Part 2
As Ornamental As a One-legged Flamingo.
Eli and I moved as fast as he could shuffle to the lion’s enclosure. The zoo was quiet except for the loud crash, the nocturnal sounds of animals moving about and chittering, and the crowded group of crime scene techs, EMS, and police standing around where Tom Dantry’s body was found.
“What was that crash?” I pulled aside the first crime tech I found.
“Oh nothing,” she sheepishly replied. “One of the lions roared and Fred knocked over the body.”
Other techs were scrambling to put Dantry on the gurney so he could go to the morgue.
Eli was bleeding bad from his shoulder. “You’d better get a bandage over here,” I pushed Eli closer and took his air rifle. “You’d also better send someone over to the chimpanzee house; another zoo keeper down.”
“So they forced you to retire,” Detective Winters stood behind me balanced like a cobra ready to strike. He brought up a painful memory.
I sized him up. “Been talking to my past I see. Who told you? Sheriff Shelton or someone else?”
“My boss says you’re a crook and you shouldn’t be anywhere near this investigation.”
The last year I was sheriff something went down ensuring I retired. An election year, I should have been a shoo-in for the job. I was well-liked by the people and the politicians. Heck, I could kiss babies and woo old ladies on the campaign trail with equal results. I was the Diablo Valley Sheriff and could do no wrong.
It turns out popularity only takes you so far and you can do wrong if you’re unlucky. Dirty tricks can end your political career fairly fast. The sheriff oversees the jail, all of the patrol deputies, the detectives, and the various general service employees. It is a big job with a lot of pokers in the fire.
One of those pokers got too hot and I was too busy kissing babies to notice.
The commissary fund at the jail came up empty; a total of $15,000 short. This was money the inmates had in escrow. Family and friends had scraped together what they could to make an inmate’s life better. And I couldn’t figure out how the money was gone. Sure, it was likely an accounting error but we never figured it out before the election.
And the press had a field day. They called me any name that stuck; crook, embezzler, bad manager. They said it all and soon I was on the outs. Not even old ladies liked me.
I lost the election and the county allowed me retire. I took the job at the city zoo as a way to stay in police work. Although writing tickets for errant dogs doesn’t exactly count as serious policing. It was a huge leap downward, but I still could carry a gun and keep my dignity intact.
More than 12 years I had worked with Tom Dantry at the zoo and nothing had gone wrong. In fact, moms now let me kiss their babies and old ladies seemed to like me again. I was the head of zoo security and could do no wrong.
Winters had two deputies escort me out of the zoo. They watched me leave as I strode across the parking lot. My mind raced about the night’s events; the weight of Dantry’s death, the attack near the chimpanzee house, and the discovery of the note in Dantry’s pocked. I fingered it again. No, I hadn’t said a word to Winters about the note. It was my “get of off jail free card” and I intended to use it later.
I fumbled for my car keys, eager to jut get home and think about what “Project Atlas” could mean in the safety of my own home. As I reached the car, a white slip of paper tucked under the windshield wiper caught my eye.
“Probably a note from Carrie,” I muttered, snatching the paper. But my blood ran cold as I read the typed message:
DROP THE INVESTIGATION NOW. NEXT TIME, I WON’T MISS.
My jaw clenched. Doubtful this was from my assistant. Or was it? I started to second guess the whole evening. I crumpled the note in my fist, scanning the parking lot for any sign of the threat’s source. The only people in the parking lot were the two deputies waiting to make sure I left the zoo. Whoever typed the note was long gone.
“Dammit,” I growled, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. My heart pounded as I gripped the steering wheel. “I’m getting too close. They’re scared.”
My thoughts turned to Miguel Serrano, the zoo’s maintenance supervisor. Miguel had seemed agitated when he was with everyone and said he was glad Dantry was dead. But he got the worse end of the attack at the chimpanzee house. In fact, Serrano thought Eli had shot him. That wasn’t the case, but still.
“Miguel could be in on this,” I mused aloud. “Or… he could be another victim.”
I peeled out and headed for the driveway to the back of the zoo. I needed to know more about who killed Dantry, who was trying to kill me, and what any of this had to do with “Project Atlas.”
As I drove up the driveway behind the administration offices, my mind wandered to Jenna Shaw. Where did she fit into this circus of suspects? Little did I know, at that very moment, she was embarking on her own covert mission.
Jenna’s heart pounded like a caffeinated woodpecker as she slipped into Dantry’s office. The room still reeked of his cologne – a scent that now made her want to vomit or set something on fire. Preferably both.
“Think, Jenna,” she muttered, rifling through desk drawers. “What would make Stone look guilty as sin?”
Her trembling hands found a leather-bound planner. Flipping through it, her eyes widened. Scrawled on today’s date: “Meet S. Discuss Atlas termination.”
A wicked grin spread across her face. With a few strokes of her pen, “S” became “Stone,” and her path to freedom seemed clearer. All she had to do now was ensure this damning evidence found its way to the right hands.
Jena looked around the office. The smell, the souvenirs, the memories of Dantry and their moments together startled her, making her sick. She thrashed out at Dantry and threw papers and folders around the room; really trashed the office. “You bastard!,” she screamed. “How dare you cut me out.” She cried and looked around the room where everything was tossed. A piece of paper floated to the floor. She sighed, then quietly crept out, clutching her ill-gotten prize.
Jenna felt a twinge of guilt for framing Torely Stone. But it vanished faster than a lion’s steak dinner. In this concrete jungle, it was eat or be eaten. And Jenna Shaw had no intention of ending up as anyone’s prey.
I turned off the car and the headlights, then coasted behind Dantry’s office. I jimmied the lock and made my way down the corridor, my footsteps echoing as I approached Dantry’s door. It was ajar, a sliver of darkness inviting me in. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the handle.
“This feels wrong,” I whispered to myself, “but it’s the only way to get answers.”
I clicked on my flashlight and made my way to his desk. The place looked like a tornado had hit a paper factory. Drawers hung open, their contents strewn across the floor. The computer lay in pieces, its innards gutted. Even the potted ficus in the corner hadn’t been spared, its soil spilled across the carpet like diarrhea from a nervous elephant.
“Well, damn,” I muttered, kicking aside a crumpled memo. “Looks like I’m not the only one playing detective.”
My eyes darted around the chaos, searching for anything that might scream “Project Atlas.” But whoever had ransacked this joint knew what they were after. The realization hit me like a tranq dart to the head – I wasn’t just solving a murder anymore. I was in a race against an unknown adversary.
Still, it didn’t hurt to look. My investigator’s instincts kicked into high gear. I began rifling through drawers, my eyes scanning for anything out of place.
“Come on, Dantry,” I thought. “What were you hiding?”
As I pulled out the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, a folder caught my eye. “Project Atlas,” I read aloud, my heart racing. The folder smelled sweet like flowers and a smudge of lipstick was on the cover. Inside, I found detailed plans for a massive zoo expansion, complete with endangered species acquisitions and hefty financial projections.
I furrowed my brow. “This doesn’t add up. Why keep this a secret?”
I continued reading, my eyes widening as I stumbled upon a list of questionable investors and potential legal loopholes. “Jesus, Dantry. What did you get yourself into?”
A sudden creak outside the office made me freeze. I held my breath, listening intently. After a moment of silence, I relaxed slightly, but a new tension gripped me. Someone else had been here, looking for these same documents.
“I’m not alone in this,” I realized, a chill running down my spine. “Whoever killed Dantry might still be here, watching, waiting.”
I carefully replaced the folder under the bottom drawer, making sure everything appeared untouched. As I moved towards the door, I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on my back.
“I need to be more careful,” I thought, my hand instinctively moving to my gun. “This just got a lot more dangerous than I bargained for.”
I went home and tried to sleep; the adrenaline burning low after working all day and running all night. I fell exhausted on the couch.
My brain woke me at 6:21 a.m. urging me to piss. I swear my bladder needs more attention than a dozen puppies. I pulled myself together and splashed water on my face. A three-hour nap would have to do; I needed to get back to finding out who killed Tom Dantry and who was after me.
I phoned and asked Winters to meet me at a local coffee shop. He wasn’t real pleased to hear from me this early. He spent the whole night up too.
“I thought I told you we didn’t need your help,” barked Winters. He sounded irritated and groggy as if I rustled him from a good dream.
“Yes, that’s what you said,” sounding too pleasant in agreeing with him. “But, I need to give you some evidence I found. It could lead to the killer.”
“Why didn’t just give it up last night?” Winters growled.
“A lot happened,” I sighed pouring on the sarcasm. “And it just didn’t make the top of my list of concerns… Let’s meet and I’ll fill you in.” If I was going to hand over the note, I wanted to get something in return.
“Fine.”
I found Winters eating a plate of eggs and slurping from a thick white cup of coffee in the corner booth. He wasn’t happy to see me.
“The sooner you are out my sight, the better.”
I slid into booth facing him and reached for his toast.
“I don’t know what the new sheriff told you, but you need me on this case.” I flashed him a smile as big as a Cheshire cat; I had a secret and he was going to have to wait.
“He told me about the missing money. You’re a crook,” scowled Winters.
I took a bite of the bread.
“Did he tell you the money mysteriously appeared as soon as he was elected?” I leaned forward. “It was an accounting error like I thought and Sheriff Shelton got to play hero.”
“Oh, no… he didn’t mention that.” Winters looked away.
“It was election high jinx. Someone wanted me to loose and Shelton became sheriff.”
“I’ll work my way back to that,” Winters leaned toward me. “What evidence are you holding?”
“Not until you agree to keep me on this case.”
“You know, I could just arrest you for withholding evidence.”
“Maybe. But you still wouldn’t know what it all means,” I smiled and patted the note in my pocket. “I have a lot more to tell you.”
Winters’ face contorted into a grimace, like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of sour milk. I could practically see the gears grinding in his balding head as he weighed the pros and cons of keeping me on this increasingly convoluted case.
“Fine, Stone. You can stay on. But I swear, if this blows up in our faces.”
I waved off his half-hearted threat. “Relax, Winters. I’ve got this under control.”
That was a lie, of course. This case was about as under control as a roided-up gorilla on roller skates. But Winters didn’t need to know that.
I showed him the note and filled him in on my little office excursion. “Found something interesting under Dantry’s file cabinet. Folder labeled “Project Atlas.” Smelled like expensive perfume and had lipstick on it.”
Winters raised an eyebrow. “Lipstick? You thinking what I’m thinking?”
I nodded grimly. “Yeah. Either Dantry had a secret cross-dressing hobby, or we’ve got a female player in this game.”
I then showed him the second note found on my car. “And I’d say the killer is willing to put me and anyone down to keep their little secret.”
I rushed back to the zoo ready to dive into interviewing Rachel Holt, the head veterinarian. I chose her because she was a female and clearly wore perfume and lipstick. Of course, I hadn’t eaten since that piece of toast. I decided to fill the tank with a cod sandwich at Spinnakers. It also gave me a chance to check in with my assistant Carrie. She was waiting for me when I sat down for lunch.
“You look like you wrestled a bear,” she fussed. “Mom says you’re too old for this stress.”
“Tell my sister to worry about her own mortality,” I grumbled.
She looked about as frazzled as a dirty duster. “I’m not sure how to help,” she sighed. “We’re way beyond finding a complaint form or a leash citation.” She was right; they don’t anticipate a lot of murders at the zoo. Her sticking around was going to make her as ornamental as a one-legged flamingo.
“You know,” I patted her hand. “Why don’t you take a few days off. Keep your mom company.”
Before I could go on, a manicured hand grabbed my arm. I turned to find Jenna Shaw, the zoo’s PR manager, her perfectly made-up face a mask of desperation.
“Torely,” she hissed insistently, “we need to talk. Privately.” She acknowledged Carrie before rushing from the table insisting I follow.
She led me to the hallway separating the restrooms and pulled me aside. Once we were out of earshot, she turned to me, and satisfied my curiosity. Her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Please,” she begged, “you have to quit this hunt and let the police continue the investigation. You don’t understand how you’re in danger.”
I studied her, noting the slight tremor in her hands, the way her eyes kept darting around. “Why don’t you enlighten me, Ms. Shaw?”
She took a shaky breath. “Douglas and I… we were involved. If this gets out, my career is over and Tom’s reputation is further ruined. Everything we’ve worked for, gone.”
I was a bit taken back; Dantry was a devoted bachelor and didn’t seem to have much time for romance. Unless it was a book about paranormal entanglements, Dantry stayed clear of anything notorious. Of course, he was working on “Project Atlas”; could Jena be a partner?
I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but it was quickly overshadowed by suspicion. Love affairs had a nasty habit of turning deadly.
“I’m afraid I can’t walk away,” I said, keeping my voice low. “A man is dead, and I intend to find out why.”
Jenna’s face crumpled, and for a moment, I thought she might actually break down. But then she straightened, her eyes hardening.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” she warned. “This goes deeper than you can imagine.”
As I watched her walk away, her heels clicking, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right. “Project Atlas” had a lot of nefarious partners attached to it. This case was turning into a regular Pandora’s box, and I had a sinking feeling that what was waiting at the bottom was far worse than anything I’d imagined.
(Part Three Coming October 31, 2024)
© 2024, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.