Did Not Survive (12 page)

“Did you ever get your own kiln?” I asked.

“No. The landlord won't permit it. He thinks I'll set the building on fire. I can't afford anyplace else.” She looked frustrated. Ceramics were serious with her, and Birds had beautiful leaf-like water bowls as a result.

Sam came in to drop off giraffe and llama fecal samples, annoyed because Ian wasn't on the job. “I sent him to the Commissary for a salt block, and he never came back.” We explained that he'd been hijacked. Sam picked up an ointment for a split starting in one of Nakri's toenails and left.

“I should go,” I said. “You don't need me here.” I opened the door to leave at the same time Dr. Reynolds opened it to enter.

“So what's the problem?” she asked, a little curtly.

“He moved,” I said. “A lot. So we left him in the van. We wanted back-up.”

“Well, back-up is here. You saw normal agonal twitches, which is post-mortem muscle activity. That animal is dead. Let's get him into the necropsy room. Where's the van?”

“Right outside,” I said, and walked out onto the little porch.

No van.

“Maybe Hap moved it,” I said. Why would he do that? He was as scared as the rest of us. I called him at the Commissary.

“You ready to move him?” he asked. “I want the vet or a shotgun.”

“Hap, where'd you put the van?”

Hap hadn't put the van anywhere. The van had vanished, tiger and all.

Chapter Twelve

It was a good half hour before we were all convinced the van was really gone. Hap used the hospital phone to check that no one from Maintenance or Grounds Keeping had moved it. I checked that neither Administration nor Education had taken a notion to use it. We put the word out over the radio asking if anyone could see it. Nada, zip, goose egg.

Back outside, standing in the road, Hap waved toward the gate and diagnosed the situation as a carjacking. “Somebody on Finley Road drove by, saw the van, grabbed the opportunity. Didn't even know the tiger was in there. That douche bag is going to get a big surprise. Be sweet if the tiger really is alive.”

We contemplated that for a moment as the sun broke out from cloud cover and dimmed again.

“He is not alive, and I'm not convinced the van was stolen,” Dr. Reynolds said. “Someone took it for zoo use. When we find out who it is, I'm going to have a word or two with them. You can't take off with a zoo vehicle any time you find one idle. Let me know when you find it.” She went back inside, the door closing firmly behind her.

Hap held out his open palm, showing us the key ring. “Didn't use these.”

“It's a joke,” Denny said. “Somebody's idea of a prank. Maybe Arnie or one of the maintenance guys.”

“It's only a prank if they know the tiger's in there. Otherwise, it's just irresponsible,” Linda pointed out. “They wouldn't know about the tiger unless they watched us load him. I think one of those Education volunteers took it for a program in a park somewhere.”

“Some crook got through the perimeter fence and jacked the van open,” Hap said. “Hotwired it. Quick on his feet.”

“Or someone grabbed another key off the key board at the maintenance barn,” I said. “I've got to get back to Birds. I'll stop by Maintenance and ask where they keep the keys.”

“Good luck,” Hap said. “Those boys are loose with keys.”

He was right. I talked to Ralph and José, who pointed me to the key board. They picked through the jumble and found another key they thought was for the van we'd used, but couldn't come up with a definite answer as to how many keys to that van actually existed. “They get lost, we get new ones made,” Ralph said. “Don't worry, that van is around here somewhere.”

I'd heard that before. It was more convincing the first time. “Did you see anyone take a key in the last half hour?”

They hadn't, but both had been working in back and wouldn't have noticed.

It seemed that the zoo's borders were surprisingly permeable. Picketers, thieves, and maybe a killer were coming and going freely without anyone seeing them. It was unsettling. I went back to Birds and the longer I worked, the madder I got. Some idiot had stolen Rajah. Once the creep figured it out, the old tiger's body would be dumped in a ditch on some lonely road, covered with brush, and forgotten. The van would be chopped and sold. We'd never find out what happened. Raj would rot like road kill.

I forgot the elderly owl in the cardboard box until late afternoon, and, stricken with guilt, carried him to the hospital. Dr. Reynolds was in her office at the computer. “Here's the owl. Where do you want me to put him?”

She organized her hair behind her neck. “You can leave him here. I'll have Kayla set him up in a cage. I've been looking for a chance to talk with you. It's been chaotic today—the van missing, sun bears fighting, reporters calling.” She put her arms on the desk, hands clasped together. “I want to apologize for asking you to investigate what happened to Kevin. Please don't make any inquiries or call attention to yourself. You shouldn't put yourself in danger in any way.”

This was a switch. Only a few days before, she wanted in the worst way for me to be her eyes and ears in the elephant barn. The exemption from spy duty was a relief, but puzzling. Why was she suddenly worried about me? “Any special reason?”

“Only that it could be risky, considering the situation as it is today. In fact, it's fine if you stop collecting the urine samples and stay out of the barn entirely. I'll find another way.”

She wasn't going to tell me the full story. I was sure she really wanted those samples. Mr. Crandall did, too. What was the problem, now that Damrey was declared innocent? Neither Sam nor Ian would go nuts and whack me for no reason. I was going to be on leave a lot in the near future, and I could use the brownie points. “I think pee collecting is safe, like you said. I don't mind doing it.”

“I'll look for an alternative anyway. It may take a few days.”

She was frowning when I escaped, a concerned frown.

I was halfway back to the aviary when I remembered the nasty-gram I'd found in Wallace's email. Go back and tell her? Keep it to myself for now? I didn't have any reason to keep it secret, but I didn't feel like walking back either. Next time I saw her, I'd mention it.

By day's end, I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I wanted to go home, eat dinner, grieve for Rajah, and get some sleep. At the time clock, Hap was stacking cans of marmoset food and turtle diet on the tall metal shelves that filled much of the Commissary. He was still working the missing van. “People steal cars to commit crimes,” he told me. “This carjacker will hit a bank or convenience store or whatever, drive the van to some meeting point, get picked up by his buddy, and leave the van behind. He might never even look under that tarp. Cops are watching for the license plate. We'll get it back.”

Denny was still hanging around and overheard. “I told Jackie to be sure the taxidermists are notified. He might find Raj and want a tiger skin rug.”

“Ugh!” I said. “That is too gross.”

“Well, yeah,” Denny agreed. “I'm just saying it's a possibility. Here's another one—”

“Bye,” I said and scooted out the door.

“Ire, wait!” Denny came barreling out after me. “We need to plan. Synergy. Find out what happened to Wallace like we agreed.”

“Like we agreed?” This must be debris from my meltdown at Marcie's.

“Don't you want to walk through strategies? I figure I should look into alibis while you focus on motivations. Take advantage of male and female energies.”

Where did he get
his
energy? He was forever fidgeting, pacing, and waving his hands. Watching him wore me out. Maybe I needed more goji berries. “Let's talk later. I'm beat. It's been a bad day.”

“Yeah, that it's been. I want to check out the construction crew. Also, Crandall might tell me if Wallace was working on something secret. I'll give it a try.”

I was moving toward the employee lot, but this stopped me. “Denny, these are terrible ideas. You'll get the crews upset, and Mr. Crandall will nail your hide to the wall.”

“Okay, okay, I'll work the taxidermists. And alibis.”

“Great idea. Let me know what you find out.”

“Oh, try to sleep on your left side, okay? More oxygen to the baby.”

He was relentless, and I was not in a good mood. “Denny, do you spend all your spare time on the internet finding this pregnancy stuff? Aren't you supposed to be playing video games and trading comics? Take Marcie to a concert or something. Obsess elsewhere, like at your girlfriend.”

He opened the door to his van looking embarrassed. I didn't expect it to last.

I parked the Honda in the same spot every day by the back fence of the employee lot so that I could find it even when tired and hungry. When I opened the door, Sam popped out of his old Volvo two rows over. Waiting for me, it turned out.

“Iris. Got a minute?”

“What's up?” I hoped my voice didn't reveal the wariness I felt. I backed into the driver's seat and sat, leaving the door open.

“Something I should have said this morning.” Sam put a hand on my car roof and leaned toward me.

“What's that?”

“Don't be alone with Ian, especially not in back of the barn where no one can see. I think he's nuts. You be careful. That's all.” He straightened up and started back toward his car.

“Sam! You can't lay that on me and walk away. Come back and tell me what Ian ever did to make you think that.”

Whether he heard me or not wasn't evident. He shut the door of his car and drove out of the parking lot. A beige sedan pulled out from where it was parked on Finley Road. I couldn't see the driver clearly, but it looked like a man. Black hair. He followed Sam's Volvo.

Chapter Thirteen

I woke up before the alarm the next morning, thanks to aching hips and a fragmentary dream of a Komodo dragon loose in the house with the dogs. While an improvement on dreams of dead people, it was not a pleasant introduction to the day. Why couldn't I have a sweet dream of baby pintail ducks or a visitation from Rajah's spirit to tell me he was happy in the afterlife? Or I'd settle for sleeping until the alarm went off.

I sat alone, not counting the dogs, at the dining room table and ate my granola, blueberries, and giant pregnancy vitamin pill. I had time to fire up the computer and check the news online, hoping that someone had found Rajah. Monday's
OregonLive.com
and Vancouver's
Columbian.com
carried stories about his death and theft, featuring current photos of Mr. Crandall and old ones of Rajah in his prime. Police were investigating. Anyone with information was encouraged to come forward. Both articles closed with a sober mention of the fatal incident at the elephant barn.

Talk radio, on the other hand, on the way to work, considered tiger-napping a hilarious antidote to stock market declines and a plane crash. What a bunch of clowns those zoo keepers were! I snapped the radio off and drove the rest of the way rehearsing a vehement phone call to the station.

I walked to Elephants, but not to the viewing area or the outside exhibit. Instead I unlocked the nearest gate to the visitor perimeter fence and strolled behind the barn and then across a twenty-foot-wide swath of mowed grass to the zoo's outer perimeter fence. Dr. Reynolds couldn't switch off another person's curiosity, at least not mine. I had my own reasons to figure out what had happened here. Eight feet of stout mesh with three strands of barbed wire at the top kept intruders at bay. Small trees grew in clumps in the space between fences, maybe the source of some of the browse fed to the elephants.

A big shed sat behind the barn, close to the outer perimeter fence. Inside was a huge pile of manure and bedding, sitting there to compost for use on the zoo grounds and Vancouver parks. The open front of the shed was designed for easy access by the small front-loader parked nearby. The shed's metal roof sloped toward the back. I checked out the space between the outer perimeter fence and the shed roof, perhaps eight feet of clear space. I couldn't see any way to get out of the zoo by that route or into it, either. The fence looked good both directions from the elephant barn, no holes or washouts. I shrugged and gave up and walked back through the gate.

I watched the elephants for a moment from the visitor area, stalling. I wasn't eager to face the anger and tension inside the barn. Now that I knew for sure she was blind, I noticed the way Damrey moved, touching walls and the floor lightly with her trunk and sniffing around constantly. Still, she walked with confidence and didn't bump into anything. The whole facility, inside and out, did seem awfully small for two big animals.

Sam appointed himself my guardian for the day's sample collection, but his role was undemanding. Damrey and Nakri delivered the goods, and I paid them off. We stood at the front stall while Ian hosed out the back stall, out of ear shot.

I couldn't help asking, “Sam, why don't you do this yourself? You don't really need me.”

Sam shrugged, annoyed. “Didn't seem like a good idea to be locked into a new responsibility when we're short-handed. Like today, we've got TB tests scheduled for the girls. That takes time. I thought the pee samples would take longer than they do. Anyway, it's not my job to carry out other people's projects.”

Even if it benefits elephants? I let it go. “Last night you told me Ian was nuts and dangerous and to stay away from him. What makes you so sure? What's he done?”

“I'm not sure of anything. I just don't want anyone else getting hurt.”

Was it that simple, or did he want me to be suspicious of Ian?

Sam gave me a look I couldn't interpret. “I've got to get going.”

“That's pretty strong stuff if you've got nothing to back it up.”

“Nothing you'd take seriously.”

“Try me.”

Sam shook his head.

I asked, “What do you think happened to Wallace?”

“I wish I knew.”

He turned toward the person door, curving an arm to shoo me out.

I ignored the body language. “Why was he here alone so early?”

“Beats me.”

This was going at least as well as my chat with Ian. “He saw someone sneaking around a few days before the attack.”

“Yeah. Dr. Reynolds mentioned it. I haven't seen anyone. Sometimes people come over the fence down by the duck pond, but they've never gotten into the barn or caused any trouble.”

Any trouble at Elephants. Vandals caused plenty of trouble elsewhere in the zoo.

Sam looked at me, considering. He said, “You know that Dr. Reynolds and Wallace were seeing each other?”

Where did that come from? “Yeah, I finally caught on.”

“Wallace wasn't the only one who liked her. Ian can't take his eyes off her or string two words together when she's around.”

Ian couldn't string two words together at the best of times. But I took his point. “And?”

“Something to keep in mind. We'd all like to know what happened here.”

“Are you saying that Ian clocked Wallace to have a clear shot at Dr. Reynolds?” This was chilling on multiple levels—that Sam would think so, that he would share it with me, that it might even be true.

“No, no. But you have to wonder if it fits in somehow, Ian obsessing about her. Did you notice that Ian didn't say a word to stick up for Damrey when everyone thought she'd killed Wallace? Kept his mouth shut and let it roll.”

“At lunch one day, Arnie called her a rogue and Ian said she wasn't.”

“Not exactly a stirring defense. He's worked with her long enough. He should know she wouldn't kill someone. That was a damned dirty trick, to kill a man and set it up for Damrey to take the blame.”

These were deep currents, and I was adrift. “Disagreeing with you about elephant management doesn't make him a murderer.”

“Of course not. He's probably just an ordinary jerk.” Again that considering look. “There's a lot Ian doesn't ever admit, a lot we don't know about him, but for some reason Wallace trusted him. He's supposedly got all this experience in other facilities. He and Wallace ganged up on me about one procedure after another.”

I had to be led by the hand to see the obvious. “They were talking to each other and not to you.” No wonder the man was pissed.

Sam watched Ian across the barn. “Wallace took to him like his long-lost little brother and quit being straight with me. I couldn't tell if he'd changed his mind about the new exhibit or the money ran out or what. He tap-danced around it and told me what wonderful ideas Ian had. I thought he respected me, but if he ever did, it evaporated. He completely undermined my authority with Ian.”

“You'll be in charge if you get the curator job.” I wouldn't want to be in Ian's boots.

“I shouldn't have said anything about that. I was mad, and I talked too much. I've got to get some work done. Don't go telling tales, all right?” He edged me toward the door.

I sent out a tendril toward a waning friendship. “Sam? You saved me and Damrey, when she was messing around with Wallace's body. Hap would have had to shoot her. You were amazing over the phone. I hope someday I can be that cool in a crisis.”

Sam shrugged. “It's my job. You're surprised I'm good at it?” He looked at me through lowered brows, a second's hesitation, and opened the door for me.

Nothing I had to offer would soothe that lacerated pride.

Outside, with every step toward the Penguinarium, I grew more certain that Sam was again manipulating me and that, at least for now, our friendship was on the shelf. Was he trashing Ian's reputation as preparation for firing him, if Sam got the promotion? Would he lie about Ian's infatuation with the veterinarian to implicate Ian in Wallace's murder? I felt queasy and depressed.

By three-thirty Calvin and I were looking forward to ending the day in good shape, as least as far as caring for birds went. Calvin was sneezing and snuffling from a head cold and chewing on zinc tablets. He fretted several times about transmitting it to me. I assured him that both my unborn child and I could survive the sniffles. Arnie stopped by to shoot the breeze. Calvin always had time for him and never seemed to notice that Arnie was not the most industrious keeper. I kept my head down, wrote up the reports, and succeeded in evading Arnie's interest. I wondered if I had what it took to be a senior keeper. Would Arnie do what I told him to? Doubtful.

“About time to head for the barn,” Calvin said, as he did at the end of every day. But the phone rang and he picked up. It was Jackie, reporting that one of the Children's Zoo parrots had bitten a kid. It must have been a tall, illiterate, and unsupervised kid, given the cage design and the warning sign on it. Calvin trudged off to deal with the parent and the snappish psittacine, Arnie trailing behind.

I finished the reports and clocked out a little late. The security guard chugged past, delivering Dr. Reynolds to her car. My back ached. I wanted a long, hot shower, the companionship of two fine dogs, and a whole lot of dinner. As I drove by the front of the zoo, I saw a familiar young man with black hair walking the picket circle alone. His sign read, “Tiger's body destroyed to hide fatal abuse?”