In the Drink (10 page)

“Like I said, it doesn't hurt to ask,” Sam repeated, giving his friend a nod of approval.

“What about talking to the friend Erik used as an alibi?” Joe suggested. “Mack could talk to him and use that special talent she has to see if he's telling the truth.”

“I don't know,” I said, frowning. “I'm not always right when it comes to that sort of stuff.”

“You could at least give it a try,” Joe persisted. “What have we got to lose?”

Everyone looked at me expectantly, awaiting my answer. Had it not been for the pleading expression of sad desperation on Tiny's face, I probably would have said no. But I understood all too well how he felt since I'd been there myself with my father's murder. “Okay,” I said, caving to the pressure. “I'll give it a shot.”

“T'ank you,” Tiny said with a huge smile.

“Don't thank me yet, and don't get your hopes up too soon. I can't promise anything.”

“I know,” Tiny said. “I know we may never find da answer but at least we're trying. I want all of you to know dat I appreciate what you're doing.” With that, he reached over and picked up one of the many papers that were spread out on the table next to him. He flipped it around to show it to me, revealing a smiling blond girl who had Tiny's features. “Lori would say t'ank you, too, if she could,” he added.

As I stared at the face in the picture, so full of youthful life, young innocence, and hope for the future, I knew I wouldn't rest until I'd done all I could to help Tiny find the culprit who had murdered his sister.

Mal arrived then and after greeting the group and being introduced to the members he hadn't met the night before, he and I left to head for the zoo. When I mentioned grabbing a coat, he said, “Make it a light one. It's beautiful outside.”

I ran upstairs to my apartment to grab my fall jacket, and when I returned, Mal and I headed out under a hail of good-byes and edicts to have fun. The weather was warming rapidly, and I realized that even the lightweight jacket might turn out to be unnecessary. Like most Wisconsinites, I adjust to the cold temperatures pretty quickly. While fifty degrees might make some people shiver, on the heels of the near-zero temps we'd had recently, it felt like summer. Also like most Wisconsinites, I never take unexpected warmth and sunshine for granted, and, as we walked to Mal's car, I tipped my face toward the sun a few times, relishing the feel of it on my skin.

As soon as we were inside the car, I filled Mal in on what the letter had said and contained.

“That doesn't narrow things down much,” he said when I was done. “And that's assuming the zoo is even the right place to go.”

“Do you have any other ideas?”

He thought a moment and shrugged. “Can't say that I do. So we might as well operate under the assumption that the zoo is where we need to go and play it by ear from there.”

With that topic out of the way, I quizzed Mal about his undercover construction job assignment.

“Duncan said you were hoping to get an invite into the inner sanctum from the boss,” I said. “Any idea how long that will take? And how do you know it will happen at all?”

“I don't,” he said. “But I've dropped some hints by discussing some of my prior jobs and how my family's business wasn't strictly on the up-and-up in some of their dealings. I'm hoping that word will get back to the boss based on that.”

“Is that true? Does your family business operate on the shady side of things?”

“Not my father's portion. He's an honest man and he'd never jeopardize the business or the family name that way. But one of my uncles also owns a segment of the business and his dealings have come under scrutiny a time or two. He likes to cut corners, we think he's paid graft to some building inspectors, and he's been known to run the occasional side business as a bookie. My father and he don't get along too well.”

“I have to admit I'm a little relieved to find a flaw in your family structure,” I told him. “I was starting to feel very deprived and inadequate when I compared my family history and structure to yours.”

He gave me a funny look. “How so?”

“Well, you have this wonderful extended family with some very big differences in their beliefs, and yet you all manage to set that aside in the name of peace, love, happiness, and harmony. I, on the other hand, have no one anymore. For the first thirty-four years of my life it was just me and my father, and now I have no one.”

“What about your mother?”

“She died right after I was born, though I suppose technically she died before I was born. A car accident left her brain dead when she was a little over seven months pregnant with me, but the doctors were able to keep her alive on machines until she got close enough to term to deliver me. Then they took the machines away and let her die.”

“Wow. I'm so sorry. That couldn't have been easy for you.”

I shrugged. “It wasn't like I had a mother and then lost her. Sure, I've grieved for her, but since I never knew life any other way, I didn't experience the sort of grief a child might if they lost a parent later on, one they came to know.”

“Did you have any grandparents, aunts, or cousins who could have filled in?”

“Nope. Both of my mother's parents and my father's mother died before I was born. My father never knew who his father was, so I suppose it's possible I have a grandfather out there somewhere. My mother had a sister and as far as I know she's still in France. But she didn't like my father, blamed him for my mother's death, and has never had any contact with us.”

“So your father raised you by himself?”

“Yes, he did, right there in the bar. It's been my home all my life.”

“It sounds kind of lonely.”

“I imagine it does to someone from a family like yours. But to be honest, I never felt lonely. Between my father, our employees, and some of the regulars who frequent the bar, I've always felt like I had plenty of family around. It's a different definition of family perhaps, but it's worked for me.”

We arrived at the entrance to the zoo and Mal pulled in behind another car at the gate. When our turn came, he pulled up and took an informational brochure from the attendant, handing it to me. As Mal paid our fee, I opened up the brochure and started reading. One of the first things I noticed was the zoo hours. I'd looked them up last night online in anticipation of today's' visit, but had focused only on the weekend hours. Now I saw what the weekday hours were and felt a tiny trill of excitement.

“Mal, look,” I said as we pulled away from the gate and into the parking lot. “The zoo closes at two-thirty on Monday and that was the deadline in the letter. That's significant, don't you think?”

“Maybe,” he said with a glimmer of hope. “But it could also be a coincidence.” He pulled into a parking spot, shut off the engine, and turned to me. “Listen, about the conversation we were having a moment ago, I just want to say that your definition of family must work well enough because you certainly turned out fine.”

He smiled at me, and after thanking him, I smiled back. Our gazes held a second or two longer than they should have and after an awkward few seconds, he turned away, cleared his throat, and got out of the car. I briefly debated waiting for him to come around and open my door, and then decided not to. But when he proffered his arm, I took it and let him lead me through the main entry building and out the back to start our tour.

In the zoo proper area, we stopped and consulted the map contained in the brochure we'd been given at the gate. “I think I'd like to focus on a couple of exhibits to start with,” I said, pointing them out on the map. “The letter misspelled the word
dear
in the salutation so I want to check out any deer exhibits. Also the bears and the wolves since both of those words were in the letter. And since we know that they sometimes allow people to feed the giraffes and the letter mentioned not forgetting to eat, that might be worth checking out, too. Besides, it's near the wolves and one of the bear exhibits.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” Mal asked.

“I wish I knew. Let's just hit up those spots and see if anything strikes us, okay?”

We walked at a brisk pace, occasionally consulting the map and the directional signs, dodging the multitude of strollers and scampering kids. I was surprised to see so many people there given the time of year, but figured the unusual weather had drawn people out to enjoy the unexpected warmth and sunshine.

We arrived at the giraffe exhibit first, and saw the platform that was used to allow visitors to feed them, but it was closed, either for the day or for the season. After watching the animals for several minutes, and looking around to see if anyone was paying particular attention to us, I said, “Let's move on and check out the wolves.”

They were located a short walk away, just across the tarmac, though we had to meander along a wooden walkway to reach a position where we could see the animals. There was a small wooden observation nook and from there we could see two small mounds of gray fur huddled beneath some trees at the back of the fenced-in area.

“It doesn't look like they want to be sociable,” Mal said.

Again I glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. There were several families walking toward or away from us on the boardwalk, but no one stood out, or seemed interested in us in any way. Another idea occurred to me, and I bent down, looked beneath the wooden structure, and ran my hands along the underside of the railings. All I got for my efforts was a splinter in one of my fingers.

“Ow!” I said, pulling back and shaking my hand.

Mal reached over and took my hand in his, examining the tiny wood shard whose end was poking out at the base of my index finger. He reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a Swiss Army knife. With the fingers of that hand he deftly exposed a tiny pair of tweezers. Seconds later, the splinter was history.

“I'm guessing you've done that before,” I said, impressed with how fast and ably he had accomplished the task.

“I work in construction, remember? It's one of the hazards of the job, a very common one in fact.” He folded the tweezers back into the knife handle with one hand and returned it to his pocket. That's when I realized his thumb was gently rubbing over the area where the splinter had been. His hand was warm and his touch triggered a blanket of tiny sparkling lights along the periphery of my vision. “You should probably wash this well with some soap and water at the first restroom we come to,” he said, his thumb still rubbing.

I shifted my gaze from my hand to his face and found him looking back at me. His thumb movement slowed, and then stopped. And once again our eyes held for a second or two longer than was comfortable. I pulled my hand loose from his and shoved it in my pocket. I resurrected the map in my mind, a nifty little trick I suspect I can do because of my synesthesia. “There's a restaurant with bathrooms just beyond the polar bear exhibit,” I said, looking away from him and down the boardwalk. Then I started to babble out of nervousness. “If we go around this building we'll see the kangaroos and emu, and the brown bear is next to them. Then we pass the moose and cross over to the polar bear.”

I took off in the direction I'd indicated, leaving Mal to follow behind me. The kangaroos, like the wolves, were hard to see as they were all huddled against the building, far back from the surrounding fence. We didn't see the emu at all but the brown bears were out, sprawled and enjoying an afternoon nap in the warm sunshine. We stood side by side, watching the magnificent creatures as they ignored the gawking humans pointing and staring at them. It struck me as a little sad seeing them penned in like that. Granted the enclosure was large and done up to be “natural” but it was still a far cry from the wildlife they should have known.

The moose looked as bored as I was starting to feel, and I worried that the entire trip had been a huge waste of time.

“It's a little sad seeing them trapped and on display here, isn't it?” Mal said, echoing my thoughts.

“It is,” I agreed. “Though it's the only way many people will ever get to see most of these animals. And I don't suppose their lives here are all that horrible.”

“The ones that bother me the most are the single animals that don't have any other members of their species here. That seems like such a lonely existence.”

“Kind of like me, you mean?” I said, experiencing a surprising sting—both physically and emotionally—at the feelings his words triggered.

We had started walking again, heading for the polar bear exhibit, and he grabbed my arm and spun me around.

“Mack, I'm very sorry if what I said sounded like a judgment on you. It certainly wasn't meant as such.”

“No apology necessary,” I said, feeling horrible when I saw how sincerely concerned he looked. “I'm overly sensitive on the subject, I think. It's been less than a year since my father died, and I'm still feeling the loss.”

“Of course you are. It was an insensitive comment for me to have made. Again, I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. Let's move on. I have a feeling this trip is going to be a bust and I want to get back so I can consider some other options.”

We had arrived in front of the polar bear exhibit and after standing in front of it as we had the others, studying the faces and demeanors of those around us, I said, “I'm hungry. Let's grab a bite to eat at the café over there.”

I led the way and, once we were inside, we stopped to survey the menu. It was a fast food type setup and after telling Mal I wanted a cheeseburger and fries, I left him in line to place the order while I hit up the bathroom to wash my hands.

When I came back out, Mal already had a tray bearing our food items in hand. We made our way to a table and settled in to eat.

“We should have grabbed a bite at my bar before we came here,” I said in a low voice. “My food is much better than this.”

“Are you inviting me on a lunch date?” Mal asked with a smile.

“I suppose I am. I'd be interested in seeing what you think of some of the stuff on my menu. I make a mean cheese curd.”

He laughed at that, and as I stuffed a couple of fries into my mouth, a young girl who worked inside the café walked over to our table carrying a tray.

“Is your name Mack Dalton by any chance?” she asked me.

My heart skipped a beat as I nodded. Then it hit me. I was the one who was supposed to eat, not the animals. The animal clues had simply been a clue to which of the eateries within the zoo I was supposed to go to. I gave myself a mental slap upside the head for being so stupid and not realizing this before.

“I thought so,” the girl said with a smile. “You look like the picture.”

“Picture?” I said once I swallowed. The fries didn't go down easy. My throat had tightened up, turning them into a pulpy mass that felt as if it was stuck halfway down.

The girl picked up a paper from her tray and showed it to me. It was a newspaper clipping from a week or so ago with a picture of me, highlighting my involvement with the PD.