Adieu at the Zoo_A Jefferson Zoo Mystery Read online

“Sam’s right,” Nate said, looking daggers at Matt. “I’ll oppose this purchase every step of the way, and I’d advise you not to let Alliance get in the middle.”

  I couldn’t resist another jab. “Maybe Mr. Mooney could stop by the Farthington place, see if they’ll sell him some of their land for his upscale development.”

  Dan Saunders shot me a bemused look, confirming my belief that I was correct in determining the reason he canceled his dinner date with me. Nevertheless, I wasn’t giving up on wearing my new dinner-date clothes in his presence. I’d catch him after the meeting and straighten out the whole matter.

  Meanwhile, the argument over the conservation tract went on for another half hour with every curator, including Ginger, chiming in to support Nate’s and my position. Matt and Nate tangled openly, with Nate all but threatening Matt with physical harm if he refused to back away from supporting Winston Mooney.

  “You want to pit your political pull against mine?” Nate asked at one point. When Matt said nothing, Nate added, “I didn’t think so.”

  Bob stepped in, fearing blows, I expected, and suggested we move on to other matters. Before he could say more, Dan answered a call on his cell and excused himself from the meeting.

  So much for catching him after the meeting, I thought. I’d have to drive down to Security later and talk to him there.

  “I’m sorry Dan’s leaving,” Bob said, as Dan closed the door behind him, “because I planned to ask him to discuss the current breaches in security we’ve experienced lately. When I talked with him yesterday about the Design theft, he informed me the sheriff’s office has received several reports of thefts of a similar nature lately—copper plumbing stolen from houses under construction, air conditioning units, condensers, anything with copper coils or pipes. Sheriff says it’s the work of an organized ring with a ready purchaser.”

  “I only wish they hadn’t broken our welders,” Ginger said. “They completely missed the pile of used leads nearby. Life would have been easier for them and for us if they’d snooped around a little and swiped those instead.”

  “Probably too dark to spot them,” I offered, “which suggests this wasn’t an inside job or the thieves would have been more familiar with the area.”

  “I agree,” Ginger said. “The leads were stacked around the corner, out of sight of the open door. Not easy to see if you’re just driving by, like the Mooney Construction workers, for example?” Her question about the Mooney’s workers mirrored my thoughts exactly.

  “I hear you,” Bob said, “and I’m sure the sheriff will be checking into Mooney’s people. Their workers have knowledge of that area of the zoo and they also know how to enter after hours, which brings me to my second point. As most of you know already, the body Jodie and Sam found in the marsh belonged to a man by the name of Jack Dubois, who happens to be Andy LaRue’s cousin. What you may not know is that Jack was employed by Mooney Construction and he worked with the crew building the barns.”

  Bob paused and Ginger took advantage of the opportunity to ask, “Are you suggesting Andy and his cousin were involved in stealing the leads?”

  “I mentioned the possibility to Dan,” Bob said, “but Dan swears Andy would never be involved in a theft from the zoo, nor would he have provided information to his cousin. On the other hand, I’ve asked Dan to set aside his personal feelings on the matter and continue to work with the sheriff’s office on the investigation. I expect the same from all of you. If any information comes your way I appreciate your letting Dan and me know as soon as possible. Any questions?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Is there any news on Andy’s condition?”

  Bob gave me a flustered look. “He’s still unconscious as far as I know.”

  Chapter 21

  Bob’s Monday morning meeting lasted until noon, exhausting everyone but him, apparently. As we filed out of the conference room, I decided to provide Nate with some positive feedback for supporting me on the issue of selling off the conservation tract. I should have known better.

  “Thanks for fighting against that Mooney purchase offer,” I told him. “I’m surprised Bob even let Matt bring it to the table.”

  Nate ignored the compliment and instead sent another accusation my way. “What was the real reason you drove out to the tract on Sunday?”

  I gave him a puzzled look because I was puzzled. What possible ulterior motive did he think would send me for a Sunday drive along a pitted logging road so treacherous the potholes rivaled grenade holes in Afghanistan? In my self-righteous frame of mind, I’d completely forgotten about my idea of panning for gold while I was out there.

  “I’m not sure I understand your question,” I said. “I go out to the tract on a regular basis to survey the plant populations. In this case, Jodie and I were scouting out a good site for the girls summer camp.”

  He gave me a skeptical look and shrugged.

  “You know,” I added, in my own defense, “I have as much right out there as you do; more, for that matter. It’s not your personal property even if you did work your butt off to convince the Perry family to donate it, which no one appreciates more that I do,” I said, trying to convince him I was not the enemy. He turned away from me and I added, “Look, I’m on your side, especially when it comes to conservation issues and I can’t figure out why you fail to understand that.”

  He glanced back at me as he walked away. “I don’t need a lecture from you today.” With that parting shot, he stalked off to his office at the opposite end of the hall from mine, a location I appreciated no doubt more than he did. What was the man’s problem?

  On my way back to my office, I stopped by the vending machines for something resembling food. If I could stop my stomach from grumbling, I planned to finish the Hort budget, which was due at the end of the week. When I finally reached my office, I found Ginger waiting.

  “Let’s go to lunch at Comfort’s,” she suggested. “Monday is chicken pot pie day and we haven’t been there in awhile.”

  I could have hugged her. I tossed the vending machine chips and cookies on my desk, grabbed my bag and followed her out the door.

  “Be back in an hour,” I told Maddy, as I watched her slurp down the last bite of chicken and broccoli, part of her new gourmet lunch cuisine.

  §

  The Comfort Food Café is a small storefront restaurant that serves about the best food in town, and I was in need of a large dose of comfort as well as food.

  “I’ll drive,” I told Ginger on our way out to the parking lot.

  Over a glass of lemonade at Comfort’s, I asked her what she thought about the morning staff meeting.

  “I think Bob’s under a lot of pressure over the budget and the poor attendance figures. He certainly took me back when he let Matt bring up that offer from Mooney.”

  “Mooney’s name has been popping up a lot lately. I think he’s bad luck when it comes to the zoo.”

  “Have you ever met the guy?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I’ve been thinking about introducing myself.”

  “I’d advise against it. On top of everything else, he thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Maybe he was good looking in his day, but his day came and went a long time ago.”

  “Do you think he’s educable?”

  “Possibly. Who knows? He’s a businessman. Money is his god.” Ginger cocked her head to one side. “Do you have something in mind?”

  “I do,” I said, suggesting she should trust me instead of assuming I was up to no good. “I’m considering paying him a visit. Maybe I can lay a guilt trip on him about all the rare and endangered plants that will be destroyed forever if he develops that land. I think he doesn’t understand that a few green spaces here and there won’t do the trick.”

  “Good luck. It’s a novel idea and maybe a personal plea from you would work, but there’s something about Mooney that makes my skin crawl.”

  “I have a black belt, remember? I’ll be fine.”

  “Tell me again when yo
u got your black belt? Weren’t you sixteen or something?”

  “Age is meaningless. Some things you never forget,” I assured her. “Like riding a bicycle.”

  “Well, if you decide to visit him, let me know. I want to be within calling distance.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Jodie.”

  Our chicken pot pies arrived and they were even tastier than usual, with homemade rolls and buttery mashed potatoes.

  “Comfort food doesn’t get any better than this,” I told Ginger.

  “I agree,” she said, her mouth full of chicken, carrots, and tiny sweet white onions. “By the way,” she paused to swallow, “what’s going on with Dan Saunders?”

  “I wish I knew. I keep waiting for him to re-schedule our broken date, but he’s avoiding me. Hasn’t come around my office, hasn’t called. I thought maybe he left the meeting early today so he wouldn’t have to talk with me.”

  “You’re getting paranoid.” Ginger brushed back a sandy brown curl that had flopped over her left eye. One glance at Ginger, especially when she smiles, and you have to smile back. I think it’s because she has a broad mouth and big teeth, along with one of the friendliest faces I’ve ever seen.

  “I might be a bit paranoid, but I’m pretty certain he found out about my dinner date with the prince of the Farthington clan and thinks it was something it wasn’t. Especially since I told him I was working late.”

  “So, talk to him about it. Explain you were on zoo business.”

  “Exactly what I plan to do if I ever catch up with the man.” I glanced up from wolfing down my pot pie. “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What is it with men? When you ignore them, they can’t stop chasing after you, and when you finally give in and agree to go out with them they lose interest. Why is that?”

  “It’s an evolutionary thing,” she said. “Ask the vet, he’s always spouting off about evolution.”

  The thought of my posing my question to the vet set us both laughing.

  “Can’t you just see his expression?” Ginger sputtered. “But while you’re there, see if you can borrow his dart gun. Once you’ve put Dan down, I’ll help you drag his hunky body back to your place and leave you alone to ravish him at your leisure when he regains consciousness. Or maybe before—your choice.”

  I almost choked on my lunch. “Now you are sounding like Jodie. And speaking of the devil, I haven’t had a call from her today to update me on Andy LaRue’s progress. I hope that’s good news. I‘m pulling for him to wake soon and solve Jack’s murder for us. Unless of course, Bob’s right about Andy killing him.”

  “I don’t believe that nonsense any more than Dan does. Andy’s a good kid. A little full of himself sometimes, but he’ll grow out of it.”

  “I hope so. For his sake as well as Jodie’s. She’s actually considering dating him again if he survives, though I hate to see her get involved with someone out of pity. Not a good strategy, at least for the long term.”

  “I know,” Ginger agreed. “I’ve seen it with my sister. Her husband had a really bad childhood and he uses it to play on her sympathies, meaning he uses it to control her. Drives me crazy, but what can I do? She loves the guy and can’t see through his manipulative little games.” Ginger hesitated. I could tell she wanted to say more but stopped herself. “Nothing I can do about it except watch and hope everything turns out okay.”

  The waitress laid our checks on the table and I changed the subject. “If I were home,” I said, scraping up the last bits of chicken and gravy from my plate, “I’d pick up this plate and lick it clean.”

  “Me, too,” Ginger said. “Aren’t we awful pigs, though?” She broke out in another great grin. “Speaking of pigs, when are you planning to visit Mr. ‘Aren’t I Wonderful’ Mooney?”

  I shook my finger at her as I stood to leave. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were egging me on.”

  “Maybe just a little,” she acknowledged, following me to the cash register.

  I handed the waitress enough cash to cover both of our lunches since Ginger’s always feeding me and it’s the only way I can pay her back. I’d like to invite her to my place for dinner, but I haven’t the heart to subject a good friend to my cooking.

  “To answer your question,” I said, “I’m heading to Mooney’s office as soon as I drop you back at the zoo. Do me a favor when you go in, and tell Maddy that I’ll be back later today, but please, don’t tell her where I’m going.”

  “My lips are sealed. Just promise me you’ll be careful, and tactful.”

  “Tact is my middle name,” I told Ginger, ignoring her raised eyebrow yet again.

  Chapter 22

  A comforting lunch with my best friend left me feeling better than I’d felt in two days. With a full tummy and my confidence restored, I drove back to the zoo, pulled into the employee parking lot and dropped off Ginger at the side entrance. I half-hoped to run into Dan Saunders, but no such luck.

  I debated about driving down to Security before going into town to track down Mr. Mooney, but decided to wait until I returned. I had to go out to the park later to check on the progress of our new Desert planting areas later. I’d stop by Security then.

  Taking advantage of the leisurely six-mile trip to downtown Chestnut City, I rehearsed my upcoming conversation with Mr. Mooney, concentrating on what I considered to be tactful approaches. I knew Ginger’s warnings about him were as empty as Jodie’s serial killer notions. The appearance of a murder victim in one’s vicinity can do strange things to people’s minds. Paranoia is a fearsome force.

  On my trip downtown, I freed my mind of all negative thoughts when it came to men. The scenery helped. I loved the drive between the zoo and Chestnut City, which boasts about 30,000 residents if you count the cats and dogs and a cow or two. My two-bedroom house lies in what I call the historic district, an older section of town littered with Arts and Crafts bungalows. The area is known locally as the eastern suburbs, a term I use with some hesitation having grown up in Pittsburgh where the whole of Chestnut City feels like a suburb to me.

  In the summer, the rolling hills are dotted with fields of tobacco and corn. The bucolic views always relax me, especially after a long day’s work. Today, I glanced across the newly tilled brown fields wondering about the crops recently planted in each. The small log-curing barns, blackened with time, bore witness to which of the fields would yield the Golden Leaf and which would produce the area’s tasty Silver Queen corn that always makes me anxious for August to arrive.

  As my trusty Prius neared the business district, the scene outside my window changed from pastoral to a passing torrent of fast food joints and gas stations—one on each corner at the crossroads of Main and Market, each offering gas at the same price down to one-hundredth of a cent. In the next block, a large billboard invited me to stop at the Champagne Cabaret for adult entertainment, including drinks that were as exotic as the dancers.

  When I moved to Chestnut City, I was surprised to learn of a gentlemen’s club in this conservative Bible-belt town, gentlemen’s club being the local euphemism for a strip joint. The club’s champagne-glass road sign sent sparkling bubbles into the air as you drove by—a major waste of water and a crime in my humble opinion, given we’ve suffered a drought for the past two summers.

  The City Council has tried to shut down the place a number of times, but the first amendment guarantees the right to purvey lewd behavior as long as it doesn’t cross the boundary into pornography as defined by at least two of our local judges, both of whom frequent the club, or so I’d been told.

  Another mile past the club, along what’s termed The Strip, hyperbole for a plethora of strip malls, is the entrance to the city center—a six-block section of Main Street that begins at a public park and ends at the local hospital, which I’ve always found ironic.

  In addition to the hospital, the town sports a tiny Tobacco Museum along with a historic General Store from which I buy Chri
stmas gifts to supplement the ones I purchase from the zoo’s gift shop.

  I parked in one of the two public lots, locked my car, though I couldn’t remember the last time anyone reported a car stolen downtown, and ambled along Main Street for two blocks to the Mooney Building..

  The paneled front doors opened to a marble-tiled entry with a stairwell, elevator, and hallway off to the right. I checked the directory for the offices of Mooney Construction. The fallaciously titled ‘Corporate Offices’ of the privately owned Mooney Construction Company were located on the top floor of the city’s tallest building.

  Bypassing the elevators, I headed for the stairs figuring I could use the exercise, but when I reached the fourth floor I encountered a locked door. I walked back down one flight where the door opened to the same bank of elevators. I felt a little foolish pushing the up button and riding up one floor.

  If the elevator arrived with passengers, I considered limping in order to stave off embarrassment at my presumed laziness. As it was, an empty elevator delivered me to the building’s top floor. The doors opened and I noticed an “Emergency Only” sign on the stairwell door, which totally baffled me since it made no sense.

  A large sign on the wall opposite the elevator pointed to the Mooney “Corporate” Office suite, room number 410. I followed the hallway down and around the corner from the elevator and the puzzling emergency stairwell, where I found two large clear glass doors marking the entrance to Suite 410. I walked in and greeted the blonde, very southern, very young, receptionist seated behind a curved mahogany desk in front of a bank of darkened floor-to-ceiling windows. I wondered if she might be Mr. Mooney’s daughter.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am, may I help you?”

  “My name’s Samantha Clark. I’m the Curator of Horticulture at the Jefferson Zoo, and I’m hoping to see Mr. Mooney. Would he have a few minutes for me?”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I don’t, but if he’s free, I won’t take up much of his time.”