Blue Twilight (4 page)

To my eye, it appeared as though they were snugly nestled inside little sleeping bags and floating along in the midst of a deep slumber. I couldn’t help but wonder what butterflies dream about, and if we ever journey along the same celestial path.

How wonderful to take a long nap, shed your skin, and wake up to discover that you’ve become something altogether unique. How tempting it would be to leave one’s old self behind. I envied the thought of being able to chuck my mistakes and begin anew. Of course, the downside was the risk of becoming one more bug stuck in a glassine envelope inside Aikens’s closet.

My gaze wandered back to the drab, sad-sack chrysalis. Even in the insect world, life obviously wasn’t fair. I made a wish that its occupant would emerge as the Cinderella of all butterflies.

“Go ahead. Touch it and see how it feels,” Aikens urged, guiding my finger toward the desiccated shell.

There could be no denying that I was curious. I gave into
temptation and ran my finger ever so lightly along its rough, hard edge.

Creeeaaaakkkk!

My heart jumped at the sound of a coffin lid slowly being pushed open; only the noise had come from within the cocoon itself.

Aikens broke into a riff of amused laughter. “Didn’t expect
that
, did you? There’s a fully formed San Bruno elfin in there that’s just about ready to pop. You disturbed its sleep, you bad girl, you. That sound was made by rubbing its legs together—which is about all the exercise that sucker’s ever gonna get. Once its wings open, our little friend’s off to the freezer for a good
l-l-o-o-n-ng
rest.”

That did it. I’d had it with Aikens’s crap, particularly in view of the fact that the San Bruno elfin was on the endangered list. Then there was the bug in Aikens’s cooler. That was probably a Mission blue butterfly.

I turned to the redheaded leprechaun and skewered him with a cold stare. “Thanks for the tour, but I won’t be accepting your job offer.”

Aikens was momentarily taken back. Then his lips curled down in scorn. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re gonna let a few little wasps scare you away. Or maybe that scratching sound gave you the heebie jeebies and you’re not quite the nature girl that you thought. Of course, it could also be that you’re really Miss Uptight Prissy and I somehow offended you. No, wait a minute. I know what it is—you’re probably jealous because the butterflies are getting more nookie than you are. No
problemo
, doll. It just so happens I can help you out with that.”

It was time to squash this troll doll like the repellant vermin that he was.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s none of the above.” I pulled out my badge and flashed it in his face. “I’m Rachel
Porter, a special agent with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and I’ve just caught you in my net.”

Aikens’s jaw dropped in shock. “Sonofabitch! What is it with you people, anyway? Don’t you have anything better to do than harass small businessmen who are only trying to make an honest living? I have a good mind to call my local congressman and raise hell about how my tax dollars are being spent!”

“Feel free. They already know how to contact me,” I dryly informed him. “Except I wouldn’t call dealing in endangered species making an honest day’s wage.”

“What are you talking about?” Aikens sputtered. “Everything in this place is perfectly legit. No way would I ever do something illegal. Not when a pain in the ass like you could be lurking behind every bush.”

“Ahh. Now you’re just trying to flatter me and make nice. Let me give you a piece of advice. Playing the innocent victim isn’t going to work. Not when you’ve got an endangered San Bruno elfin stashed in the closet and a Mission blue cooling its wings in your ice chest,” I bluffed, hoping my guess was correct. “You’re in deep trouble, Aikens. This is going to cost you big-time.”

“I don’t damn well believe this,” he muttered, pile driving his fingers through his bushy mound of hair. Then he defiantly threw back his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “Aw, come on. Who are we kidding with this? Let’s get real here. We’re talking a few lousy butterflies. Big fucking deal. It’s not like I’m hacking ivory tusks off elephants or mowing down rhinos for their horns. For chrissakes, get a grip. What do you think my pissy little crime is gonna amount to anyway? Maybe a couple hours of community service, or a minor fine at most. Worse comes to worst, I’ll plead entrapment. I can see it in the papers now: ‘Hardworking businessman set up by self-styled Fish and Wildlife Mata
Hari.’ That oughta sell a few rags and bump up my business in the process.”

I didn’t know whether he was trying to convince himself, or me—but my only hope was to outfox him.

“Good thinking, Mitch,” I said and pulled a tape recorder from my bag. “You might have a point, if you were just a small-time collector. There’s only one problem. I have our entire conversation on tape—including your offer to pay me more money to catch protected butterflies and collect their eggs. That’s illegal, whether you agree with it or not.”

I was hoping that Aikens wasn’t terribly savvy when it came to the law and my legal limitations. Not to mention that there wasn’t any tape in the machine. I quickly dumped the recorder back in my bag before he had a chance to check.

Aikens took a moment to size up the situation, as his shoulders slowly began to slump.

“All right, all right. So let’s make a deal.” He finally caved, flapping his arms in the air like a pair of wings.

Whadda ya know? The ruse had actually worked.

“Listen, I’m nothing but chump change in the big scheme of things. My stuff is mostly legit. You can look inside those boxes and see that for yourself.”

Instead, I gave him the evil eye—an unspoken warning not to jerk me around.

“Aw, come on, Porter. There are a lot larger fish for you to fry. Guys that deal in endangered butterflies big time, not just for a few lousy bucks. We’re talking
mucho dinero
. I’m telling ya, they’re selling rare bugs to the Krauts, the Japs, the Canucks, the Aussies, and a whole bunch of others. Go ahead. Name any nationality you like.”

I should have known I could count on Aikens to be politically correct.

“That’s not the way the game is played, Mitch. You’re supposed to give
me
names. Remember? So, who are these guys?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re jumping the gun here. That’s information I don’t have yet.”

“Gee, that’s too bad. I can’t tell you how unhappy that makes me.” I dug into my bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Getting kinky on me, huh? Okay, now you’re turning me on.” Aikens laughed nervously “So, who gets to wear them first? Me or you?”

What betrayed him was the twitching of his eye.

“Very funny, Aikens. I’m sure the bubba who ends up sharing your jail cell will get a real kick out of that one.” I made a move to cuff him.

“Okay, okay! I get the point. Just give me some time and I swear I’ll get you the names.”

There was no question but that Aikens would receive little more than a slap on the wrist from any court should I ticket him. He’d prove far more valuable to me as an informant. The trick was to make him believe otherwise.

I let loose a sigh and skeptically shook my head. “I don’t know. I’d really be putting myself on the line for you. It’s not public information yet, but Fish and Wildlife has a new policy about coming down hard on butterfly poachers. It’s been a number of years since the last good case and they’re anxious to set an example.”

“For chrissakes, Porter. I can deliver. You’ve gotta believe me.” A trickle of sweat broke out on his upper lip.

Half of me believed him and half of me didn’t. Still, I needed someone like Aikens if I was ever going to be redeemed for the botched reptile shipment. Clearly, the air courier’s death could never be rectified.

“Then here’s the deal. You’re not to catch or raise anymore endangered butterflies. And believe me, I’ll know because I intend to stop by and check.”

The truth was I’d never be able to tell one type of caterpil
lar from another. The only giveaway would have to be what they ate, since both San Bruno elfins and Mission blues feed on very specific plants.

“Sure, no problem,” Aikens agreed, his tongue lapping up a wayward bead of sweat.

“By the way, those butterflies in your ice chest? I’ll be taking them with me when I leave.”

“What the hell for?”

“I’m going to drive back up to San Bruno Mountain and release them.”

“What, are you kidding me?” Aikens gasped, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Why? What’s the problem? You said yourself that they’re not dead, but only stunned. Those butterflies are far more valuable back in the wild where they can breed than lying pinned in a case in someone’s collection. Oh yeah, and as for the chrysalis of that San Bruno elfin? You’d better make sure that butterfly stays alive once it hatches, because I fully intend to release it as well.”

“What are you doing? You’re killing me here!” Mitch protested. “You’re taking all my heavy hitters. How am I supposed to pay the bills? Huh? You ever stop to think about that? Aw jeez, and I promised to buy Ma a new vibrating chair for her birthday. Those babies were gonna bring me in some much-needed bucks.”

“Thanks for reminding me. That’s the other thing. I want the names and addresses of those people that were lined up to buy your elfin and Mission blue specimens.”

Mitch raised his hands, as if to fend me off. “No can do.”

“Wrong answer,” I responded in a threatening tone.

“Hey, cool your jets, Porter. It’s just that I don’t have any takers for the hot stuff yet.”

I sincerely doubted that, but there wasn’t much I could do to prove it at the moment.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to come up with something better. I really want to trust you, Aikens. But my boss will kill me if I walk out of here empty-handed. You’ve got to give me a piece of information as a show of good faith before I leave.”

“You mean other than letting you take my most valuable butterflies?” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re not
letting
me take them. I’m keeping you out of
jail
. Let’s get that straight. Now give me a name.” I menacingly rattled the handcuffs.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m thinking.” Aikens scratched his chin with two grubby fingers. “Okay. There’s this guy that goes by a weird handle. Calls himself Horus. Or at least that’s what other collectors call him. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, word has it he sells the kind of rare butterflies that no one else can find. Seems he’s got the magic touch. All I know is that the guy lives somewhere here in Northern California.”

“Thanks for narrowing down the territory for me. So, have you ever bought anything from him?”

“Me? No way. Uh-uh,” Aikens responded a bit too emphatically. “His prices are way too rich for my blood. Besides, I’ve heard that he’s very discriminating when it comes to his clientele. Only deals with big-money A-list collectors. You know, the kind that’ll drop five, ten thou without giving it a second thought. If you’re looking to nab one of the head honchos in the butterfly trade, then this is your man.”

Either that, or Aikens was hoping to knock a competitor out of his path.

“That’s still not good enough,” I replied, yanking his chain.

Aikens stared in disbelief, as if I’d lost all my marbles. “Whadda ya talking about? I’m giving you the Hope diamond here. Didn’t you hear a word I just said?”

I jangled the cuffs once more, enjoying the sensation of them in my hands.

“All right, but you better find out a whole lot more about this Horus and do it quick.”

Horus, huh? He could have called himself Ali Baba or Dick Cheney for all I cared. What mattered was that this guy was going to be my ticket out of purgatory.

I picked up the ice chest, opened the door to Aikens’s bedroom, and nearly tripped over the cat. The pervading stench raced into my nose, giving me a whole new respect for household deodorizing products. I decided right then and there that part of Mitch’s punishment would be to make him clean up his room and change the kitty litter.

Then I hotfooted it down the hallway, but not fast enough. Ma Aikens caught me as she walked out of the kitchen with two mugs in hand.

“Hey, where are you going so soon? I just made us a coupla cups of joe. We didn’t get a chance to bond yet.”

“Sorry, but I’m already late for an appointment. I’ll have to take a rain check,” I apologized, balancing the ice chest on one knee while trying to open the front door.

But Ma Aikens had a desperate look in her eye. “Hang on there a minute. I’m sure we can work something out. Mitch isn’t such bad husband material when you stop and think about it—particularly for a girl your age. After all, it’s not like you’re twenty-five and still have the pick of the litter.”

The woman was lucky I had my hands full; otherwise, I’d have been tempted to deck her. Instead, I rushed out to my Ford, placed the cooler in the back and took off, heading for San Bruno Mountain. Only then did I allow myself to think back on what Aikens had said.

He was right. Butterfly collecting didn’t have the same negative connotation attached to it as harpooning whales, killing tigers for their parts, or shooting tame gazelles on hunting ranches. But then there had also been plenty of buffalo roaming around on the Western plains two hundred
years ago, until man got through with them. For that reason alone, endangered species deserve protection, and rare butterflies certainly fit into that category.

One thing that’s remained consistently true is that whenever there’s money to be made, wildlife has always been on the losing end—and the rarer the animal, the bigger the profit. Aikens was just one more greedy consumer plundering the resources for his own personal gain.

I finished my drive up San Bruno Mountain, parked in the lot and opened the ice chest. There on top lay the same collection of comatose butterflies that I’d seen earlier in the day. Wings spread open, they dozed in glassine envelopes, their colors even more exquisite than I had previously remembered. It became immediately apparent why people are so enchanted by their beauty. Being alone, I now took the time for a closer inspection.