Fatal Connections

Chapter 72

Based on my paperwork, my theories of the case were solidifying into a truly horrid scenario. Considering the number of usually sealed records she had sent me, Alex must have called in more than a few favors. I wondered if any of the items could be considered evidence. If so, what did they really prove?

The weirdness of the situation struck me. A cursory look at Alex's research revealed nothing to suggest that the Harcourts were involved with Embrace the Wild in any way other than simple visits to the petting zoo. But the way things were shaping up, the Harcourts' connection to Embrace the Wild was a great setup for either a modern sit-com or a Greek tragedy; their murder placed it squarely in the latter category.

The papers showed relationships that had apparently soured. But it wasn't enough. There might be more than one rotten apple in the barrel. I needed to identify the one with a motive for murder and pin him or her down. And a quick check of Calhoun's office could make all the difference. I would take a more careful look at the package after I engaged in a harmless bit of trespassing.

If I could find more solid evidence in there of what I strongly suspected, this would not only clear me but would also show everyone I wasn't . . . what? A crazy vet who killed my own clients for no reason? A worthless wreck? I had survived in a war zone, so I was sure I could manage this.

"Stay frosty," I muttered and got ready to leave.

As we had planned, I left my apartment and timed my arrival at Marge Calhoun's house to ensure that she wouldn't see me. Once in the neighborhood, I backed into a spot near an intersection, far enough away from her house to keep my car out of sight. With my ID and clipboard, I readied myself for another B&E.

Waiting sucks. But after about five minutes, a low-pitched hum snapped me to full alert. The garage door lifted and a late model Mercedes slid out, pausing only long enough for Calhoun to make sure the door closed before she left.

The street was quiet, with only the distant whir of traffic in the background. A lone robin chirped. Hey, it was almost April. The daffodils were blazing yellow, but in a month or so, the tulips would replace their dead asses.

I knocked on the door, then took pains to play with my phone, looking up at the house, and miming text messages. Yes, I'm here to give an estimate on those cabinets you wanted. The street was quiet. I doubted anyone was home to care about me, but I kept up the charade, because cleaning ladies could be lurking anywhere. I knocked again, then went for a stroll to the back door. Through its cross-hatched window pane, I saw the kitchen I recalled from my last visit. Using my bump key, I slipped inside.

The silence made the air feel solid. I moved in further. Then, a loud clatter issued from somewhere in the room and my head felt like it was about to explode. On the verge of a flashback, I took a deep breath, and exhaled. When I realized I had jumped at the sound of the ice machine, my face warmed with a blush of embarrassment.

From the kitchen, I turned right and entered the den. First, I checked the photos and found the one I had noticed earlier right away. A photo of the Harcourts at Embrace the Wild. They stood in each other's half-embrace, near the man I now knew was Ben Mulligan. With an actual koala sitting at Marian's feet.

I took a closer look at the cars in the background. One of them was brown, with two people exiting from it. I used my phone to magnify the image so I could examine it more closely. Enlarging the photo brought out the clear dent on the driver's side, which faced the camera. I could see Amazon Woman, aka Phyllis Atkinson, emerge from the car. I also recognized the person who left the car from the passenger side. It was someone I had so hoped not to see.