Monkey See, Monkey Die

by Cynthia Baxter

  The room suddenly felt strangely warm—and the air so thick, I could hardly breathe. “What did you find?”

  “That the good doctor was skimming money from the funds she was raising for the zoo,” he replied bitterly.

  I gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “Completely sure. She kept two sets of books, the official set and the one that showed what was really going on.” With a cold laugh, he added, “At least she was putting the money she stole to good use. From what I could tell, it looked as if she was funneling it into her research.”

  “Why didn’t you report her to the police?” I demanded. “Or at least to someone at the zoo?”

  “I was going to,” he replied. “And looking back, I realize that’s exactly what I should have done.” He swallowed hard. “Instead, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I followed my first impulse, which was to tell Erin what I’d uncovered.”

  “Why was telling Erin a mistake?” I asked, puzzled.

  Walter remained silent for a few seconds. “Because,” he finally said, “I believe it’s the fact that Erin knew that prompted Annalise Zacarias to kill her.”

  “Dr. Zacarias murdered Erin?”

  “I’m certain of it,” Walter replied in a dull voice. “It all makes perfect sense.”

  “But if you already knew about what she was doing, why weren’t you in danger as well?”

  He smiled coldly. “You didn’t hear Erin go on and on about Zacarias the way I did. The woman was jealous of Erin from day one. She could see for herself how smart Erin was. Talented, too, not to mention accomplished. Erin was also young, with a great future ahead of her. Zacarias’s career was on the decline, and it killed her to be around someone whose future was as bright as Erin’s.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “So what you’re saying is that from the start, Dr. Zacarias was looking for a way to discredit Erin.”

  “Exactly.” He hesitated before asking, “Did you bring that copy of the cocktail napkin you showed me last time?”

  “I have it right here.” I pulled it out of my purse and handed it to him.

  “I wasn’t being truthful when I acted as if I’d never seen this before,” he admitted as he unfolded the single sheet of paper. “I was there when Erin wrote it.”

  “So you do know what it means.” My mouth had become so dry it was difficult to get the words out.

  “I’m afraid so.” Pointing to the only line I had yet to decipher, he said, “See what this says, over here?”

  “Sure,” I replied. “That’s the letter A, the number two, and then the letters R and X.”

  “That’s not a two,” Walter corrected me. “That’s a Z. Now do you understand?”

  “AZ,” I read aloud. I could feel the tumblers in my brain moving into place. My voice a whisper, I said, “Annalise Zacarias.”

  “You got it.”

  “But what does the RX mean?” I asked. Maybe it all made sense to Walter, but it remained a mystery to me.

  “RX is often used as shorthand for research,” Walter explained. “In other words, these four letters that Erin wrote mean ‘Annalise Zacarias’s research.’ And what follows is supposed to be a skull and crossbones.”

  A skull and crossbones. Exactly what Sunny’s take on the crude drawing had been.

  I frowned. “Does that mean that Dr. Zacarias’s research is dangerous?”

  “It means that what Zacarias found out while she was doing research is dangerous.”

  I was still confused. “Dangerous to Erin?”

  Walter must have noticed the perplexed look on my face because he sighed. “I think I’d better go back to the beginning.”

  He took a deep breath as if he found what he was about to tell me upsetting.

  “The night of the fund-raiser, I went along to keep Erin company. We certainly didn’t want people to know we were seeing each other, but she had an extra ticket and there was no way she was going to bring Ben. By that point, the two of them were barely on speaking terms. Anyway, she didn’t think it would be much fun to go alone, and everyone knew that she and I had been working together. In the end, she decided it would seem harmless enough.

  “And it turned out she was right. Erin and me showing up together wasn’t the problem; the problem was what went on that night between Zacarias and Erin.”

  “What happened?”

  “Zacarias got Erin alone, and once they were out of earshot, she told Erin that while she was in Africa, doing her usual thing at her research center, she got into a conversation with some of the locals about the poaching problem.” He paused. “The name Donald Drayton came up.”

  I drew in my breath sharply. “So Dr. Zacarias knew that Erin’s husband and his business partner were involved in the illegal animal trade.”

  “That’s right. Apparently she’d overheard Erin talking about her husband’s new chain of pet stores, and in the course of the conversation Erin mentioned that Donald Drayton was Ben’s business partner. For some reason, Zacarias had remembered his name, so when she heard it again, a lightbulb went off.

  “After she came back to the United States, she’d done some investigating. That’s how she came up with the address of one of the places where Drayton stores animals he’s had smuggled in to fill orders he’s gotten from his customers.”

  “The self-storage facility in Bellpoint Beach,” I whispered.

  “Exactly. Zacarias told Erin that was the only address she was certain of, but that she knew there were others. That’s the meaning of the plus sign Erin wrote over here.”

  “So it was Dr. Zacarias who told Erin the truth about the business Ben was running with Drayton,” I said, thinking aloud.

  “Yup. And I’m sure she told her about it with a real sense of triumph. Having the ammunition she needed to discredit Erin probably meant more to Zacarias than the fact that she could have gone to any one of these organizations listed on this napkin to turn in both Donald Drayton and Ben Chandler.”

  With a bitter laugh, Walter added, “Zacarias may love animals, but she loves herself even more. And she suddenly had Erin—who she saw as the competition—exactly where she wanted her.”

  “How did Erin respond when Dr. Zacarias confronted her with all this?” I asked.

  Walter’s face clouded. “That’s the part that fills me with regret. Over having told Erin what I knew about Zacarias, I mean.”

  I blinked as a few more tumblers turned. “Are you saying that Erin told Dr. Zacarias that she knew she was stealing from the zoo?”

  He nodded. “Of course, Zacarias denied it at first. And when Erin said she’d found out from me, Zacarias just laughed and said that no one would believe either of us.

  “But then Erin told her that I’d printed out copies of both sets of financial records as proof of her financial finagling. Zacarias knew she was cornered. Still, at that point, the two of them had struck a sort of balance. They each had something on the other. Erin knew Zacarias was stealing from the zoo and Zacarias knew Erin’s husband was a criminal.”

  I was silent for a few seconds as I tried to digest everything Walter was telling me. “It sounds as if Erin told you everything that happened that night,” I finally commented, “practically word for word.”

  Walter nodded. “I ran into her in the hallway right outside the room where she and Zacarias had their confrontation. From the look on her face, I knew immediately that something terrible had happened. We sneaked outside where no one could hear us and she told me all about it.

  “Then we heard the speeches starting. We didn’t want anyone to notice our absence, so we hurried back to the dining room. But believe me, what Erin had just learned was still very much on her mind. So while some muckety-muck from the zoo was making a speech, Erin grabbed a paper napkin and wrote down those notes you showed me.”

  Pointing to the different lines on the page, he said, “She wrote down the address of the self-storage facility—see, 100 Brown Street in Bellpoint Beach—because she wanted to mak
e sure she didn’t forget it. She also jotted down the initials of some of the largest and most active animal conservation organizations because she wanted to find out more about what she now knew her husband was involved in.”

  “She must have been devastated,” I said. “I realize that she and Ben weren’t getting along that well, and that it was at least partly due to his absorption with his newfound wealth. But I can’t imagine how she must have felt when she found out the real source of all that money!”

  “She was beside herself,” Walter replied. “In a way, she was dying to turn him in herself because she was so outraged. But she not only had some sense of loyalty to the man she’d been married to for ten years, she also realized how badly it would compromise her goal of promoting animal conservation. Especially since Zacarias was clearly determined to use it against her in every way possible.”

  “But Erin must have known that sooner or later Dr. Zacarias would go public with what she knew.”

  “Of course she did. She understood that even though she and Zacarias were on even ground, at some point Zacarias would realize how precarious her situation was. She had to have figured out that Erin was completely devoted to animals and that it was only a question of time before she went to the authorities. In fact, Erin was on the verge of doing exactly that when Zacarias killed her.”

  “So Dr. Zacarias had to have known that Erin was about to turn in her own husband,” I said.

  “She must have figured it out somehow,” Walter agreed.

  “Which means she also understood that once Erin had no more reason to fear Dr. Zacarias’s retribution, she was likely to turn her in as well,” I mused.

  “That’s what I believe,” Walter replied. “And I’ve given this a lot of thought. In fact, it’s pretty much all I’ve been able to think about since Erin was murdered.”

  His voice grew hoarse as he added, “As soon as I heard, I knew exactly who the guilty party was. I also knew that I was partly to blame. If I’d done things differently, Erin would still be alive.”

  No matter how hard I tried to convince Walter that he was in no way responsible for Erin’s death, I couldn’t stop him from feeling guilty. The fact that he had such strong feelings for her made the whole situation even more tragic.

  He seemed so sure that Annalise Zacarias had killed Erin that it was hard not to be equally convinced. I really believed what I’d said about him being the person who was closest to Erin during the last weeks of her life. And, I mused, working at the zoo meant that Zacarias had access to all sorts of exotic animals, not just the primates in her department. I wondered if the New York Zoo housed a yellow fat tail scorpion—maybe it was worth giving Forrester a call to see if he knew. Yet, even still, I couldn’t prove who had ultimately killed Erin. The only thing for certain was that Erin knew her husband and his business partner were involved in illegal animal smuggling, which meant that there was a good possibility she had confronted one or both of them, and either Ben Chandler or Donald Drayton had murdered her.

  It seemed so obvious that Erin’s death was related to the smuggling operation, and I had proof of that now that Walter had deciphered her scribblings on the cocktail napkin. Maybe I should just turn it over to the police and let them sort out which of the participants was the murderer.

  I was wryly contemplating the possibility of Falcone taking any evidence I presented seriously when I turned my van off Minnesauke Lane. As I trundled down the long driveway, I nearly collided with a taxi that was on its way out, a reminder that Betty and Winston were coming home today. My first impulse was to rush over to welcome them back. Instead, I decided to give them some space. From Betty’s distraught e-mails, it sounded as if the newlyweds had had enough company lately.

  Besides, I was anxious to get settled back in my cottage. While Betty’s mansion had been wonderfully luxurious, I was glad that I was moving back home. My little house could definitely be described as humble, but it was mine, all mine. I was eager to unpack Nick’s and my belongings, which we’d lugged back to our place early that morning. I was also anxious to see my animals, who were happily ensconced back in the cottage.

  I was putting the last pair of jeans into a drawer when I heard a soft knock. Suspecting that it was finally time for a homecoming celebration, I raced to the front door and flung it open.

  “Welcome home!” I cried, throwing my arms around Betty. “I’m so happy to see you!”

  “I’m happy to see you too,” Betty exclaimed, returning the hug. “I want to hear all about everything that went on while I was away!”

  “But you’re the one who was off on an adventure,” I replied. “Come in. I’ll make us some tea.”

  “I’d love some tea. Goodness, I missed you.” Bending down to pet the canine contingent of my entourage, both of whom were giving her a real hero’s welcome, she burbled, “I missed all of you!”

  Betty looked surprisingly relaxed, not to mention quite content. Somehow, the way she was glowing didn’t quite fit with the distressed tone of her e-mails. I decided she was simply a better sport than I was. After all, I’d run into a similar situation myself when Nick’s parents had moved in with us for a few days, taking over our bedroom while we camped out on the lumpy fold-out couch.

  “I’m sorry your honeymoon was such a disaster,” I said as I joined her on the couch. I set down a tray with the makings of an impromptu tea party. In my case, that meant two cups of water boiled in the microwave, a couple of store-brand teabags, and a handful of the cookies I’d found stashed in my freezer.

  “Actually,” Betty replied, her blue eyes twinkling, “it turned out quite well. Winston and I finally came up with the perfect solution to our house full of unwanted houseguests.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, widening my eyes.

  She smiled impishly. “We sneaked out of the villa one day and did some poking around town. We found a charming little pensione just a few miles away and booked a room on the top floor with a balcony and a fabulous view. A very private room. Then we went home, packed our things, and left his children a note—one that didn’t include our new address.”

  “Good for you!” I cried.

  So maybe there really is such a thing as happily ever after, I mused. At least where Betty and Winston are concerned.

  My stomach tightened as I wondered if Nick and I could manage to pull off such a happy ending.

  I was still pondering that question after Betty went home to unpack. Given the fact that I would be walking down the aisle in less than two weeks, I knew my answer should be a resounding “Yes!”

  I nursed my third cup of tea, meanwhile trying to ignore the mild anxiety that continued to grip me. Watching Lou play his new game was a pretty good distraction. I only hoped he’d be able to keep himself occupied for a while, since I wasn’t in the mood for crawling around on the floor.

  But it wasn’t long before he began making little barking sounds, looking up at me pleadingly every now and then.

  “Please, Lou,” I begged. “Not now.”

  Pleas for mercy were clearly not part of his working vocabulary. Instead of taking pity on me, he let out a whimper, an annoying, high-pitched sound that made me glad I was no longer living in close proximity to Betty’s collection of fine crystal.

  “Lou-ou-ou,” I whined, “will you please stop doing that? I’m not in the mood for playing fetch right now. Not when I’m the one who’s expected to do the fetching!”

  He just stared at me woefully with his big brown eyes.

  “Oh, all right,” I finally agreed with a sigh. “But just this once, okay? I’m not going to do this over and over again.”

  With an exasperated sigh, I got down on the floor in front of the couch, then lay flat on my stomach and stretched my arm under the couch. Naturally, the tennis ball wasn’t within easy reach. Oh, no, that would have been too easy.

  So I flattened myself even further, putting my cheek on the floor so I could peer underneath. I spotted the tennis ball, all ri
ght. But as I pulled it out and passed it on to my excited Dalmatian, I saw that tennis balls weren’t the only things Lou had gotten into the habit of pushing under the couch.

  An interesting array of artifacts was tucked away near the wall, all of them coated with clumps of dust. I cupped my hand and pulled out the whole collection at once. A bottle cap, a quarter, a half-eaten cookie that had probably fallen onto the floor unnoticed, a piece of paper that looked like the corner of a take-out menu . . .

  There was something else as well. Something I didn’t recognize right away.

  It looked like a piece of clear plastic that had chipped off a larger piece. Embedded inside was a thin strip of metal that had been crafted into a specific shape. It looked like a company logo.

  It wasn’t until I studied it closely in the bright light that I realized what it was. Or at least what I thought it was.

  My heart thumped loudly in my chest as I grabbed my laptop, typed eight letters into Google, and clicked on the first website that came up. I held my breath as I waited for the page to load.

  Seconds later, an insignia filled the screen, one that the plastic shard in my hand could have fit into like the piece of a puzzle. Right below it were the words Maserati: Excellence Through Passion.

  Chapter 17

  “By trying often the monkey learns to jump from the tree.”

  —African proverb

  I put down my laptop and picked up my second favorite technological advancement. Nick answered my call on the first ring.

  “Jess?” he answered anxiously, no doubt having spotted my name on his caller ID. “What’s going on?”

  “You’ll never guess what I found under the couch just now!”

  “Let me see,” he replied dryly. “More dust than the archeologists found in King Tut’s tomb?”

  “Nick, this is serious. I’ll give you a clue: It’s something Lou must have pushed under there with his nose.”