The Only Clue Page 5

  She started to protest, but then her shoulders slumped and she rubbed a hand across her forehead. “I was about to say it’s not easy for me to get away. But it’s not like I have a lot else to do now, is it?”

  “Hang in there, Grace.” Finn checked his watch and slid his chair back. “My shift starts in forty minutes. Gotta go put the gears in motion.”

  Placing a hand on her shoulder, he leaned forward and brushed Grace’s cheek with his lips. “Tell him”—he tilted his head toward Zyrnek—“about our mythical dog.”

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, Finn tried to act nonchalant as he wrapped up his fake dog mystery story with the sergeant. “Dr. McKenna swears the blood stain belongs to one of her gorillas that got injured a few days ago.”

  Behind his desk, Sergeant Greer leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his substantial weight. The fluorescent lights gleamed off his bald scalp. “I forgot that you’re still hooking up with Gorilla Lady.”

  Finn bristled. “Her name is Dr. Grace McKenna, and her research has put Evansburg on the map.”

  “Can’t deny that.” Greer sat upright, snapping his chair back into its former position. “We used to be known for our historic churches and fine beef. Now we’re Apeville. And you are without a doubt the finest ape detective in the state.”

  Finn thought he was past most of his challenges as a newcomer, proving himself with a one hundred percent resolution rate on his cases. But he’d given up on trying to befriend Greer.

  Finn pressed on. “So, although I’m not sure that this is a bona fide claim of an injured or kidnapped dog, we need to get this blood tested to prove one way or the other.” He waved the baggie of blood-soaked sawdust, feeling like a bad actor in an amateur play. “I need a case number for the lab.”

  Greer leaned forward and clasped his hands on his desk. His fingers were long and thick. Everything about him was super-sized. Finn was glad the guy was sitting down during this conversation.

  “Why didn’t the owner call in the crime?” Greer asked.

  “He showed up at Dr. McKenna’s this morning. I was there when he drove in, so I took the information from him.”

  The sergeant scowled. “Nobody else saw this champion stud dog? Seems fishy to me.”

  Finn exhaled dramatically to demonstrate his shared frustration. “I’m with you there. The guy is one of those high maintenance types from Los Angeles. You know how they love to sue if things don’t go their way. Not just Dr. McKenna. He’d probably include the department if it looks like we didn’t do our job. I figure we need to go through the motions.”

  He was proud of himself for tacking on the L.A. detail. Around Evansburg, Californians got blamed for pretty much everything.

  “Huh.” The sergeant crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling again, debating.

  “Did I mention the guy’s an attorney?” Finn asked. Might as well pile it on.

  “Fantastic. Just what we need.” Greer yanked a blank form from a stack, copied the number into a notebook, and then slid the form across his desk. “Deal with the idiot, Finn. I don’t ever want to see him in here.”

  “Ah, c’mon, Sarge, you never know when you’ll need a California lawyer.”

  “I’d rather get hemorrhoids.”

  “I’ll need to spend time interviewing staff and volunteers who were at the open house yesterday,” Finn told him. “Guests, too, if I can find ‘em. See if they saw anything.”

  The sergeant waved him away. “Knock yourself out. But remember, any real case that comes up takes precedence.”

  “Got it.” Finn took the form to his desk and set about filling in all the fictitious information. Then he had Miki run the sample and a copy of the form over to the lab. With luck, he’d have the results in a couple of days.

  With better luck, he and Grace would find the gorillas before then.

  Grace wanted to believe all three apes had escaped into the woods, but the large blood pool and the drag marks in the barn made that seem improbable. Several dirtballs were going to be involved in this, whatever this was. And he was willing to bet that one or two of the dirtballs would be named Zyrnek.

  After spending half an hour reviewing a check-kiting case that he was scheduled to testify on the next day, Finn looked up Anthony Zyrnek’s history. The guy had definitely gone off the deep end fourteen years ago. A fraud charge for selling fake sports merchandise, followed by a count of armed robbery while awaiting trial on the fraud case, with the added bonus of felony evasion when the cops answered the robbery alarm. Three counts of major stupid in rapid succession.

  He called the auto salvage yard where Tony Zyrnek worked. A recorded message informed him that the place was closed. Zyrnek was likely to be home. Finn grabbed his keys. The sooner he caught up with Zyrnek Senior, the better.

  The address belonged to an ancient rusting doublewide with moss spreading up its sides, set back among the trees in a mobile home park. A fallen branch half-obscured the sign at the entrance: Brigadoon. The name was appropriate; the place seemed to have been forgotten by the modern world. A better name for it would have been Brigadoom; it looked like a retirement village for losers.

  An old white pickup with a dented red passenger door and a crumpled brown hood occupied the gravel parking strip, which was also littered with clumps of fir and pine cones from nearby trees. A yellow pickup canopy leaned against the doublewide a few yards away, rainwater dripping from its edges.

  The deluge had stopped for the moment, so Finn left his jacket in the car while he copied down the pickup’s license plate and snapped a couple of photos from different angles. The lights of a television flickered behind the closed curtains inside the mobile home. Finn walked up the two cement block steps to knock on the metal door, which swung open before the third rap.

  “Yeah?” Tony Zyrnek’s short black hair was peppered with gray and sleeked back. Finn saw a resemblance to Jonathan, although this man had darker coloring and was a few inches taller and more muscular than his son. His thick mustache was sharply delineated and his hair neatly combed, in contrast with Jon’s shoulder-length hair and wispy beard. Instead of the stained sweatshirt and sagging jeans Finn had come to expect from ex-cons, Zyrnek Senior wore a plaid cowboy shirt and jeans with pressed creases down the front. His feet were clad only in socks. Finn didn’t remember seeing him at Grace’s event, but he’d switched off with Scoletti at the gate, and there was nothing about this man’s appearance that would particularly stand out in a crowd.

  Finn showed his badge. The ex-con squinted at it, then at him. “You’re not here about Jon, are you? Is he okay?” The guy had a slight southern drawl.

  “Your son is fine,” Finn assured him.

  “Oh, thank God.” Zyrnek’s shoulders relaxed. “He called and said he wasn’t feeling well and was staying at his workplace overnight, but you never know.”

  “He lies to you a lot?”

  “What?” Zyrnek gave him a perturbed look. “No. I meant your coming here scared me.”

  “I’m here about something else. You were at the open house yesterday, correct?”

  “Yeah. It was cool to see those gorillas. C’mon in.”

  The door opened directly into the living area, which held a small couch, an armchair, and a coffee table. A plate of what looked like goulash steamed on top of the table, an open bottle of beer and a folded paper towel beside it. The tops of a pair of cowboy boots peeked out from beneath the table. Next to the wall, the television was on. Zyrnek was watching Jeopardy as he ate.

  The scent of tomatoes, garlic, and oregano filled the air. Finn swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth as he explained about the missing dog. “I’m interviewing all the guests I can find to see if they saw anything.”

  Zyrnek gestured toward the chair. His right hand was tightly swathed in bandages. “Have a seat, Detective.”

  A loud thump sounded from the roof of the mobile home. They both looked up at the ceiling.

  “Pine cone,�
� Zyrnek said. “I thought we were done with that for a while. Squirrely winds we had earlier, huh?”

  Clearly Zyrnek was into small talk. Finn said, “I hear it happens sometimes in the spring.”

  “Did you hear a plane crashed over at the Moses Lake airport? Wind shear or crosswind or something. Nobody died, though.”

  “Is that right? They must have been hit harder than we were.” Moses Lake was more than seventy miles away. He knew there was a small airport there for cargo jets and personal planes.

  Zyrnek nodded. “Want a beer or a soda?”

  “No, thanks.” Finn sat down.

  “Let me get you something to eat.” Zyrnek padded into the tiny kitchen.

  “No, thanks,” Finn said again, keeping a wary eye on Zyrnek over the counter that separated kitchen from living room.

  The man returned with a food-laden plate in one hand, and a fork, paper towel, and open beer in the other. He set everything down on the table in front of Finn’s knees. Damn, it smelled delicious.

  “Might as well.” Zyrnek sat down on the couch, picked up his fork, and pointed the tines at the plate he’d just delivered. “Chili mac. I cooked for two tonight, but Jon won’t be back.” He forked a bite of casserole into his mouth.

  What the hell. Aside from a candy bar from the vending machine at the station, it was the first food he’d had all day. Finn picked up the plate and tried a forkful. Spicier than he expected, but flavorful. He took a swallow of the cold beer. Amber ale. Not bad.

  “The only native marsupial of North America,” read the Jeopardy host on the television.

  Tony Zyrnek responded, “What is an opossum?”

  Which turned out to be the correct answer. Registering Finn’s startled expression, Zyrnek grinned. “What?”

  Finn was surprised that Tony Zyrnek called the creature an opossum instead of just a ‘possum like most people did. And he knew an opossum was a marsupial, which was news to Finn. There must be a lot of time in prison to memorize trivia like that.

  Finn shoveled another bite into his mouth, then balanced his plate on his knees as he pulled out his notepad and pen. Fishing a remote from between the sofa cushions, Zyrnek muted the television.

  “Do you remember what time you arrived at the open house?” Finn asked.

  Zyrnek chewed for a second, considering. “Just a few minutes after noon. When did the dog go missing?”

  Finn flipped a couple of pages, checking his nonexistent notes. “The owner said it was between noon and two.” He forked up some more of the chili mac, took another swallow of beer.

  “I did see a fuzzy white dog in a car in the lot, yapping and slobbering on the windows,” Zyrnek volunteered. “Some kind of terrier mix. What breed are you looking for?”

  “Weimaraner.” Finn picked the first name that came to mind. His ex, Wendy, had a book of William Wegman photos of those dogs. “A silver gray one.”

  Zyrnek swallowed his last mouthful, wiped his mouth with the paper towel. “Aren’t all Weimaraners gray?”

  “Maybe.” Finn fought to keep his expression impassive. Now he had to remember to tell Grace the dog was a silver gray Weimaraner before she invented an apricot poodle or something. This fictional dog was going to be a hassle.

  He chewed, gathering his thoughts. “Can you tell me what you did while you were there at the open house event? Did you notice anyone behaving suspiciously?”

  Tony moved his tongue around his mouth for a minute. Then he described how he stood in front of the cage with Neema and the baby gorilla and listened to Grace and watched them sign back and forth. Finn used the time to eat the rest of his food and finish his beer.

  “Then I moved on with everyone else to the art booth they had set up. Do you know those gorillas paint?” Zyrnek asked.

  “Yes.” Finn set his empty plate and bottle on the table.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Zyrnek idly scratched his jaw. “There was one guy who asked if the gorillas liked special colors or subjects—is that suspicious?”

  “Probably not.” Finn said. Why would Zyrnek consider that an odd question? Fuchsia for Gumu and purple for Neema, he knew. Flowers. Landscapes. There could be a slight chance it had been Keyes, though. “What did he look like?”

  Zyrnek shook his head. “Can’t remember. Average joe, I guess. Didn’t have a dog with him at the time.” Then he added, “Did you know gorillas share ninety-eight percent of our DNA?”

  Was the guy some sort of walking encyclopedia of animals? “Uh, no. Ninety-eight percent?” That was a little disturbing.

  Zyrnek leaned back against the sofa cushion. “Well, don’t feel bad. I wouldn’t know that either except my son works with the scientist at that place. And he talks to the gorillas in sign language, too.”

  “I know.”

  Zyrnek pointed a fork at him. “You’re the detective Dr. McKenna’s involved with, aren’t you? Jon told me about you.”

  “Yeah.” Finn hated the way everyone knew everyone in this small town. “Did Jon take you on a special tour of the gorilla compound?”

  Tony Zyrnek described walking around the barn and seeing the trailers where Jon slept and worked with the apes. “Didn’t get to go in the barn, though,” he volunteered. “Jon said the big gorilla was sleeping up in the net and he’d get upset if a stranger came into his territory.”

  Why had the man specifically mentioned the inside of the barn? Was this a case of protesting too much?

  “What happened to your hand?” Finn pointed at the bandages.

  Zyrnek held his injured hand out between them. “An engine slipped off the hoist and like an idiot, I tried to catch it. Got kinda mangled, but I’m lucky—no broken bones. Want to see?”

  Finn shook his head. If Zyrnek was willing to show him, the wound wouldn’t be a gorilla bite.

  A phone on the kitchen counter rang. Zyrnek excused himself to get up and answer it. After a few seconds, he murmured, “I’m busy right now; call again later.” He set the phone back in the base.

  “Was that important?” Finn asked. “It would have been okay to talk.”

  Zyrnek slid into his seat. “Just a personal thing. I’ll handle it later.”

  Finn made a mental note to check Zyrnek’s landline records, and then tried to think of what to ask next.

  Zyrnek filled in the conversational void. “I didn’t see any dogs except that one in the parking lot. I saw a calico cat walk out of the barn, though, which surprised me. I would think a little kitty like that would be scared to death of a gorilla.”

  “There are two cats. Apparently the gorillas consider them their pets.”

  “Really?” Zyrnek shot a sideways look at Finn as if he thought the detective was pulling his leg.

  “Neema, the female gorilla, even named them. The calico’s named Nest, and the white one is Snow.”

  “No shit?” Zyrnek leaned forward, interested. “Why Nest?”

  Finn had asked Grace exactly the same question. “The cat looked like a nest made of different colored blankets.”

  Zyrnek slapped his thigh and shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ll have to ask Jon about that. I always liked cats. A friend of mine had an ocelot once. Man, I wish I’d seen it. You got cats?”

  “Two,” Finn said. “And a big dog.”

  “I knew it!” Zyrnek slapped his leg again. “You’re a fellow animal lover.”

  Finn snorted. The conversation was getting off-track. To bring it back, he asked, “What did you do after you left the open house?”

  Zyrnek’s eyes twinkled as he used his thumb and forefinger to smooth down his moustache. “You’re asking just in case I ran across this Weimaraner later in the day?”

  Smug, Finn thought. The guy was on parole; the cops could question him at any time about anything, and he knew it. He waited.

  “Nope,” Zyrnek finally responded. “No Weimaraner. After the open house I went back to work at the auto salvage. I only had my lunch hour free. You can ask my boss.”

>   “I will.” Finn closed his notebook, stuck it in his shirt pocket, then stood up.

  Zyrnek walked him the few steps to the door.

  Before stepping out, Finn narrowed his eyes at the ex-con. “I know about your record,” he told him.

  “’Course you do,” Zyrnek responded cheerfully. “So you understand I don’t know many folks around here. I’m heading off to the roadhouse in a minute to see if I can round up a pool game. Want to come?”

  “I’m on duty until after midnight.”

  “Oh, of course. Some other time, then. Hey, you and I and Jon should all go out for a beer one of these days. Talk about animals.”

  Finn snorted and thumped down the steps to his car. No question, Tony Zyrnek was smart and charming. No wonder Grace had thought he was nice. He was a classic charismatic con man. And all too interested in the gorillas. Zyrnek’s face and hands were mostly unmarked, so he couldn’t have struggled much with a gorilla. But he might have been the leader of a group of thieves.

  Finn barely made it into the driver’s seat before the rain started to splat against the windshield again. He dialed Grace to see if she could join him to interview her staff members, Caryn Brown and Sierra Sakson. His call went to voicemail, but Grace called fifteen minutes later as he was driving back to the station.

  “I was in the woods. No cell coverage,” she explained in a dull voice. “No luck, either.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Do you think you could get a dog? You know, a canine unit that can track?”

  “What would I tell them?”

  There was a long pause on her end. “You can’t make something up?”

  It was bad enough he was running around talking up this nonexistent Weimaraner. Now she was asking him to lie to more cops so he could get more law enforcement resources? He needed to keep this job. “Everything goes on the record in police work, Grace.”

  “I get it.” Then there was a strangled sound, like she was cutting off a sob. “I do. I’m sorry I asked.”

  “It’s okay.” He felt like he should say something else, but he had no idea what. He didn’t want to tell her he was investigating the Zyrneks until he found something incriminating. The call waiting signal bleeped over his car receiver, rescuing him. The station.