Endangered: A Zoo Mystery Part 22

Pluvia turned to me, "Wait outside."

I hesitated. What story might they cook up together? On the other hand, I was stymied. Not much choice. Pluvia closed the door behind me. I could hear their voices, but not words. Angry voices, rising and falling.

I expected Pluvia, but it was Wanda who opened the door and waved me in. "What, you thought I couldn't walk? I can walk fine."

I sat on the guest chair. Wanda and Pluvia sat on the bed. Wanda looked at Pluvia, then at me, and took a breath before launching what she'd decided to say. I listened for deception.

"I told you Jerome brought me a daughter, and I will miss her the rest of my days."

I nodded. "Liana. He found her working as a prost.i.tute at a truck stop and rescued her. He brought her home."

Pluvia flinched, but not Wanda. "That's right. We saved her from an evil life. And no one ever put a hand on that girl. We treated her like our own."

"I see."

"You'd better. She was a good girl once she got the chance, and I don't want no slander around her."

I didn't nod.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Did she ever go into town?"

"She never set foot off our property. She was scared half to death that someone from her old life would find her. I made Jerome buy what she needed-tampons and such. I gave him no choice in the matter. He didn't like it, but he did it. She never left except to walk with me to Pluvia's."

Wanda and Pluvia checked that I was cowed into belief before Wanda started up again.

"Now, I had two sons and no need of more, but Jerome seemed to feel that since Liana worked out so well, he could bring home another stray." Bitterness oozed from her voice. "That was Ethan. He was a young fellow, real smart. He was pleasant, but he only stayed with us a week or two. He got himself a place somewhere nearby, and he'd come visit. He must be the root of all this."

"That was three or four months ago, right?"

Wanda's brow furrowed. "Doesn't seem that long, but I've been foggy in my mind."

"Yes," said Pluvia, "She's right. Along about last October."

I figured she knew because she spied on the place regularly. "Why didn't he stay?"

Wanda said, "Liana took a dislike to him. We all ignored it, but she wouldn't let it go. Finally he had enough and moved out."

"Why didn't she like him?"

"I have no idea."

Pluvia leaned toward her. "Wanda, why are you doing that?"

Wanda's eyes filled with tears. "Leave me alone."

Pluvia said, "It's important."

"It makes Jerome look so bad." Her pale eyes threatened to spill over.

I couldn't suppress an urge to rescue her. "Let's see if I already know. Jerome and the boys had made a living growing marijuana for years, but Ethan had new ideas, new ways to make money. It was his idea to set up the meth lab. And he knew how."

Wanda sat on the bed with her swollen white hands limp in her lap.

Pluvia said, "Of course it was. Jerome could never figure out how to do such a thing."

Wanda ruffled a little. Perhaps she was the only one who got to criticize Jerome. She turned back to me. "Ethan talked Jerome into spending a lot of money on equipment. I didn't know what they were doing. I wasn't well." Was that the tiniest bit of whine in her voice?

"They also brought in smuggled parrots and tortoises to sell," I said.

"I don't think so." Wanda looked confused. "I never heard anything about that."

"Well, they did. Tell me about when Ethan moved out."

Wanda shrugged a thick shoulder. "He had bought himself a car and he just up and left. Liana was happy as could be."

"Triumphant, like she'd won, driven him out?"

"I guess you could say triumphant. She was pretty unhappy about his plans for making that evil drug in the barn. I spoke against it, too, but of course Jerome wouldn't listen to me. He said people deserved their misery for being weak. Usually he'd listen to Liana, but Ethan kept talking about the money, and how Jerome could donate it to his causes. Patriot causes. Jerome meant well. He wanted to send money to people he believed in."

Meant well. I let that go. "But Ethan came back now and then."

"Yes, he did. He usually didn't come up to the house. He'd meet Jerome in one of the barns."

"Was his car a beige sedan?"

Pluvia said, "Cream color."

"Would Jerome call him to make bail and get a ride back to the house?"

Wanda's face went sour. "He'd tell Ethan where his money was hidden before he'd tell me or our boys. Not his own family, oh no."

I said, "All of the money or some of it?"

Wanda said, "Just the one batch, I expect. I know he hid it in more than one spot. Jerome made sure the government would never find it. He cared more about that than anything else."

Otherwise Ethan and the brothers wouldn't be looking for it.

Pluvia patted Wanda's hand.

My next question wouldn't help find Ethan, but I wanted to know. "Do you remember if Ethan ever cut himself, like in the kitchen or something?"

Pluvia and Wanda looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. Wanda frowned for a minute and said at last, "Yes, there was such a thing. I remember it because it was the one time Liana was nice to that man. It was just before he left. He nicked himself out in the barn doing something or other. His hand was still bleeding when they all came up to the house for some reason. Liana put a bandage on it."

I told them about the bag I'd found. "I think he'd used that gla.s.s, maybe for a drink of water. Inside it was a tissue that must have had blood from his cut hand."

The two women looked at me blankly.

"It was an ID kit. His fingerprints and maybe his DNA were on file somewhere for crimes he'd committed. I think Liana told him she had hidden it where he'd never find it, and she'd turn it over to the police if he didn't leave. I bet she was pretty upset when he helped get the meth lab into production anyway."

I could tell Pluvia got it.

Tears spilled down Wanda's soft cheeks. "Liana tried to protect us from a criminal. Jerome wouldn't listen."

I nudged the tissue box on her bed tray toward her. "Your farm was as safe and remote as any place could be. Ethan must have thought he'd landed in heaven."

"He killed my girl. Ethan killed her."

Sounded right to me. "So. Where is his place?"

And they didn't know. Either of them. No idea.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

I dropped Pluvia off at the Battle Ground Safeway to connect with the friend who would take her back to her cabin. On the way, she practically burbled. "Wanda is almost her old self again. It's wonderful to have her back. Thank you so much for taking me."

I nodded politely. Panic was skittering across my brain on little sandpiper toes with depression and frustration trotting right behind. I'd pinned my last hopes on those two women.

Pluvia said, "She'll have a hard time at home, with everyone gone. I'll do what I can, but sorrows take their own time." She was quiet for a mile or so. "I wish we could help you find Jeff and Tom. I know they're in big trouble. I never thought Tom would act like that." She lapsed into silence, which suited me fine.

I had a name, but it was certainly false. I had a description that was largely useless-white, average height, dark hair, a thin mustache and a little beard patch, no special characteristics. I pictured a guy a few years older than Liana-closer to Jeff and Tom's age, probably a meth addict with bad teeth. Not the spider tortoise shopper at the reptile show, the descriptions were too far off. Maybe I'd seen him. Maybe he was one of the men with metal detectors roaming the farm.

I believed what the two women told me, and many details were now filled in. But the big question, the one that mattered, remained unanswered: where the h.e.l.l were these guys?

Deep in hiding, that was where, holed up deep in the fir trees and big-leaf maples, hunkered down in some forgotten cabin that no one would ever find. They'd foray out at night, like feral cats, for food and mayhem and vanish at daybreak.

I called Gettler from the Safeway parking lot. Might as well tell him what I'd learned. Maybe he could pull something useful out of his official hat. "It's Iris. I talked to Pluvia, the neighbor."

"You didn't listen to me, did you?"

"I took her to the hospital to visit Wanda Tipton." I told him about the third man.

"Interesting. We haven't seen any evidence of an outsider. I'll drop by the hospital and talk to your friend if he's awake enough by now. He might give us some descriptions. I'll pay Wanda another visit, too."

Denny was too out of it to be useful, and I doubted Wanda would talk to the law. "Better you should run every fingerprint you found at the farm."

"Thanks. I'd never have thought of that."

Stung, I clapped my phone shut and pointed the Honda toward the Interstate and home. After a few miles, I realized Officer Gettler might be a little stressed himself.

Somehow I now had a regular hospital route. I took the exit to the Southwest Medical Center to see Denny and Marcie. Linda and Marion hovered outside the room. They wore civilian clothes, which in Marion's case was surprising-a long, colorful skirt. Linda was in predictable jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt.

Marcie, somehow unrumpled in a pink turtle-neck and tan pants, stepped out of the room to join us in the hallway. She a.s.sured us Denny was better, but I couldn't see any change. He was still limp, the machines still hummed, the tubes still dripped.

Linda said, "Marion and I can sit with him on our days off. Hap would, too, and Pete and Cheyenne. We can make a schedule."

Marcie smiled and shook her head. "Oh, that's not necessary. I'm fine here. Thanks for offering."

We stood around in the hallway, uncomfortable and worried, stymied.

"Marcie," I said, "you don't have to do this alone. Let his friends help."

"I have to be here." It was a statement of fact, not debatable. Marcie's eyes were hollow and brilliant and serene. "I have everything I need."

We took another peek at him and left. In the lobby, we shared a frustrated shrug and went our separate ways. Marcie would do everything humanly possible to take care of Denny, and there was nothing I could do to take care of Marcie. Better to focus on other problems. Like finding Strongbad.

Ken called while I was in the hospital parking lot on my way out. "Hey, sorry I didn't call sooner. Didn't notice the message. How's your friend? Have you found that dog?"

I told him what had happened to Denny and about my attempts to find Strongbad. "He's got a collar with some sort of ID tag, maybe a license. Denny never said anything about chipping him."

"Could be they just clouted him over the head to shut him up," he said without excitement. "He might have run off any direction. He might have tried to trail the car. You could search the route to the zoo."

"We did, but not all the way to the freeway. I'll go back and walk farther along the road."

"I'll meet you at Denny's house. What's the address? We can each take a side."

Driving to Denny's, I decided I would not regret sleeping with Craig. Even if I never saw him again, it had been worth it to feel like more than a hara.s.sed parent and dutiful employee, if only for a little while. Ken appealed, but Craig moved faster. I didn't owe either of them a thing. Everyone has baggage and a secret or two.

Ken was chatting with Cheyenne on Denny's front porch when I arrived and broke away with such an open, happy-to-see-me face that I almost stumbled. Surprised into shyness, I shook his hand and thanked him for helping out.

He and I started at the arterial where Cheyenne and I had stopped and worked toward the freeway. Few people were home and those weren't sociable. We left a flier at each house. The air was cool and damp. Instead of the usual gray ceiling with dull, even light, the sky was mottled and uneven. Daylight brightened and dimmed as the clouds s.h.i.+fted, dark bruises outlined in pale. The rain held off.

We quit at the freeway. "Worst case, he's injured and dying in the bushes somewhere," I said.

"Best case, he's holed up at someone's house eating leftover steak. Come on. I'll buy you a cup of coffee and a cookie. There's nothing more we can do."

We caravanned to a little cafe close by. The coffee was acceptable and a big chocolate cookie was the best part of this dismal day. Ken's fondness for pastries was h.e.l.l on my waistline. I told him about seeing the Tiptons' dogs at the humane society.

"Nice place. They do a good job," he said.

I c.o.c.ked a head at him. "But they don't know you. At least the volunteer didn't know your name."

"There's one woman there who cannot get it out of her head that my name is Benjamin, like her cousin the bus driver. Ben, Ken-way too close. I gave up telling her. What's next on your agenda?"

"No agenda. I'm stuck waiting. Waiting to hear if Denny's going to survive. Waiting to hear the Tiptons are in custody so I can go home. Waiting to hear about that d.a.m.ned dog that Denny never trained." The tortoises were probably being tossed around with other packages at the post office, on their way to some ignorant or ethics-free collector. I put my face in my hands. "I am so angry I want to throw up. I want to kill these people. I can't think of what to do to make this be over."

Ken said, "Sometimes waiting is what you do. Sometimes it's all you can do."

"Hasn't worked so far. If I wait, something bad happens. If I act, something worse happens."