Something Fishy

by Lois Schmitt

  The time went quickly, and I gathered plenty of information for my story. I noticed Abby spending her time with a young man dressed in gray slacks and a maroon polo. Abby was smiling, and their body language indicated they were comfortable in each other’s presence.

  My mind wandered to thoughts of my daughter’s relationship with Jason. Abby and her boyfriend had been living together for less than two months. I wondered how their living arrangements were working. I liked Jason a lot and hoped marriage was in their future.

  I sighed and headed to the bar for another wine.

  Most of the guests, including Abby’s new friend, departed by six o’clock. After saying good-bye to Commander West and Bradford, I was about to pour a cup of coffee before the caterer dismantled the urn. Katie came running up, slightly out of breath.

  “The aquarium’s security guard just texted me. He was doing his rounds right after closing, and he said something’s wrong with Bea.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “He didn’t tell me, and he’s not responding to my texts. I’m driving over there. Can you wait here until I return? We need to talk.”

  “It’s fine with me,” I said, glancing at Abby who had just joined us.

  “Jason and I are meeting friends for drinks, but not until much later,” she said. “Of course, I’ll wait.”

  “If there’s a problem, I’ll call,” Katie promised. “Meanwhile, just relax and make yourself at home. The caterer needs to finish cleaning up.”

  Katie dashed out the door. I plopped down on the sofa and kicked off my shoes. Abby sank into a nearby armchair.

  “So, I guess you had a good time,” I said to my daughter. “It looked like you made a new friend.” I was referring to the young man wearing the maroon polo.

  Abby shook her head and smiled. “I know where you’re headed with this, Mom. I’m not seeking another relationship. Jason and I are fine.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t thinking anything at all.”

  “Sure you were.” Abby crossed her legs. “My new friend, as you refer to him, is the son on the county medical examiner. I questioned him about Jack Patterson’s murder. I thought it would help if we knew more about the autopsy findings.”

  I moved to the edge of my seat. “What did he say?”

  “The needle was inserted at a point in the base of the brain that would cause instant death. Whoever murdered Jack was familiar with human anatomy.”

  Abby and I discussed the murder, followed by a brief and non-revealing conversation about the status of her relationship with Jason. When the caterers finally departed, Abby glanced at her watch. Almost an hour had passed since Katie had left.

  “I didn’t think she’d be this long. I really need to leave,” Abby said. “I think I’ll text Katie and see what’s happening.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Katie had not returned Abby’s text nor the message my daughter left on voice mail.

  “This is not like Katie.” Abby frowned. “I hope all is okay with her sea lion.”

  I heard the front doorknob turn.

  “Katie’s home,” I said.

  The door swung open, but it wasn’t Katie.

  I don’t know who looked more surprised—Abby or the young man now facing her.

  My daughter rose from her chair. “Sam?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Sam Wong.” Abby said, hands on hips. “Where have you been? Katie’s been worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no choice. Lucien sent me on an assignment upstate and ordered me not to say a word to anyone, including my fiancée.”

  “Couldn’t you have told Katie you’d be away without providing details or secrets?”

  He shook his head. “No. Lucien was adamant. He sent me to initiate talks with the owner of several acres of land upstate he wants to develop into an office complex. He was afraid if I mentioned going away, someone might follow me or somehow discover where I was headed. If Lucien’s interest in the property was known, the price would jump. Lucien gave me a special cell phone to use and told me to leave my old one home. He said that while I was away I was only to use the new phone for business. Was Katie really worried about me?”

  “Sam Wong,” Abby said. “You are clueless.”

  Ignoring Abby’s comment, Sam said, “I just came from a meeting with Lucien, the land owner, and his lawyer. The deal’s been sealed, so I can talk now. As soon as I left Lucien’s office, I texted Katie, but she hasn’t replied. Where is she?”

  “At the aquarium,” Abby answered. “Her sea lion may be sick.”

  “Will she be back soon?”

  “She hasn’t responded to my texts.” Abby frowned.

  “Sam, I’m Abby’s mom, Kristy Farrell. I think we should go to the aquarium.”

  *****

  Sam led the way in his car, a silver convertible, while Abby and I followed. The drive to the aquarium took us less than five minutes. When we arrived, only two vehicles occupied the parking lot—Katie’s Vespa and a beat up pick-up truck that looked to be about ten years old. We made our way onto the sand and trekked up the pebbled path to the gate.

  The gate to the aquarium grounds was locked, but we could see the outdoor sea lion amphitheater. I spotted several sea lions in the water and a few resting upon rocks. None appeared in distress.

  “Katie,” the three of us yelled in unison.

  There was no response.

  “She’s here. That’s her Vespa,” Sam insisted.

  As we called out again, I remembered I had Commander West’s business card. “Let me call his cell.”

  “Don’t leave,” the Commander said after I explained the situation. “I only live three miles away. I’ll be right down.”

  Within minutes, Commander West arrived. “Where’s the security guard? That’s his pick-up truck in the lot.”

  “No one seems to be here,” I said.

  The Commander unlocked the gate. We dashed to the sea lion amphitheater, but all was peaceful.

  “Where could Katie be?” Abby asked.

  “We need to check the staff area behind the stage,” Commander West replied. He hurried across the bridge spanning the moat. We all followed. The Commander unlocked the door at the back of the stage that led to the staff workroom. It was empty.

  “Everything in its place too,” he said. “There’s no indication of trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Sam echoed.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s try the main building,” I suggested. “Maybe Katie went inside to look for the security guard.”

  “I bet we’ll find her having a cup of coffee with the guard.” Abby smiled weakly. “She’s probably fine. Right, Mom?”

  I didn’t reply. I had that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Instinct told me she was not fine.

  We hurried back to the main building. Commander West unlocked the door and swung it open.

  I gasped.

  The security guard laid spread on the lobby floor, face down, blood splattered across his head. Aquarium brochures had fallen from a nearby stone table and were scattered across the floor.

  The Commander knelt down. “He’s alive. Call 911.”

  My hear pounding, I made the call.

  “There’s a first-aid kit in the top drawer of the ticket taker’s desk. Bring it to me,” Commander West ordered.

  As Sam scooted to the desk to retrieve the kit, Abby and I exchanged glances. I mouthed “Katie.” Abby nodded, and we took off down the corridor to search for our friend. Surrounded by nothing but fish tanks, the hallway was eerily silent.

  “We should have taken the Commander’s key, Mom. Without it, we can’t get into any of the employee sections.”

  Suddenly, I stopped. My legs felt like jelly.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby grabbed me.

 
I couldn’t speak. I pointed to a tank where eel-like creatures glided through the water. But they weren’t eels. The sign below the tank read Sea Snakes—one of he most venomous snakes inhabiting the planet.

  Floating in the tank was a body.

  Katie Chandler.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nausea swept over me.

  Abby screamed.

  I steadied myself as Sam came running, but there was nothing we could do.

  Katie was dead.

  “Someone get her out of there,” Abby said, sobbing.

  Sam’s stare was zombie-like. Suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes flashed anger. He clenched his fists. “She didn’t just fall in. Someone did this to her.”

  “You’re right,” I said, choking on my words. “But before we can find out what happened, the body needs to be removed.” Glancing sideways, I shuddered. “With all the sea snakes, this will require special skills beyond that of the police and medical examiner. I’ll tell Commander West to contact one of the fish keepers to stand-by.”

  Before trekking down the hall, I placed my hand on Sam’s shoulder, murmuring, “I’m so sorry.” Then I hugged my daughter as tears streamed from both our faces. This was the first time Abby experienced the death of a close contemporary. As college roommates, she and Katie shared a special bond. Now that was gone.

  As I left to find Commander West, I glanced back at Sam and Abby, clinging to each other in support.

  *****

  Fifteen minutes later, head fish keeper Oscar Mejas, who had been called in, assisted the police in removing the body of Katie Chandler from the sea snake tank. Paramedics had taken the unconscious security guard to the hospital. The aquarium was swarming with law enforcement— crime scene investigators, medical examiner’s staff, and two homicide detectives, including my nemesis, detective Steve Wolfe.

  Once Detective Wolfe spotted me, he stopped in his tracks, every blue vein in his neck ready to pop. A nice contrast to his red face.

  “You again.” He growled.

  “I wanted to say “down boy” but I couldn’t bring myself to utter anything except “I discovered the body.”

  He glowered at me for a few seconds, then whipped out a pad and pen. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”

  “Katie received a text saying something was wrong with her sea lion, so she hurried over here. It was getting late. When she didn’t return texts, we decided to come look.”

  “Who is this we? Who besides you?”

  “My daughter Abby and Katie’s fiancé, Sam Wong. He just returned.”

  Detective Wolfe asked a few more questions in an attempt to estimate a time line of Katie’s whereabouts this afternoon.

  “I don’t think anything is wrong with Bea,” I said.

  “Who the hell is Bea?”

  “The sea lion.”

  “What am I now, the ASPCA? I handle homicides—of humans.”

  “If Bea is fine, someone lured Katie here under false pretenses. That’s probably the same person who murdered her.”

  Wolfe paused, scratching his chin. “Let me think a minute.”

  I bit my lip so not to respond to that comment.

  “Who sent the text?” he asked.

  “Supposedly, the security guard.” I shrugged. “But maybe the killer grabbed the guard’s phone and sent the message to lure Katie here.”

  Wolfe jotted down some notes. “As soon as the guard regains consciousness, I’ll speak with him.” He flipped his pad shut. “That’s all for now.”

  He didn’t remind me not to interfere which was good. I was in no mood to argue.

  Once Detective Wolfe departed, Abby came running over. Tears were still running down her cheeks. She had just finished her interview with Wolfe’s partner.

  “Let’s go home,” I said. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

  *****

  Abby drove home a little too fast and aggressively for my liking. Any attempts I made at conversation, she cut short with one word responses.

  Pulling into the driveway, I spotted smoke arising from the fire pit on our patio. “Your father’s in the back yard. Come on.”

  Entering the yard, the first person I saw was Jason. Abby had called him from the car to tell him what had happened. He ran to my daughter, and they hugged.

  Matt rushed toward me. “Are you okay?”

  “As well as can be under the circumstances.” Quickly, I scanned the scene, relieved my mother wasn’t here. I loved her dearly but didn’t need her well-meaning interference.

  As if reading my mind, Matt said, “You’re mom’s visiting Marcia Silver tonight.” Marcia and my mother had worked together at a local insurance agency for twenty years and were best friends.

  “How about you, Abby? Are you okay?” Matt asked, glancing beyond my shoulder, an easy task since he towered over me by more than a foot.

  Abby approached with Jason not far behind. “We need to find out who killed Katie. Let’s go over everything we know so far.”

  “I brewed some coffee before you got here,” Matt said. “I’ll bring us all some.”

  Minutes later, my hands wrapped around my coffee mug, I huddled with the others near the fire pit, finding warmth against the chilly autumn night air.

  “There are so many facts we don’t know,” I said. “Was the security guard knocked out before or after Katie’s murder? How was she lured to the sea snake tank? Or was she knocked unconscious and dragged there? We don’t know if she was killed by the sea snakes, or if she was dead before she hit the water.”

  “We won’t know any of this until the autopsy,” Abby answered. “Right now, I want to focus on the why not the how. I intend to ask Sam why he neglected to tell Katie he was going away, and why he never returned her texts or calls.”

  “But he told you—”

  “I know what he said.” Abby glared, her eyes as fiery as the flame in the pit. “He should have contacted her despite Moray’s admonition. Katie was his fiancé, and Sam supposedly is leaving Moray’s employ at the end of the year.”

  “Still, Moray is not someone you want to cross. I’m sure Sam wants to leave on friendly terms.” I fiddled through my bag, finally grabbing my pen and pad from my bag. “Let’s list all the people we should question—Katie’s friends, co-workers, fam… I stopped mid-sentence.

  “What’s the matter?” Matt asked.

  “Her grandmother’s estate. Katie was executor. What happens now?”

  “There’s probably a line of succession,” Jason answered. “Someone to take over as executor upon her death. That’s how it usually works.”

  “But what about the six million dollar donation?” I felt like a lead balloon had landed in the pit of my stomach. “Has she disbursed it yet?”

  Abby groaned. “No. Katie told me she planned to make the donation around Thanksgiving.”

  “Will it still go to the aquarium?”

  “I haven’t seen the will, but Abby told me Katie had options involving several charities and the amount she could disperse to each.” Jason shrugged. “Depending upon the new executor and how the will was written, the donation could be up in the air.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  While sipping my morning coffee, my phone trilled.

  “This can’t be good,” I mumbled as my editor’s name popped up.

  Olivia Johnson didn’t phone her writers. That job was reserved for Clara. Plus, it was Sunday, before eight in the morning.

  “Olivia Johnson here,” she said. “I saw a newscast about the murder of the aquarium’s sea lion trainer.”

  No “hello” or “I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday.” That was Olivia. She went right to the point.

  “Yes,” I said. “Katie Chandler—”

  “A fish keeper was killed a week ago,
” she interrupted. “What is going on?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I need you to find out.”

  Silence.

  “Kristy, did you hear me?”

  “Yes. But I’m surprised. When I investigated the murders at the Rocky Cove Zoo, you were reluctant to get the magazine involved.”

  “I was wrong. The story you uncovered nearly doubled our circulation. We need to show corporate management it wasn’t a fluke. We want them to know our readership is increasing. And murder coverage will do that.”

  Before I could say that this wasn’t the type of story we could sustain on a permanent basis, Olivia went on to say, “You and I both know there will not be murders to write about every two months. But this buys us time. I need to keep the circulation high. High circulation means more advertising, which means more revenue. This new corporate management is focused on the bottom line.”

  “Katie Chandler was my daughter’s best friend. Of course, my goal is to find her killer. But I can’t guarantee I can do that, especially in time for our October deadline.” I knew my voice sounded angry.

  “Try harder. I’m sure once people start reading us, they will continue. It’s getting them to pick up that first copy.” Olivia hung up.

  “You look like a cat being forced to swallow a pill,” Matt said as he sauntered into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have a lot of respect for Olivia, but she wants to capitalize on Katie’s death.” I told Matt about my editor’s phone call.

  “But you want to find out who killed Katie too,” he said. “Your motives may be different, but your goals are the same.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed, reluctantly, after pondering his comment. “I’ll never get to the bottom of this if I let my emotions control me.” I rose from my chair. “Let’s see what the local news media is saying about Katie’s murder.”

  We headed into the living room where I turned on the television. Katie’s death was a major story on the Long Island news channel. The police had not ruled anything out, including suicide. I couldn’t believe it. Suicide. People kill themselves by overdosing on pills or shooting a bullet in their brain. The idea of ending your life by jumping into a tank of venomous sea creatures seemed preposterous.