Die Again (9 page)

“K
OVO WAS ONE OF OUR MOST POPULAR EXHIBITS. HE WAS WITH US
nearly eighteen years, so we were all heartbroken when he had to be euthanized.” Dr. Mikovitz spoke in the hushed voice of a grieving family member, and judging by the many photos displayed on the walls of his office, the animals in the Suffolk Zoo were indeed like family to him. With his wiry red hair and wisp of a goatee, Dr. Mikovitz looked like a zoo denizen himself, perhaps some exotic species of monkey with wise dark eyes that now regarded Jane and Frost across his desk. “We haven’t yet issued any press release about it, so I was startled when Dr. Isles inquired whether we’d had any recent losses in our large-cat collection. How on earth did she know?”

“Dr. Isles is good at sniffing out all sorts of obscure information,” said Jane.

“Yes, well, she certainly caught us by surprise. It’s something of a, well, sensitive matter.”

“The death of a zoo animal? Why?”

“Because he had to be euthanized. That always gets negative reactions. And Kovo was a very rare animal.”

“What day was this done?”

“It was Sunday morning. Our veterinarian Dr. Oberlin came in to administer the lethal injection. Kovo’s kidneys had been failing for some time and he’d lost a great deal of weight. Dr. Rhodes pulled him off exhibit a month ago, to spare him the stress of being in public. We hoped we could pull him through this illness, but Dr. Oberlin and Dr. Rhodes finally agreed that it was time to do it. Much as it grieved them both.”

“Dr. Rhodes is another veterinarian?”

“No, Alan is an expert on large-cat behavior. He knew Kovo better than anyone else did. He’s the one who delivered Kovo to the taxidermist.” Dr. Mikovitz glanced up at a knock on his door. “Ah, here’s Alan now.”

The title
Large-Cat Expert
conjured up images of a rugged outdoorsman in safari clothes. The man who walked into the office was indeed wearing a khaki uniform with dusty trousers and stray burrs clinging to his fleece jacket, as if he’d just come off a hiking trail, but there was nothing particularly rugged about Rhodes’s pleasantly open face. In his late thirties, with springy dark hair, he had the block-shaped head of Frankenstein’s monster, but a friendly version.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Rhodes, clapping dust from his pant legs. “We had an incident at the lion enclosure.”

“Nothing serious, I hope?” said Dr. Mikovitz.

“No fault of the cats. It’s the damn kids. Some teenager thought he’d prove his manhood, so he climbed the outer fence and fell into the moat. I had to go in and drag him out.”

“Oh my God. Are we going to have any liability issues?”

“I doubt it. He was never in any real danger, and I think he found it so humiliating he’ll never tell a soul.” Rhodes gave a pained smile to Jane and Frost. “Just another fun day with idiot humans. My lions, at least, have more than an ounce of common sense.”

“This is Detective Rizzoli, Detective Frost,” said Mikovitz.

Rhodes extended a callused hand to them. “I’m Dr. Alan Rhodes.
I’m a wildlife biologist specializing in felid behavior. All cats, large and small.” He glanced at Mikovitz. “So have they found Kovo?”

“I don’t know, Alan. They just arrived, and we haven’t gotten to that subject yet.”

“Well, we need to know.” Rhodes turned back to Jane and Frost. “Animal pelts deteriorate quite rapidly after death. If it isn’t immediately harvested and processed, it loses its value.”

“How valuable is a snow leopard pelt?” asked Frost.

“Considering how few of the animals there are in the world?” Rhodes shook his head. “I’d say priceless.”

“And that’s why you wanted the animal stuffed.”

“
Stuffed
is rather an inelegant term,” said Mikovitz. “We wanted Kovo preserved in all his beauty.”

“And that’s why you brought him to Leon Gott.”

“For skinning and mounting. Mr. Gott is—was—one of the best taxidermists in the country.”

“Did you know him personally?” asked Jane.

“Only by reputation.”

Jane looked at the large-cat expert. “And you, Dr. Rhodes?”

“I met him for the first time when Debra and I delivered Kovo to his house,” said Rhodes. “I was shocked this morning when I heard about his murder. I mean, we’d just seen him alive on Sunday.”

“Tell me about that day. What you saw, what you heard at his house.”

Rhodes glanced at Mikovitz, as if to confirm he should answer their questions.

“Go ahead, Alan,” said Mikovitz. “It’s a murder investigation, after all.”

“Okay.” Rhodes took a breath. “On Sunday morning, Greg—Dr. Oberlin, our veterinarian—euthanized Kovo. According to the agreement, we had to deliver the carcass immediately to the taxidermist. Kovo weighed over a hundred pounds, so one of our zookeepers, Debra Lopez, assisted me. It was a pretty sad drive. I worked with
that cat for twelve years, and we had a bond, the two of us. Which sounds insane, because you can’t really trust a leopard. Even a supposedly tame one can kill you, and Kovo was certainly large enough to bring down a man. But I never felt threatened by him. I never sensed any aggression in him at all. It’s almost as if he understood I was his friend.”

“What time did you arrive at Mr. Gott’s house on Sunday?”

“Around ten
A.M.
, I guess. Debra and I brought him straight there, because the carcass needs to be skinned as soon as possible.”

“Did you talk much with Mr. Gott?”

“We stayed awhile. He was really excited about working on a snow leopard. It’s such a rare animal, he’d never handled one before.”

“Did he seem at all worried about anything?”

“No. Just euphoric about the opportunity. We carried Kovo into his garage, then he brought us into the house to show us the animals he’s mounted over the years.” Rhodes shook his head. “I know he was proud of his work, but I found it sad. All those beautiful creatures killed just to be trophies. But then, I’m a biologist.”

“I’m not a biologist,” said Frost. “But I found it pretty sad, too.”

“That’s their culture. Most taxidermists are also hunters, and they don’t understand why anyone would object to it. Debra and I tried to be polite about it. We left his house around eleven, and that was it. I don’t know what else I can tell you.” He looked back and forth at Jane and Frost. “So what about the pelt? I’m anxious to know whether you found it, because it’s worth a hell of a lot to—”

“Alan,” said Mikovitz.

The two men glanced at each other, and both fell silent. For a few seconds, no one said anything, a pause so significant that it might as well have come with a blinking alert:
Something is wrong. There’s something they’re trying to hide
.

“This pelt is worth a hell of a lot to whom?” said Jane.

Mikovitz answered, too glibly: “Everyone. These animals are extremely rare.”

“How rare, exactly?”

“Kovo was a snow leopard,” said Rhodes. “
Panthera uncia
, from the mountainous regions of Central Asia. Their fur is thicker and paler than an African leopard’s, and there are fewer than five thousand left in the world. They’re like phantoms, solitary and hard to spot, and they’re getting more and more rare by the day. It’s illegal to import their skins. It’s even illegal to sell a pelt, new or old, across state lines. You can’t buy or sell them on the open market. That’s why we’re anxious to know. Did you find Kovo’s?”

Instead of answering his question, Jane asked another. “You mentioned something earlier, Dr. Rhodes. About an agreement.”

“What?”

“You said you delivered Kovo to the taxidermist as part of
the agreement
. What agreement are you talking about?”

Rhodes and Mikovitz both avoided her eyes.

“Gentlemen, this is a homicide case,” Jane said. “We’re going to find this out anyway, and you
really
don’t want to get on my bad side.”

“Tell them,” said Rhodes. “They need to know.”

“If this gets out, Alan, the publicity will kill us.”

“Tell them.”

“All right, all right.” Mikovitz gave Jane an unhappy look. “Last month, we got an offer we couldn’t refuse, from a prospective donor. He knew that Kovo was ill, and would most likely be euthanized. In exchange for the animal’s fresh, intact carcass, he would make a substantial donation to the Suffolk Zoo.”

“How substantial a donation?”

“Five million dollars.”

Jane stared at him. “Is a snow leopard really worth that much?”

“To this particular donor, it is. It’s a win–win proposition. Kovo was doomed anyway. We get a big influx of cash to stay afloat, and the donor gets a rare prize for his trophy room. His only stipulation was that it be kept quiet. And he specified Leon Gott as his taxidermist, because Gott is one of the best. And I believe they’re already acquainted.”
Mikovitz sighed. “Anyway, that’s why I was reluctant to mention it. The arrangement is sensitive. It could put our institution in a bad light.”

“Because you’re selling rare animals to the highest bidder?”

“I was against this deal from the start,” Rhodes said to Mikovitz. “I told you it would come back to bite us in the ass. Now we’re going to get a shitload of publicity.”

“Look, if we can keep it quiet, we can salvage this. I just need to know that the pelt is safe. That it’s properly handled and cared for.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Dr. Mikovitz,” said Frost, “but we found no pelt.”

“What?”

“There was no leopard pelt in Gott’s residence.”

“You mean—it was
stolen
?”

“We don’t know. It’s just not there.”

Mikovitz slumped back in his chair, stunned. “Oh God. It’s all fallen apart. Now we’ll have to return his money.”

“Who is your donor?” asked Jane.

“This information can’t get out. The public can’t know about it.”

“Who is he?”

It was Rhodes who answered, with undisguised scorn in his voice. “Jerry O’Brien.”

Jane and Frost glanced at each other in surprise. “You mean
the
Jerry O’Brien? The guy on the radio?” asked Frost.

“Boston’s own Big Mouth O’Brien. How do you think our animal-loving patrons are going to feel when they hear we cut a deal with the shock jock? The guy who brags about his hunting trips to Africa? About the fun he has blasting elephants to smithereens? His whole persona is about glorifying blood sport.” Rhodes gave a snort of disgust. “If only those poor animals could shoot back.”

“Sometimes, Alan, we have to make a deal with the devil,” said Mikovitz.

“Well, the deal’s off now, since we have nothing to offer him.”

Mikovitz groaned. “This is a disaster.”

“Didn’t I predict that?”

“Easy for you to stay above it all! You have only your damn cats to worry about. I’m charged with the survival of this institution.”

“Yeah, that’s the advantage of working with cats. I
know
I can’t trust them. And they don’t try to convince me otherwise.” Rhodes glanced down at his ringing cell phone. Almost simultaneously the office door flew open and the secretary burst into the room.

“Dr. Rhodes! They need you there
now
.”

“What is it?”

“There’s been an accident at the leopard enclosure. One of the keepers—they need the rifle!”

“No.
No
.” Rhodes sprang from his chair and pushed past her, out of the office.

It took only an instant for Jane to decide. She jumped up and followed him. By the time she made it down the stairs and out of the building, Rhodes was already far ahead of her, racing past startled zoo visitors. Jane had to sprint to keep up. As she rounded a curve in the path, she came up against a dense wall of people standing outside the leopard enclosure.

“Oh my God,” someone gasped. “Is she
dead
?”

Jane shoved her way through the crowd until she reached the railing. At first all she saw through the cage bars was the camouflaging habitat of greenery and fake boulders. Then, almost hidden among the branches, something moved. It was a tail, twitching atop a rocky ledge.

Jane moved sideways, trying to get a better view of the animal. Only as she reached the very edge of the enclosure did she see the blood: a ribbon of it, bright and glistening, streaming down the boulder. Dangling from the rocky shelf above was a human arm. A woman’s arm. Crouched over its kill, the leopard stared straight at Jane, as if daring her to steal its prize.

Jane raised her weapon and paused, her finger on the trigger. Was the victim in her line of fire? She could not see past the lip of the ledge, could not tell if the woman was even alive.

“Don’t shoot!” she heard Dr. Rhodes yell from the rear of the cage. “I’m going to lure him into the night room!”

“There’s no time, Rhodes. We need to get her out of there!”

“I don’t want him killed.”

“What about
her
?”

Rhodes banged on the bars. “Rafiki, meat! Come on, come into the night cage!”

Fuck this, thought Jane, and once again she raised her weapon. The animal was in plain view, a straight shot to the head. There was a chance the bullet might hit the woman as well, but if they didn’t get her out of there soon, she was dead anyway. With both hands steady on the grip, Jane slowly squeezed the trigger. Before she could fire, the crack of a rifle startled her.