Difficult Run (16 page)

“Do you have a picture of one?” M.J. asked.

“Yes, I do.
 
It is the only one that I consider authentic and was acquired in 1996 by a Swiss photographer and conservationist named Karl Ammann.
 
It was taken by poachers using a motion-detecting trail camera.
 
Give me just a second and I’ll pull it up,” he said, turning to his computer keyboard and typing in some information.

He turned the computer monitor toward M.J.
 
It showed a very large dark-haired creature walking nearly upright on a jungle trail.
 
Its face was light in color and its mouth was outlined by pink lips.
 
Its hairline extended down its forehead to just above its eyes, making it look like a hood.
 
She remembered Doc’s description of the figure he had seen walking along the ridge in Great Falls Park during a rainstorm: . . .
he was pretty big . . . He was kind of hunched over, but I’d guess he was around six feet tall. Pretty hefty in the shoulders, but I couldn’t see much detail.
 
It looked like he was wearing a jacket or sweatshirt or something like that with a hood pulled up over up his head. … I remember seeing his face sticking out from the hood and it looked white.

“Could I have a copy of that picture?” M.J. asked.

“Sure,” Dr. Peterson replied and pressed the print button on the keyboard. A color printer in the corner of the office sprang to life.
 
He removed the page and handed it to M.J.

“Is it possible that any Bili Apes were brought to the United States in the early part of the 1900s?” she asked.

“During that time,” he answered, “virtually every kind of African animal was being brought into this country.
 
There was almost no regulation by the federal government and there was an active trade in what were referred to as ‘exotic animals.’
 
Some of the animals went to zoos but as many, and maybe even more, went to private owners.
 
It is certainly not out of the question that what are now referred to as Bili Apes could have been captured and brought here. The Belgian Congo, which is now the Democratic Republic of the Congo, was the prime location in Africa for big game hunters and animal trappers.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “Do you have reason to believe that Bili Apes were brought here?”

“I really can’t go into that, Dr. Peterson,” M.J. responded.

“I can understand that, Detective, but if there is any possibility that a Bili Ape is being held in captivity in this country it would be of enormous importance to the field of primatology,” he said.

“Doctor, I just can’t provide any details on my investigation at this time.
 
Trust me, as soon as I can, I’ll let you know,” M.J. said.

“I’ll take you at your word on that,” he said.
 
“Any other information you need from me?”

She thought for a minute and then asked, “Just how strong are these apes?”

“Well, they must be quite powerful,” he said. “The natives call them ‘lion killers.’”

“They eat lions?” M.J. asked.

“Other way around,” he replied.
 
“Apes are prey for lions. Although apes are omnivorous, their meat diet is pretty much limited to rodents, birds, things of that size. No, I’d say that a Bili Ape would only kill a lion as a defensive maneuver.”

M.J. could feel her heart pounding and she took an almost audible breath before asking her next question.
 
“Just how do they kill the lions?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen it myself, of course,” Dr. Peterson replied, “but I’ve interviewed several natives who claim they have.
 
They all describe it the same way:
 
The ape jumps onto the lion’s back, grabs its head, pulls it back and then twists it violently to break its neck.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

M
.J. SAT IN SILENCE with her eyes wide.
 
Dr. Peterson asked, “Everything alright, Detective?”

“Yes, yes . . . I’m just collecting my thoughts,” she replied.
 
“Do you have time for a few more questions?”

“Sure,” he replied.
 
“Fire away.”

“How long do Bili Apes live?” she asked.

“We don’t know exactly, because we haven’t been able to study them.
 
Generally, the great apes live about thirty-five to forty years in the wild. That would probably be a good estimate for the Bili,” Dr. Peterson replied.

“How long before they reach maturity?” M.J. asked.

“Based on other apes, between seven and ten years for males; seven and eight years for females,” he replied.

“How often do they give birth?” M.J. asked.

“Generally, the great apes produce a single offspring every four years,” Dr. Peterson explained. “The gestation period is eight and a half months and the young can walk at three to six months.”

“Do the offspring inherit traits from their parents, things like fear of humans?” M.J. asked.

“Well, they might inherit some traits, but a lot of traits are the result of the rearing process,” Dr. Peterson replied.
 
“Keep in mind that apes are very much like humans in most things, including the way they raise their young.”

“Can they survive in a colder climate?” M.J. asked.

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about a climate like we have here, which is considered moderate,” Dr. Peterson replied, “and the answer is probably yes.
 
Apes are very adaptable, as are most primates.
 
They might grow more body hair for warmth and even start periods of hibernation during especially cold periods to conserve body heat and lower food requirements.
 
They might also change their nesting habits.
 
We believe the Bili is a ground nester, but that might change in a colder climate.
 
Most likely, they would find a more confined space where they could huddle together for warmth.
 
Some kind of cave or tunnel would probably make the most sense.”

M.J. thought for a moment and asked, “Do apes inbreed?”

“Generally, no,” Dr. Peterson responded.
 
“The females instinctively know to seek mates from another group.
 
Of course, if that’s not possible because of restricted movement, they will inbreed.
 
That’s been observed in apes living in areas where their habitat has been reduced in size by the encroachment of humans.”

“What are the effects of inbreeding?” M.J. asked.

“Once again, very much the same as in humans,” Dr. Peterson replied. “At the very least, it would tend to amplify any bad traits that might have existed in the first place.”

“What about aggressive behavior?” M.J. asked.

“Well, male apes are naturally aggressive,” Dr. Peterson explained.
 
“It has to do with territorial domination.
 
Inbreeding could certainly make a male more aggressive.
 
The females are not naturally aggressive, except when protecting their offspring, so it’s hard to say what effect inbreeding would have on them.”

“Can apes become psychopathic?” M.J. asked.

“Of course,” he replied.
 
“I can’t stress strongly enough that the characteristics of apes will almost always be analogous to those found in humans and that would include psychopathic behavior.
 
The larger non-human primates are so closely linked to humans that their DNA is about ninety-eight percent the same as ours.”

That would explain the DNA results from the blood on Lola’s teeth
, M.J. thought.
 
It wasn’t corrupted; it was just missing two percent of human DNA
.

“I think you’ve answered all of my questions for now, Doctor.
 
If I think of anything else, can I give you a call?” M.J. asked.

“Sure, I’ll give you my card,” he replied, searching for one in the drawer of his desk.
 
“Don’t forget your promise to tell me what this is all about, Detective.”

“I won’t,” M.J. said.
 
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”

She drove to Ollie Coppin’s house in Great Falls, unable to keep from replaying her conversation with Dr. Peterson during the trip.
 
Ollie wasn’t in the front yard, so M.J. went around the house to the back porch.
 
She was sitting in a chair reading and looked up when she heard M.J.

“Well, how nice to see you again so soon,” Ollie said.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ollie, but I wanted to show you something,” M.J. replied.

“No problem at all.
 
Come on in,” Ollie said.

M.J. opened the screen door and removed the picture from a manila folder.
 
She handed it to Ollie and said, “Does this look like the ape that was kept at the park?”

Ollie took the picture and immediately said, “Why yes, that’s it exactly.
 
What is it?”

“It’s called a Bili Ape and it probably came from what was then called the Belgian Congo,” M.J. replied.

“Well I’ll be,” Ollie said.
 
“Can you tell me why you’re so interested in this ape?”

“Unfortunately I can’t just yet Ollie,” M.J. said, “but trust me, you have been a great help.
 
Thank you again.”

“Can you stay for coffee?” Ollie asked.

“I’d love to, but I have to get back to my office,” M.J. replied.
 
“I would certainly like to stop back another time, though.”

“You are welcome here any time,” Ollie said.

M.J. drove to Anacostia Station.
 
It was about six o’clock and there were several other detectives working at their desks.
 
M.J. checked her e-mail.
 
There was one from Becky Whitmer.
 
Attached to it was a scanned copy of the report on the suspected murder of Kevin Murphy in 1942.
 
It had been written on a manual typewriter and had multiple cross-outs and smudges.

M.J. read the report quickly.
 
It closely followed the narrative of the incident provided by Ollie Coppin, including the footprints found on the muddy road.
 
It noted that from Murphy’s footprints he appeared to have been running away from his attacker and that the other set of footprints appeared to have been made by “a person of some size” based on their width.
 
The final paragraph of the report said that Murphy’s body had been recovered two days later and was taken to the county morgue.

There was also an e-mail from Dr. Martin with an attached copy of the autopsy report for Kevin Murphy.
 
In the e-mail Martin said, “Please give me a call.
 
I’ll be working late tonight, probably at least until 9:00.”

While she was opening the file with the autopsy report, M.J. dialed Martin’s number.

“Hello, Detective,” Dr. Martin said.
 
“Glad you called.
 
I read the autopsy report and looked at the pictures of the body and the x-rays that were with it.
 
The autopsy was done by an assistant coroner, who appears to have been just a regular M.D. with no training in forensic pathology.
 
Fortunately, he was very meticulous in recording his findings.”

“Were you able to determine anything?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” he said. “There were bruises to the neck which he concluded were caused by some form of blunt force trauma.
 
You can actually see them in the pictures, which are a little faded but still usable. Fortunately, the body had only been in the water for a couple of days so the soft tissue wasn’t too badly decomposed.”

M.J. paged ahead to the pictures which showed Murphy’s body on the autopsy table.
 
There were bruises clearly visible on the sides of his neck.
 
More striking to M.J. was the fact that his head was tilted backwards and appeared to be resting limply on its side.

Dr. Martin continued, “Now, the bruises by themselves might lead one to the conclusion that they were due to some sort of striking wound.
 
But the doctor also found that there was a complete dislocation of the second and third cervical vertebrae.
 
You can see this in the x-ray, which has deteriorated quite a bit but is still readable. He ascribed this to the fact that the body had been battered against rocks in the river for two days.”

M.J. looked at the x-ray, which, to her, seemed very similar to those taken of the murdered boys’ necks.

“To get to the point,” Dr. Martin said, “I think his explanation for the dislocated vertebrae is totally wrong.
 
No matter how much the body was thrown against rocks by a flooded river, it would not have resulted in that injury.
 
Soft tissue trauma, yes; fractured vertebrae, maybe; completely dislocated cervical vertebrae, no.
 
What you have here, Detective, is a man who was murdered in exactly the same way as the more recent victims in your case.
 
How that is possible after more than sixty years, I’ll leave to your investigative skills.
 
I just hope you’ll let me know when you figure it out.”

“You know, Doctor, a lot of people have been asking me to do that.
 
I’ll add your name to the list.
 
Thanks for the help,” she said.

M.J. drove to her apartment, stopping at a deli on the way to pick up a sandwich and two beers.
 
When she went inside, she put the beers in the refrigerator, took a bite of the sandwich and then headed for the shower, where she stayed under the spray until her tense muscles relaxed.
 
She put on a terrycloth robe, opened one of the beers and sat down at the counter in her kitchenette.

She slid a pad and pencil over from underneath the wall phone and began doing some rough calculations in her head while making notes on the paper:
 
If the male ape was ten years old and the female was, say, eight years old when they arrived at Great Falls Park in 1936, they could have produced offspring in as little as eight and half months.
 
Not likely though
, she thought,
after the trauma of being shipped to the United States, being uprooted by the Great Flood and trying to adapt to their new surroundings in the park.
 
Best case would probably be first offspring in ’37 or ’38, another in ’41 or ’42.
 
The original apes probably died no later than the early ‘60s and their offspring no later than the ‘70s.
 
That means that if there are apes still living in the park they would be the third generation and nearing the end of their life expectancy
.

She took a drink of beer and retrieved her sandwich from the end of the counter.
 
She was exhausted and tomorrow was going to be another long day.
 
She finished the sandwich and beer, turned off the lights and crawled under the covers on her bed.