The Llama of Death

by Betty Webb

  Before I could apologize, he rang off.

  “Deputy Gutierrez says we need witnesses,” I told Deborah.

  “I don’t…Wait a minute. When I was working the admission booth, I remember seeing a group of kids from San Xavier Prep. One of the girls mentioned wanting to see Alejandro. I told her she was too big to ride, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to see him ‘cause she’d fallen for him in a big way when her parents brought her to the zoo.”

  “A school tour? I remember a big group of kids, but I thought they were from that Monterey summer camp. Isn’t school supposed to be out for the summer?”

  She shook her head. “My nephew goes there, and last time I saw him, he mentioned that one of the classes was doing an extra-credit report on the Elizabethan Era, so that probably accounted for the tour.”

  “But the schools all let out in May.”

  “Not San Xavier. They were shut down for three whole weeks last month and had to make up for lost time. Listen, I’ll see what I can do to track down one of the chaperones, but right now I have to feed these chickens. They’re starting to peck at one another, and you know what that can lead to.”

  Pushing aside the vision of chicken cannibalism, I felt a glimmer of hope. The age range at Xavier Prep, where I’d once taught before following my then-husband to San Francisco, was between twelve and fourteen. Maybe one of them, or even a tour escort, had witnessed Alejandro’s attack. If enough people swore the llama had been provoked, Dalrymple’s mean-spirited attempt at having his former pet put down would fail.

  Ciara Pawling, a zoo volunteer and an old friend of mine, taught eighth grade English at Xavier and her cell phone number was on my cell. Taking a chance, I punched it in and was pleased when she immediately answered.

  “You’d better not be calling me about Victor Emerson’s murder, Teddy,” she said, only half-jokingly. “Just because Victor married me to a piece of slime doesn’t mean I’d kill him because of it.”

  “How is Brad these days?”

  “You haven’t heard? After I caught him with that Bambi woman, I threw him out.”

  “Sorry.”

  “He is, too. So what’s the reason for this call so bright and early in the morning?”

  “I heard some of the Xavier kids were at the Renaissance Faire yesterday. Why aren’t you out for the summer?”

  A snort. “We should be, but you know what they say about these old dumps with National Register of Historic Places nameplates—it’s just another way of saying it should be put out of its misery. We developed plumbing problems in late May. Sewers backed up, no running water, you name it, it went wrong. What else can you expect from a two-hundred-year-old building that wasn’t all that great to begin with?”

  When I explained Alejandro’s situation, she said that although she wasn’t one of the chaperones, she knew who they were. “I’ll call you as soon as I find out if they saw anything.”

  Feeling somewhat better, I rang off and started on my regular zoo duties.

  Carlos, the magpie jay who last year won my heart by his romantic offering of twigs with which to build our bridal nest, had been given a mate. Now he didn’t know me from Adam.

  “Unfaithful cur!” I called.

  Magpie jays will mimic any noise that strikes their fancy. Carlos’ attempt at returning my call came across as “Uh-aikle-er!” When I laughed, he mimicked that, too.

  I continued my rounds, visiting Wanchu the koala, who was asleep, and Lucy the giant anteater, who also paid no attention to me because she was busy suckling her baby. While I was cleaning out the anteaters’ night house, my cell rang. Ciara Pawling, with good news.

  “Brian Chesney and Yvette Allred both saw what happened yesterday,” she said. “That guy, whoever he was, knocked down a little girl when he ran at the llama. They say the llama was only protecting her.”

  I would have clicked my heels in glee but they had too much manure on them. “Do you think their parents would allow them to testify at a board of inquiry?”

  “No doubt about it. Don’t their last names mean anything to you, Teddy? Chesney. Allred.”

  “Would their respective mothers be Mrs. Timothy Chesney III and Mrs. George Hampton-Allred?” Close friends of my mother.

  “Got it in one, kiddo.”

  This was excellent news. Both women were long-time members of the Gunn Zoo Guild and were deeply dedicated to the welfare of all animals.

  “I don’t have their phone numbers on…”

  She didn’t wait for me to finish, just reeled off the numbers. I thanked her and called the first one. Yes, Mrs. Chesney said, she’d certainly allow Brian to testify if it came to that. Damn right, Mrs. Allred followed up. She’d drive Yvette to the hearing herself, and what in the world did that man think he was doing, knocking down some little kid, and did I know—according to Yvette—that the man was raving drunk? In a further bit of good news, I learned that, yes, her daughter had recognized the man as Ernest Dalrymple, who at one time owned Dalrymple’s Scuba and Dive, where she had once taken lessons. The dive school failed when Dalrymple started showing up drunk.

  I reported the conversations to Deborah. After she finished cheering, I added, “I’m going to call Aster Edwina right now. On second thought, I’ll drive up there and tell her in person.” Actually, I had another reason for going to the castle. I wanted to see my father.

  Since the castle was more or less next door to the zoo, Mrs. McGinty was soon ushering me into the cavernous hallway.

  Upon entering the library, I found Aster Edwina reading to my father from a leather-bound book. It was a bedtime story of sorts, but definitely not the kind meant to be read to children.

  “Why aren’t you at work, Teddy?” she said, putting the X-rated book down.

  “Two witnesses have come forth to say they say the entire incident with Alejandro. They’ll both testify that the man leaped over the fence, knocked down the little girl, then—and only then—the llama rush to the rescue. Furthermore, I also found out that the guy, Ernest Dalrymple, was his former owner.”

  She looked pleased, a rare sight. “The same man who once knocked out the poor creature’s tooth?”

  “The very same. Alejandro knew firsthand how rough Dalrymple could be, so he was defending the kid.”

  “I knew none of this when I ordered the animal into Quarantine, but I’m afraid it makes no difference. Until Dalrymple retracts his story it’s better to keep the llama out of the public eye.”

  “But…”

  “No ‘but’s, Teddy. I’m thinking about the liability issues. Anyway, you could have told me all this by phone, so why are you here when you’re supposed to be at work?”

  “I wanted to talk to Dad.”

  Aster Edwina sniffed. “Not about the zoo, I take it. Family matters? That fraudulent reverend person?”

  “Both.”

  “Then expect your pay to be docked.” Nose in the air, she sailed grandly out of the room, followed by Mrs. McGinty.

  “How’d you know I have more information for you?” my father asked.

  “I didn’t. I wanted you to promise not to leave the castle. Showing up at the Faire yesterday was outrageous.”

  He turned his back and studied the big stained glass window. “Lovely, isn’t it? Did you know that old Edwin Gunn had it imported from Scotland?”

  “Of course I do. Promise me.”

  “Men don’t like bossy women, Theodora.”

  “Right. Some of them prefer manipulative sneaks. Where’s that promise?”

  He kept looking at the window. “Who is that getting beheaded?”

  “Charles the First. He pissed off Cromwell. Now quit trying to change the subject and promise me you’ll stay here in the castle. If Elvin Dade gets his hands on you, you’re toast.”

 
He finally turned around to face me. “Why bother to make a promise I know I’ll break? Now about that information I have. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. You’re going to love this.”

  Grumbling, I sat down on a chair so old that Cromwell himself might have sat in it.

  “My source called me back late last night and gave me the name of the late Victor Emerson’s child.” He paused, a sly smile on his face. “Bet you can’t guess who.”

  Dad did like his little games, which is why he embezzled all that money in the first place. Years of experience had taught me it was easier to just play along. I started the guessing game with the person I considered least likely. “Wynona Dade, Elvin’s wife?”

  “Nope.”

  “Elvin himself?”

  “No again. Please put a little more work into this, Teddy. You know Elvin’s too old to be Victor Emerson’s child.”

  I narrowed my guesses to people more or less my age. “Yancy Haas, the stunt man. He’s playing the Black Knight at the Faire.”

  “Lovely guess, and I do laud you for it, but sadly, not Mr. Haas. In case you didn’t know it, I once met his father—a brute of a man, by the way—and the two look just alike.”

  My patience was running thin. “Are you going to make me get out the San Sebastian County phone book and guess by alphabetical order?”

  “You’re no fun. Your mother, now, there’s a woman who knows how to play games.”

  “Fat lot of good that did. You left her.”

  “Only because the Feds were hot on my heels. If she’d move down to Costa Rica with me I’d re-marry her in a heartbeat.”

  “Dad…”

  My tone must have finally been threatening enough, because he suddenly relented. “Oh, all right. I’ll tell you. The name of Victor’s child is…”

  He took a long breath for dramatic effect.

  “Cough it up, Dad.”

  “Spoil sport. Oh, okay. Victor’s child is someone named, I kid you not…” Another long breath. Before I screamed in frustration, he finished his sentence.

  “It’s Bambi!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Somehow I made it through the day, but after I clocked out, I hurried home to take care of Bonz, Priss, and Feroz. Then I jogged up to the northern end of the harbor where Bambi’s Runaround was docked.

  No Bambi.

  If I were blond, beautiful, bosomy, and not engaged to the love of my life, where would I be at seven p.m. on the first Monday of the month? Answer: Panza’s Lucky Seven, where the singles of San Sebastian congregated for Speed Dating Night. Skipping my nightly visit with Caro, I drove over to Panza’s and cased the place. No Bambi. Surely such a gadabout couldn’t be home?

  But she was.

  When I rang the doorbell of her garish mini-mansion, she answered right away.

  “Oh, it’s you, Teddy.”

  “Expecting someone else?”

  Not a great piece of detecting on my part. The perfectly made-up Bambi wore enough musky perfume to drop a skunk in its tracks, but it was perfectly suited to her barely-there red dress and five-inch silver stilettoes. She was expecting someone all right. The question was: who?

  “Yes, I am expecting someone, so I’d be thrilled if you’d go away.”

  “Guess you’ll have to remain un-thrilled then, because I want to ask you a few questions.”

  “Which I don’t have to answer.” Ever notice how ugly an overly made-up woman can look when she scowls?

  Before she had a chance to slam the door in my face, I pushed it open and walked in. Her house was as gaudy as she was. Maroon carpet. Plastic plants. Matching lavender-and-pink paisley sofas. Except for the sofas, every other piece of wood or metal was covered in gilt, including the frame of the crystal chandelier overhead, which was so massive that if it dropped on you, death would be the only possible result. Brothels had better taste, not that I’d ever been in one.

  “You sure don’t hold back, do you,” I said, surveying the décor.

  She huffed up next to me and snatched a Hollywood-style white and gilt phone off a glass topped table. “Get out before I call the police.”

  “Acting Sheriff Elvin Dade? Go ahead and call, because I’m sure he’d love to hear about your relationship to Victor Emerson.”

  “You’re disgusting, Teddy. I’ve already told you that, but you’re even more so today. You stink of manure.”

  Without being invited, I sat my dirty self down on one of the sofas. “Sorry about that. I was so anxious to see you that I didn’t bother showering after work, and yes, I’ll admit that I’ve waded through a lot of crap today.” In more ways than one.

  “Please leave.”

  “Once we’re through. For now, sit down and get comfortable, because we’re going to have a long chat. About Victor.”

  “Why? I didn’t kill him.” For the first time I noticed that underneath all that makeup, her eyes were still red. She was attempting to hide the grief I had mistaken for allergies.

  I softened my tone. “Crime statistics prove that when women kill, their victims are rarely their fathers.”

  The hand that held the telephone receiver began to tremble. “Wha…what do you mean?”

  “Hang up the phone, Bambi. You’re not going to call anyone and we both know it. And for Pete’s sake, sit down before you fall down. ”

  She plunked the phone into its cradle, then sat down on the sofa across from mine. Her knees were trembling, too. After taking a few deep breaths, she said, “How much do you want?”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To blackmail me?”

  It was my turn to be shocked.

  “I’ll pay you whatever you want, Teddy. But just once. You can’t keep coming back or I’ll…I’ll…” She started to cry.

  I’d never liked Bambi, but I could understand any woman’s love for her father, regardless of his criminality, so I went over and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. When her sobs subsided, I asked, “Who’s been blackmailing you?”

  “No one’s been blackmailing me, they were blackmailing Victor.” From long habit, she still called him by his phony name. “Someone…” She stopped, pulled a tissue out of a gilt-trimmed dispenser, and blew her nose. “Oh, don’t act dumb, Teddy. You know all about that, because it was you, wasn’t it? Now that he’s dead you’re going after me.”

  “Wait a minute. You say your father was being blackmailed? Over what?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” More nose-blowing.

  “Somebody found out who he really was?”

  “Of course. You found out about him and threatened to tell the cops unless he gave you money. But he didn’t have any money, he was just getting by. Why’d you have to pick on him?”

  “Listen to me, Bambi. Why in the world would I need to blackmail Victor? If I wanted money, all I’d have to do is hit my mother up for a loan, and she’d give it to me in a heartbeat. Well, she’d probably charge interest. Besides, blackmailers don’t kill their victims. It’s usually the other way around.”

  The minute the words left my mouth, it occurred to me that Bambi, who wasn’t all that bright, might have turned the story around. I had seen the tatty trailer Victor lived in, and doubted that anyone would be crazy enough to try and get blood from that stone. “Did your father come right out and tell you he was being blackmailed?”

  “Kinda.”

  “Just kinda? Give me his exact words.”

  She jerked her head away and thrust out her chin in an attempt to look tough. “You always need to know everything, don’t you?”

  “Only when my mother’s in jail.” And my father faced a long prison term if Elvin Dade got wind of his whereabouts. I knew better than to tell her that part.

  The doo
rbell rang. Before she could jump up to answer it, I grabbed her again, not so gently this time. “Tell whoever it is to go away. If you don’t, we’ll wind up having a three-way conversation about your father.”

  “You bitch.”

  “Sticks and stones.”

  She smoothed her dress and tottered to the door on those too-tall stilettoes. After a murmured conversation, her visitor went away, but not before I recognized the voice of Judd Sazac.

  I was tempted to say nothing when Bambi tottered back because her fling with a married man was none of my business. Still, I couldn’t help myself. “It’s her money, not his.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The Sazacs. They’re living off the trust fund Deanna’s grandfather set up. If Judd leaves her, he gets nothing.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “My grandfather, who was one of the savviest trust attorneys on the Central California coast, set it up so I can assure you that it’s unbreakable. If something happens to Deanna, the money will be held in trust for her children. They won’t have access to it until they turn thirty, so even then Judd won’t get a dime. Since he’s perennially unemployed, his financial future isn’t good, either. Certainly not enough to keep you in the lifestyle to which you’ve become accustomed.”

  “But he said…”

  “Infatuated men can tell convincing lies, Bambi.”

  She looked up at the gaudy chandelier, as if imploring it to drop on her. It didn’t.

  “Now tell me why you think someone was blackmailing your father. And I repeat, it wasn’t me.”

  Everything about her began to droop. Her face. Her shoulders. Even those fabulous doctor-supplied breasts appeared to droop a few inches. “Oh, all right. It doesn’t matter now anyway, does it? I stopped in to visit Victor one day and found him in his trailer, counting out money on the table. A big stack of fifty-dollar bills, a few hundreds. When I asked him what it was for he told me it was ‘secret-keeping money’ and that the less I knew about it, the better.”

  “From that you inferred someone was blackmailing him?”

  “That’s what it looked like to me.”