I checked the time. Ten past two. I had time to drive back to the conservation tract and look around before heading in to my office. I could make it if I didn’t dawdle, but first, I’d have to stop home for my truck. Since I was only a mile away, making the trade would be quick. The real question was whether I should stop at Security before heading off to the conservation tract.
Dan rarely left before five, and my staff quit at four thirty. If I hurried, I could snoop around the conservation tract, stop by the exhibits to check the plantings, then drive down to Security, catch Dan, and explain the whole Nelson Farthington thing. He’d laugh and say how foolish he was thinking I’d fall for a wealthy snob like Nelson Farthington. We’d re-schedule our dinner date, I’d wear my new clothes, look smashing, and we’d ride off into the sunset together.
Sounded like a plan, and if I only managed to reach the point of explaining to Dan about Nelson Farthington, I’d be happy. Dinner would be a bonus and there was always another sunset.
Chapter 26
When I finally reached the conservation tract having traded my Prius for my truck, I realized I hadn’t a clue what to look for other than evidence of the presence of vehicles or equipment. My thoughts were on the article I’d read in Mooney’s office.
If he’d read the same article, maybe he sent a crew out to the tract to dig up mud from the streams or the lake. Once he retrieved the samples, he could have sent them off to Anchor Enterprises for analysis. If Anchor reported the presence of REEs, I suspected Mooney would do his best to convince the zoo to sell him the property. I’d ruled out gold, because I knew any significant vein of gold on that piece of land would have been discovered and exploited years ago.
A second question in my mind pertained to Mooney’s knowledge of the contents of the zoo’s contract regarding the conservation tract, which I suspected came from his secretary, Ms. Rebecca Perry. The Perry family had donated the acreage to the zoo with no strings attached, except to request the land remain a conservation area and undeveloped.
The request was non-binding, which left the zoo free to do with the land whatever it wished, including expanding its exhibits into the conservation tract if needed. Clearly, the Perry family had placed their confidence in the zoo’s conservation mission to protect the land in perpetuity, and I intended to do my best to see the zoo lived up to the Perry family’s expectations.
As my truck bumped along the tract’s lower access road, a former logging route, an enormous black thundercloud moved into the area darkening the sky overhead. I needed to finish my exploration before a deluge let loose and I had to forage my way back across mud-filled trails.
I crossed my fingers the storm cloud would blow over as they often do this time of year, and pushed on until I came to Perry’s Creek, the largest stream in the conservation tract. The hilly logging road followed the stream and I drove along looking for signs of human visitation.
Reaching a flat spot at the bottom of one of the steeper hills, I saw what looked like tire tracks, and pulled off on the opposite side of the road to park. I left my truck and crossed over to the level area, examining the tire tracks all of which seemed to be recent.
I’m not an expert, but even my untrained eye detected at least three different sets of treads. I wondered if this was a popular fishing area with the locals despite being posted with threats of heavy fines for trespassing, or, maybe the place where Mooney’s workers had taken soil samples from the streambed.
Examining the stream, I could see the rock-filled waters were way too shallow and fast running for fishing. I followed along the water looking for what, I didn’t know. Evidence of dredging, maybe? Not likely at this stage, since Mooney would need only a few small samples for assessment purposes. The longer I walked, the less I saw, other than the single dark cloud overhead, which by now had blotted out the sun. I needed to head back to the zoo and wrap up a few things before my work day ended. I could re-visit the tract another day.
On my way back to the truck, the weather turned nasty in nanoseconds. Bursts of warning thunder increased in severity, accompanied by streaks of lightening and a sudden downpour. Unaware of how far I’d come, I broke into a run as hail the size of ping pong balls pelted the ground. The weird thundercloud hung low in the sky, its near edge converging into a black spiral of wind and rain.
I struggled against the wind, the hailstones beating about my head and face. I could barely see as I moved up from the stream, engaging in one of those crazy panicked modes of thought in which I worried more about a tree falling on my truck than about my own safety. Finally reaching my truck I climbed in, dripping water everywhere.
Within five minutes or so, the storm subsided and the black cloud moving off as quickly as it arrived. Apparently, I’d experienced only the edge of the storm, which was bad enough since I felt exhausted as I shivered in the cold cab, my icy fingers struggling to turn the key. As my truck’s engine coughed to a start, a shaft of sunlight shone down between the clouds, coating the area with a rosy glow, though I was feeling far from rosy.
This trip was a waste of time, I groused to myself, leaving me soaking wet and all for nothing. Despite the tire tracks, evidence of wrongdoing was nowhere to be seen. I stepped on the gas and my truck bolted forward, filling me with a sense of gratitude, since all I needed at this point was to get stuck. Calling for a tow to rescue me from a mud bog in the conservation tract could cost me my job if Nate caught wind of it.
I forged on. In less than a quarter-mile, the logging road branched. The right fork led to high ground away from the stream, the longer but drier way out. Before turning in that direction, I phoned the office and reported my predicament to Maddy.
“I’m a mess,” I told her. “I’m heading home to shower and change clothes. I’ll try to make it back in time to stop by the Desert planting areas, but would you let them know I might not make it before they finish for the day?”
“Are you okay, Sam?” Maddy asked. “We had a tornado warning here, but the rain missed us. Sounds like the storm found you instead.”
“Not exactly a tornado, but I’ll admit to experiencing one of the nastier weather moments of my life, and I spend a lot of time outdoors. I should have paid more attention to the sky, but we’ve had such a dry May and this isn’t even tornado season yet.”
“Apparently a big cold front moved in that pushed out our ninety-degree high. It’s happened before.”
I signed off and downshifted my truck, turning right at the fork, happy to be heading for higher ground. As I crested the last hill, I noticed a pickup truck on the road below, driving way too fast for the conditions and kicking up so much dirt and mud I could barely determine the vehicle’s color. Maybe white, maybe black. All I saw was reddish brown, the color of our ubiquitous red clay soil.
If I were feeling brave I’d have driven back down, discovered the driver’s identity and learned why he or she was trespassing on zoo property, but I had little chance of catching the truck given the distance between us. Later, when I returned to the zoo, I’d drive by Mooney’s construction site and look for a muddy pickup since I had a pretty good idea the vehicle belonged to one of Mooney’s boys. If so, I wanted to know what he was doing so far away from the site of the new barns.
On the ride home, my thoughts alternated between the sudden bizarre cloudburst and the errant pickup. I wondered if the driver might have seen me before I saw him. Even if he had, I had little reason to be concerned. After all, I was a zoo employee on zoo property during working hours, not the unnamed person operating a truck in a place he didn’t belong.
Chapter 27
On the drive home, I could see the storm missed Chestnut City completely, which included most of the zoo proper. Just my luck to be the one person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Once inside my warm dry house I showered, changed my clothes and exchanged my wet work boots for a pair of flip-flops before heading back to work. I’d barely make it before my staff quit at four-thirty, but I hope
d to check in with them for a minute or two before driving down to Security to catch Dan. If I was lucky, and today I wouldn’t bet on my luck, he’d be there until five-thirty or so.
I parked in the employee lot, grabbed a nearby zoo cart and set out for the Desert exhibit where I expected my dedicated staff to have completed most of the plantings on the outside of the domed animal exhibit. The desert ecological zone is actually three exhibits in one: the domed exhibit, which houses our small desert animals, the surrounding planting areas mimicking a generic desert landscape, and the outdoor exhibits for the large desert animals from Africa and Asia.
The exhibit area farthest from the dome is a large pasture with a sandy central area replete with a sand dune where our two Dromedary camels roam when they’re not snoozing in their shed or off exhibit in the barn. Camels are smarter than they look, which means they can be obstreperous at times. If they choose to laze in their stalls instead of grazing in their mini desert, the keepers let them be. Better than experiencing one of their notorious spitting fits, which isn’t about saliva, but rather a shower of regurgitated, vile-smelling, bile-laced stomach contents the idea of which turns my stomach just thinking about it. There are days when I really feel sorry for the keepers.
The domesticated Dromedary camel (the one-humped variety) comes from the Arabian Peninsula, and they’re our zoo’s largest mammal. We have no elephants and no future plans to obtain any since they require an extraordinarily large habitat in order to survive in captivity. While we have plenty of land, we’re not equipped to handle the challenges that come with an elephant or two.
Dromedaries on the other hand, are easy. They tolerate wild swings in temperature and can go for long periods without food and water, even though we feed them daily. Zoo visitors love the ugly beasts, and on special occasions we allow visitors to ride our female. For a price, of course.
I stopped the cart along the path bordering the desert scape and surveyed my staff’s handiwork. The Staghorn Chollas were still in bloom, their bright red blossoms reminding me of Christmas lights scattered along their spiny tree-like stems.
Glen was busy planting a medium-sized Joshua tree. He stopped digging and rested his shovel against the Joshua trunk when I pulled up. “I hear you had a close call today. Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
Glen, who was in his mid-twenties, could outwork anyone at the zoo. I was lucky to have him on my staff. “You look no worse for wear,” he said, which I expect he meant as a compliment. “We didn’t get a drop of rain here. A few black clouds passed over, but that’s all. Maddy says you got caught in a tornado.”
“A slight exaggeration, but it was nasty. National Weather Service claimed a dangerous storm with high winds and hail touched down south and east of Chestnut City, but caused little damage. I must have caught the edge of it. Can’t remember being that scared by bad weather.”
“What were you doing back in the conservation tract, anyway?”
“Scouting the area. I’ll tell you more when I know whether I found something.”
Glen let my comment go and updated me on their progress. “We’re running behind, but we’ll finish up this section in a day or two.”
I surveyed the area, noticing a few deviations from our diagram. “You’re doing a great job. Changed the plan a bit, though, no?”
“A little,” he acknowledged, “you know how it is. Plants aren’t always what you expect in terms of height and breadth, and as usual they sent us a few we never ordered so we had to find a place to fit them in. Meant we needed to do a little reorganization. Do you like it?”
“I think it looks terrific, and the cholla blossoms are spectacular. Make a list for me of any missing plants and I’ll check your list against the order sheet tomorrow. What plants arrived that we never ordered?”
“Extra Jojobas, but we’re missing Dasylirions, which has me pissed. They’re one of my favorites.”
“I’ll call about them. They’re a favorite of mine too, and we need their showy presence.”
“I’ll send the list to you in the morning if that’s okay.”
“The morning’s fine, and I’ll let you get back to work. It’s really looking like a desert around here.”
“Thanks, and you take care of yourself,” Glen said, “and that means avoiding stormy situations.”
On my way to Security, I wondered whether Glen was referring to the storm or to zoo politics, or something else entirely. I put the thought aside and focused instead on catching Dan and explaining about Nelson Farthington, which would be a big load off my mind.
When I pulled into the parking lot Dan’s truck was nowhere to be seen. I trekked inside to check on his whereabouts.
“If you’re lookin’ for Dan,” the duty officer said, anticipating my next question, “he ain’t here.”
“I did stop by looking for him. Are you expecting him back or is he gone for the day?”
“Gone for the day. You wanna leave him a message?”
“No message, but thanks.”
I left, wondering whether I should give Dan a call when I got home. Maybe if he read Maddy’s email he’d call me tonight to ask how I felt.
As long as I was on this side of the park, I decided to head up to Design to see if I could spot a muddy pickup truck in the Mooney Construction lot. When I arrived, all I found was another empty parking lot. I turned the cart around and drove back to my office, also empty of people. I locked up, shut off the lights and left for the day.
At home I spent the night watching TV, thinking maybe Dan would call. If so, I’d invite him over for pizza, but by ten o’clock I’d heard nothing. I decided to send him an email telling him about my experience and include a description of the muddy pickup, leaving it up to him to decide if the information should be passed on to the sheriff.
After that, I shut down my computer and went to bed shrugging off my disappointment over not hearing from Dan. Clearly, I needed to lower my expectations.
Chapter 28
Entering my office on Tuesday morning, I found a note taped to my door from Bob’s secretary about another staff meeting at nine, which put my budget on hold again. A second note said Jodie wouldn’t be in today because of Jack’s funeral. I appreciated her calling to remind me.
Another staff meeting wasn’t what I needed, since I’d already wasted a day and I had a lot on my plate especially with Jodie gone. I hoped Bob planned to keep his meeting short. I also hoped to catch up with Dan before the meeting, but I was out of luck again. I began to wonder if I was living a cursed life when he finally showed up and never cast a glance my way.
“Something’s come up,” Bob began, glancing at me as if I had any idea what that something might be. “Rumors have reached my ears about plant poaching occurring with some regularity on zoo property.”
This was news to me, but it might explain the three sets of tire tracks I spotted before the storm hit, and maybe explained the unidentified pickup truck as well. I wondered why Bob hadn’t mentioned this to me prior to the meeting.
“I hadn’t heard about this,” I said, letting Bob know he should have talked to me about a plant matter. The plant world was my domain, after all. “Where and when has this poaching occurred?”
“We thought perhaps you could tell us,” Nate said, stealing the floor from Bob, “since plants have been disappearing from the conservation tract where you’ve been spending a lot of time lately.”
I was confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sam, I’m sorry to bring this up in front of everyone,” Bob said, clearly not sorry enough to have discussed the matter with me in private, “but I’ve received word about a ring dealing in the illicit trade of rare and endangered plants, trade that’s occurring on an international scale and that has links to our zoo.”
I was stunned. “Are you accusing me of being this mysterious link?”
“Do you deny it?” Nate asked, seeing the opening I knew he’d eventually
find and pouncing on it.
“Of course I deny it. Wasn’t I the one fighting in yesterday’s meeting to preserve our conservation tract and the precious plants growing there?”
Nate glared at me. “Perhaps so you can continue poaching plants and selling them off, like maybe you were doing yesterday when the storm caught up with you? No one knows the conservation tract better than you. Or, should I say, better than you and Jodie, the two people caught in the area Saturday after hours.”
“I explained to you yesterday morning why we were there.”
At this point, Ginger spoke up in my defense. “I can vouch for Sam on that one. She came up with the idea of panning for gold as one of the activities for the girls’ Zoo Camp. She asked me to explore the site with her, to see if we could find a spot that might work for a camp-over. When I couldn’t go, I guess she called Jodie.”
Bob looked bewildered, as if he’d already made up his mind and now Ginger had thrown a monkey wrench into his theory.
“How do we know you’re not involved, too?” Nate asked, sounding almost as happy to go after Ginger as he was to attack me. “The two of you are thick as thieves.”
A poor choice of words, I thought, knowing the choice was deliberate, but Nate was skating on thin ice here. Bob adored Ginger, and while he might suspect me of almost anything, Ginger was beyond reproach.
I took a deep breath, ready to explode at the logic behind Nate’s accusation, but Ginger, who has a far cooler head than mine, beat me to the punch.
Adieu at the Zoo_A Jefferson Zoo Mystery Page 10