by Alex P. Berg
“Ah…well. Let’s see. Consider this. We have no reason to think it wasn’t the Yellow Cobras who broke into Tommy Llama’s last night. They stole a whip and one of his pairs of chaps, we presume. We don’t know exactly what time they broke in—probably between three and four if our timeline is right—but the gods know there’s not a lot of people out at that time of night. The Cobras must’ve been quite a sight to behold. Drunk rock stars with eyeliner and big hair, geared out in leather chaps and forearm bracers and a whip, parading around with a lion in a cage drawn by a camel. Surely someone around here saw something, and if they did, that’s a sight they’d remember. You, clerk, at the churro station. Are you guys open twenty-fours hours?”
The orc turned, lifting up the basket with my churros to let them drain. “Ah…yes.”
“And I don’t suppose you were in last night?” I said. “Late? Between three and four?”
“Uh…yes, actually.”
“Daggers, you’ve got it wrong,” said Shay. “Yes, at some point the Cobras must’ve come into possession of the camel and the lion, but not when they broke into Tommy’s. They were still snagging their gear at that point.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “Could be they jacked the camel for fun, tried to snag the lion, realized they couldn’t, and came to Tommy’s for protection. Clerk? You see any circus animals go by last night?”
The orc dusted my churros with cinnamon sugar, popped them in a paper bag, and returned our way. “Well…no, but—those guys you mentioned came in here, I think.”
“Wait…really?” I said.
The orc nodded, tossing my churros on the counter. “Two drunk guys? One of them had big hair, the other had chaps and a whip. You said between three and four, right? I think they came in about three fifteen, three thirty.”
Suddenly, Shay seemed very awake, and I doubted it was from the coffee. “Two men? Not three? You say one had big hair? Was it black? What did the other look like?”
The orc blinked, blitzed by the number of questions. “Uh…that’s right. Two. Poofy black hair on the first. The other had brown braids and a bandana. He was the one with the leather chaps and the whip.”
Shay eyed me. “That means Sammy and Ritchie lost Chaz sometime between two thirty and three thirty.”
“Interesting.” I nodded to the clerk. “Did the pair buy anything?”
“You think I let them use the bathroom at three thirty out of kindness?”
“They stopped for a pee break?” I asked.
“Metaphor,” said the orc. “They bought stuff. A bunch of items.”
“Like what?” I asked.
The guy gave us a sidelong look. “You’re cops, right?”
Shay and I produced our badges at the same time.
“Alright,” said the orc, holding up his hands. “Just asking. First off, they bought a ton of sausages—they’re the ones who cleaned out the warming pan. I forget everything else they bought. Let me check the ledger.”
“Sausages?” said Shay. “I bet that’s why the lion wasn’t so hungry this afternoon.”
He rummaged under the counter and produced the ledger in question. “Okay, let’s see. They bought all the sausages we had on hand. Fifteen, to be specific. Two fifths of vodka. A bag of pork rinds. Some fried corn chips. Two packages of beef jerky—”
“Someone had the munchies…” I muttered.
The orc kept going. “A loaf of bread. A jar of peanut butter, and another of jam.”
“Hold on,” said Shay. “Peanut butter?”
The orc didn’t understand her tone. “Yeah. You know. For sandwiches?”
Shay turned to me. “Well, that answers one question. The follow up is, how did the peanut butter get on Chaz? Who killed him? When did he reunite with Sammy and Ritchie, and how did he get separated in the first place? And, of course, where the heck did the lion and camel come from?”
The clerk lifted a finger and pointed it toward the door. “Did you check the zoo? It’s only a ten minute walk away.”
“No, these animals came from a circus, not a…” I paused as the words churned through my brain. “Wait…the zoo’s only ten minutes from here?”
The clerk nodded.
I turned to Shay. “But what about the bridle?”
“It’s only ten minutes,” said Shay. “Can’t hurt to check.”
“Rodger that,” I said. “Buddy? Thanks a bunch.”
I paid the orc for our pick-me-ups, gave him a hefty tip, and hoofed it out the front.
33
The sun hovered over the horizon as we reached the gates to the New Welwic Zoo, sending its weakened winter rays glancing across a thirty foot wide orange and green sign that hung above the ticket sales kiosks. Statues of bears, flamingos, and gorillas sprouted from the concrete in front, their bronze surfaces long since tarnished into scaly green eyesores. Reliefs of a variety of beasts shared space with the zoo’s name on the wide sign. The carvings had fared better than the statues, but only by a razor’s edge, their green paint peeling and the wood underneath worn.
Despite winter’s grip and the time of day, I’d expected to find at least a handful of other park goers at the entrance, but reality squashed my expectations. Rope hung between posts in front, and none of the kiosks burned bright with lantern light. A young woman with long brown hair held in a braid, wearing green khakis and a matching long-sleeved shirt, stood at the edge of the rope barrier, however. We approached her.
“Excuse me,” I asked. “Is the park open?”
“Sorry, folks,” she said. “It’s too late today. Besides, we had vandals break in overnight. They let some of the animals loose, and we’re still cleaning up the mess. Try again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s not going to do, I’m afraid. I’m Detective Daggers. This is Captain Steele. We’re with the NWPD.” I dug out my badge and flipped it open. The crease hung on by a thread. I hoped it would make it through the end of the day. At least I knew the new captain wouldn’t give me a hard time about replacing it.
“Oh, you’re here,” said the young woman. “Excellent. I imagine you’ll want to talk to head zookeeper Pope, then?”
“About the vandalism?” I said. “You bet. Is she in?”
The young woman lifted both of her eyebrows. “Are you kidding? After last night? Where else would she be? Though she’s been up since well before dawn. I don’t know how pleasant she’ll be.”
“Well, she won’t be the only one, then,” said Shay, lifting her coffee cup. “Mind finding her for us?”
“You bet. Here. Come around the rope. I’ll let you wait by the kiosks.”
The young zoo hand unlatched one of the rope sections and waved us through. After she’d escorted us to the ticket counters, she took off in search of her superior.
I leaned against one of them and peered toward the zoo proper. An exotic blend of vegetation flourished within, deciduous trees without leaves, evergreens with, and a number of more tropical looking specimens that stubbornly hung onto their leaves despite the New Welwic winter, probably confused out of their tiny tree-minds and kept alive only by the prayers and dark magic of the zookeeper. Melodic bird calls rang out from within the foliage, probably from colorful avian species who wished they’d never been brought here in the first place.
I turned to Shay. “You ever visited this place?”
She shook her head. “No, but I’d heard about it. I knew it existed.”
“How did we not think to come here first?” I asked. “I mean, the camel and the Minestrone Brothers bridle, sure. But after the lion?”
“Circuses have lions, too,” said Shay. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. For all we know, the Cobras did steal the camel from a circus. Those boys got around last night, that’s for sure.”
I picked up a map from a dispenser adjacent to the ticket booths and unfolded it. It took me a little searching, but eventually I found what I was looking for. The zoo did, in fact
, have a camel enclosure, hidden in the back among what it considered its desert landscape. A lion enclosure sat not too far from that in the zoo’s savannah section, which I supposed made sense, both from a terminology standpoint and from the fact that savannahs were essentially deserts with grass.
I heard footsteps. I lifted my head to find a short elf woman approaching, busty and thick in a way most elven women weren’t. Her green khaki shirt stretched tightly over her bosom, as did her similarly shaded pants over her thighs. Her long blonde hair, held in a tight braid, flicked from side to side as she walked, much like the tail of one of the many beasts in her menagerie. She was cute, although a polar opposite of Shay. Except for her compact stature and pointed ears, she reminded me of my ex-wife Nicole. Thankfully, that resemblance no longer induced in me a sense of wistful desire.
“Officers,” she said as she neared. “I’m glad you’ve finally arrived. I’m the head zookeeper, Azalea Pope. You got my message?”
I folded the map and tucked it away in a jacket pocket. “Ah…message?”
“Yes,” she said. “About the break-in? I dropped by the local precinct this morning and filed a report.”
“Which precinct was this?” asked Shay.
“The nearest one,” said Azalea. “On Mackinaw Street.”
Shay looked at me. I shrugged.
Shay sighed. “I’m sorry, Ms. Pope. You’re the second individual we’ve dealt with today who’s tried to notify us about an overnight break-in only to have the word not relayed to us in a timely fashion. Looks like I’ll need to have a word with the captain at the Mackinaw Street precinct to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
I thought about making a snide remark about the efficiency of local government, but the point seemed self-evident. Besides, it didn’t cast me in a good light, despite the fact that I was working my tail off on a case—for once.
“I’m sorry, too, Ms. Pope,” I said, though I didn’t feel quite as remorseful as I suspect Shay did. “I’m Daggers, and this is Steele. We’re with the 5th Street Precinct, investigating a crime tightly related to your vandalism incident. Honestly, we didn’t know you’d suffered a break-in until we lucked upon a witness who overheard us talking about your lion.”
“King Geoffrey?” said Azalea. “Oh, by the gods! I hope he’s okay.”
It took me a second to process that. “You mean your lion? He’s fine. Last I checked animal control was trying to coax him into a kennel at a lockup on Flatley. We also have a camel in custody, which I assume is yours, although we found it wearing a bridle from a circus act known as the Minestrone Brothers.”
“The camel was a rescue,” said Azalea, nodding. “We took custody of it when that circus went out of business. The bridle and a bunch of other gear came with it as a package deal. What about the other animals, though?”
“Other animals?” said Shay.
“Yes,” said Azalea, nodding. “The otters? Baboons, capybaras, and pygmy deer?”
“Those are all missing?” I asked.
“To some extent or other, yes,” said Azalea. “Many of them are still loose in the park, hiding in other enclosures, but I know some of them managed to escape our perimeter. Of course, by your surprise, I’m guessing I’ve answered my own question.”
Shay shook her head. “Again, I’m sorry. We’ll file another report once we reach the precinct. Contact Mackinaw Street and open communications with animal control. In the meantime, would you mind showing us the scene of the crime, so to speak? And walk us though what you know of the incident?”
“Sure, I can do that,” said the stocky elf. “It’s getting late, and I’ve about had it with diving into bushes and coaxing deer off of sharp rocks. Follow me. I’ll show you what happened—or at least everything I’ve discovered.”
Azalea turned and headed off at a brisk pace, leaving us with no choice but to bring up the rear.
34
“Well, here we are,” said Azalea. “This is where the racket started. This is what got me up at a quarter to five and what’s kept me racing around the park ever since.”
I looked around. We stood in the middle of an intersection of gravel-paved paths. Behind me, separated from the path by a chest height wall and a chasm fifteen feet deep, stretched an enclosure filled with knee-high golden grass, a fair amount of dirt, and the occasional scraggly tree. On the other side of the path, greenery thrived to a much greater degree. Thick bushes and shrubs packed a smaller pen, one with a less imposing waist-high wall topped with a latticed fence. I heard the babbling of a brook and the occasional bit of squeaky chatter coming from within the foliage. Further down the path, I spotted a number of two story wire mesh cages I presumed were for birds.
“I’m sorry,” I said, still gazing at the various enclosures. “What am I looking at?”
“The scene of the crime,” said the zookeeper matter-of-factly.
I tried not to look confused, but I’m pretty sure I failed. “You’re going to have to be more explicit, I’m afraid.”
Steele nudged me. “Daggers, can I see that park map?”
I dug it out of my pocket as Azalea began to explain herself.
“Behind you is the tail end of our savannah exhibit,” she said. “We keep the pygmy deer and the baboons in there because they get along well. Usually we try to fit at least two or three different species into a single enclosure. Not only does it help us cram more animals into the same amount of space, driving down operating costs, but we find a lot of the animals like it. They end up befriending each other, if you can believe it. Not necessarily the baboons and deer, but the capybaras and otters in the marshy river enclosure behind me are the best of friends. Of course, I get the feeling otters could befriend just about any animal.”
“Except large predators, I assume.”
Azalea smiled. “You’d be surprised. Seriously, they can charm anyone. Assuming they’re well fed.”
Shay peered at the map. “What about the camel and lion exhibits? They don’t seem to be in this area.”
The zookeeper shook her head. “They’re farther up the path, in the northeast corner of the park.”
I understood what Shay hinted at. Azalea had indicated the animals in this area had escaped, and yet it was the camel and lion who we’d come across, animals that weren’t in the same vicinity. So why had the nearby beasts been let loose? A distraction, perhaps?
“Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened last night?” I asked.
Azalea nodded. “Like I said, it started just shy of five in the morning, or at least that’s when I heard the ruckus. I have a cabin on the property. It’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, getting up at all hours of the night to treat sick iguanas or help zebus give birth, but what can I say? It’s a labor of love.”
“Zebus?” I said.
“A kind of cow,” explained Azalea. “Anyway, I heard all sorts of shrieks and whoops and hollers, some of which sounded human, so I threw on clothes and ran out here as fast as I could. Well, by the time I arrived, all hell had broken loose. Someone had opened up both of the enclosures on either side of us, and darn it if those mischievous baboons hadn’t already invaded the capybara and otter pen. At least the ones who’d gone in there were mostly contained. It was the others who gave me real trouble, mostly because whoever had opened the enclosure had dumped a bunch of junk food all over the place. When I found them, the baboons were tearing open bags of chips and fighting over them, whooping and shouting the whole time.”
Somewhere from deep within the trees, a cry sounded, a cross between a deep throated shout and a woofy bark.
“See?” said Azalea. “I still haven’t been able to track them all down. It’s like they know I’m talking about them and they’re sitting in the trees, laughing it up.”
I turned to Shay. “That was the same cry we heard in Rucker Park this morning.”
“Yes,” she said, folding up the park map. “And apparently it doesn’t belo
ng to a fang-toothed demon with camel feet. Imagine that.”
“They made it all the way to Rucker Park?” said Azalea. “Oh, gods… How in the world am I going to lure them back?”
“We’ll notify animal control,” said Shay. “They have a wily goblin trapper on their squad who’s not too shabby at his job. He’ll help you. I don’t suppose you saw who broke in and opened the cages, though?”
Azalea shook her head. “Sorry. They must’ve taken off right before I arrived. There were still chips and beef jerky everywhere. Baboons are feisty, and they’ll scarf down anything. If they’d had more than a few minutes, they would’ve eaten every last scrap of food left behind, including the peanut butter I found two of them fighting over.”
Shay and I exchanged glances. “Come again?”
“They must’ve stolen it from the vandals,” said Azalea, “but I was able to confiscate the jar before they opened it. Saved it, too. No sense wasting a full jar. I can use it for treats. Not for the baboons though. They certainly haven’t earned it…” The zookeeper scowled.
“Wait…so the jar was unopened?” asked Steele.
“That’s right. Still had that pressure-sealed top. Not that it mattered to the baboons. They can smell right through the glass. Makes them go crazy. Probably would’ve smashed it with a rock if I hadn’t been there to scare them away.” Azalea narrowed her eyes. “Why are you so interested, anyway?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Shay tapped the folded park map upon her palm and looked up the path. “So those cages over there. Those are bat enclosures?”
Azalea nodded. “That’s right. One of them is, anyway. Mostly fruit bats, but we have some rat-tailed ones and flying foxes, as well.”
“Wait…what?” I snatched the map from Shay and opened it. Sure enough, it stated the obvious right there in a fun, family-oriented font. How had I missed it?
“I don’t suppose anyone broke into that enclosure, as well?” said Shay.
“Funny you should ask,” said Azalea, her eyes still narrow. “The cage door was shut but unlatched this morning. I wondered if we’d forgotten to close it properly or if it had been the vandals. Either way, as far as I can tell by a head count, none of the bats escaped, despite the fact that they’re nocturnal. If someone went in there overnight, I can’t explain how none of them got away.”