizzically, then said, “Awk! Girl on a date! Girl on a date!” Greetings and salutations, Miss Foxtrot. I do indeed remember you, and hope your endeavors are proceeding apace.
“My endeavors … well, they’re endeavoring, I guess. But I could use a little help.”
Certainly, dear lady. Whatever you wish I shall provide, be it in my power.
“There was someone here in the graveyard, two nights ago. The same guy that came along and interrupted my date. Did you see him?”
Fish Jumping cocked his head to one side. I believe I did, actually. Spent a great deal of time looking at the headstones and reading the inscriptions out loud. They seemed to affect him profoundly. “Awk! Crying and laughing! Crying and laughing!”
So Keene had been telling the truth about that. “Did he have one of these?” I held up my own cell phone. “Or did it look more like this?” I called up the picture of the drone controller on the screen.
Fish Jumping leaned in and peered intently at the screen, then back to consider the phone itself. He did have one of these small devices with him. He fiddled with it using pr
imarily his thumbs, or pointed it at a headstone and flashed a light. It looked a great deal like the one you’re holding, not the little picture upon it. “Awk! Not the same! Not the same!”
“You’re sure?”
Fish Jumping drew himself up proudly. Madam. Representatives of my particular species are renowned for the acuity of both their eyesight and their memory—and I can assure you, death has not diminished either of those abilities in myself. “Awk! Damn right! Damn right!”
“Sorry if I sound doubtful—I just need to be certain.”
“Tango!”
Fish Jumping eyed Tango curiously. How rude. You do understand that I’m dead, don’t you? “Awk! Bad kitty! Bad kitty!”
There’s no need for threats. I have no reason to lie. “Awk! Don’t kill me again! Don’t kill me again!”
I sighed. “Thank you for your help, Fish Jumping. Tango, let’s go.”
I walked away, Tango behind me. “What was that all about?”
“Oh. We call that ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop.’ It’s kind of a cliché, actually.”
“Say what?”
I took a second to digest that, trying to figure out if Tango was yanking my leg. I gave her a look, but she looked back at me with typical cat inscrutability—well, maybe just a touch too much innocence. “Okay … aren’t you worried what this behavior is going to do to your reputation?”
She yawned.
Which was when we saw Topsy.
You wouldn’t think an elephant was capable of sneaking up on someone, but that’s what this one did. I guess she’d maybe gone outside the graveyard, onto the estate itself, and approached the gate from the same side I had; the hedge had kept her out of my sight.