Take the Monkey and Run (7 page)

“I have appointments the rest of this afternoon but if you need me you call me.” She handed me a business card and placed a set of keys on the table in front of me. She pointed one glitzy nail, first at one key, then the other. “Courtyard gate. Bike lock. The gate key also opens the side door into the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” I said with a smile and a small headshake.

“What?”

“I was just thinking you deserve that halo.”

She waved the comment off. “Please. I'm only seventy-five percent angel sixty percent of the time. Oh, and take this.” She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to me.

“A parking pass?”

“The lot is two blocks away from my place, on Dauphine.”

“Why would I need a parking pass?”

“No idea. But you will.”

“The Tingle?”

She winked and her glitter-coated lashes flashed like diamonds.

“Always listen to the Tingle.”

She turned to glide away through the crowd, graceful as any ballroom dancer. It made me wonder if people would ever stop surprising me.

The thought reminded me of Logan. I picked up the card he'd left in the package and studied it.

What was going on with him? What was his connection to Veronica? Had he done something to her? They were the same questions I'd been asking myself since the day before. Not having any answers was becoming more frustrating by the minute.

Slipping the card back into the envelope, I tucked the package into the messenger bag Belinda had loaned me.

My phone began singing,
Oh, girls just wanna have fun!
And I snatched it off the table. “Emma?”

“Hey! You didn't lose your phone after all. Did you forget to charge it?”

“It's a long story. Is everything okay with you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't it be?”

I picked up the slightest strain in her voice. “Emma, what's going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Em—”

“Damn it. I was trying to surprise you.”

“With?”

“Well, because you couldn't come to my birthday celebration, I thought I'd come to you.”

“What?”

“Yep! We're on the way.”

“We? You have Moss with you?”

“And Hugh and Kai.”

“What?” I sputtered.

“Surprise! Don't worry—I've already contacted the hotel. They can accommodate us and extend your stay.”

I was too shocked to speak for several seconds. Finally I managed to say, “Em, you can't go to the hotel.”

“Why not?”

“It's not safe.”

“Oookay.” She drew out the word, then asked, “What am I missing here?”

“A lot. Listen, it's too much to try to explain on the phone. But there's something fishy going on. I was being followed last night so I couldn't go back to the hotel, and I'm pretty sure Anya is involved.”

Kai's voice came over the line. “Where are you?” he asked.

“Safe. I'm sitting in a café next to a police station in the French Quarter.”

“Stay there. We'll call you when we're ten minutes away.” His voice was steady, but I thought I heard a trace of irritation in his words. Maybe it was worry. I wasn't very good at interpreting human emotions, which was why I didn't know what to say to people half the time.

“Okay.”

“Be careful. We'll be there in a couple of hours.”

If I had any hope of waiting that long, I was going to need a coffee and an order of beignets. I squeezed into the café and waited in the very long line.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting back in the courtyard and washing down the sweet, fried confection with a hot café au lait.

A street performer who had set up next to the café to sing for tips kept me entertained. He had a great voice and inspired applause after every song. After a truly impressive version of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” I got up and walked around the ornate iron fence to toss a dollar into his tip jar.

My reward for this moment of generosity was to return to find I'd lost my table. I didn't really mind though—the couple who'd claimed it had two little kids who would probably be hopped up on sugar in no time. But it left me with limited seating options.

The hum of a feline mind caught my attention and I glanced around to see if I could pinpoint the source. A moment later I caught sight of a large brown tabby cat as he emerged from the landscaping to slink over to a sizable bowl of food someone had placed under one of the concrete benches. I abandoned my search for a table and went over to have a chat with the cat. Might as well talk to someone while I waited for the cavalry.

After a few minutes of mostly one-sided conversation, the cat moseyed off to curl up for a nap in its warm kitty spot. The thought brought on a sudden acute awareness. I realized my butt was becoming colder than a well digger's toes where it made contact with the concrete bench. I considered trying
to wedge myself into the café again, but after a glance through the crowded doorway, nixed the idea.

Abandoning the cold concrete bench, I stood and glanced at the portico to my right. Maybe I could warm up inside the police station?

I walked toward the station. As I climbed the white marble steps I noticed a sign advertising the sale of merchandise inside.

A perfect excuse to loiter. Maybe I'd get lucky and they'd have a scarf for sale. Making my way inside through the tall glass-and-wood doors I discovered the NOPD offered its wares in a unique way—with vending machines.

There were a number of items sporting the crescent moon and star logo of the department. T-shirts, ponchos, even drink koozies, but no scarves. I took my time deciding and had settled on a long-sleeve T-shirt when my attention was snagged by two words: “Mystery Monkey.”

I turned to see Marisa, the zookeeper I'd met the day before, speaking to a tall, uniformed police officer.

“We've had a number of sightings reported to the hotline in the area,” she said.

“Last time, it was a raccoon in a shed,” grumbled the cop. “But we'll check it out. You want to meet us there in case this is legit?”

I tiptoed closer. Had someone caught the Mystery Monkey? Good news if they had. Not only was it too cold for a capuchin monkey to survive for long without shelter, but, if I could tag along, I might have a chance to talk to the little bugger about Veronica and Logan.

“Hi.” I stepped up to the pair and offered my hand to the policeman. “I'm Grace Wilde.”

A little bewildered, he took my hand and shook it. Before he could give me more than his name, I turned my attention to Marisa.

“I was just looking at a couple of gifts and couldn't help but overhear. Need another set of hands?”

“Actually, we might. Officer Green, would you mind bringing Miss Wilde with you?”

“You're with the zoo?” he asked, looking back and forth between us.

“She's a consultant with the Jacksonville Zoo. According to one of their veterinarians, she's very good at handling situations like this.”

It seemed she'd called and spoken to Hugh.

“In that case, we'd be glad to have you.”

As I followed the policeman to his cruiser I told myself Kai wouldn't be mad. Surely, I couldn't be faulted for leaving the safety of the police station if I was with the cops, right?

With that flimsy excuse firmly in mind, I slid into the passenger seat of the police cruiser and headed to apprehend the spunky simian. Fifteen minutes later we stopped near a small crowd of people who were blocking an intersection in—if I'd gotten my bearings—Uptown New Orleans.

“The monkey just slipped past the trap,” a woman said as we approached the group. “I could've sworn we had him.”

“It was like he knew right where to go,” the man with her confirmed.

“He got away?” Marisa asked, her tone disbelieving and more than a little frustrated.

I looked in the direction the man motioned and focused on getting a bead on the monkey. It took some doing because of the weird, intermittent flickering of his brain waves, but I managed to zero in on them.

“There,” I said, and pointed to the canopy of a huge live oak tree.

“You see him?” Officer Green asked, squinting at the tree.

“Yep.” That wasn't 100 percent true. I couldn't really
see
the monkey. But I could detect his brain waves with my ability and home in on their source. It's really closer to hearing than to seeing, but in that moment, I figured it was better to skip those details and keep it simple.

Rather than try to pinpoint the animal's exact location, I
walked slowly forward. It was something I'd done before. Ninety percent of the time only a few people would notice or follow. Humans were not very observant animals. Unlike elephants, who almost always pay close attention to what you're doing. Such busybodies.

In this instance the only people who followed were the cop and the woman who'd told us about the monkey's narrow escape.

“I don't see him,” the woman said in a low voice.

I paused to press my fingers to my lips, then whispered, “I only saw him for a second. He's in the tree. Maybe we can try to circle around and drive him toward the trap.” I didn't really know what the trap was but I wanted to get close to the monkey and do so on my own.

“Okay, yeah. We'll flank him,” the cop said. It was clear from the way he was gazing at the tree that he hadn't spotted his quarry.

“Good,” I said. “You guys head around the tree. I'll stay here and keep an eye out for him.”

“If you spot him again,” Officer Green said, “give us a signal.”

I nodded and waited for the two to move off before closing my eyes and focusing on the little monkey in the tree.

When our thoughts connected, I discovered the little guy was pretty calm for a critter who had just escaped capture.

Hey, buddy, come on down.

I extended the invitation with the idea of safety and friendship.

There was a rustle in the canopy and the capuchin came into view. He tilted his head and regarded me from on high, then leapt to a lower branch.

That's it. Come see me
.

With his long limbs and prehensile tail, he made it to the lowest branch in seconds. After a series of curious squeaks, the little monkey stopped half a dozen feet from where I stood.

I lifted my hand slowly and extended my arm.

Here you go—

Before I could prompt him to hop onto my arm, a series of images fluttered into my mind's eye. For the second time in as many days I was taken completely off guard with what I saw.

Me. The monkey showed me an image of myself holding a small paper tray of beignets.

Just as it had when he'd shown me Logan and Veronica, the scene lasted only a couple of seconds and, like before, the colors of the image were reversed at first then shifted back to normal. This time, most of what I was seeing was in muted duotone. The exception being the object the monkey was sitting on. It was glittering purple and looked like part of a Mardi Gras float. I saw myself step toward the float. Smiling, I held up the beignets.

I didn't get it. He wanted me to bring him beignets? It would be easy enough.
I'll gladly trade you a couple of pastries for info on Veronica.

The image winked out the instant I thought of the missing woman. It was like the monkey's mind had gone blank. Then, suddenly I was hit with a surge of absolute, bone-numbing fear so strong I flinched away with a gasp.

What the . . . ?
Before I could pinpoint what had caused the flood of emotion, the monkey's gaze settled on mine and the fear faded to confusion, then something close to frustration.

Struggling to get a grip on my own racing pulse, I pulled in a slow breath and said, “It's going to be okay, buddy.” I focused on sending him reassurance and reiterated my desire to help.

Not buddy
, the monkey told me.
Cornelius.

I couldn't help but smile.
It's nice to meet you, Cornelius. I'm Grace. If you come with me, you won't have to be scared—okay?
I offered my arm as a perch. Cornelius studied my outstretched hand, considering, then eased forward.

“Come on.” I gently murmured words and added calm encouragement with my thoughts.

The little monkey's eyes darted about, reminding me so powerfully of Barry's shifty gaze I couldn't help but think of him and his long coat. I tried to push the thought away before my feelings for the creepy man transferred to Cornelius, but failed. The monkey started, leapt to a higher branch, and bounded up the tree. In seconds, he'd scampered out of sight and out of range of my other senses.

“Dang,” a voice from behind me said. “You almost had him.”

I cursed inwardly and shook my head. Stupid rookie mistake. I could've kicked myself for losing focus.

“Yeah, that was really close,” the zookeeper added as she came to stand next to me.

I glanced at the young woman. “Close only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades.”

“Still, he was responding to you like he hasn't to anyone else. How long are you going to be in town?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Do you mind if I call the next time we get a good lead?”

“Of course not,” I said as we walked back to where the cruiser was parked. “My phone is working now so you can reach me at the number on my card.”

“Thanks for trying to help,” Marisa said. Her smooth brow wrinkled into a frown as she scanned the nearby
treetops. “It's supposed to freeze tomorrow night. I really hope we can catch him before then.”

“Me, too.”

I climbed into the police cruiser and was so lost in thought as we rode along I didn't realize Officer Green had been talking to me.

“I'm sorry—what?”

“I think your phone is ringing.”

“Oh.” I fished it out of my jacket pocket and saw I had a missed call from Emma. I quickly called her back.

“Hey,” my sister said. “We're pulling into the one-way cluster suck known as the French Quarter.”

“Right.” I looked out the window and tried to decipher how far away I was.

“You're still at the police station, aren't you?”

“Not exactly, but I'll be there soon.”

I looked at Officer Green for confirmation. He nodded and said, “Five minutes.”

“Who was that?”

“I got a ride from a nice policeman after helping them find, and then lose, the Mystery Monkey.”

“The what?”

“Long story. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Kai mapped the location of the police station on Royal Street. We'll meet you there.”

“On second thought,” I said. “How about meeting up at a parking lot?” I fished through the messenger bag to find the pass Belinda had given me and relayed the address to my sister.

“You want me to drop you on Dauphine?” Officer Green asked when I hung up.

I shook my head. “I have a bike a couple of blocks away from the station. Thanks, though.”

He dropped me off at the corner of Royal and Iberville, and I hopped on my borrowed bicycle and headed to meet my friends.

There'd been no sign of Barry or Anya skulking about the Monteleone, but I kept a watchful eye out anyway as I rode.

I even circled the block before stopping at the parking lot. It was a countersurveillance trick I'd picked up not long ago. For a moment, I wondered if I should be worried about the fact that I'd gleaned such knowledge, but shook off the thought.

Knowledge is power, right?

After leaning the bike against a light post, I found a patch of pale afternoon sunshine and settled in to wait.

Turning my face to the sun, I closed my eyes and let the warmth wash over my skin.

Even without looking, I knew the moment my crew arrived. How? Easy—the familiar rumble of Bluebell's massive engine preceded her through the gates of the lot.

A 1975 Skyline Blue Suburban, Bluebell was big, loud, and—in that moment—a sight for sore eyes.

I know—it had only been a day and a half, but what can I say? Bell and I are close.

Hugh was behind the wheel. Kai, riding shotgun, was the first to climb out of Bluebell.

I watched him stretch and allowed myself a moment to admire the lean lines of his body before walking toward him.

Kai smiled when he saw me and, like always, I felt a tremor of warmth slide to my core. But this time, it didn't freak me out. Well, not as much as it used to, anyway.

“Surprise,” Kai said as I approached. His smile widened to a toe-curling grin.

“Yeah.” I grinned back, as tongue-tied as a teenager. There was something about the combo of his perpetually tanned skin, dark hair, and green eyes that always got to me.

I was spared having to come up with something to say because Moss chose that moment to burst out of Bluebell.

Using Emma's lap as a launching pad, he rocketed toward
me in a blur of white fur. My dog vibrated with energy and excitement and oddly, something close to surprise.

I got the vague impression that Emma, or maybe Kai, had told him he was on the way to see me, but Moss hadn't really bought it until he'd gotten close enough to sense my presence.

I dropped to one knee and braced myself for my dog's greeting.

Moss is no dainty canine. He's over a hundred pounds of muscle and white fur and stands almost as tall as a Great Dane. Being greeted by Moss without proper precautions could result in bodily injury and more than a little dog slobber.

Grace!

“Hi, big guy.”

Grace—here!

“Yes, I'm here—ack!” As I spoke, I got a serving of wet dog kisses right on the mouth.

In the wild, pack mates greet one another with a lot of tail wagging and muzzle licking. For the most part, I've managed to convince Moss the licking isn't necessary, but on occasion he gets carried away.

It seemed today I was in for a face full of dog spit.

Okay, enough. I missed you, too.

I was grateful for the ability to communicate with my dog telepathically because, in that moment, I didn't dare open my mouth to talk.

As my sister and Hugh climbed out of Bluebell, I wiped my face clean, gave Moss a final pat to his flank, and stood to face the rest of the group.

I suddenly felt something else—a distinctly feline brain. One I knew.

Voodoo?

“Meow!”
My three-month-old kitten, who was still tiny, leapt from Hugh's arms and bounced toward me. Her miniature leash flapped behind her like a kite tail.

The kitten would never be a big cat—sizewise, anyway.
Personality was a different story. Voodoo routinely bossed around a wolf-dog, plus every human she came into contact with. The instant her fur brushed over my legs, I felt a ripple of pure satisfaction zip through me. Looking up at me with huge golden eyes, the kitten squeaked out a
meow
.

Up?

I was moving to lift her off the ground before she'd completed the request—that's how cute she is.

I took a moment to snuggle the kitten. Her cashmere-soft fur tickled my nose as she rubbed her face against mine.

“I can't believe you rode all the way from Jacksonville with both of them,” I said to the group as I got to my feet.

“Well, it wasn't the plan,” Emma said drily. “That little one managed to stow away in one of my bags.”

“She's lucky she didn't get crushed when we loaded them in the back,” Hugh said with a wink.

Without cracking a smile I turned to Emma and asked, “Did they have to use a forklift?”

“All we needed”—Hugh lifted up his arm to flex his biceps—“was man power. Right, Kai?”

“That,” Kai said, “and taking a few things out of Bluebell.”

I followed the men to the back of the Suburban and I felt my eyes widen as Kai opened the back.

Typically, Bluebell's cargo area was stocked with animal carriers, a medical kit, a change of clothes, and other random supplies.

I could see my first aid kit, but it was buried under a pile of luggage.

“Don't worry,” Kai said. “Everything's safe in my garage.”

He'd read my expression correctly—I was worried, just not for the reason he'd assumed.

“What about my Glock?”

He frowned. “I didn't see your gun.”

“I keep it locked in the box with my tranquilizer equipment.”

“Then it's in the garage, too.”

“Um, do you have yours?”

Kai carried his service weapon for work. I hoped he'd decided to bring it on the road.

“No. Do I need it?”

“Probably not.”

“Does this have something to do with why we can't go to the Monteleone?” my sister asked.

“Come on,” I said, handing the parking pass to Hugh to hang from the rearview mirror. “I'm staying at a bed-and-breakfast a couple blocks away. We'll talk there.”

With everyone grabbing as many bags as they could carry we managed to haul the luggage, and my bike, in one trip.

I opened the gate to the small courtyard, then the side door into the kitchen.

“Let's head upstairs,” I said.

“Don't we need to check in?” my sister asked.

“I'm pretty sure Belinda, our hostess, has rooms open. So, no.”

“You're sure? She might have other reservations.”

“She doesn't. It's kind of complicated,” I said.

“So far,” Emma said, “the only explanation you've given us about what's going on is that it's long and complicated. When are we going to find out the whole story?”

“I, for one,” Kai said, “vote to hear it sooner rather than later.”

Elvis bounded into the room, spun in a few quick circles, and let out a yip.

Little helper!

I smiled at the dog. “Hey, Elvis.”

The King!

“Everyone, this is Elvis.”

“Please tell me there's a Priscilla around here somewhere,” Emma said.

I did a mental scan for the second Pomeranian. “Coming down the stairs, right now.”

“Perfect,” my sister said with a grin.

Priscilla pranced through the doorway a moment later and made a beeline for Moss.

Friends?
Moss wanted to know as he sniffed the tawny puff-ball.

Friends!
Priscilla flopped onto her back, tail wagging like mad.

“Yes, we're all friends,” I said to the dogs.

Not that they needed my help understanding that. Elvis spun in a happy circle, barked, then ran to Moss. With a growl the little dog jumped up to nip at my dog's chin.