The Beast A DeckerLazarus Novel (9 page)

“Not to my eye,” Oliver said.

Sabrina sighed. “Something cracked in Hobart as time passed. He went from being rich and odd to being a very odd, rich man. What really scared me were the delusions.”

“What kind of delusions?”

“This is going to sound ridiculous, but he started to believe that he was a wild animal trapped in a human body much the way that people think that they’re vampires or witches or werewolves. In his case, he was certain that he was really some kind of a big cat. Sometimes it was a lion, sometimes it was a tiger. It wasn’t as if he lost his grip on reality. He could tell you every single stock on the NYSE. He was completely oriented. And he knew that he wasn’t
really
a big cat. He just felt that inside his human body was the soul of a tiger. He began to grow a wild beard. He also grew out his nails. He scratched the hell out of me every time we made love. Then he started to bite. Nibbles at first, but it progressed until several times, he broke skin. That was when I said to him, ‘Hobart, you need help.’”

“And?” Marge asked.

“He went into treatment. The psychiatrist told me that underneath the delusions was a severely depressed and schizoid man. So they medicated him and gave him mood elevators. He didn’t like the drugs. He claimed they interfered with his sexual function. That part wasn’t a delusion. But instead of going back for a different medication, he just dropped out. Once he was off the medication, he reverted back to his former ways. He got weirder and weirder. I’d finally had enough when he started marking the furniture.”

“Yikes,” Oliver said.

“I begged him to get help, but he flatly refused. He might have gotten help eventually if he hadn’t gotten involved with all those . . . clubs.”

Marge’s ears went on high alert. “What clubs?”

“Private clubs that did God only knows what as well as the crazy animal rights organizations that fed his delusions. He gave them money in exchange for their tolerance.”

Marge said, “Can you be more specific about the private clubs. It might give us a lead in his murder.”

“Sadomasochistic. This was years ago. I’m sure the ones he used have all folded and newer ones have popped up.” Sabrina sighed. “Hobart used to travel all over the country to ferret out the ones he liked. He found women who would dress up in cat suits and masks and have sex with him.”

“He told you this?” Oliver asked.

The woman’s face went red. “He confessed, but only after I found pictures of him humping young girls wearing tiger masks. I also found pictures of him with . . . animals. It was nauseating.”

Marge and Oliver nodded sympathetically.

“He said it wasn’t personal, that a tiger had to do what a tiger had to do.” She waved her hand in the air. “I mean, do I look like an idiot? I tried to reason with him . . . I held on as long as I could . . . but I knew it was over.”

Silence. Oliver said, “Ms. Talbot, if you could remember any of the names of the clubs—even if they’ve folded—it might help.”

“He never told me.” Sabrina examined her nails. “He moved out about a year after I found the pictures. The divorce was amicable. He gave me a very large settlement. His children were not happy about it. I couldn’t blame them. Hobart was not in his right mind. Being noble, being rich myself, and not wanting to get involved in lawsuits, I put two-thirds of the money into trusts for Hobart’s grandchildren. The other third was my combat pay. My generosity with the grandchildren did not go unappreciated. Gracie and I became friends. Darius called to thank me. The one thing the three of us did do was to convince Hobart—in one of his more lucid moments—to put his estate planning in the care of Darius’s law firm.”

“And he agreed?” Marge asked.

“Yes. Darius was smart about it. He funded whatever Hobart asked him to fund. Every so often, the two of them would go over his assets and how Hobart wanted to structure his will and what charities to give money to. So far as I know, there was never any impropriety on Darius’s part.”

She crossed her arms over her dirty shirt. “After we divorced, he slowly sank into the life of a recluse. He took that tiny wretched apartment. Eventually he just became a shut-in. Never went anywhere except to that sanctuary that he supported.”

“Global Earth Sanctuary?”

“Beats me.” A pause. “Talking about this has given me a big headache.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Talbot, but the conversation has been helpful,” Marge said. “I am curious about those sadomasochistic clubs. You asked who might have killed an eccentric old man, and now I have an idea. What if your ex-husband had been giving money to someone in the sex trade and suddenly stopped? These people are not only sleazy, they’re also dangerous. Maybe someone got angry.”

Sabrina said, “He hasn’t been going to those kinds of clubs for decades.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not positive but . . .” She shrugged.

“What about hiring out?” Oliver said. “Lots of escort services make house calls.”

“Maybe . . . if she could get past Tiki.”

Marge turned and faced Sabrina. “So you knew about the tiger?”

“Oh my word, she nearly bit my head off when I came to visit him that one time. I never went back.”

Oliver said, “Ms. Talbot, if you knew he kept a tiger, why didn’t you report it to authorities?”

She rubbed her temples. “Look, Detective, I should have. But at the time, I didn’t want to crush the only living thing that the man cared about. And I knew that Hobart would just mail away for another animal. Since Tiki seemed to be bonded to Hobart, I thought the known was better than the unknown.”

Sabrina checked her watch.

“I really do need to end this. I can’t say that this has been fun, but it’s been . . . therapeutic in a sense. I haven’t really thought about Hobart in years. I do hope you’ll catch the person who did this to him.”

Marge stood up. “Ms. Talbot, did you keep anything personal that belonged to your husband after he moved out?”

“Personal? Like diaries?”

“Diaries, letters, old photographs or old papers.”

“There might be a box or two of his possessions in the storage wing.”

“Do you think we might have a look at them?”

“Sure, but I don’t know exactly where they are or if I even have them anymore.”

“We don’t mind hunting around if it’s okay with you.” Oliver sneaked another cookie.

Sabrina said, “Would you like a box of cookies? I have a freezer full of them. Eleanor bakes them all the time.” Before he could answer, she pressed a button and the maid came back. “Could you give these nice people a box of your delicious cookies?”

“Yes, Madame. Of course, Madame.”

“Thank you.”

The maid left, and a moment later, Thor reappeared: a staff that ran like a well-oiled machine. “How can I help you?”

“Thor, could you take them to the storage wing for me? They want to see if I have anything left from my ex-husband.”

“They can stay here, Ms. Talbot. I can look around to see if you’ve retained anything from Mr. Penny.”

She looked at Oliver, who said, “We always find it helpful to hunt around ourselves.”

Marge said, “We understand if you don’t want two strangers looking around your belongings. He can come with us if that would make you feel better.”

“Yes, that would be a grand idea. I suppose it would be rather reckless of me to have you snoop around without supervision. Thor, go with the detectives. If they have any questions, feel free to answer them. But don’t get in their way.”

“Certainly, Ms. Talbot.”

“Take care.” She waved. “And don’t forget the cookies, Detective Oliver.”

“Thank you.”

“You can always come back for more.” She smiled. “Bye.”

When she left, Thor said, “This way.”

“Thank you,” Marge told him.

Thor walked six paces ahead down the marble hallway. Oliver whispered to Marge, “Was it my self-deluded ego or was she actually flirting with me?”

Marge shrugged. “The proper word is
toying
.”

“Sure wouldn’t mind being her plaything.” A big grin.

“Don’t be fooled by the charm. She could eat you for a prelude to a midnight snack.”

“Yum, yum.”

Marge laughed. “You know, Oliver, you’re lucky that I’ve got your back.” A beat. “I not only have your back, I’ve got it protected by a loaded gun. And let me tell you, brother, there’s nothing sexier in this world than a woman with a dead aim.”

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE GLOBAL EARTH
Sanctuary sat on acreage that was dissected by multiple sinuous trails hugging numerous enclosures of chain-link and barbed wire fencing. The air was filled with animal sounds: roars, growls, grunts, hoots, hollers, huffs, yips and yaps, and other things that go bump in the night. It smelled ripe, and the odor would have been stronger had it been warmer. Vignette was walking at a good clip, so Decker didn’t have a lot of time to look around. But on the occasions when he did turn his head, his eyes took in blurry and shadowed shapes walking on all fours. His own feet were feeling the chill even through his socks as he hiked up the narrow pathways of mud and pebbles. Eventually a man of about sixty years came into view. He was dressed in a work shirt, vest, jeans, and boots. He gave them a wave.

“Hi there, Vern. I’m going to check out Cody now.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Might be a good idea.” The three of them kept walking until they neared a cage containing an upright mass of fur that was limping and pacing at the same time. The animal wasn’t just roaring. It
was an ear-shattering bellow. It was only machismo that prevented Decker from covering his ears.

Vignette looked around the cage and shook her head. “He didn’t touch his lunch.” She pointed to a pile of fruit, leaves, and other undecipherable blobs. “Cody’s normally a good eater. He’s agitated about something.”

Y’think
? Decker said, “How strong are those pens?”

“Cody’s not going anywhere.” She turned to Vern. “Well, I suppose I’d better have a look. Do you have the rifle?”

“It’s down at the trailer.”

“S’right. It’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure about that, Vignette?” Vern was concerned.

“I’ll be fine.” Without hesitation, she approached the beast, stopping at the wire fencing. She held a bag of raw fish and a spear. To the grizzly, she said, “What’s going on, Cody?”

At the sound of her voice, the animal lumbered over to the fence, dropped to all fours, and groaned. She said, “Grizzlies don’t see well, but their smell and hearing are excellent.”

Decker just kept staring, his heart beating faster than usual. He hoped he wasn’t about to witness something gruesome. Penny’s crime scene was still fresh in his brain.

She said, “What’s the matter, little guy?”

Little guy
?

She took a whistle from her pocket and blew it once. Cody’s verbal protests had reduced to whimpering. The animal stood upright and pressed his right paw against the fence. The claws were thick and long and very sharp. She examined the paw carefully, and then fed him a hunk of raw fish impaled on the tip of the spear. “He’ll do anything for salmon.”

She blew the whistle again. This time the left paw was offered for examination. Afterward, he was rewarded with more salmon. “No problem so far.” A third blow of the whistle.

The bear sat on his rump and showed Vignette his right foot. “Oh my. That looks nasty, Cody. I’d be pissed, too, if I were you.”

Decker was five feet behind her. “What’s wrong?”

Vignette gave the bear a chunk of pink flesh on the spear. “He cut his foot pad on something sharp. I’m going to have to treat it before it gets infected.” She took out a small chub of salmon and put a capsule in the dead fish’s mouth. “Okay, guy, let’s see what I can do for you.” She fed Cody the laced flesh—using the spear as his eating implement—and then looked at her watch. Five minutes later, the bear rolled over and started to snore. She threw Vern the keys. “You know the rules. Lock me in. Keep an eye on him. And if I get caught, do NOT open the door under any circumstance.”

“You’re going in there?” Decker was aghast.

“I got about fifteen minutes to work.” Vignette winked at him. “Wish me luck.”

Decker was speechless. Vern unlocked the cage door, and Vignette went inside. She worked swiftly and professionally. First she disinfected the cut, washing it out with a squeeze bottle of salt water. Then she followed with a medicinal salve or ointment. Lastly, she sealed the wound as best she could with liquid bandage material.

Decker was constantly checking his watch. With each passing minute, he became more nervous. Vern said, “He’s startin’ to move, Vignette.”

“I’m almost done. I just want to make sure . . .” Her words trailed off.

It was Decker who now began to pace. “Please get out of there.”

Vingette got up. “I’m fine. Main thing is he’s fine.”

“No, the main thing is that you get out of there alive and whole.”

She smiled and dusted her pants off. Vern opened the gate and closed it quickly, rapping the solid chain around the gate and securing it with a padlock. As soon as the bear was upright, he teetered over to Vignette and moaned. She offered him more fish, and even though the animal was woozy, he took the bait.

“That’s a good boy,” she cooed. “You feel better?”

The bear grumbled then walked away, limping of course, but it was less marked.

The three of them watched in silence as the bear tried to restore his balance. Every few minutes, he hobbled over to Vignette, who
fed him salmon in progressively tinier pieces until she told him, no more. Fifteen minutes later, his nose twitched and he trudged over to his lunch. He started with an appetizer of raspberries on the branch.

“Good job,” Vern told Vignette.

“Just glad he’s better.”

“Wow.” Decker was daunted. “I can see why Mr. Penny was a supporter.”

Vignette’s smile was in full wattage. “Now you understand why I care so much. It’s for Cody and Tiki and all the animals here. They can’t talk, so I talk for them.”

“You seem to be a good interpreter,” Decker said.