The Bass Wore Scales (22 page)

“
Locked her in the filing cabinet,” said Reef. “Under Y for ‘yap.’” He laughed, showing three rows of yellow pointed teeth. “She wouldn’t clam up.”

“
So, what’s the grift?”

“
Dis got squid to do wid you,” said Ray, shaking a limpet off his arm. “You oyster stay out of it.”

“
Too late for that,” I said. “I’ve already been hired.”

“
We know all about it. She won’t be needing your services no more. What’s da matter? You hard of herring?”

“
Who are you remoras working for?” I asked, lighting another stogy. “You’re not the brains of this operation. You boys ain’t smart enough to find your own dorals with a map and a one cheek head start.”

“
Let’s just say we’re in the fish business,” said Reef, pulling out his gat and leveling it at me. “And you’re about to go swimming with them.”

I would have been worried, but I’d tried to lock Marilyn in the filing cabinet once before. It just made her mad. Ray never saw her coming, and she clobbered the

big guy with my hard-bound copy of the Bach Orgelbüchlein. He dropped to his knees like a monkfish at vespers. When Reef turned to see what happened, I pulled out my roscoe and plugged him like a bad hair replacement.

“
You shot him,” said Marilyn. “I was only going to beat him till he squealed.”

“
That one’s still alive,” I said. “He’s all yours.”

“
You might want to leave the room,” Marilyn said, pulling a claw-cracker and an oyster-shucker out of her purse. “That is, if you’re squeamish.”

* * *

Dr. P.A. Pelicane’s motor home was parked behind the vet’s office when I drove up the next morning. Dr. Pelicane was beside the cage, sitting in a lawn chair, and talking to Gwen Jackson. She was obviously agitated. I’d been here many times. This was where Dr. Jackson kept quarantined animals or wild animals awaiting relocation. There were two enclosures, both big enough to accommodate a good-sized bear, constructed of heavy chain link over an iron frame. Kokomo’s was locked with a key as well as with a chain sporting a big padlock.

“
Morning,” said Gwen, as I walked up.

“
Good morning,” I said.

“
I can’t see what’s good about it,” answered Dr. Pelicane. “Kokomo is locked up, accused of homicide, and he won’t talk to me. He just sits in the corner, rocking.”

“
Did you call Mona Kilroy and talk to her about Kokomo?”

“
I called and left about a dozen messages. I left my cell number, but she hasn’t called me back.”

“
Well, she’s probably busy with funeral arrangements and such. I’ll go by her house this morning and see if I can find her.”

“
No need,” said Gwen, looking over my shoulder. “Here she comes now.”

Walking up the path in a fury was Mona Kilroy, followed closely by two rangers. One of the men was carrying a rifle—a .30-06.

“
Mona, I’m really sorry…” I started, but she stormed past me and headed to the door of the cage.

“
There it is!” she spat. “There’s the thing that killed my husband.”

“
It wasn’t his fault,” pleaded Dr. Pelicane. “Your husband should have never taken him. If I could just have a couple of minutes to talk to you…”

“
Officers,” commanded Mona. “Do your duty and shoot that animal!”

Dr. Pelicane gasped. “No!”

“
Hang on,” I said, holding up my new badge identifying me as the Chief of Police. “There’s not going to be any shooting today. Do you have a warrant to destroy this animal?” I sincerely hoped that they didn’t, but I was pretty sure that Mona hadn’t managed to get one this quickly.

“
We weren’t told we needed one,” said Ranger One, the one with the rifle. “Fish and Game called us and told us there was an animal that needed to be destroyed. They told us to meet Mrs. Kilroy and she’d show us where it was.”

“
You certainly do need a warrant,” I said. “Mrs. Kilroy can apply for one from the state, and the animal will remain here until she has one. That is…” I looked over at Mona. “Unless Mrs. Kilroy decides that destroying the gorilla isn’t necessary and that her husband’s actions actually precipitated his own death.” I tried to sound hopeful, but Mona wasn’t having any of it.

“
It bloody well
is
necessary!” spat Mona, venom dripping from her lips. “That beast killed my husband! I’ll see it shot if it’s the last thing I do on this earth!”

“
Please!” pleaded Dr. Pelicane. “Please don’t do this. It wasn’t his fault!”

“
Gorilla?” said Ranger Two. “Nobody told us it was a gorilla.”

Mona turned to the rangers. “Where do I get a warrant?”

Ranger One shrugged and looked over at me.

“
You have to apply to the state,” I said. “Call the Fish and Game Commission. They’ll help you fill out the papers.”

“
How long does it take?”

“
A couple of days,” I answered.

“
And that animal stays locked up until then?”

“
That’s the law,” I said.

“
I’ll be back in two days! I have to go and bury my husband.” Mona spun on her heel and marched back down the path. The two rangers walked over to the cage and looked in.

“
I’ll be a horn-toad,” said Ranger One. “It
is
a gorilla.”

“
Sure is,” said Ranger Two. “I’ve never even seen a live one before. Seems a shame to shoot it.”

I heard a stifled sob come from Dr. Pelicane.

“
I guess we’ll see you in a couple of days,” Ranger Two said to me. He tipped his hat, and they both headed back to their SUV.

“
Is there anything we can do?” asked Dr. Pelicane.

“
I don’t think so. The law is pretty clear on this one. I can put in a call to the governor’s office.”

“
Do you think it’ll do any good?” asked Gwen.

“
I’ll give it a try. Kokomo’s pretty famous, and the circumstances are unusual to say the least. Try to get him to talk, will you? He’s a witness. Maybe he can tell us something that we don’t know yet.”

* * *

“
Junior’s coming back through town,” said Billy Hixon.

“
What for?” asked Meg. We were sitting in the park, enjoying a mid-morning coffee as Billy drove up on his golf cart. Billy spent most of the summer driving all over the downtown area, checking on his landscaping crew.

“
He won last Sunday!”

“
Yeah, we heard,” said Meg. “What? Does he need another blessing?”

“
Indeed he does,” answered Billy. “You know how these guys are. Superstitious. If something’s working for them, they’re not about to change anything until it stops working. I know one guy who always wears one red sock and keeps an old fingernail from his dead crew chief in his pocket.”

“
Eeeww,” said Meg.

“
You think that’s bad,” continued Billy, now enjoying his role as purveyor of disgusting trivia, “there’s this other guy…”

“
Enough!” said Meg.

“
Okay, okay,” laughed Billy. “I’m just sayin’ that once these guys latch onto something, it’s going to be hard to get them to give up on it.”

“
So, anyway,” I interrupted, “Junior’s coming back in today?”

“
This afternoon. He’s just stopping for a few minutes. He’s got to get down to Darlington, South Carolina, for the next race.”

“
Did you tell Gaylen?”

“
Yeah. She’s fine with it, although she’s not going to get all gussied up. Just a simple cassock. She says she’ll come out and bless it on the trailer. Give it a splash, pour the Holy Water in the radiator and say the blessing. There’ll be some media here, too. This is a big story for them.”

“
I’m glad she agreed to do it,” said Meg. I nodded in agreement.

“
He won last week, so Sunday’s service should be full. That’s the way it works. There’s no business like show business!”

* * *

We were finishing up our coffee, and I was seriously contemplating going in to practice the organ for a couple of hours when I saw Wormy DuPont sitting at a card table outside of Noylene’s Beautifery.

“
This bears investigation,” I told Meg. “Maybe
Wormy Acres
is up and running.”

“
I’d better come with you. I don’t want you buying anything and putting
my
name on it.”

“
Why Pookie-Bear, don’t you want to rest beside me for all eternity?”

“
I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “I may not want to be buried. What are my other options?”

“
We could cremate you,” I said, “and sprinkle your ashes into the organ pipes. Then, little by little, you’d be spread all over the church.”

“
Nope.”

“
You could be in an urn on the mantle.”

“
No. I have an unnatural fear of urns.”

“
How about a vase?” I suggested. “Or a coffee can? You like coffee, don’t you?”

“
What about that diamond thing that we saw on CNN?” asked Meg.

“
Oh, yeah. That was interesting. They take your ashes, put them under incredible pressure and compress you into a diamond.”

“
That’s nice. I think I’d like that.”

“
It’s not without problems,” I said.

“
What problems?”

“
Let’s just say that you’re a diamond,” I began. “One of the hardest known substances in the world and virtually indestructible, and you leave yourself to the church to be set into a silver chalice to serve communion.”

“
Yes,” said Meg, with a wistful smile. “That’s what I want to do. A beautiful chalice.”

“
And then, one dark night, the church is broken into by vandals, and they steal the chalice. They take it down to the Pawn Shop in Boone and Two-Fingered Larry gives them fifty bucks for it.”

“
Fifty bucks?”

“
Yep. Then Two-Fingered Larry pries the diamond out of the setting and takes it down to Atlanta to see what he can get for it. It’s a big one—three carats—and the fence down in Atlanta gives him two grand and then turns around and sells it to a dealer in Los Angeles for six.”