by Ruby Loren
“We’re going home. You can come and see us, but this sort of treatment just isn’t fair!” He gently took Zara’s arm and led her back down the corridor towards the doors at the end.
The detectives and I watched in silence, as the double doors slammed closed behind them.
“You’d have to be deaf to not hear that,” Detective Toyne commented.
3
The Parson
“You’re home early. You said the meeting was going to be super long and boring. I guess they surprised you, right?" Lowell said when I’d made my way into the kitchen and slumped down onto a kitchen stool.
I adjusted my position and then realised I’d picked the wrong piece of furniture for a truly effective slouch.
“Someone murdered a woman and knocked out one of the PR team. They used a wooden stake to pin the corpse to the cork board with all of the Halloween ideas on it,” I told him.
It was both a credit and a concern that Lowell didn’t flinch.
“Does this have something to do with Zara? It sounds like her stalker just graduated from vermin to larger prey," he said, thoughtfully.
I threw him a warning look and he grinned self-consciously. “Sorry, I'm still in work mode. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine apart from the mental scarring,” I told him with a sigh.
“Stop being dramatic,” he said, standing up and walking over to the gas hob. "Hot chocolate?”
I thought about telling him how horrific the scene had been and how I couldn’t even begin to think about eating or drinking anything - possibly ever again.
I looked wistfully at the packet of marshmallows he’d got out and my stomach growled. “Oh, fine. Yes,” I said, still peeved that this was the full extent of Lowell's sympathy for me.
“So, tell me exactly what happened,” he said, while he stirred the milk.
I'd just about finished giving my account when he opened the fridge and pulled out a can of squirty cream with a flourish.
After a sip of my amazing hot chocolate, I revised my opinion that it wasn’t as good as sympathy. I felt more snug and warm than if I'd been bundled up in a blanket with someone patting my head and telling me that everything would be okay.
“Detective Toyne sounds like he’s in the wrong job,” Lowell commented after several moments of thought.
I nodded. “There was definitely friction between Maynard and Toyne. Maynard said that Toyne had come highly recommended, which I figure must mean he just transferred.”
“Hmm, the way he’s behaving says to me that he considers this job a step down. If he came with such great references, I wonder why he took a job in such a rural community?”
I shrugged my shoulders to show I had no clue as to what had motivated Detective Toyne's career move.
“I’ll pull some strings and see if I can find out anything,” Lowell said, casually dropping into conversation that he was very well connected.
I smiled a little, reading between the lines. He wanted to show that he was every bit as equal to the two detectives who’d interviewed me. I thought I knew why, too.
“How’s working at the fashion outlet going?” I asked, sweetly.
Lowell’s expression immediately turned dark. “It’s horrible. The women just talk about spending their wages on the gear that comes in, and the men judge the clothes I’m wearing. I don't fit in,” he said, solemnly.
I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Lowell surrounded by fashionistas. His idea of fashion was jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. I thought he looked great, but I had a feeling his colleagues would have more up to date ideas. “I bet you're wishing you let the newest detective at the agency handle it.”
Lowell looked bleak. “I heard them whispering something about an emergency intervention. They stopped talking when I got close. Do you think they’re all in on it?”
“Mmm… you should watch out. It’s worse than you think. They're planning to give you a makeover.”
Lowell's face was a picture.
“I’m not some teenage prom queen!” he growled.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “What films have you been watching?”
He stalked over to the sofa, just beyond the kitchen table, and slumped down in a sulk.
I turned away and rolled my eyes before I picked up my hot chocolate and went over to the big baby private detective.
“I gather that means you haven’t figured out who’s responsible for the thefts?” I asked him.
“I haven't got a clue,” he admitted and let out a lengthy sigh. “Just like a fraud case, it’s going to take time. Although, I wish it could be solved tomorrow.”
"But you get to hang out with me! Surely that makes it all better?”
I waited, but Lowell was already thinking about something else.
“How about we swap jobs? I'd rather risk a killer with a Buffy complex than spend another day in the world of wannabe fashion models.”
“The funny thing is, I think I’d rather risk a deranged psychopath too,” I told him with a grin.
"I can’t wait to see your makeover.”
He tried to confiscate my hot chocolate and a fight broke out.
“Hey! Did you really just bite me?” he complained.
“You were trying to take my chocolate away!”
It was at times like these that I thought we almost seemed like a married couple. Unfortunately, there were plenty of other times when were just about as far from it as you could get.
I was up bright and early the next morning. Perhaps it was a little strange to be throwing myself back into work after what I'd witnessed the previous evening, but it actually made me feel better. A woman had lost her life in a horrific way, but there were lives close at hand that needed saving. It was better to focus on what I could affect, rather than what was beyond my control.
The previous day, I’d asked the zookeepers if they minded me feeding the lions for a day or two. I wanted to observe the pride more closely and try out some of the same techniques that had been so effective on the big cats at L’airelle Zoological Park in France. Whether or not they’d work for this sad collection of lions remained to be seen.
I looked at the pride and sighed. I’d tempted them into the pen (used as sleeping quarters when the winter set in) by placing their breakfast there. I knew that the moment they’d finished picking at the carcass and were let out, they’d return to their usual haunt. The grass where they spent their time was now little more than a bald piece of dirt.
“Let’s see if we can’t shake things up a bit,” I said, opening up the exterior fence and motioning that it was safe for the workmen to come in.
Today, I was working as a landscaper. The builders had been briefed on the series of platforms, all connected with slatted ladders, or thick tree trunks. I'd also included a raised lodge that I hoped the lions would take shelter in on days when the weather was less hospitable. At the moment, the only place they had to go was back into their sleeping quarters.
The architecture wasn’t the only thing I was changing. The enclosure, though big, was not exactly stimulating for the big cats. A couple of withered saplings were the only deviation from the plain grass, and even the grass was in dire need of a change. Horticulture wasn't a particular strength of mine, so I wasn't sure if the grass which grew in the enclosure had been selected, or had just happened to grow. All I knew was that it was dreadful. It grew flat on the ground and was spiky to touch. I suspected it was due to being close to the coast, but I knew there were other varieties of grass that might appeal more to a lion.
Which type in particular, I was going to leave to the landscaping team I’d convinced the zoo owners to hire. While the workmen started moving bits of wood around, the landscaping team brought in pots of long, flowing grass, that I knew lions would love to practice their stalking in.
Then all they’d need would be something to stalk. That was one job I had left for myself. Something I’d wanted to do at my past two jobs was to discover a way to i
nfluence a return to big cat behaviour closer to that of their wild counterparts.
With herbivorous zoo animals, it wasn’t such a problem. Their behaviours and instincts remained intact and they often benefited from the lack of predators in terms of life expectancy.
The same could not be said for the predators. They retained their instincts, which was why unwary members of the public - and even zookeepers - had ended up in the lion’s jaws, so to speak. I wanted to give the big cats an outlet for the instincts I knew they had buried inside of them.
When it came to the lions at Pendalay Zoo, I thought these instincts were buried about as deep as the Mariana Trench.
“Time will tell,” I muttered to myself, while I continued my careful examination of the interior fences and walls. I pulled out my tape measure and took a few notes, a bubble of excitement already growing inside me. I had so many ideas I couldn't wait to try out. If even just one of my strategies helped these lions, it would be brilliant.
“I really hope this works,” I said, not wanting to think about the alternative.
The hard graft taking place in the lions’ enclosure meant I completely lost track of time. Consequently, my lunch break was later than I’d anticipated.
I walked out of the enclosure feeling pretty good about the work that had been done so far today. The platforms had been erected and the lodge only needed the roof nailing on.
The landscapers had done a great job too. The grass was firmly planted and the various trees and bushes I’d plotted out had all been added, too. I hoped that these changes to the lions’ environment would give long term benefits. My fingers were crossed that there’d be a short term difference too, but we’d have to see about that.
When I returned from lunch, I thought I’d be able to put a few finishing touches on what I’d been working on before it would be time to let the lions loose and see what they made of it all. At the very least, I was hoping they wouldn't make a return to their usual behaviour. I was pretty confident about that. Mostly because a platform now stood on top of the patch where they’d spent their days immobile.
The staffroom at Pendalay Zoo wasn't half bad. That was probably because it had never been intended as a staffroom. The building I walked into to collect my lunch had once been a vaguely safari themed restaurant of some kind. Now it worked as a pretty spacious staffroom. It pleased me that the Johnsons hadn't elected to re-open the restaurant. I knew from experience that it was tempting to try to do everything at once, but it wasn't the way to success. The zoo owners were focusing on getting the animals healthy and improving their reputation as a zoo, and for that I was thankful. It meant they understood what zoos were about at heart.
I was about to take a bite from my antisocial tuna sweetcorn sandwich when someone shouted my name.
“Lyra! How are you?!” I said, stunned to see her walk in with a stack of posters. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been on the floor with so much blood in her hair I’d initially thought she was dead.
“I’m fine apart from a bit of a headache,” she said with a grimace. “Actually, I think I’m doing better than everyone else in the group. I never actually saw what happened to that woman, Jayne. All I remember is turning to go into the office because I thought Zara was in there. The next thing I remember is waking up in hospital with stitches in my scalp.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal that the same person who’d brutally murdered Jayne Fairfax had knocked her out cold and could have done much worse.
“To be honest, I wanted to get out of the office. That’s why I offered to put up posters. Zara is trying to keep it together and push the team on but everyone else is moping about. It’s like there's a competition to see who was damaged the most by the situation. Then there's the Adrian problem…"
“The Adrian problem?”
Lyra nodded. “No one’s saying anything, but apparently he said he knew the woman who died and that it was her company that was responsible for ruining his business. That doesn’t look good.”
I frowned. “Adrian shared a lift with Alex. Why would anyone think he had anything to do with it?”
Lyra widened her eyes imploringly. “His car broke down on the way back. Don’t you think that’s kind of a big coincidence?”
I gave her a look and she seemed to shake herself. “Wow. I just listened back to what I said. I think that bang on the head must have affected me. I sound just like the other office weirdos, searching for gossip!”
“Pleased you’re back to rational thought,” I joked.
She smiled back at me but it soon faded. "What happened to that poor woman is nuts. I don't understand why anyone would do that to her. What had she done to deserve it?”
I shook my head at her. All the same, I couldn’t help but think that there was one person who’d probably thought she deserved a little payback. I didn’t want to indulge in the office gossip, but I did wonder just how badly Adrian might want revenge on the woman who’d ruined his business dreams.
“All right, let’s go!” I said, opening the gate that separated the lions’ sleeping quarters from the main enclosure. Dusk was fast approaching and I wanted to see what they made of the initial changes before the light failed.
Apparently they were underwhelmed.
I watched as the pride loped out across the remaining stubby grass, barely pausing to sniff my faux savannah meadow. The small grove of trees and bushes was also incredibly boring. My heart only rose a little when the smallest lioness seemed to examine the lowest platform. The others had already settled down as close to their usual place as they could get.
I watched the small lioness with my fingers crossed. “Come on, give me something. Show me that there’s still hope,” I whispered through the glass.
The lioness turned her head away and my heart sank all the way into my shoes. I was already halfway into my sigh when she looked back and sprang up onto the platform.
It wasn’t the most elegant of movements and judging by the look of surprise on her face, she’d forgotten that she had it in her. My eyes were drawn back to the rest of the pride but they looked as sedated as ever. “It’s enough though. It’s a start,” I told myself with the smallest of smiles, as I watched the lioness flop down on the lowest platform, raising herself above her peers in more than one way.
It was only when I got home that I realised my phone had run out of battery, sat in my pocket all day.
“Hmm, I wonder when that happened?” I said to Lucky, rubbing his head before plugging it in to the wall.
Lowell had a late shift tonight. A big stockist was coming to view samples and Lowell’s employer had specifically requested he stay, as they suspected most products went missing during big sales like the one planned this evening. The thief was clever and had worked out that no one would be quite sure what had and hadn’t been taken when there were big sales going on. I knew that Lowell hoped tonight would be a breakthrough.
A few moments later, my phone flashed back to life and buzzed as several notifications came through.
“What on earth…” I muttered, looking at the phone screen.
I had eight voicemails. Usually I never got a single call!
With some trepidation, I dialled the number for voicemail and began to listen.
The first was from my friend Tiff, just asking me to call for a bit of a catch up. I thought her tone of voice hinted that she had something on her mind, but with seven other messages to listen to, I’m afraid I didn't dwell on it for too long.
The next five messages were from the PR team. With the exception of Lyra, everyone had called - even Zara. They all started by asking how I was holding up and then went on to say I could call them back if I wanted. I tried not to tut at the insincerity of it all. I didn’t believe any of them were heartless enough to not be upset, but I also knew that gossiping was their way of coping. I was just a convenient listening ear - someone outside of the group. It was definitely enough to make me regret the number swapping we’d done dur
ing the first meeting.
The message after Zara’s was from Detective Toyne. He wanted me to call him back to answer a few questions. By the tone of voice, I thought I’d definitely rubbed him up the wrong way when we’d met the previous evening. That or perhaps he was still hurting from whatever reprimands Detective Maynard had undoubtedly handed out.
The most interesting voicemail was the last one, which turned out to be from Teagan’s husband, a man who introduced himself as ‘Parson Green’. He said he was concerned by what he’d heard had happened. According to him, Teagan had spoken very highly of me, and as I wasn’t one of Zara’s employees, he thought I was the best person to come to with his worries.
With curiosity that I suspected I would regret later, I called him back.
“Hi, this is Madigan Amos."
“Hello, Madi! Thanks for calling me back,” the man on the other end of the line said. I could tell he was trying to be disarmingly friendly, but there was something forced about it.
“I was wondering if you'd be up for meeting me for a chat? You're local aren’t you? I have a couple of problems I think you’ll be able to help with. How does Maisy’s Fudge and Coffee sound? If you're staying in Pendalay, you’re only a five or ten minute walk away.”
“You mean right now?” I asked, surprised by the urgency.
“Yes, now would be perfect," he replied, as though I’d suggested the meeting myself.
I hesitated for a couple of moments, thinking this through. A man I'd never met before had called and asked to meet with me alone, the day after a woman had been murdered by a mysterious killer. A killer who might be stalking Zara, if it was all tied in together.
“Couldn’t we just chat on the phone?” I said, weakly.
“I'm afraid I can’t. I only use phones in the utmost of emergencies, as they weaken your connection to the divine.”