The Only Clue Page 14
“Seems like your brother and Tony share an interest in exotic animals.”
She brushed an orange-lacquered nail across her lower lip as she considered that for a minute. “Maybe; I never thought about it before. I know Tony is very proud of his son working with those talking gorillas. But Tony isn’t crazy enough to keep one at home.”
But maybe he was crazy enough to steal one. “What has he told you about the gorillas?”
“Why are you asking about gorillas? I thought you were looking for a dog—that Weimaraner.”
Finn had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “I am. But this could be relevant.”
She shot him a dubious look, then crossed her arms and studied her lap. “Let’s see. I’ve heard him talk about how the gorillas know sign language. And how they paint. And something about them having eighty-six percent the same DNA as us, which is a little hard to believe.”
“I think it’s ninety-six percent. Or maybe ninety-eight.”
“Really?” She looked at him. “Do you believe that?”
It was his turn to shrug. He didn’t want to get pulled into a debate about evolution or whatever she was concerned about. “Did Tony ever talk about anyone wanting a gorilla?”
“Like for a pet?” She made a face. “No. That’s crazy. Who would want a gorilla?”
If Heather Clayton knew anything about stealing gorillas, she was doing a darn good job of hiding it.
So Tony Zyrnek knew Heather from his prison days. How many friends had he met through Jarvis Pinder? He switched topics to the other names on Pinder’s visitor list. “Do you know Leon Shane?”
A shadow passed over her face. “I don’t know Leon. I know his brother Leroy, although I wish I didn’t. Leroy is a gang banger friend of Jarvis’s. If there was any justice, he’d be behind bars right now.”
Finn had checked all the visitors’ records. Leon was squeaky clean, but now he would need to check this Leroy Shane’s. Maybe he and Pinder were passing messages through his brother. “Does Tony Zyrnek know Leon or Leroy Shane?”
“I don’t think so.” She seemed perplexed. “I don’t think either of them lives anywhere close to here.”
That didn’t mean the men weren’t acquainted. Jailbirds often flocked together when they had a mutual goal. “Would your boyfriend Tyrone know the Shane brothers?”
“He might have met them sometime.” Her face crumpled. “And Ty is my former boyfriend.” Her eyes welled with tears; she looked away. She inhaled deeply and then held her breath for a few seconds, pressing her lips together as she struggled to compose herself. Finally she said, “I still can’t believe he left me like he did. But I’m done crying over him.”
“I’m sorry; this must be a tough time for you.” He folded his hands together to keep from patting her arm or thigh. “How did you meet Ty?”
She shook her head, dislodging a strand of wavy black hair that she pushed away from her forehead. “My family lived down the block from the Lineros in Spokane. I knew Ty in high school. Ty was the good Linero kid; I was the good Pinder kid. We got together a couple of years ago.”
“So Ty knows Leroy Shane?”
She winced at the name. “We all went to the same high school, so they probably met. But they’re not friends. What’s Leroy done now?”
“We’re just checking on a few things,” Finn hedged. “Has Leroy been around here lately?”
Her gaze bounced around her apartment as if she were making sure all her possessions were still there. “God, I hope not. Now you’re making me wonder what’s going on.”
Precisely, Finn thought, wonder away. And then tell me. “What kind of car does Ty drive?”
“Corolla, an old gun-metal gray one. And no, I don’t know the license or have a copy of the registration or anything like that. I told Ty in the beginning that I was not taking care of him.”
“Do you know what kind of vehicle Leroy Shane drives?”
She fingered her hair. “Probably a stolen one.”
“When did you last see Ty?”
Her face tightened. “Friday evening. I went to see my Mom in Spokane. Ty was gone when I came back Sunday afternoon.”
“Do you know what Ty’s plans were for the weekend?”
She twisted a strand of her hair between her fingers. “He said he was going to work on Saturday. He’s been working part-time for UPS, but he told me he was going to pick up some more hours at another place. But now I know he had other plans, like packing up his car.”
“I realize it’s a personal question, Ms. Clayton, but can I ask why Ty left town?” Could he have had a gorilla or three in his trunk when he peeled out?
She looked down at her lap again, and wiped away a tear. Then she raised her eyes and gave him a hesitant smile. She was a stunning woman. Instead of bleary-eyed and blotchy, crying made Heather’s face luminous. “You seem like a nice man, Detective Finn. If you’d ever like to go out and get a drink...”
This gorgeous woman was hitting on him? That was a first. He wanted to think it was admiration talking, but it was more likely to be desperation. Or else she was part of the same con game Zyrnek was running. Turning on the charm. He noticed he was leaning toward her and made himself sit up straight.
A wailing sound drifted faintly through the wall. Heather abruptly jumped up from the couch and disappeared down the hallway.
Her sudden exit was unnerving. Shit. He should have checked for other people in her townhouse. Finn unsnapped his holster and rested his hand on his pistol. But when she emerged cradling a baby with one arm and holding only a small piece of paper in her free hand, he slid his hand out from beneath his jacket and rested it on his thigh.
She handed him the paper and stood, shifting side to side, rocking the baby while he read.
It isn’t working out, Heather. Sorry, I’m not cut out to be a family man. I need to live my own life. Good luck.
—Ty
Finn wasn’t sure what to say. The standard ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ didn’t seem appropriate, and anything else would be too personal. He thrust the note out toward her.
“Good luck?” Her expression turned angry. “We lived together for sixteen months! What kind of sorry loser leaves a note like that and then just disappears?”
“It does seem...”—Finn searched for the right word—“...callous.”
“Cold is what I’d call it.” She plopped down on the couch again and shifted the infant to her shoulder, where it rooted around against her neck.
He presumed the baby was Ty’s. “You can get the state to go after him for child support.” He placed the note on the coffee table in front of his knees.
Heather shook her head. “I have a decent job, and soon I’ll have full benefits. If Ty’s going to be like this, I don’t even want him involved in Jenny’s life.” She patted the infant gently on the back.
He needed to get back to the interview he intended. “I have a few more questions.”
“Fire away.” She kissed the top of the baby’s head.
“Did Ty share your brother’s interest in exotic animals?”
She looked surprised. “No way. He didn’t even want a dog.”
But he might share an interest in money. “Do you have any idea where Ty would go?”
“Maybe back to Spokane?”
“I’d like to talk to him.”
“I’ll give you his cell number.” She waited for him to pull out his notepad and pen, then rattled it off. “What are you going to ask him?”
“He left town right after this valuable dog disappeared, Heather. Do you think those two events could be connected in any way?”
“I guess anything’s possible. Obviously, I have no idea what’s been going on in Ty’s head,” she said bitterly. She pulled the infant’s fist to her lips and kissed the tiny fingers. “Good riddance, right, Jenny?”
Then a strangled gasp escaped from her lips. Letting go of the baby’s hand, she pressed her free hand over her eyes. “Jenny has a
heart defect. She’ll need surgery when she’s older. More than one operation as she grows. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to pull herself together. “I know he was having a hard time finding work. But she’s his daughter! How could he leave us like that?” she sobbed. “I loved him!” Tears slid from beneath her fingers and dripped down her face. “I thought he loved me.”
Finn froze, seized with déjà vu, mortified to remember his own grief as he sat alone in his silent house with a similar note, shocked to discover that Wendy had ditched him. Should he pat Heather’s shoulder? Tiptoe out the door?
Her sobs grew louder. The infant started to mewl. Finn awkwardly cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll let myself out. If you hear from Ty, could you let me know?” He slid his business card onto the coffee table. “Thank you for your help.”
He was halfway to the door when he heard her murmur, “How did I help?”
He didn’t really have an answer for that.
* * * * *
Back at the station, there was an email message from the Renton officer, telling Finn he was playing phone tag with Allen Whitehead’s relatives, who lived somewhere in rural Virginia. The coroner, Severn, had left him a voicemail message saying the morgue was sending the family a form requesting body disposal instructions.
His desk phone buzzed. The operator said, “Finn, I have a real estate agent on the line who wants to talk to a detective.”
“Tell him I already have a house.”
“Tell her yourself.”
He punched the button. “Detective Matthew Finn.”
“Detective Finn, this is Darla Jacoby. I’m a realtor, and I just stopped by that foreclosed farmhouse at 103 Bell Road, and I think the police need to come see this.”
“Squatters?” The whole state was having problems with people moving into vacant foreclosed homes.
“I don’t think anyone is living here. Looks more like a warehouse. I see laptops and guns and jewelry—”
Sounded like a storage drop for burglars, which was why the call had been referred to him. “Don’t touch anything, Miss Jacoby. Please step out of the house and wait for me in your car. Lock the doors. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
* * * * *
The house looked forlorn even in bright sunlight. Handyman Special, the realtors would advertise. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and preceded the realtor up the sagging wooden steps, holding the door open for her. “Was the door locked when you arrived?”
She shook her head. “But sometimes we leave the doors unlocked to these properties. Better than having all the windows broken out.”
“If you say so.” He copied down the sparse information she gave him—previous owner long gone, house vacant for five years, bank finally putting it on the market in two weeks.
“It’d make a nice place for a young family.” She nodded eagerly. “Comes with ten acres. Lots of space to grow.”
“I’ll spread that around,” he told her.
“Oh, would you?” She actually batted her eyelashes at him.
No, he thought. “Thank you for your help. You can go now.” He held the door for her as she departed. Her car passed Guy Rodrigo’s as he drove in.
A back room was piled high with items. Finn noticed several that were on his list of stolen objects, including the Duprees’ Remington shotgun. Finally—a break in the burglary cases. The other detectives would be pissed that the call had come in during his shift.
Rodrigo joined him, a camera hanging around his neck and a fingerprint kit in his hand. His latex gloves were purple. “Aha. Steal it and store it. What’s the plan?”
“Inventory, take photos, get fingerprints in here, and then get out ASAP.”
“And leave all this here?”
“We’ll set up surveillance, catch the scumbags on their way in.”
“Brilliant. What’s first?”
Finn called the station and arranged for surveillance. Neither sergeant—it was Carlisle this time—was ever happy at that request because it took an officer or two out of the running to catch incoming calls. But since this incident involved several open cases, Carlisle assigned Scoletti to watch over the place until the end of the shift or the appearance of the burglars, whichever came first.
“Tell him to hide well back in the trees,” Finn said. One of the problems with small police forces was that most everyone in the county knew the officers and their vehicles, even in plainclothes and driving unmarked cars.
“By the way,” Rodrigo said after Finn had hung up, “I can’t thank you enough for the headless horseman assignment.”
It took Finn a few seconds to realize Rodrigo was talking about Allen Whitehead, the corpse the Forest Service rangers had found in the woods in the totaled Mustang. “Did you get fingerprints?”
“They’re in the AFIS queue now, such as they are.” Rodrigo grimaced. “Know what you have to do to get fingerprints from a decomposed corpse?”
“I took that course a while ago,” Finn said. He didn’t want to be reminded of the gory details.
“I collected tissue and hair, too.”
Finn nodded. “Good. His home cops haven’t located relatives yet and the morgue’ll want to cremate him soon.”
Rodrigo shuddered. “Couldn’t be fast enough for me. I need that vision out of my head.”
They set to work listing the goods stored in the bedroom. A sack of half-used drugs was particularly slow going. “Ketamine?” Rodrigo held up a dusty half-used vial between his gloved fingertips. “Haven’t seen that in awhile.”
“Some clinics still use it, and a lot of veterinarians do.” Finn knew that ketamine was often used as an anesthetic for animals of all sizes. The drug of choice to knock out a gorilla? “Be sure to dust that vial,” Finn told him.
“I’ll get most of the prints in the system tonight. That dog case again?”
Finn nodded.
An hour later, Rodrigo complained, “It’s getting too dark to see in here.”
Finn’s knees cracked as he stood up. He flipped the nearest light switch. Nothing happened. “Damn.” They’d need floodlights to finish. “Let’s load the laptops, the drugs, and the firearms. We’ll send a crew for the rest tomorrow.”
He drove back to the station, yawning, eager to hand off the processing and computer exploration to the incoming detective the next day.
Tomorrow was his day off, but he’d work if a fingerprint or the surveillance identified the burglars. The ketamine could be the key. With luck, he might nail a gorilla kidnapper and the burglary suspects at the same time.
* * * * *
Grace spent the afternoon researching the zoo trade. If a zoo wanted a gorilla for their collection, how much effort would it put into investigating whether it was legally owned and born in the United States? Documents could be forged, couldn’t they?
She searched zoo websites for articles about the arrival of new gorillas. She reviewed hundreds of photos and film clips from zoos around the world. When her cell phone chimed, she noticed that the sun had set. She hadn’t eaten dinner. Up to now, her schedule had always revolved around the needs of her gorillas.
The screen indicated only Cell Phone WA. Maybe the Constellos finally calling back? “Grace McKenna.” She slid out of her chair and stretched her free arm toward the ceiling. Something in her neck popped.
“You have a hell of a nerve,” a deep voice growled.
“Who is this?”
“I never deserved prison for doing God’s work.”
God’s work? Who-? Oh, shit. “Keyes? Is this Frank Keyes?”
“You’re not getting me in trouble again, bitch. You’re the one who deserves to burn in hell.”
She moved to the window, and stared out at the dark courtyard. The moon was only a quarter full tonight. She could barely make out the picnic table in front of the staff trailer. “Where are you?”
The dial tone abruptly blared in her ear.
She tapped in 9-1 before reason caught up with her. If the cops came, they’d want to know where the gorillas were; they’d want to search the barn and the other buildings. She set the phone down on the windowsill.
The staff trailer was dark. Jon must have already gone to bed. She couldn’t ask him to get up and search if it might be dangerous; she was supposedly the responsible adult here.
She checked her watch. 10:21 pm. Finn was still on duty. She called anyway.
“Detective Finn.” He sounded distracted.
“It’s Grace. I think Frank Keyes just called me.”
“I’m driving. Hold on while I pull over so I can take notes.”
She felt guilty for calling him at work. “It’s probably nothing.”
After a brief pause, his calm voice was back. “What was the number?”
“Caller ID just said cell phone Washington; no number.”
“Damn.”
She recounted the few words Keyes had said. “Could he be here?”
“Don’t go out; I’ll call you back as soon as I get a check on his location back from Tacoma.”
“Thank you.” She ended the call.
A dark form scuttled across the yard and vanished into the shadow under the picnic table. Grace gasped. But the shape was way too small for a man.
Too big for a raccoon, unless it was a giant male. Too small to be a bear or a gorilla. Unless... The creature emerged from beneath the table, gripped the bench for an uncertain minute, and then barreled back to the trees.
She speed-dialed Zyrnek. “Jon, I need you outside. Now!”
* * * * *
It took Grace ten minutes to gather and place food on top of the picnic table, and then fifteen minutes more of silent lurking in the shadows between the trailers before a small shape scuttled through the darkness and leapt to the top of the table. Jon sprang out of his hiding spot, tossing the net into the air, and Grace launched herself at the same time. The net sailed over the creature. The animal shrieked in terror. Grace threw her arms around it, net and all.