A Bobwhite Killing (4 page)

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Authors: Jan Dunlap

Tags: #Murder, #Nature, #Warbler, #Crime, #Birding, #Birds

BOOK: A Bobwhite Killing
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But there was one thing I was sure of—I’d never look at a box of Frosted Flakes in the same way again. Tony the Tiger had just taken on a whole new dimension of meaning in my eyes.

“Thought I recognized that red head of yours,” my savior announced.

I took a deep breath, straightened up and turned around.

Crazy Eddie Edvarg, my old DNR pal, was standing next to Tom, who was looking more than a little shocky himself. He jovially thumped Tom on the back. “Scared you, huh? That big old cat was just having some fun with you. He gets fed plenty, but he misses the hunt. Instinct, you know.”

Tom nodded slowly. “Yeah, right,” he croaked. “Instinct.”

“Let me take a wild stab here,” I said, my heart returning to its normal rhythm.

Eddie laughed. “Wild stab. Funny, Bob.”

I slid him my not-funny-at-all look. “You’re not the one who just thought he was going to be lunch.” I waved my hand at the edge of the woods. “You’re doing some kind of electronics job.” I glanced back at the tiger that was sprawled in the tall grasses behind me. “And judging from the jolt that cat must have taken, I’d say you’ve got one heck of a powerful invisible electric fence installed here.”

Eddie tapped the tip of his nose. “Got it in one, Bob. I just finished getting it online earlier this week. When Kami called me up—that’s the owner here, Kami Marsden—to tell me she was having trouble with her old security system, I hustled on down here to check it out. You sure don’t want glitches when you’ve got a tiger for a house pet.” He nodded at the now snoring big cat. “I was tracking Nigel today with my remote sensors when I saw your vehicle turning into the meadow. I didn’t think there’d be a problem with the invisible fence, but Kami’s had some sections of both the wire and electronic fencing randomly go down this week, so I thought I’d play it safe. Especially since this portion of the fencing hasn’t been functioning properly since very early this morning.”

He held up a black, palm-sized box in his hand.

“It’s a manual control for Nigel’s collar,” he explained. “If the electric fencing was down, I could shock him to sleep myself. But I didn’t have to. The new program I installed on the fence worked like a charm—it zapped Nigel as soon as he hit the new perimeter, which is ten feet inside the wire fence.”

“Inside the fence?”

“Of course. You think a wire fence could keep Nigel in?” Eddie snorted. “We’re talking about six hundred and fifty pounds of Bengal tiger here, Bob. The wire fence is to keep people out. The invisible fence is to keep Nigel in.”

He scanned the ground around us until he saw what he was apparently looking for, some ten yards away partially hidden behind an oak tree.

“Looks like we had some more vandalism last night,” he said, pointing to the section of wire fencing that peeked out from one side of the tree. “I just checked this perimeter yesterday, and it was solid. All I can figure is that somebody’s got a death wish if they’re trying to break into Kami’s sanctuary.”

Tom pointed to the wire fencing that ran the length of the meadow and disappeared over the rolling hills. “So this is a wildlife sanctuary? I never had a clue it was anything but private property.”

“Not wildlife sanctuary,” Eddie said. “Exotic animal sanctuary. There’s a difference.”

Eddie tucked the control box into the breast pocket of his trademark flannel shirt. I noticed that his white beard was growing back to its customary Santa-shape after having been close-cropped the last time I’d seen him.

“And I’m not surprised you didn’t know about it,” he continued. “Kami’s a pretty private person. She’s had this place a good twenty years now and never had any problems with her animals getting loose till the last couple of weeks. I think she’s always figured if she was going to keep exotic animals here, she’d best keep a low profile. Better that way for both her and her animals.”

On the other side of the fence, Nigel started to stir. I automatically backed up a few more steps.

“He can’t hurt you, Bob. The fence—the invisible electric one—is solid. It’s a big improvement over the old electrified fencing Kami was using on the other side of her property. That fencing was frying some very unlucky coyotes. She shut it down a while ago. We worked with a security equipment company out of St. Paul for the new system. Secure A-Man was the name. The owner is an old friend of Kami’s.” He chuckled into his beard. “Still, I bet they never considered they might be securing a tiger. ”

He nodded at Nigel, who had flopped back on the ground. “Besides, he’ll be groggy for a little while. I’ll probably track him with the remotes for the rest of the afternoon just to be sure he’s shaking off the shock okay. You boys done here?”

“Yup,” Tom and I both answered. I guessed neither one of us was too excited about sticking around until Nigel woke up. Not that I doubted the security of Eddie’s fence—my old buddy knew his stuff when it came to electronics.

I’ve just never been a cat person.

Especially when they weigh over three times more than I do.

My cell phone rang in my pocket. I took it out and flipped it open.

“Bob, you better get back here.”

It was Bernie.

“Shana’s stepson is here, and he’s raising a real ruckus. Says he’s calling the sheriff to arrest Shana for killing his dad.” She paused a moment, and I could hear two voices yelling in the background. “I don’t think he likes Shana, Bob.”

From what I could make out of the shouting, I’d say Shana didn’t like her stepson much, either, unless “bastard” was an O’Keefe family term of endearment.

“We’re on our way,” I told Bernie.

 

Chapter seven

 

By the time Tom and I arrived back at the Inn & Suites, the sheriff’s car was parked in front of the lobby entrance. I came in through the automatic sliding door and started down the hallway before I remembered I didn’t know which room was Shana’s.

Then I realized I didn’t need to know which room she was in, because I could hear the yelling almost all the way out to the lobby. Heck, they could probably hear the yelling all the way to the next county, for that matter. As it was, the door to her room was wide open and I almost had to fight my way through the crowd of our fellow birders that blocked the hallway.

“I want her arrested!”

Just inside the room, Chuck O’Keefe had his face inches from Sheriff Paulsen’s. For his sake, I hope he’d used mouthwash because he’d need every bit of leverage he could get to make friends with that sheriff. After spending a good portion of the morning being thoroughly questioned by the lady lawman—make that lady law
woman
—I knew that Sheriff Paulsen was one tough cookie and wasn’t about to let some man from the city tell her what needed to be done in “her” county. On top of that, she’d actually seemed to warm up to Shana after we’d settled into her squad car this morning for the ride to the police station to make our report.

“Sorry about the bumping,” she’d apologized as we jolted onto the blacktop that led back to town. “Some of these county roads can do a real number on a car’s suspension—even police cars that are practically built like tanks. You doing okay, Mrs. O’Keefe?”

Of course, that might just have been the sheriff trying to be nice to the pregnant lady. Once Sheriff Paulsen saw how awkward it was for Shana to climb into the cruiser’s back seat, she’d probably figured she was going to have to get a car-sized can opener to get Shana back out. I wondered how quickly the Minneapolis police department could get a Jaws of Life to Fillmore County.

Seeing Paulsen stare down Chuck now, I had to admit that I was glad to have the sheriff on our side because I was fairly sure that if Chuck thought he could bully her into doing what he asked, he had another thing coming.

Or maybe even a pair of handcuffs, courtesy of Fillmore County’s finest.

Shana, meanwhile, was standing on the opposite side of the room, her hands on her hips and her green eyes blazing with anger. A big bear of an older man I didn’t recognize was patting her right shoulder, speaking hurriedly to her in an obvious attempt to calm her down.

Good luck with that. Even when she was an average-sized, nonpregnant woman, Shana had had the tenacity of a king-sized bulldog when challenged about anything. Don’t even ask me about the time she insisted we could find a Mississippi Kite near Caledonia, down in the southeastern corner of Minnesota. Since those birds rarely make it north of the Iowa border to nest, I laughed when Shana told me she’d seen one in Houston County the summer before we met. Determined to prove it to me, she’d dragged me down to Caledonia three weekends in a row that following June to look for the bird—three miserably cold, rainy weekends. And sure enough, she found the Kite on our third try, not even a mile from where she’d located it the previous summer. Being the generous, gracious man I am—was, even back then at age sixteen—I conceded that she had been right and vowed to never again question her birding prowess. Shana, on the other hand, was not generous or gracious—she rubbed it in all summer long that she had been right and I had been proven wrong. If I learned nothing else about Shana from that experience, it was that I’d better be willing to take the consequences if I challenged her integrity.

The way Chuck was doing right now in a hotel room at the Inn & Suites.

“She killed my father!” he shouted, his finger pointing at Shana.

“No, she didn’t,” Sheriff Paulsen stated unequivocally. “She wasn’t anywhere near your father at the time of his death, Mr. O’Keefe. She’s got witnesses and an airtight alibi.”

“She didn’t have to be near him!” Chuck yelled. “She’d get someone else to do it. Do you think she’s stupid? Believe me, she’s not. She’s had this one planned since the day she met my father. Marry the rich old guy, give him some great new cause to distract him, and then stick in the knife when he’s not looking. Oh, and that doesn’t even include the pregnancy part. Now she’s got heirs to claim the family fortune. ”

For a second, I thought Shana was going to leap over the bed—big belly or not—and go straight for Chuck’s throat, but just as she moved forward, the man behind her grabbed both of her arms and held her back. It didn’t stop her from shouting at Chuck, though.

“You bastard! As long as Jack was married to the company, you were happy. But you could never forgive him for finding something else to care about when he met me, could you? Especially since you saw me first. Don’t think I don’t know it, Chuck. You were so jealous of Jack and me that it ate you up. And now you want me to be punished for it.”

She turned briefly to the man holding her arms. “Let me go, Ben. I’m not going to touch Chuck.”

He did as she asked, but seemed reluctant to let her get too far out of his arms’ reach.

Shana raked her hand through her chin-length black hair, dragging in a long deep breath. From where I stood in the room’s doorway, I could tell that some of the fire in her eyes had gone out as she looked back at Chuck.

“If you want to know the truth, Chuck, I do hold myself responsible for Jack’s death. But it has nothing to do with the family fortune.” Her eyes shifted to the sheriff. “Now will you please get my stepson out of here?”

I moved aside as Paulsen pulled Chuck out of the room and down the hallway. Behind me, Bernie was shooing the other birders off into their own rooms, promising everyone a full report later at dinner at the A&W. I turned to leave, too, but Shana called my name.

“Bob, please don’t go.”

The tenacious bulldog had disappeared, and in its place was a very tired, very pale Shana. She indicated the man next to her. “I want you to meet Ben Graham. He’s an old friend of Jack’s and the mayor of Spring Valley. Ben, this is Bob White. He’s a birding pal from way back.”

I stepped further into the room and shook the man’s hand.

“I’m sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances, Mr. White. I’ve known Jack my whole life. We grew up together. It’s a terrible day for all of us.”

I nodded in agreement and stole a glance at Shana, who’d practically collapsed into the armchair in the corner of the room. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Mayor. Jack was a great guy.”

“Yes, he was,” Graham replied, sorrow thick in his voice. “And call me Big Ben. Please. Everybody around here does.” He rubbed a huge hand over his forehead and closed his eyes briefly. “Sheriff Paulsen called me about noon with the news, and I tried to get over here for Shana as soon as I could. Unfortunately, Chuck beat me to it.”

“He hates me,” Shana said, her eyes fixed on the flat white ceiling. “From the moment I met Jack, Chuck started hating me. I’d just finished speaking at a fund-raising dinner for the Nature Conservancy at the Hilton in downtown Minneapolis, and Chuck was an attendee. He suggested we go downstairs to the bar in the lobby for an after-dinner drink. I was done shaking hands and begging for money for the night, so I said sure. We took the escalator down, and then, just as he pulled out a chair for me at a table in the bar, Jack walked in. He’d been at a board meeting in one of the hotel’s other ballrooms. Chuck invited him to join us and … four months later, I quit my job with the Conservancy to move back to Minneapolis and marry Jack.”

“You gave Jack another chance at life, Shana,” Graham assured her, sitting down on the end of the bed. It creaked under his weight. He reached over to pat her jean-covered knee. “He was dying a slow death grieving before he met you.”

Shana gave a brittle laugh. “I don’t know how good a chance at life is when it ends up killing you.” She glanced briefly at Graham and then me. “Jack got involved with the eco-communities because I was involved with them. We knew what we were doing was pushing a hot button in the state. We knew that Jack was making enemies. But we never imagined it would come to murder.”

“You don’t know that, Shana,” Graham pointed out. “At this point, no one knows anything for sure. But the sheriff will find out, believe me. Sheriff Paulsen’s a good woman and an even better sheriff.”

The mayor stood up then and grabbed his suitcoat from where he’d apparently tossed it on the bed when he’d arrived. He leaned over to drop a kiss on Shana’s forehead and turned to me. “Can you stay with her for a while? I think she needs a friend of her own right now more than she needs a friend of Jack’s.”

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