Zero at the Bone (7 page)

“And that’s the truth. Amen,” the thin man with the cratered skin whispered, speaking more to himself than to the others in his group.

The press conference was over. The three men turned their backs and retreated to the director’s office.

Katherine moved away from the door of the men’s room as men began to head in that direction. She tucked her shirt down in back and took a deep breath.

Animals were his family, huh? Well, he does have some family. Right here and planning to inherit whatever it is he had in mind for me and anything else I can get. I came here for financial help and I intend to get it.

Even over his dead body.

5

AS the room cleared out, Katherine tried to think ahead. She supposed she’d have to endure some sort of funereal folderol before she could get down to the money. That could take for bloody ever and she had only twenty-two days before the foreclosure. Was it possible for an estate to get settled in three weeks? Probably not. She’d heard it was a lengthy process.

And, oh my God, what if he hadn’t written it down? What if there was no record of what he intended her to have? She had the letter, of course, but would that count as a legal document? And what about the key and the storage receipt? Should she wait, or go by herself and look?

“Be calm. One thing at a time, Katherine,” she whispered to herself as she approached the secretary’s desk. Right now she needed to identify herself and get on with the process, whatever it was. She pushed her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat. A name plate on the desk said, “Kim Kelly, Assistant to the Director.”

Kim Kelly was engrossed in conversation with the man who’d hit her elbow. Perched on the corner of the desk, he was saying, “But I went to all the trouble of clearing my schedule so I could go along. She may need sedating. I thought he’d want me to go.”

“So would I, Vic, but he said—” She stopped mid-sentence when Katherine cleared her throat for the second time.

“I need to talk to Mr. McElroy, please,” Katherine said.

“You have an appointment?” Kim asked.

“No.”

“He’s in conference right now. I don’t think he’ll be available all day. Do you want to leave him a message?”

“I really need to see him now. I’m Katherine Driscoll, Lester Renfro’s daughter. Would you please tell him that?”

Kim’s round brown eyes got rounder and she shot up out of her chair. “Yes, ma’am, I certainly will.” She walked into the director’s office without knocking, closing the door behind her.

The big man remained propped on the desk, looking steadily at Katherine. His face was dark with several day’s stubble of black beard and his coveralls were badly stained with stiff-looking spots that looked a lot like blood. She read the badge on the left side of his chest: “Vic Jamail, Head Veterinarian.” He looked more like one of the maintenance crew, Katherine thought.

“Miss Driscoll,” he said, “I certainly am sorry about your father. And your elbow.”

Katherine nodded and looked away.

“You must think we’re a callous lot going about our business like this, but we find this kind of accident difficult to—”

“No, I don’t find you callous at all. I’m going about my business, too, Mr.—”

“Jamail, Vic Jamail.”

The secretary, emerging from the office, interrupted him. “Please come right in, Miss Driscoll. So sorry about everything. I didn’t know who you were when you came in before. So sorry.” She stood aside to let Katherine pass through the door.

Pausing a moment to smooth her shorts in back, Katherine glanced back at the big man, still sitting on the corner of the desk, watching her. Technically, he wasn’t smiling, but a knot in the muscles at the corners of his mouth and the glint in his black eyes made her certain he was laughing internally. She felt unaccountably irked by it as she entered the director’s office.

The three men leapt to their feet from identical green leather club chairs. In the corner behind them on a wood perch, a large white bird raised a crest the color of apricots and squawked, “Hello. Hello.”

No one paid any attention to it. Sam McElroy approached her with his right hand extended. “Miss Driscoll?”

Katherine nodded, trying to assume a gravity proper to the situation.

“I’m so sorry.” He took her hand as if to shake it and then covered it firmly with his other hand, squeezing it tenderly in a long nonverbal message of condolence. His wiry, tensed body bent close to her and his tanned forehead crinkled with solicitude. “When I said Lester had no close family, I had no idea you were here. I meant he had no family living in Austin. You should have told me you were here. That … circus out there couldn’t have been very nice for you. Forgive us.”

He continued to grip her hand. His moist pale eyes, the hunching of his shoulders, and the way he cocked his head all conveyed sympathy. Katherine was convinced. She felt a sudden tightness in her throat. Real emotion from him was the last thing she had expected. It made her feel like an impostor.

“I haven’t seen my father since I was five, Mr. McElroy, so you were right in saying that he had no close family.”

He turned toward the other two men. “Miss Driscoll, this is Lieutenant Sharb from the Austin police, and this is Hans Dieterlen, our head keeper.”

The policeman stepped forward to shake her hand. The arm he extended toward her was so short and thick it appeared to be a deformity, but as she studied the rest of him, she decided it was in perfect proportion. She had the most inappropriate wish to see what he looked like naked.

She tightened her lips and shook his stubby hand.

Before he spoke, he pulled a wadded handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose into it. He looked down into the handkerchief with a frown as he spoke to her. “We’ve been trying to locate you, Miss Driscoll, but we just got your address about an hour ago from Mr. Hammond, your father’s attorney.” His voice was so hoarse and gravelly Katherine thought it must be painful for him to talk. “You must have been on your way from Boerne. We don’t like to have people learn these things before we tell them.”

There was a long silence. Katherine felt they were waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t know what.

“How did you find out, Miss Driscoll?” Sharb asked finally.

“Oh. Just now, when I came in the office and asked to see … my father, the secretary out there showed me the newspaper.”

“What brings you today, Miss Driscoll?” the policeman croaked. “After not seeing your father all these years?”

She was totally unprepared for the question. She felt she had blundered into an exam without even looking over her notes. Lester had asked for secrecy, but he was dead. “Oh, he wrote and asked me to come. So I came.”

Without any warning Sharb emitted two rapid-fire sneezes, spraying a fine mist into the air. Without intending to, Katherine took a step back to get out of range.

Sharb pulled out the handkerchief again and swabbed at his inflamed nostrils, shooting a dark scowl at the bird. “Was he expecting you today?”

“No. It was going to be a surprise.”

The director held out his arms to them. “Please sit down. Miss Driscoll, I’m sure you could use a little rest. Could I get Kim to bring you some tea or a soft drink?”

“No, thanks.” Katherine sat in the nearest chair. It was wondrously comfortable, deep and engulfing, the cracked green leather aged and softened to perfection. She let her open palms rest on the arms so she could feel it.

McElroy and Sharb sat in chairs flanking her, but Hans Dieterlen stayed standing. He made a stiff bow in her direction. “Miss Driscoll, my condolences on your loss. Your father was a fine worker. He will be impossible to replace.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to the director. “I need to go now, Sam. I have just time to get to Dallas to complete the paperwork before the Frankfurt flight arrives.”

“Oh, yes. Our visiting femme fatale. Go on, Hans. Thanks for your help.”

The head keeper made little bows to each of them and left.

“We have a rare white rhino arriving today,” Sam explained, “on breeding loan.”

Sharb kept his handkerchief pressed to his nose. “Miss Driscoll,” he said, “what was the reason your father gave for wanting you to come see him? Was he in trouble of some sort?”

She hesitated. “No. Not that I know of. He just wanted to talk, I guess. Get acquainted.”

“Is there any other family, or are you it?” he asked.

“I’m it. My father wrote that his sister, Julia Renfro, died last year, so I guess I’m the only relative left.”

Sharb nodded. “You guess,” he said under his breath and began coughing.

Katherine felt dislike welling up in her throat for the little man.

Sam McElroy looked at him as if he just that moment had noticed his distress. “Lieutenant, would it help if I had King Tut”—he waved toward the bird—“taken out for a while? I hate to see you suffer.”

Sharb shook his head in short irritated jerks. “No. No. It wouldn’t make any difference. The dander’s everywhere. I’m going anyway.” He stood and faced Katherine. “If you could come downtown later, Miss Driscoll—just some formalities, as next of kin. And a few more questions.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card which he handed to her. “At five? I’ll be back in the office by then.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Just show them the card at the desk,” he said. Noticing Sam was about to rise, he held out a hand to stop him. “It’s been a long day. Stay where you are, Mr. McElroy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” The minute he had risen, the bird began to flap its wings and shriek, “Bye-bye, bye-bye!”

“Tut, quiet!” the director barked in the bird’s direction. This caused a raucous increase in volume that made Katherine want to cover her ears.

The policeman looked back as he walked out the door, shaking his head in dismay.

Sam McElroy leaned forward in his chair and looked directly into Katherine’s eyes. “Miss Driscoll,
anything
we can do to help, just let us know. Will you do that?”

“Yes, thank you. What do you think is my next step here?”

“Well, you need to see Travis Hammond. He was your father’s lawyer, so he’ll know just what to do. I believe your uncle, Cooper Driscoll, will help with arrangements. So you’ll want to talk to him, too, as soon as possible.

“And we will do anything we can. You must know that I am beholden in many ways to your family. I’m talking here not just about your father. Living out of town, I don’t know how much you know about your mother’s family’s contributions to the zoo, but the Driscoll name is almost synonymous with the zoo. Coop Driscoll is our current board president, and your grandmother was one of our founders and continues to be our most generous benefactor. We owe your family a great deal. And now this.” He waved a hand in the air as if the accident had contaminated the very atmosphere of the room.

Katherine was startled to find herself suddenly a member of a powerful family that habitually received this sort of special attention. It felt unaccustomed, undeserved, but there was something nourishing about it. She found herself taking a guilty pleasure in it. And she wondered how far she could go in making demands.

“Mr. McElroy, I’d like to see where it happened,” she said. “And the tiger, I’d like to see him.”

The director looked at the ivy-covered stockade fence out his window for several seconds, then back at Katherine. “Fine. We’ll go now.”

“Thank you. Then I think I’ll drive over to the attorney’s before I go to see Lieutenant Sharb.”

The director sprang up easily from the chair while Katherine had to struggle to extricate herself. People rising seemed to stimulate the bird. It began shrieking and pumping its wings up and down, propelling pale-peach feathers and gray fluff into the air. “What kind of bird is that?” Katherine asked.

McElroy was hooking a walkie-talkie over the back of his belt as he walked toward the door. “A Moluccan cockatoo. Damned nuisance, but I’m attached to him. Kim, I’ll be over in cats for the next half hour. Please call Travis Hammond and tell him Miss Driscoll is here and that she’ll be coming over to him in about forty-five minutes.”

As they headed across the footbridge spanning Barton Creek, Katherine admired the free-flying native birds along the banks. Oh, yes. She remembered this place. She had been here before and she had loved it.

The director talked and walked at the same rapid-fire pace. Katherine had to walk briskly and listen attentively to keep up. “We opened late this morning,” he said. “First time in the fifteen years I’ve been here. We’re open every day of the year but Christmas, and always on time. But it was so traumatic getting here to this … terrible news. We’ve put the big cats, all of them, inside. I’m afraid we may have to keep them off exhibit for a long time. The calls have been hair-raising, even worse than usual. Tomorrow the letters will start.”

He looked hard at Katherine. “I don’t know where you line up on this, Miss Driscoll, but your father would have snorted at the idea of destroying an animal in a situation like this. He knew the job was dangerous. Keepers get hurt and even killed, no matter how careful they are. Everyone in zoo work knows that. It just happens sometimes.”

As they passed an area where bulldozers were clearing rubble from what looked like a building site, he waved an arm to the workmen and said, “Here’s where our new small-mammal house is going. It’ll have one of the most advanced nocturnal sections in the world.” He looked at Katherine. “Some of the funding comes from the Driscoll Foundation.”

He waved a hand to the row of enclosures on the right and pointed to a gangly blue bird in the last cage. “That’s our baby Goliath heron, first ever born in captivity.” As he talked, he kept up a pace so rapid it was closer to a trot than a walk.

Katherine saw that promoting the zoo was so compelling a passion for him that he would be doing it in the middle of a nuclear attack. She found that kind of enthusiasm irresistible.

He picked up a Styrofoam cup from the ground without slowing his pace. “Your father was a total professional in his job, the last one I’d expect to have an accident.” He stopped to toss the cup into a trash can.