Adieu at the Zoo_A Jefferson Zoo Mystery Read online

  I wondered what could be worse than dealing with Rhonda, but that’s just me.

  Chapter 12

  After Bob’s meeting broke up and the chatter died down, Dan waited and we walked out together. I noticed Jodie hanging back to talk with Bob alone in the back corner of the conference room. I wondered for a brief moment what she was telling him, but figured she’d let me know later.

  As Dan and I reached the balcony overlooking the main entrance, he laid his hand on my arm stopping me in front of the large copper planter that I noticed needed some water. I’d remind Maddy about it when I got back to my office.

  “Sam,” he said, turning my attention away from the planter. “I’m wondering if you’re free to join me for dinner tonight?”

  I could have spit. All thoughts vanished from my mind except one. I’d been free for dinner every Friday night for the past two months. Why couldn’t he have asked me out on one of those nights instead of tonight? And what was I supposed to say now? I’m sorry, I can’t. I have a date with Nelson Farthington?

  I could feel the beginnings of a blush at the base of my neck. “I can’t,” I said. “I have to work tonight,” which was the truth. Dinner with Nelson Farthington was something I’d agreed to for one reason only—to help out Zoo Alliance and maybe our bottom line if we managed to snag a Farthington Foundation grant.

  “How late are you working? I could stop by and we could have a late dinner.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m helping Zoo Alliance with a project that I expect will run late.”

  Dan looked crestfallen and I felt pretty miserable myself. “Maybe another time?” I suggested.

  “Sure. Gotta run. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I started back to my office as Dan pushed open the door to the stairwell. I could hear him whistling as he entered the lobby downstairs. I looked down, watching him leave through the front door as Jodie came up behind me.

  “Whatta hunk, hey, Sam?”

  I looked around, trying to hide the pounding in my chest.

  “I’m so steamed,” I told her.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “He asked me out to dinner tonight and I had to turn him down.”

  “Tell me you didn’t let him know you were having dinner with Farthington Three.”

  “I didn’t. I told him I had to work on something for Zoo Alliance.”

  “Well, that’s not quite the truth, but close enough, though if it were me, I’d have come up with a better story. I mean, he can always check with the Zoo Alliance, unless of course you go tell Mary Ellis so she can cover for you.”

  “Oh, good grief. It’s not something I want to broadcast all over the zoo. She’s in Public Relations for Pete’s sake.”

  “See, this is the problem with your stay-at-home, non-dating policy. Even if you don’t particularly like a guy, it is a good thing to go out now and then. It keeps you in shape for the dating game. Allows you to practice quick comebacks, evasive answers, insincere compliments, the whole nine yards. You’re so out of practice, a blind squirrel could find a mate ahead of you.”

  “I appreciate your ex-post-facto advice,” I said, “but I’m not in the market for a mate.”

  “If I advise you on your current situation, can I trust you to follow my recommendations?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.” I was feeling desperate.

  “Okay, here goes and remember, you promised.”

  I nodded.

  “Call Dan, no, better yet, drive down to Security and talk to him in person. Tell him…wait, let’s go to your office, you need to write this down.”

  “Just tell me, Jo. I’m not a complete idiot.”

  “When it comes to men, I may have to disagree with you. You need to tell Dan you really want to go to dinner with him and you’ve been waiting weeks for him to ask you out. On second thought, delete the waiting weeks part. You really want to go out to dinner with him, but this zoo obligation came up for tonight, so could the two of you have dinner tomorrow night, instead? Since you didn’t give him an alternative date, he may think you just don’t want to go.”

  “I can’t, I’m having dinner tomorrow night with Ginger.”

  “You can cancel on Ginger, she’ll understand.”

  “Sunday night would work better,” I said, not quite willing to cancel on Ginger. She’s a great cook.

  “Okay, then, suggest Sunday night, and if Sunday night doesn’t work for Dan, then say, ‘how about next Friday?’ Really, Sam, it’s not as difficult as it sounds.”

  After telling Maddy I’d be out in the park for a while, I went downstairs, grabbed the last available zoo cart and jumped in. Jodie’s lecture had given me confidence, which is a funny thing because usually I’m a very confident individual except in social situations involving attractive men, and then my brain has a tendency to freeze. It’s a shy syndrome left over from my childhood.

  I pushed the pedal to the floor and drove down the winding service road into the Magic Forest. Up ahead, a black snake slithered across the macadam path on its daily search for a meal of mice and moles. I slowed the cart waiting for him to reach the grass. I’m not a big fan of snakes. It’s something I rarely admit to anyone since I’m a zoo person and should love all animals equally.

  The black snake was a six-footer in no hurry to cross the road. I brought my cart to a stop, avoiding eye contact with the reptile taking his sweet time slithering out of my way. Without so much as a nod in my direction, the snake finally reached the tall grass and I sped past thinking how I’d done the herp keepers a favor by not running over one of their own. Herpetologists are a different breed even among the animal staff.

  Speaking of which, I still needed to devise a plan for educating the keepers on showing more respect for my plants. We have a hundred species of animals at the zoo, but thousands of species of plants to maintain, many of which are unusual, rare, or endangered. Protecting a habitat’s plant matter is a sustainability issue. If we don’t practice what we preach, how can we convince the outside world to do the same?

  I rounded a bend passing by the Wetlands on my way to Security. Once I reached the Security building I stopped in the parking lot between two of their Jeeps and phoned Dan to ask him to meet me outside, but when I called, they told me he was out and couldn’t be reached. I turned around and headed back to my office. I’d phone Dan later, which gave me more time to think about what to say and how to say it.

  So far, this day was not going my way.

  Chapter 13

  As luck would have it, Dan Saunders wandered into my office suite around four in the afternoon, before I’d gotten around to calling him. He caught my eye before Maddy had time to buzz me about his arrival. I motioned him in, taking a deep breath as I thought about what to say.

  As soon as he entered, he came out with, “Turns out, I couldn’t have kept our dinner date tonight, anyway, Sam, since I have to work, too. Andy LaRue is still missing and Sheriff Joyner’s organized a search party, which could last well into the night. I would have felt awful having to cancel on you. What do you say about dinner Saturday or Sunday evening? That is, if either of those works for you, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed one of them will. Work for you, I mean.”

  “How about we plan for Sunday?”

  “That’s great. Thanks, Sam.”

  He seemed so relieved I thought he might hug me in full view of Maddy, but he didn’t, which was too bad for Maddy, and for me, as well.

  “No problem,” I said. “But I’m really worried about Andy. I hope nothing’s happened to him.”

  “Me, too. We’re all keeping our fingers crossed he’ll turn up with a good explanation.”

  “Hard to imagine what that explanation might be.” I was envisioning the worst.

  “I’m trying to remain optimistic. As for tonight, let’s hope nothing happens at the zoo because my whole staff with the exception of one person, has joined the s
heriff’s search team looking for Andy.”

  “Be careful, please,” I said, as he turned to leave. “Part of me hopes you find him tonight, but the other part of me hopes you don’t.”

  The minute Dan left, Jodie sauntered in looking more dejected than I’d ever seen her. “I just saw Dan leaving your office. Any news on Andy?”

  “Not so far. He said the sheriff’s rounded up a search party to look for him.”

  “I’m worried sick about him,” Jodie said. “His mother’s about out of her mind, and I’m beginning to feel the same way. His whole family’s distraught, first over Jack, and now, Andy. What a mess.”

  “Andy missing is a worry. But Andy can be unpredictable, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

  “I have another question for you.”

  I knew what she had in mind. “I’ll save you asking. I’m having dinner with Dan on Sunday night. Happy?”

  “I’d be happier,” she replied, “if you were going out with Dan tonight instead of with that rich serial killer down the road.”

  “If you don’t stop this nonsense about Nelson Farthington you’ll have me scared to be alone with the man.”

  “Just remember to keep your cell phone within reach. You do know how to text, don’t you, Sam?”

  Shooing Jodie out of my office, I packed up my desk and left work for the day, stopping by Golden’s, our local department store, to replenish my wardrobe, starved as it was for dinner-date clothes. I’d never gone out with a guy whose outfits outshone mine, but I knew that was about to change.

  Once inside the store, I gamely paired a turquoise silk blouse with a black swirly skirt and a pair of black thong sandals, and felt pretty good about my choices. Nelson Farthington, at a little over six feet, was tall enough that I knew I wouldn’t tower over him with my inch-high heels.

  Thinking about his height, which is about the same as Dan’s, I decided to pile my hair on top of my head and fasten it with a silver and pearl hair comb I’d spotted at the jewelry counter. I hoped I made the right decision and the comb would hold and not embarrass me by falling out and landing on my plate in the middle of dinner. It could happen.

  After Golden’s, I stopped at the dollar store for a tube of lipstick, some turquoise eye shadow and black mascara. I realized I’d been imagining the effect of my purchases not on Nelson Farthington, but on Dan Saunders when he encountered my new look on Sunday night, especially since I never wear makeup at work or style my hair any way other than a ponytail since I value convenience over vanity. I hoped Nelson Farthington would recognize me.

  At seven o’clock, the Carolina wren on my Audubon bird-clock sang its teakettle song at the exact moment my doorbell rang. Nelson Farthington the Third was as punctual as he was fastidious. Maybe a little OCD going on there? Not exactly my type unless the opposites attract adage actually held true, which, based on my first marriage was not a wager I’d be tempted to place. My husband and I were soul mates from the beginning, which is part of the reason I found dating so difficult. No one measured up.

  My front door opened to a spectacular bouquet of flowers. I hadn’t planned on inviting Nelson in, but now I was stuck. At least I’d thought to run the vacuum over my living room rug after work in preparation for an emergency like this. I hoped the man was near-sighted and wouldn’t notice the thin layer of dust covering my coffee table, the only surface sufficiently clear of debris to host a jar of flowers.

  “Thank you,” I told him when he handed me the flowers. “They’re beautiful.” I held open the door. “Care to come in while I find a vase?”

  “Certainly. I’m glad you like them. They came from our gardens.” He sounded a bit self-satisfied.

  “I love them,” I said, “especially since I can’t pick the flowers from my gardens.”

  “The shoemaker whose kids run barefoot?”

  “Precisely,” I admitted. “I never seem to find time for a garden of my own, much as I dream of having one some day. Besides, I’m afraid I think of the zoo grounds as my personal property.”

  “In that case, let me compliment you on the quality of your landscaping.”

  Our conversation went along in this overly polite fashion until we arrived at the Farthington Estate where, I learned, we would be dining in the conservatory. The conservatory was a very fancy, sensational actually, sunroom/greenhouse.

  A large glass table occupied the middle of the room directly under the glass-domed circular roof. A ventless gas fireplace like the ones I’d seen on HGTV stood off to the right, surrounded by what looked to be a comfortable wicker couch and three chairs. Who knew wicker furniture could be so inviting? Straight ahead, double French doors led out to the formal gardens, which were divided by a long rectangular reflecting pool.

  I might have thought I’d died and gone to heaven if it weren’t for Jodie’s warnings about how the Farthington gardens would be a great place to hide a body on the gardener’s day off, or an easy spot to drown a person in four-foot of water. I wondered about my cell phone reception and how I could check it without being rude.

  Nelson Farthington broke into my unwanted reveries. “Is anything wrong, Samantha?”

  Good thing I don’t play poker.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “your beautiful plants and gardens reminded me of something I forgot to tell one of the Hort staff before I left. Would you mind if I texted a short message? It’ll only take a minute.”

  “No problem. You might want to step outside where the cell reception is better.”

  Once outdoors, I decided to save time and call Jodie instead of texting, since I’m not very speedy with two-thumb hunt and peck.

  “Jo,” I said, “I’m just checking in to say everything’s fine.”

  “Where are you, Sam?”

  “Standing in the Farthington gardens. They’re stunningly beautiful and taking my breath away.”

  “No cell phone reception in the house, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Just as I suspected,” she said. “The house is electronically sealed. No transmissions getting in or going out.”

  “Stop it, Jo. You’re making me crazy. I’ve got to hang up now.”

  “Okay, Sam, but I’ll have my phone on all night, standing by if you run into trouble.”

  “Thanks, Watson. I’ll report back in the morning.”

  Nelson Farthington held the door as I turned to go back inside. I hoped he hadn’t overheard my crazy comment, or the crack about Watson.

  “I apologize for sending you out to the garden,” he said. “Cell phone reception is terrible in the conservatory thanks to the copper roof, which prevents electrical signals from getting through.”

  Just what I needed to hear.

  Chapter 14

  Dinner at the Farthington estate outclassed the setting, washing away my anxieties about feasting with a serial killer. Six courses of impeccably prepared French food, beginning with a plate of fancy hors d’oeuvres, each bite a morsel of perfection. Truffles and foie gras headlined the appetizer course. I only know because Nelson assured me the foie gras wasn’t produced using overfeeding methods, and furthermore, the Farthington kitchen only served sustainable seafood. The tight culinary regimen in no way diminished the menu.

  After dinner and a cup of espresso, confident nothing would interfere with my sleep tonight, I agreed to a tour of the family greenhouses beginning with the conservatory, which housed a serious collection of exotic plants. I was dying to take notes, but my memory’s pretty good when it comes to anything horticultural.

  “It’s my father’s hobby that’s become an avocation,” Nelson explained. “My conservation interests have focused on animals over the years, but when I’m home I lend my father a hand with his collection.”

  “I’m jealous, of course,” I told him, “for myself as well as the zoo.”

  A hint of a smile played on Nelson’s lips. “At some point, I expect the zoo will find itself the beneficiary of many of these specimens. Though
I have to admit, I may hang onto a few of the more exquisite varieties.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I said, as bland platitudes infested my conversation. In my defense, what do you say to someone who has everything and who’s probably heard everything as well?

  Over the next hour, I trailed after Nelson, listening and offering mindless comments on his father’s collection, beginning with a display of colorful orchids, from conventional to the very rare.

  “Of course,” Nelson said, “my father would kill to have an American Ghost Orchid in his collection, but…” He let his sentence trail off with a shrug of his elegant shoulders.

  Did he somehow believe I knew a source for illegally acquiring Ghost Orchids?

  Instead, I asked, “Have you ever read The Orchid Thief?” The book was about the arrest of a man named John Laroche for poaching Ghost Orchids in Florida’s Big Cypress Swamp.

  “No, but my father and I have seen Adaptation, the movie based on the book.” He gave me a knowing smile. “As much as my father would love to be the proud owner of a Ghost Orchid, we’re well acquainted with the penalties of poaching, and it’s not a practice we condone. Of course, we’re aware of collectors who have no such compunctions. I suppose you are, as well?”

  “I do, but, um, not personally.”

  “I understand,” he said, guiding me outside to the greenhouses. I hadn’t a clue where this was leading, if anywhere until he announced tour-guide style, “On to cycads.”

  Woody cycads are evergreen plants that look a lot like ferns and palms but belong to an ancient group of plants that appeared over 300 million years ago, eventually comprising over twenty percent of our planet’s flora.