Tango considered this. <You want me to stroll up and say, Wow, am I ever blasted?>
[Or if you don’t feel up to the deception, you could simply start a conversation about previous experiences.]
<Hmmm. Well, I do have a story about some Himalayan bud and a Ping-Pong ball that’s pretty funny … >
“Then what are you waiting for? Go chillax with the dude, dude. Regale him with tales of your mighty-yet-absurdly-cute exploits.”
<All right, all right. Hey, Gus! How’s it going, man … >
I watched nervously as Tango sauntered up to the liger. He was a ghost and she was alive, but they were both supernatural beings; I wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to attack her.
But he didn’t. He appeared calm and a little curious as she walked up, and then put his chin down on his paws and listened to her intently as she talked.
<Hey. Good nip?>
{Mmmmmm. Yeah.}
When he started to purr I knew she was going to be all right.
<Lucky you. Sure wish I could get my paws on some of that stuff. What’s it like?>
{You know when your owner gives you an entire cow’s head stuffed with gourmet cat treats, fresh sheep livers, and about half a pound of hydroponically grown catnip picked that morning?}
<Oh, sure. Who doesn’t?>
{Better than that.}
<Oh, man … >
Whiskey and I left them there. Sometimes, you just want to hang with someone who understands …
* * *
The rest of the day was pretty quiet. I talked to Caroline, who’d put Augustus’s body in cold storage postmortem; the menagerie had a walk-in freezer where we stored the meat for the larger carnivores.
I didn’t do more than glance at the body. It was just too unnerving to look at it when I’d seen its previous occupant frolicking like a kitten earlier in the day.
Tango returned from the Crossroads after a few hours. She and Augustus had enjoyed a fine time together, though she refused to go into detail about something she called “the hedgehog incident.” Eventually Augustus had decided it was time for a nap, and they’d lain down together in sight of Davy’s Grave, the first animal to be buried in the Crossroads. When Tango woke up, he was gone.
<I think he’ll be okay, though,> she told me. <We talked some.>
“About what?”
<Cat stuff, mostly.>
Whiskey was lying at my feet in my office, and now he spoke without raising his head. [And to think we missed it. What tremendous intellectual heights you must have scaled together, discussing mouse soufflés, the great feline operas, and the intricate philosophy of Garfield.]
<Actually, we talked about dogs and all they’ve contributed to civilization. We both agreed they made great scratching posts, were fun to torment, and … this third thing you wouldn’t understand.>
[What third thing?]
<Never mind.>
[Tell me.]
<Forget I mentioned it.>
Whiskey got to his feet and stared at her with his one blue eye and one brown eye. [All right, I will. Unlike a cat, I am not ruled by curiosity.] He lay back down.
Tango started grooming herself. I waited.
[Tell me.]
<No.>
[Tell me.]
<No.>
<Oh, there definitely is. It’s a thing, it’s the third thing, and … >
[What? And what?]
<And it’s related to the second thing dogs are good for.>
Whiskey thought for a moment. [I hate you.]
<I know. It’s adorable.>
I sighed. “Did you find out anything useful? Like which afterlife he’s leaning toward, or anything that might point toward his killer?”
<We didn’t discuss the gods. Mainly, we talked about what his life was like with his previous owner. Which, I have to say, is a pretty weird concept to me.>
“A previous life? Haven’t you already had six of those?”
<I meant a cat having an owner. I just can’t wrap my head around that … anyway, he actually had it pretty good. Ate like a king, comfortable quarters, plenty of toys—but I got the feeling he was lonely.>
[What gave you that impression?]
<He said, “It was lonely.”>
[Ah.]
<Yeah, apparently the drug lord mainly wanted him around to scare subordinates, so he wasn’t shown a lot of affection. Not abused, just treated with a distant kind of respect.>
[Which I’m sure you have no experience with.]
<Dishing it out? Sure. That’s a cat’s prerogative. But being on the receiving end? That’s cold, man. A kitty needs her some love.>
[Excuse me. If you hear a sudden loud noise, it’s merely my brain exploding.]
<Thanks for mentioning it; my ears are sharp, but they’d probably miss something that small … anyway, Augustus wasn’t always alone. He grew up with a companion.>
“Who?”
<Not just who, but what. The what being a black bear named Bruno.>
“An actual bear, not a stuffed animal?”
<Yeah. They both arrived as cubs. Augustus said they’d play together, wrestle with each other and chase each other around. But it was more than just innocent friendship—they looked out for each other, too.>
“How so?”
<Well, they weren’t they only animals around. The bigger ones, like horses, were kept in separate pens, and they were usually pretty careful about keeping the dangerous ones like the pit bulls away from Bruno and Augustus—but there was one notable exception. A chimpanzee named Gorgo.
<Gorgo was pretty much allowed to go wherever he wanted. The drug lord and his friends thought it was hilarious to get him high, and chimps are more than happy to comply.>
[Not just chimps. It’s amazing how many of the substances in my olfactory library are labeled as animal psychedelics: Astragalus or Swainsona for horses, Amanita muscaria for reindeer, Banisteriopsis caapi for jaguars.]
I already knew about animals with bad habits; Caroline had told me a few stories about rescued chimps with a variety of addictions, including tobacco of both the regular and wacky types. “Poor Gorgo. Did he have a jones for junk food, too?”
<Poor Gorgo? You don’t know the half of it. See, Gamboa and his buddies took things a little too far. Like Whiskey said, there are all kinds of animals that like to get high, but human beings are the only ones who actually design their own drugs before abusing them—and some of the stuff you guys have come up with really shouldn’t be given to other species. You want to kill yourselves, fine. Just don’t drag down the rest of the food chain.>
“Uh-oh. What did they give him?”
<What didn’t they? Meth, crack, peyote, pot … he was a one-chimp pharmaceutical lab. He spent most of his time trying to scrounge whatever party leftovers were lying around, and if he ever made a big score he’d stash it for later. But when he couldn’t find anything to get high on, he’d get kind of mean. And then he’d take it out on whoever else was around that he wasn’t scared of—sometimes the domestic servants, sometimes the other animals. Before they got big enough, both Augustus and Bruno were targets.>
[What did Gorgo do?] Whiskey asked.
<Threw bottles at them—usually glass ones. Even if he didn’t hit them, the bottles would shatter and strew the ground with broken shards. They dealt with cuts on their paws all too often—it’s amazing one of them didn’t die of an infection.
<Chimps are extremely strong and very territorial; Gorgo was both large and aggressive. He liked to throw bottles from the top of their fence, but sometimes he would jump into their pen and climb the lone tree in the middle of it to pelt them, because then they’d have no place to hide.
<What Gorgo didn’t know was that black bear cubs can climb. Not only that, but bears actually fight each other in trees, sometimes tossing the other combatant to their death. And in a fight like that, the lower bear has the advantage, because he can grab with hi
s jaws and pull while hanging on with all four paws.
<Bruno waited for his chance. The next time Gorgo used them for target practice from their own tree, he charged right up the trunk after him. Nobody was more surprised than Gorgo when the cub grabbed him by the foot and yanked him right off the branch.>
“Wow. Did the fall kill him?”
<No, but it hurt him bad enough that he could barely limp over to the fence. Which is when Augustus decided that it was a good time to teach him that liger cubs have claws and fangs, too. By the time Gorgo clambered out of the pen, he had more than a few wounds. He never attacked them again.>
[I don’t imagine he would.]
“So what happened to Bruno?”
<Augustus doesn’t know. One day people came and took him away in a truck. He’s missed him ever since.>
Well, that explained why the liger was so interested in the bear statue in the graveyard. Poor guy; childhood friends would always have a special place in your heart, and when they were also your only friend? No wonder he was sad.
My phone rang; it was ZZ. “Foxtrot? I’ve made a decision concerning Augustus’s body. I’m going to announce it at dinner tonight. Will you be there?”
“Of course.”
Then she told me what she’d decided. “That makes sense,” I said. “But it’ll make everyone else angry.”
“No matter what I decide the rest are going to be angry. That’s why I want you there—I’m going to need a little help keeping people calm.”
* * *
I dressed early for dinner and went downstairs. Whiskey and Tango, as usual, went with me.
Oscar was already in the sitting room, nursing a drink; though with Oscar “nursing” generally translated into “euthanasia,” with another patient being wheeled in as the first one left.
“Hello, Oscar. Fueling up for the evening’s festivities?”
He raised his glass in a salute. “Indubitably. I’ve been considering offering odds on a winner if things come to blows.”
“Who’s the favorite?”
“It’s hard to say. Karst is an outdoorsman, but Rajiv has the devious eyes of a lawyer. Then again, both Mr. Chukwukadibia and Ms. Yao have a certain fervid intensity that could translate into serious bloodshed.”
I walked over to the bar and poured myself some sherry. “What, our self-admitted criminal doesn’t even get a mention?”
Oscar took a long swallow of his drink before answering. “First of all, Mr. Navarro hasn’t admitted to being a criminal, only to working for one. Second, one never wagers on the professional in a case like this. They’re always much too careful to get their hands dirty.”
I had to admit he had a point. Not that I thought Navarro wasn’t capable of violence, just that he was extremely aware of its consequences.
The first to join us for drinks was Jaro Karst. He seemed his usual relaxed self, slightly less jovial than usual but still cheerful. He was followed by Rajiv Gunturu, who had dressed all in black—right down to his turban—and was somber. He and Jaro exchanged glances, but apparently had nothing to say to each other.
Zhen Yao was next, also dressed in black, and looking resigned. She’d obviously convinced herself that ZZ was going to choose someone else.
I’d thought Navarro might pull his showing-up-at-the-last-minute bit again, but he surprised me by arriving at the same time as Abazu. They even appeared to be talking civilly to each other, which amazed me. It shouldn’t have, though; I’ve seen stranger things at ZZ’s get-togethers. You never can tell who will hit it off with whom.
“Good evening,” I said to both of them. “Can I get anyone a drink?”
Abazu wanted a soda, while Navarro asked for a glass of red wine. “We were just discussing exercise regimens,” Abazu said as he accepted his drink.
“Yes,” Navarro said. “I’m fond of tai chi and free weights, while Abazu favors hiking.”
Abazu nodded, beaming. “Indeed. I used to do a little weight lifting myself, many years ago, but I’m afraid my back and I disagreed on the practice. These days, I much prefer long walks to stay in shape—the worst I risk then is sore feet. But put too much strain on my back and I could be immobilized for a week.”
“Well, if that happens, don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.” I glanced at Navarro. “We’re in no hurry to get rid of anyone, as long as they behave.”
He bowed his head with a slight smile. “So noted. I’ll call off the airstrike I had scheduled for midnight.”
I smiled back despite myself, then excused myself to make nice with the other guests. Everyone was pleasant enough, but I wound up doing most of the talking; people were either morose or nervous, worried about saying the wrong thing and screwing up their chances. Even Karst didn’t do more than mumble a few inanities about how he’d enjoyed using the pool today.
Then it was time for dinner. The quiet at the table was even worse, the only noise from the guests the occasional clink of silverware or slurp of soup. I did my best to fill the void by chatting with Oscar and ZZ, but all my comments did was make everybody else’s silence seem even more pronounced. I could usually count on Oscar for a few entertaining remarks, but he deliberately kept all his responses down to one word, accompanied by an evil smirk. Kind of like this:
Me: “My, it certainly was nice out today. Not like that time we had the freak blizzard and aliens invaded and the dead rose and then a dinosaur carjacked the pope. That was quite the day, wasn’t it, Oscar?”
Oscar: “Yes.”
Except, of course, what I was actually saying wasn’t anywhere near that interesting. ZZ wasn’t much more help. She had serious things on her mind, and making small talk just wasn’t high on her to-do list. So I bravely nattered on, feeling like a tap dancer on the Titanic as the deck slowwwwly tilted to one side.
“… and that’s why I never get croutons on my salad at a steak house,” I said. “Right, Oscar?”
“Yes.”
I returned his smirk with a hard smile that told him I’d make him suffer for this later. He didn’t seem intimidated, but Oscar had several glasses of courage in him by that point.
ZZ waited until the main course had been served, eaten, and cleared before she decided to make her announcement. She cleared her throat, causing the room to go so quiet I could hear individual atoms spinning in their orbits, and said, “I’d like to thank everyone for their patience. It’s been a difficult and sad day, and all of us have been affected. That being said, practical matters still have to be dealt with, and it falls to me to make certain decisions.”
She paused. I took a quick look around the table and saw the same nervous, anticipatory look on everyone’s face—everyone but Navarro. He looked relaxed and carefree, like a man on vacation whose biggest decision is what to have for dessert.
“But before I tell you what I’ve decided, there’s something else you need to know first. Augustus didn’t die of natural causes—he was poisoned.”
I was watching for people’s reactions. Everyone looked shocked, except for Navarro. He just nodded, ever so slightly.
Zhen was the first to speak. “How—how was this done?”
“Antifreeze in the pool,” ZZ said.
“Who would do this?” Rajiv demanded.
“And why?” said Karst.
Everyone turned to look at Navarro. He laughed and spread his hands in front of him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted him alive just as much as anyone else. And if I had killed him, why would I still be here?”
“That is a very good question,” Abazu said mildly. “Why, indeed, are any of us still here? I suspect for the very same reason.”
“And you would be correct,” said ZZ. “Each of you wants Augustus’s body, for differing purposes. I’ve spent all day thinking about which of you should get it, and why.”
“Have you made your choice?” asked Navarro.
“I have. The body will go to the Wuhan Zoo, to aid them in their liger research. And my decision is final.”
Nobody looked more surprised than Zhen Yao. “I—thank you,” she said. “We shall do our best to honor your generosity. Thank you.”
“I’m not the one you need to honor,” said ZZ. “Honor Augustus. Honor the existence of a magnificent, unique creature who’s gone now. Maybe, if we’re lucky, one day we’ll see another like him. Do your best to make that day arrive.”
“I shall,” she said quietly.
“This is not acceptable,” Rajiv growled. “Do you have any idea how much money my firm has invested in this? The least you can do is give us the body!”
“Hang on there, mate,” said Karst. “We all wanted to walk away with the prize, but fair is fair. Let it go.”
“I will not! Ms. Zoransky, listen to reason. I am authorized to increase my bid—surely there is room for negotiation?”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Gunturu.”
“But—a research facility? They will simply chop him into pieces!”
“Indeed,” said Abazu. “And you will stuff and mount him, will you not? How is that better?”
I kept glancing at Navarro, expecting him to voice his own objections, but he was simply listening to the others intently.
Rajiv got to his feet. “It will provide many with the chance to experience some of the grandeur of the liger firsthand, something you would deny them. Surely you must see—”
“Sit down,” Navarro said.
The room didn’t so much fall silent as collectively hold its breath. There was nothing overtly threatening in Navarro’s voice, but the softness of his tone was somehow far more menacing than a barked command. Rajiv sat down.
“And you, Mr. Navarro?” ZZ said. “Will you respect my decision, or do you have more veiled threats to make?”
Navarro shook his head. “No threats. A good negotiator knows when a deal is done, and this one is over. Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Zoransky. And my compliments to your chef—the meals here have been excellent.” He got up, nodded to everyone at the table, and left the room.
Give him a moment and then follow him, I told Whiskey.
[Understood.]
“Now, I understand Chef Montain has prepared a wonderful dessert,” said ZZ. “Let’s all enjoy it without arguing, shall we?”